by Lara Temple
‘Do you mean with Genny?’
‘If she wishes.’
‘I... No, we could hardly leave Mary with Lady Westford, and I don’t know if we could convince her to leave her on her own. Oh, it would never work.’
‘It strikes me that my grandmother would be far happier in London in any case. Racketing around there seems to suit her far more than it does you and Mary.’
‘Oh, it does. But then we would have to stay with her there...’
‘Why? I’m sure we could unearth some worthy but impoverished Carrington cousin who could organise her whist parties. Charlie wouldn’t have wanted you fetching and carrying for that old witch for the rest of her life.’
‘No... Charlie wanted us to have a large family and to live on one of the smaller estates where he could grow—’ Her voice cracked and she shrugged and smiled. ‘I must go and place these in water before they fade. Thank you, Lord Westford.’
Kit watched as she hurried inside and then continued towards the library. He’d ask Mary about Carrington cousins, and the steward about the Dower House, and Genny about—
‘Hello, cousin!’
Kit stopped abruptly in the library doorway at Julian’s salutation. His cousin was lounging in an armchair, looking through some papers, and the look he directed at Kit was half-smug, half-wary.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’ Kit demanded.
‘I thought the past two weeks had rubbed off some of your rough edges, but apparently I was mistaken. Is this how you plan to greet all your guests, Kitty?’
‘Guests are invited. You aren’t.’
‘I beg to differ. I most assuredly am. Well, if you wish to split hairs, it wasn’t strictly an invitation. More of a command.’
‘Whose?’ Kit’s voice snapped like a whip, though he already knew the answer.
‘Who issues commands in this household? Or rather, who issues commands I’m likely to obey? Darling Genny, of course.’
Kit went to the sideboard, where Howich had cleverly placed a decanter at the ready for the new master. It was early yet, but he felt the need for a glass. ‘Wine?’
‘One of your purchases? Or the vinegar Grandfather indulged in?’
‘Mine.’
‘Then I will, thank you. It’s been a long two weeks so far, and likely to be a longer week still. I need all the support I can garner, Kitty.’
Kit considered taking offence at Julian’s needling him with the hated nickname, but decided that would only encourage the bastard. He took his glass and paced along the shelves, as he had last night when he’d reacquainted himself with the one room in the house he remembered fondly.
It was a graveyard by means of books, with each Carrington ancestor possessed of their own plot of land. His grandfather’s collection of medieval Books of Hours was shut safely into glass-fronted shelves, his father’s antiquarian tomes and plates covered part of the north wall, and then came Charlie’s shelf, dedicated to agricultural tomes...
He moved away from Charlie’s dreams and stopped. A book was leaning tipsily into a gap in the middle shelf. He set the book straight, momentarily distracted from his vexation.
‘Did you take some books from here, Julian?’
‘I haven’t touched a book in this house for years. Why? Are they valuable?’ Julian asked.
‘Not in the least.’
‘Oh.’ The disappointment was evident. ‘Pity. I could have used the hunt for a book thief to enliven the next few days. What books?’
‘Three books. One on the battle of Thermopylae, Herodotus’s Historias, and Chamber’s Life of Thucydides.’
Julian’s mouth quirked, as if at some secret thought, but then he shrugged. ‘They will probably turn up on a table somewhere.’
Kit surveyed the rest of the shelves but there were no other gaps. ‘Not that it matters. It is merely...curious.’
‘I’m taking some more of this excellent tonic,’ Julian said, wandering over to the decanter. ‘Would you care for some more, or are you determined to keep your wits about you to meet the onslaught?’
Kit held out his glass to be filled. ‘I’d rather have them dulled. I never would have guessed I’d prefer a forced march across the Pyrenees to another week entertaining the Ton.’
‘God, yes. They’re insatiable. If we have to play charades one more time... Other than the excellent food and wine, I’m regretting the moment I convinced you to show your face in society. I never realised how boring people obsessed with antiquities can be. Why the devil couldn’t you invite some guests with an interest in something useful? Even an interest in pork jelly would be a relief at this point. The way they went all spongey at the sight of the vase you brought out that last night in Town made me queasy.’
‘You’re a damned waste of a good education, Julian. That vase is over a thousand years old and probably worth more than your horse.’
‘Since I don’t own a horse, you’re undoubtedly right. You’d best watch how you flaunt those baubles. I overhead Lord Ponsonby telling his daughter how much it was worth, and the lovely Lady Sarah’s sapphire eyes lit like bonfires.’
‘Thank you for your concern, but I don’t think someone like Lady Sarah would enjoy giving up her Tonnish pursuits to become the wife of a scandalous merchant—even one with a title.’
‘Who says she’d have to give up her pursuits? Her type would lord it in London while you were out on the high seas providing the dibs.’
‘You don’t like her, do you?’
‘I’m not particularly fond of schemers. Remind me of my mother. Always scheming and never stopping to see who they’ve stepped on along the way.’
‘You say you don’t like schemers but you seem very fond of Genny, and she casts Lady Sarah’s machinations into a deep shade.’
‘You have a point. Genny’s ambitions may not be mercenary, but she’s happy to sacrifice the two of us to keep the old witch happy and off Mary’s and Serena’s backs,’ Julian continued.
The uncharacteristic shade of bitterness in his voice caught Kit’s attention as much as the words. ‘What do you mean, sacrifice the two of us?’
Julian leaned his head back in the chair, his smile mocking. ‘I would have thought it was obvious. In between her efforts to snatch one of those prosy gentlemen for Mary and Serena, she and dear Grandmama have us surrounded by a constant buzz of lovely ladies like bees around a honeypot. You didn’t think that was chance, did you?’
‘Neither Genny nor Grandmama had anything to do with my decision to come to the ball in the first place. You were the one who convinced me,’ he said warily.
‘Mea culpa. Genny forced my hand. I knew Marcus would prove damn elusive, and I didn’t see why I had to suffer alone. I honestly never expected the chase to last so long—and certainly not to see it transposed from London to Dorset with your full approval. Which of the pretty and pedigreed parcels arriving today are you leaning towards?’
‘Arriving today?’ Kit echoed, still hoping he had misunderstood.
Julian raised a brow. ‘Were you hoping for another day’s reprieve? I saw the Cavershams stopping at the Green Giant in Guildford on my way here. The Ponsonbys were with them. I daresay the Ducal pack is not far behind. Your few days’ rest is up, Cuz. The old witch would obviously prefer you pick one of the Burford girls, to please the old Duke, but I put my money on Lady Sarah. She’s almost as cunning as Genny, and she and her ambitious papa have clearly decided you will do very well indeed for their purposes. If I were you I’d choose that sweet little Caversham lamb—pretty, quiet and outrageously wealthy, with an irreproachable name that goes all the way back to the dawn of time. She’ll brighten your tarnished coat of arms and wait patiently at home while you do as you please. What more could a man want?’
Kit hardly even registered the slipping of Julian’s urbane charm, revealing the angry bitterness
he usually kept veiled. He was too occupied with realising what a complete blind fool he’d been. Why hadn’t he asked who Genny was inviting? He’d left it to her and assumed...
He’d assumed a great deal about Genevieve Maitland. And in his lustful haze he’d forgotten precisely what she was.
Yet it still felt...wrong.
He made one last bid to redeem her. ‘Why assume Genny orchestrated this and not Grandmother? You would think marrying us off would go against Genny’s interests. She and Serena would be forced to leave the Hall and Carrington House.’ He didn’t mention his surmise that Genny had long been holding a candle for Julian himself.
‘Well, that is what she wants, isn’t it? Independence. Grandmama has her own funds, you know. And that is what she promised Genny in return for one of us walking up the aisle and signing the register. She’ll pay Serena’s debts and settle a generous sum on her. A very comfortable arrangement.’
‘Who told you this?’
Julian’s shrugged. ‘What difference does it make?’
Kit wished he could dismiss this as a sign of Julian’s malice, but it rang true. Such a pact would provide Genny with everything she wanted.
He should have told her that very first week that he had settled Charlie’s debts and arranged annuities for Serena and Mary. He’d been tempted to tell her but he’d held back, afraid she’d think he was doing it as much to please her as out of duty.
Which was true as well.
Idiot.
But he shouldn’t be angry with her. Genny Maitland was simply doing what she did best—surviving.
He wasn’t angry.
He was furious.
At her, at his grandmother, and at Mary and Serena for allowing those two Machiavellian women to control their lives... No, for practically forcing them to do so by the sheer force of their passivity.
He was furious at Julian as well. Not for his part in the subterfuge, but for seeing more clearly what he himself should have seen from the moment he’d walked into Carrington House. He had seen it. He’d just allowed his suspicions to be lulled, allowed himself to believe that in joining forces with him Genny had somehow set her other alliances aside—his grandmother, Julian...
Unbelievably gullible.
‘Kit? Where are you going?’
Kit didn’t answer as he strode out of the library.
First he would set his grandmother straight. And then...
Chapter Fifteen
‘Lady Westford has sent for you, miss,’ Susan announced.
Genny looked up from her writing and sighed.
Susan’s mouth hovered near a smile. ‘Yes, miss.’
‘Very well, Susan. Are my sister and Mrs Mary still resting?’
‘Mrs Mary is, but your sister is out in the garden with His Lordship.’
‘With Lord Westford?’ Genny tried to mask her surprise.
‘Yes, miss. Bess said as she just saw her and Lord Westford there, miss.’
‘Thank you, Susan.’
Genny closed her books and went to the window. She had a clear view of the gardens and the path leading back to the house. As Bess had reported, two figures stood by the entrance to the rose garden. Kit was smiling down at her sister and Serena was laughing, her face bright with pleasure, her hands moving animatedly.
She looked years younger, like she had in Spain, full of joy and flirtatious light. Genny hadn’t seen that expression on her face in a long, long time. They looked perfect together, both tall and beautiful, dark and light. Genny’s heart gave a painful squeeze compounded of pleasure at seeing her sister as she had once been, and sharp, undeniable jealousy.
She had resolved to accept whatever fate dictated, but if fate dictated that something should evolve between Kit and Serena...
Nonsense. They don’t suit at all. Serena needs someone sedate and stable and cheerful, like Charlie. There is no reason to worry simply because Kit is making her laugh...and look happier than she has since...
She turned away from the sight and left her study, her hand pressed hard to her stomach as she made her way to Lady Westford’s room, where she took a few moments to compose herself before knocking on the door.
She had barely crossed the threshold when Lady Westford’s voice snapped out at her.
‘I’m not happy with you, Genevieve Maitland.’
Genny took a deep breath and went to sit by the bed, where Lady Westford lay still in her dressing gown and lace cap. Carmine’s cage was partly covered by an embroidered cloth, and his beady eyes glimmered accusingly from the shadows. She’d forgotten to bring seeds, and most likely Carmine was about to make her pay for her lapse.
‘It’s been over a fortnight and we’ve nothing to show for it,’ Lady Westford continued, reaching for her cane where it lay on the coverlet beside her.
‘A fortnight is not a very long period,’ Genny replied, feeling the lie. This fortnight had felt very, very long indeed.
‘It’s enough to see that he spreads himself about but won’t encourage any of them. I don’t see what difference this week will make.’
‘He has spent a great deal of time with Lady Sarah, during the past week in particular.’
‘Aye, she sees to that! But sinking her claws into him is a sure way of making him bolt. At our last dinner in London he flirted with Burford’s youngest instead—the one who wants him to carry her off on his ship like Scheherazade, or some other foolish female.’
Genny didn’t bother correcting Lady Westford’s literary allusions. She’d noticed the same, and so had Lady Sarah, who had very wisely stepped back and spent the evening flirting with Julian.
She wondered what Lady Westford would say had she seen Kit and Serena just now. Serena had barely been considered good enough for Charlie when they’d thought her able to provide an heir. Lord Westford marrying his cousin’s barren widow would likely give Lady Westford an apoplexy.
‘Yet you must admit he has behaved exceptionally well—’
Genny cut herself off, realising she was following Lady Westford’s lead in speaking of Kit as if of a child invited to join the adults at the dinner table. If she didn’t need Lady Westford’s co-operation and goodwill, she would be tempted to tell her precisely what she thought of her treatment of her grandson.
She gathered her scattering resolve and continued. ‘Playing hot and cold at this juncture is probably his way of reminding Lady Sarah who is in command, Lady Westford. He knows quite a bit more about seduction than you...’ She trailed off that sentence and took a deep breath. ‘I, for one, think we are doing quite well. You shall have to be patient. The more you press, the more resistance you arouse.’
‘In you as well, eh?’ Lady Westford cackled and Carmine followed suit, hopping about excitedly.
‘Yes,’ Genny snapped. ‘In me as well.’
Lady Westford’s eyes widened in surprise and she looked far more human. ‘What’s eating you, child? Worried about Serena? You’d think the gel would be sensible enough to cast out some lures to Caversham. He might be tempted into the parson’s mousetrap by a pretty face and soft ways if she but exerts herself. Can’t have her mooning about Charles for ever or she’ll lose her bloom. Best have a word with her.’
‘I will not have a word with her. She is old enough to make her own decisions and mistakes.’
Genny felt an absurd need to cry and hurried to the door. She’d had her fair measure of being tested for the moment. For the year.
As she opened it Lady Westford’s cane rapped against the chair, but lightly.
‘Wishing me at Hades, aren’t you, Genny?’
‘There is a great deal to prepare and I’m tired, Lady Westford,’ Genny replied.
Her answer seemed to upset Lady Westford, as if she’d somehow been snubbed.
‘I can see that. Go and do what you need to do. But make sure y
ou keep your eye on the rouleaux, Genevieve Maitland. We have a deal, you and I. Don’t think I won’t hold you to your part of it. Remember what’s in it for you.’
‘I remember, Lady Westford.’
‘Yes, I daresay you do. Don’t forget—it was your scheme to begin with, but it’s my money you won’t see a penny of if you don’t deliver results.’
Genny didn’t bother responding, just stepped out into the corridor.
And straight into Lord Westford.
Her heart gave an almost audible squeak as his hands closed on her arms, steadying her. She was about to apologise when she caught the expression in his sea-blue eyes. His gaze held hers for a moment, then shifted past her to the still-open door.
He reached past her and slowly closed it. The faint thunk of wood on wood sounded very loud.
She waited for him to say something. Anything. She knew without a doubt that he had heard her last exchange with Lady Westford. She was not quite certain how it had sounded to him, but by the absolutely blank look on his face it was bad. He just stood there, saying nothing, his face so leeched of expression she might as well have been boxed in by a statue.
‘Excuse me, Lord Westford,’ she said, her voice a shade too high.
‘For what, Miss Maitland?’
Good point. She was tempted to point out that people who eavesdropped rarely heard anything to their advantage, but thought better of it.
‘Mrs Pritchard is waiting for me. To discuss tomorrow’s menus.’
‘Mrs Pritchard is proving endlessly useful to you, Genny Maitland, isn’t she? By all means, run along. I shall find you after I have a word with my grandmother.’
With that ominous promise he set her aside and entered Lady Westford’s room.
* * *
Genny did not wish to admit even to herself that she had found every excuse to remain in Mrs Pritchard’s neat little parlour far longer than their business merited. They’d reviewed the linen inventory, the references of a new housemaid, and everything else that had been piling up in the busyness of opening the Hall to guests after almost two years of mourning.