by Lisa Kleypas
If the jab had pierced through Merripen's guard, there was no sign of it. "There is something you need to know about him," Merripen said quietly. "His first wife's family-the Lanhams-suspect he had something to do with her death."
Win's head whipped around, and she stared at Merripen with narrowed eyes. "I can't believe you would sink so low. Julian told me all about it. He loved her. He did everything he could to bring her through the illness. When she died, he was devastated, and then he was victimized further by her family. In their grief, they needed someone to blame. Julian was a convenient scapegoat."
"The Lanhams claim he behaved suspiciously after her death. He didn't fit anyone's idea of a bereaved husband."
"Not all people show their grief in the same way," she snapped. "Julian is a doctor-he has trained himself to be impassive in the course of his work, because that is best for his patients. Naturally he wouldn't let himself fall apart, no matter how deep his sorrow. How dare you judge him?"
"Don't you realize you may be in danger?"
"From Julian'? The man who made me well?" She shook her head with a disbelieving laugh. "For the sake of our past friendship, I'm going to forget you said anything about this, Kev. But remember in the future that I will not tolerate any insult to Julian. Remember that he stood by me when you did not."
She brushed by him without waiting for his reaction, and saw her older sister coming along the hallway. "Amelia," she said brightly. "Shall we begin the tour now? I want to see everything."
Chapter Sixteen
Although Merripen had made it clear to the Ramsay household that Leo, not he, was master, the servants and laborers still considered him the authority. Merripen was the one they first approached with all concerns. And Leo was content to let it remain so while he familiarized himself with the reinvigorated estate and its inhabitants.
"I'm not a complete idiot, despite appearances to the contrary," he told Merripen dryly as they rode out to the east corner of the estate one morning. "The arrangements you've made are obviously working. I don't intend to foul things up in an effort to prove I'm lord of the manor. That being said… I do have a few improvements to suggest regarding the tenant housing."
"Oh?"
"A few inexpensive alterations in design would make the cottages more comfortable and attractive. And if the idea is to eventually establish a hamlet of sorts on the estate, it might behoove us to come up with a set of plans for a model village."
"You want to work on plans and elevations?" Merripen asked, surprised at the show of interest from the usually indolent lord.
"If you have no objections."
"Of course not. It's your estate." Merripen regarded him speculatively. "Are you considering a return to your former profession?"
"Yes, actually. I might start as a jobbing architect. We'll see where some earnest dabbling might lead. And it makes sense to cut my teeth on my own tenants' houses." He grinned. "My reasoning is they'll be less likely than outsiders to sue me."
On an estate with a crowded wood like the Ramsey lands, a thinning of the forest was necessary every ten years. By Merripen's calculation, the estate had missed at least two previous cycles, which meant there was a good thirty years' worth of dead, sickly, or suppressed-growth trees to be cleared from the Ramsay forests.
To Leo's dismay, Merripen insisted on dragging him through the entire process, until Leo knew far more than he had ever wanted to know about trees.
"Correct thinning helps nature," Merripen said in response to Leo's grumbling. "The estate wood will have healthier timber and far more value if the right trees are removed to help the others grow."
"I'd rather leave the trees to settle it amongst themselves," Leo said, which Merripen ignored.
To educate himself, and Leo, further, Merripen arranged a meeting with the small staff of estate woodmen. They went out to examine some targeted standing trees, while the woodmen explained how to measure the length and mean transverse area of a tree to determine its cubic contents. Using a girthing tape, a twenty-foot rod, and a ladder, they made some preliminary assessments.
Before Leo quite knew how it had happened, he had found himself atop a ladder, helping in the measurements.
"May I ask why," he called down to Merripen, "you happen to be standing down there while I'm up here risking my neck?"
"Your tree," Merripen pointed out succinctly.
"Also my neck!"
Leo gathered that Merripen wanted him to take an active interest in the estate and all its affairs, great and small. It seemed these days that an aristocratic landowner could not simply relax in the library and drink port, no matter how appealing that scenario was. One could delegate estate responsibilities to managers and servants, but that meant one ran the risk of being fleeced.
As they went over other items on a daily list that only seemed to get longer as the week progressed, Leo began to comprehend just how overwhelming a job Merripen had undertaken for the past three years. Most estate managers had undergone apprenticeships, and most sons of the peerage had been educated from a young age in the various concerns of the estates they would someday inherit.
Merripen, on the other hand, had learned all of this- livestock management, farming, forestry, construction, land improvement, wages, profits, and rents-with no preparation and no time. But the man was ideally suited for it. He had an acute memory, an appetite for hard work, and a tireless interest in details.
"Admit something," Leo had said after a particularly stultifying conversation on farming. "You do find this tedious on occasion, don't you? You must be bored out of your skull after an hour of discussion on how intensive the crop rotation should be, and how much arable land should be allocated to corn and beans."
Merripen had considered the question carefully, as if it had never occurred to him that he should find anything about the estate work tedious. "Not if it needs to be done."
That was when Leo had finally understood. If Merripen had decided on a goal, no detail was too small, no task beneath him. No amount of adversity would deter him. The workmanlike quality that Leo had derided in the past had found its perfect outlet. God or the devil help anyone who got in Merripen's way.
But Merripen had a weakness.
By now everyone in the family had become aware of the fierce and impossible attachment between Merripen and Win. And they all knew that to mention it would earn them nothing but trouble. Leo had never seen two people battle their mutual attraction so desperately.
Not long ago Leo would have chosen Dr. Harrow for Win without a moment's hesitation. To marry a Gypsy was a sure comedown in the world. And in London society it was perfectly reasonable to marry for advantage and find love elsewhere. That wasn't possible for Win, however. Her heart was too pure, her feelings too strong. And after having watched his sister's struggle to get well, and the grace of character that had never faltered, Leo thought it a damned shame that she couldn't have the husband she wanted.
On the third morning after their arrival in Hampshire, Amelia and Win went for a walk on a circular route that eventually led back to Ramsay House. It was a fresh, clear day, the path a bit muddy in places, the meadows covered with such a wealth of white oxeye daisies that at first glance it looked like new-fallen snow.
Amelia, who had always loved walking, matched Win's brisk pace easily.
"I love Stony Cross," Win said, relishing the sweet, cool air. "It feels like home even more than Primrose Place, even though I've never lived here for long."
"Yes. There is something special about Hampshire. Whenever we return from London, I find it an indescribable relief." Removing her bonnet, Amelia held it by the ribbons and swung it lighdy as they walked. She seemed absorbed in the scenery, the tumbles of flowers everywhere, the clicks and drones of insects busy among the trees, the scents released by sun-warmed grasses and peppery watercress. "Win," she said eventually, her voice pensive, "you don't have to leave Hampshire, you know."
"Yes, I do."
"Our fam
ily can weather any scandal. Look at Leo. We survived all of his-"
"In terms of scandal," Win interrupted wryly, "I think I've actually managed to do something worse than Leo."
"I don't think that's possible, dear."
"You know as well as I that the loss of a woman's virtue can ruin a family far more effectively than the loss of a man's honor. It's not fair, but there you have it."
"You didn't lose your virtue," Amelia said indignantly.
"Not for lack of trying. Believe me, I wanted to." Glancing at her older sister, Win saw that she had shocked her. She smiled faintly. "Did you think I was above feeling that way, Amelia?"
"Well… yes, I suppose I did. You were never one to moon over handsome boys, or talk about balls and parties, or dream about your future husband."
"That was because of Merripen," Win admitted. "He was all I ever wanted."
"Oh, Win," Amelia whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Win stepped up onto a stile leading through a narrow gap in a stone fence, and Amelia followed. They walked along a grassy footpath that led to a forest trail, and continued to a footbridge that crossed a stream.
Amelia linked her arm with Win's. "In light of what you just said, I feel even more strongly that you should not marry Harrow. What I mean is, you should marry Harrow if you wish, but not because of any fear over a scandal."
"I want to. I like him. I believe he is a good man. And if I stay here, it would result in endless misery for me and Merripen. One of us has to leave."
"Why does it have to be you?"
"Merripen is needed here. He belongs here. And it truly doesn't matter to me where I am. In fact, I think it would be better for me to make a new beginning elsewhere."
" Cam 's going to talk to him," Amelia said.
"Oh no, he mustn't! Not on my behalf." Win's pride bristled, and she turned to face Amelia. "Don't let him. Please."
"I couldn't stop Cam no matter how I tried. He's not talking to Merripen for your sake, Win. It's for Merripen's own sake. We very much fear what will become of him once he's lost you for good."
"He's already lost me," Win said flatly. "He lost me the moment he refused to stand up for me. And after I leave, he'll be no different than he has always been. He will never allow softness in himself. In fact, I think he despises the things that give him pleasure, because enjoyment of anything might make him soft." All the tiny muscles of her face felt frozen. Win reached up to massage her tense, pinching forehead. "The more he cares for me, the more determined it makes him to push me away."
"Men," Amelia grumbled, crossing the footbridge.
"Merripen is convinced he has nothing to give me. There's a kind of arrogance in that, don't you think? Deciding what I need. Disregarding my feelings. Setting me so high on the pedestal that it absolves him of any responsibility."
"Not arrogance," Amelia said softly. "Fear."
"Well, I won't live that way. I won't be bound by my fears, or his." Win felt herself relaxing slightly, calmness stealing over her as she admitted the truth. "I love him, but I don't want him if he has to be dragged or trapped into marriage. I want a willing partner."
"Certainly no one could blame you for that. It has always irked me, really, the way people say a woman has 'caught' herself a man. As if they're trout we've managed to hook and jerk out of the water."
Despite her moroseness, Win couldn't help smiling.
They pushed on through the damp, warm landscape. As they eventually approached Ramsay House, they saw a carriage coming to a stop before the entrance. "It's Julian," Win said. "So early! He must have left London well before first light." She quickened her pace and reached him just as he stepped from the carriage.
Julian's cool handsomeness had not been mussed one bit by the long journey from London. He took Win's hands and gripped them firmly, and smiled down at her.
"Welcome to Hampshire," she said.
"Thank you, my dear. Have you been out walking?"
"Briskly," she assured him, smiling.
"Very good. Here, I have something for you." He reached in his pocket and withdrew a small object. Win felt him slide a ring onto her finger. She looked down at a ruby, the shade of red known as "pigeon's blood," set in gold and diamonds. "It is said," Julian told her, "that to own a ruby is to have contentment and peace."
"Thank you, it's lovely," she murmured, leaning forward. Her eyes closed as she felt his lips press gently against her forehead. Contentment and peace… God willing, perhaps someday she would have those things.
Cam doubted his own sanity, approaching Merripen when he was working in the timber yard. He watched for a moment as Merripen helped a trio of woodmen to unload massive logs from the wagon. It was a dangerous job, with one mistake resulting in the possibility of severe injury or death.
With the use of sloping planks and long levers, the men rolled the logs inch by inch to the ground. Grunting with effort, muscles straining, they fought to control the descending weight. Merripen, as the largest and strongest of the group, had taken the center position, making him the least likely to escape if anything went wrong.
Concerned, Cam started forward to help.
"Get back," Merripen barked, seeing Cam out of the corner of his eye.
Cam stopped at once. The woodmen had worked out a method, he realized. Anyone who didn't know their procedures might inadvertently cause harm to them all.
He waited and watched as the logs were eased safely to the ground. The woodmen breathed heavily, leaning over and bracing their hands on their knees as they sought to recover from the dizzying effort. All except Merripen, who sank the tip of a deadly sharp hand hook into one of the logs. He turned to face Cam while still holding a pair of tongs.
Merripen looked demonic, his face dark and sweat-streaked, his eyes bright with hellfire. Although Cam had come to know him well over the past three years, he had never seen Merripen like this. He looked like a damned soul with no hope or desire for redemption.
God help me, Cam thought. Once Win was married to Dr. Harrow, Merripen might careen out of control. Remembering all the trouble they'd had with Leo, Cam groaned inwardly.
He was tempted to wash his hands of the entire damned mess, reasoning that he had far better things to do than fight for his brother's sanity. Let Merripen deal with the consequences of his own choices.
But then Cam considered how he himself would behave if anyone or anything threatened to take Amelia away from him. Not any better, surely. Reluctant compassion stirred inside him.
"What do you want?" Merripen asked curtly, setting the tongs aside.
Cam approached slowly. " Harrow 's here."
"I saw."
"Are you going inside to welcome him?"
Merripen gave Cam a contemptuous glance. "Leo's the master of the household. He can welcome the bastard."
"While you hide out here in the timber yard?"
The coffee-black eyes narrowed. "I'm not hiding. I'm working. And you're in the way."
"I want to talk to you, phral."
"Don't call me that. And I don't need your interference."
"Someone has to try and talk some sense into you," Cam said softly. "Look at you, Kev. You're behaving exactly like the brute the rom baro tried to make you into."
"Shut up," Merripen said hoarsely.
"You're letting him decide the rest of your life for you," Cam insisted. "You're clutching those damned chains around you with all your strength."
"If you don't close your mouth-"
"If you were only hurting yourself, I wouldn't say a word. But you're hurting her as well, and you don't seem to give a d-"
Cam was interrupted as Merripen launched toward him, attacking him with a bloodthirsty force that sent them both to the ground. The impact was hard, even on the muddy ground. They rolled twice, thrice, each striving to gain the dominant position. Merripen was as heavy as hell.
Realizing that being pinned was going to result in some serious damage to himself, Cam twisted free and sp
rang to his feet. Raising his guard, he blocked and sidestepped as Merripen leaped upward like a striking tiger.
The woodmen all rushed forward, two of them grabbing Merripen and hauling him back, the other one pouncing on Cam.
"You're such an idiot," Cam snapped, glaring at Merripen. He shook free of the man who was trying to restrain him. "You're determined to foul things up for yourself no matter what, aren't you?"
Merripen lunged, his face murderous, while the woodmen fought to hold him back.
Cam shook his head in disgust. "I'd hoped for a minute or two of rational conversation, but apparently that's beyond you." He glanced at the woodmen. "Let him go! I can handle him. It's easy to win against a man who lets his emotions get the best of him."
At that, Merripen made a visible effort to control his rage, going still, the wildness in his eyes diminishing to a glint of cold hatred. Gradually, with the same care they had used to manage the heavy crushing logs, the woodmen released his arms.
"You've made your point," Cam told Merripen. "And it seems you'll keep on making it until you've proven it to everyone. So let me spare you the effort: I agree with you. You aren't fit for her."
And he left the timber yard, while Merripen glared after him.
Merripen's absence cast a shadow over dinner that night, no matter how they all tried to behave naturally. The odd thing was, Merripen had never been one to dominate a conversation or take the central role of the gathering, and yet removing his unobtrusive presence was the same as taking off the leg of a chair. Everything was off-balance when he was gone.