“Who are you, sir, and why have you come?” she asked.
The question was blunt and direct. Her tone was mild, unlike the servants who had greeted him, but it was far from welcoming. “I am Viscount Ellersleigh,” he responded. “I am here to claim ownership of this estate”
“Faro?”
Michael’s easy smile transformed into a grim expression as he nodded, “It appears you know Allerton quite well.”
“He is my cousin, my lord. I should.”
Michael didn’t react outwardly, though he was quite stunned by the admission. He hadn’t been aware that Lord Allerton had close relatives, much less that he was responsible for their care. Of course, responsible appeared to be a subjective term. She’d never had a Season nor been introduced to society. He would have remembered her, he was sure. Not only was she not out in society, now her home had been wagered out from under her. “Did he inform you that he no longer retained ownership of Blagdon Hall?”
From the blank look on her face, it was obvious that he had not. Michael grimaced. Informing a young woman that she’d just been divested of her only home, assuming it was her only home, was not how he’d planned to spend his day. His reprieve from London was turning out to be anything but relaxing. Tired, dirty, hungry and now guilt-ridden, the litany of his discomforts was growing at an alarming rate. Damn Allerton!
After a moment, she spoke softly. “Lord Allerton, as you have surmised, can be somewhat lax about providing pertinent information. I assume, Lord Ellersleigh, that you were unaware you would find Blagdon Hall inhabited?”
“Indeed, Miss. Have you other relatives to see to your care?” The complications he now faced at this unforeseen turn of events had him reeling.
Her emotions flashed over her face like quicksilver; Michael thought as he watched her. Horror, shock, and finally resignation played over her lovely features before she spoke. “I do have family in the area, my lord. My stepsister and her husband live close by.”
Michael felt like the worst sort of villain. Displacing young women from their home was not something he had ever thought to do. He wanted to call Allerton out for being so callous and so careless with the life and reputation of his relative. Laws provided little protection for women, leaving it to their male relatives to see to their well-being. With a guardian such as Allerton, she had no protection at all.
It was a quandary for him. He could return to town and allow the young woman time to make other arrangements, but permitting her to remain in a house that he owned would ruin her. Remaining in the house with her was entirely out of the question. Even had his own reputation been spotless, it would set tongues wagging. “Forgive me, but I do not know your name.”
“Miss Abigail Barrows.”
It suited her; he thought, old fashioned and lovely, bespeaking pragmatism and good sense. She appeared to have both qualities in abundance, regardless of his first impression of her. “Miss Barrows, I apologize for this difficult situation. Had I known that you were here, I would have written first and made appropriate arrangements, but as your cousin failed to inform me of your presence, we are now in a difficult situation. When can you be ready to remove to your other family?”
“I will leave this afternoon, my lord.”
“How will you get there?”
“You needn’t worry, my lord. My brother in law and stepsister, Lord and Lady Whitby are neighbors to us. It is only a short ride to their estate.”
Michael was both relieved and horrified. It was wonderful that she had relatives close by but that her relatives were such notorious high flyers was not. Lord and Lady Whitby were known for their quite liberal views on sexual pleasure. “If I may be of assistance—“
Miss Barrows stood, “No, thank you, my lord. I appreciate your kind offer, but I will be quite fine without further assistance. I simply need to collect my things.” She paused for a moment. “Assuming, I will be permitted to do so. You undoubtedly won the house and all of its contents.”
Michael raised an eyebrow at that. The words should have been sharp, but they were uttered calmly and with a matter-of-factness that left him simply befuddled by her. “I'm not a villain, Miss Barrows. It was not my intent to evict you from your home. I have no need of your personal items, nor am I such a hateful person that I would deprive you of them for spite.”
She nodded. “It's an unfortunate fact of being a woman that we own nothing. Our every possession is at the whim of men. It was not my intent to insult you, my lord. My apologies.”
Michael sighed. “Forgive me, Miss Barrows. I am cross from the journey and from discovering the unfortunate predicament that your cousin has created for us here.”
Another brief nod, the pale sunlight coming through the windows lit her skin with a soft, golden glow. The effect was entrancing.
She spoke again. “There are things you should know about the house, if I may be so bold. I should advise you that the servants are quite old and rather set in their ways but you should simply learn to live with it. You won't be able to hire from the village; they're quite superstitious and the talk of ghosts keep them firmly away. If you intend to staff the hall, an agency from London would be your best option.”
Michael knew enough about ghosts already. “Thank you for the advice, Miss Barrows.”
Abby walked out of the study and up the stairs, turning into the same chamber that had been hers since she’d left the nursery. It was far from luxurious; the walls were bare stone, the tapestries long since sold to pay the servants or the butcher. The four poster bed was hung with green velvet to keep out the chill of winter nights, though the fabric was faded with age. In spite of her outward display of fortitude, inside she was reeling.
Abbi retrieved her valise from the wardrobe, and placed it on the bed. The leather was worn, marred by scuffs and nicks. Like everything else at Blagdon Hall, it showed its age and use.
She collected her nicest gowns from the wardrobe, knowing even as she did that they would not be suited to the lavish entertainments that Lavinia often hosted. She packed them carefully into her valise, along with her brush and assortment of hair pins. She placed her mother’s pearls in the bag with care, as well. They were the one item of value that she’d never considered parting with. A miniature of her parents followed, and she was done. It was a sad testament to the level of poverty she had sunk that all of her worldly possessions would fit into one bag.
How different her life would be, she thought, if her father still lived, or her stepmother. That Thomas, Lord Allerton, had inherited the hall, and thus guardianship of her was nightmarish. He'd failed to care for her, a relative in his charge, and had placed her in an untenable situation. His treatment of the servants had been just as poor, letting them go months without wages, knowing they were too old to seek employment elsewhere.
Now, her once meager existence had taken a decidedly sharp turn for worse. As the house was not entailed, there was no legal reason to prevent Allerton from wagering it on a whim. It was her home, inherited by her father from a distant relative. Upon his death, she had not been given the option of seeing to her own finances, as she was an unmarried woman. Instead, fiduciary responsibility had been given to a man who would bet against rain, even as the first drops fell.
In five years, she had gone from a fairly comfortable lifestyle of moderate wealth to chasing a deranged feline because she couldn’t afford to replace a simple quill. Now she was off to her sister and lecherous brother-in-law. There were worse fates than having one’s fortune entrusted to a wastrel like Allerton, and she was on the verge of encountering several of them first hand. Anger stirred in her, at Allerton, at Viscount Ellersleigh, at her father; but she tamped it down. It would only give way to frustrated tears as she had no other recourse. Her pride had suffered enough staggering blows for one day.
She carried the bag downstairs but Mrs. Wolcot, the housekeeper, was nowhere to be found and her brother, Willis was still at the gate. Lord Ellersleigh was there, where he prompt
ly took the case from her. He carried it outside to a waiting horse, saddled for her. It had to have been done by him as there was no one else. He assisted her with her mount and handed the bag up to her.
“Thank you again, Lord Ellersleigh. You have been most kind,” she offered, her tone neutral and just shy of cold. She softened it with a polite smile for he truly had been kind. He was allowing her to keep her things, to take one of the mounts that now belonged to him.
Michael stared up at her, his expression somber. His tone matched it as he spoke, “I have robbed you of your home, Miss Barrows. That is hardly a kindness.”
“You did not. Lord Allerton robbed me of my home, and you have been most gracious in permitting me to take my personal items with me. Good day, Lord Ellersleigh.”
Michael watched her ride away, feeling more like a villain than he ever had.
Chapter Three
A day later, Michael was an honored guest in the home of Lord and Lady Whitby. He had accepted their invitation to dinner only because he wished to see Miss Barrows again and assure himself that she was suffering no ill effects of her unexpected eviction. Michael was accounted to be a rake by most, but he did not move in the same circles as the Whitbys. They preferred darker entertainments much like the previous Duchess of Briarleigh.
He shuddered at the memory of his friend's first wife and the turmoil she had brought into everyone's lives. But Rhys had found his happiness with Emme, the two of them so painfully in love he could barely stand to be in their presence. Michael directed his attention to his present surroundings and away from the past, distraction at the Whitbys' could have devastating consequences.
He was not the only guest. Lord Allerton was in attendance, as well as other prominent locals. Miss Barrows was seated far down the table. Though the hostess was her sister, she was relegated to a position at the table that might have been more appropriate to that of a companion or penniless dependent than a guest or family member. It was telling.
Her gown was old and worn, though of good quality. The muslin was pale and did not truly suit her dramatic coloring, though the neckline revealed a charming amount of cleavage. Her hair was dressed similarly to the first time he saw her, a collection of tight braids interwoven, though a bit higher on her head this time and adorned with a simple silver comb. She looked effortlessly lovely, a far cry from the other women present.
“Lord Ellersleigh, tell me about London! I have missed the excitement of the city so!” Lavinia gushed. She had seated him to her right, and with every statement she clutched his arm. At one point, beneath the table, she had even clutched his thigh.
“I have not been much in town,” he said, “I have been visiting at Briarwood Hall for an extended period.”
“Ah, yes! I had heard that his grace, Lord Briarleigh, had remarried. What a shame about Lady Elise…We were quite good friends, you know.”
He did know. It only added to his distaste for her. Elise, the former duchess had been evil, spiteful, and wicked. There was no sin she would not commit. “I was aware of your connection,” he said simply and hoped the matter would be at end.
Lavinia leaned forward so that her bosom pressed against his arm. In a conspiratorial tone, she asked, “Was she really haunting Briarwood Hall? Did you see her ghost there?”
“Idle gossip,” he replied, evading the question even as he shifted in his chair to evade her touch. “Tell me, Lady Whitby, do you intend to return to London for the little season?”
She smiled, “Perhaps I will have all the entertainment I desire right here, Lord Ellersleigh.”
She might, Michael thought, but it would not be him. Lavinia left him utterly cold. He continued to dance about her prying questions even as her husband entered the conversational arena.
"Ellersleigh, I understand your father was something of a collector of Greco-Roman artifacts!"
Michael nodded. "Indeed, he amassed a rather impressive collection prior to his passing. I have not yet cataloged it in its entirety."
"Some of those artifacts are quite risqué! Should be inspiring work," Rupert was amused at his own wit, but his chuckle gave way to a cough.
Michael was nonplussed by the man's attempt at humor. "If one finds blood sacrifice entertaining ... most of my father's artifacts pertain to cults and rituals. It's hardly lighthearted fare."
Rupert nodded, having collected himself. He dabbed at his lips with a napkin. "I have quite a collection of my own, Ellersleigh. If you find yourself eager to be rid of such dark objects, I'd happily take them off your hands."
Michael gave a noncommittal nod. Doing any sort of business with the Whitbys was ill advised, rumors abounded over the state of their finances. If he ever sold his father's collection, it would be to someone who could actually pay for it.
After dinner, the ladies retired to the drawing room while the men retreated to the library for brandy and cigars and the ubiquitous discussion of investments, politics, hunting, and horses. As conversation went, it was dreadfully dull. Not that the ladies' conversation would be any livelier. Dresses and balls held little interest for him, but at least the view would be better.
After what seemed an interminable amount of time, they rejoined the ladies in the drawing-room. He hoped to find a moment to speak with Miss Barrows, but she had retreated to her room, banished most likely. It didn’t take him long to understand why.
Liquor and other vices began to flow freely in the drawing room, and many of the guests began to indulge in more libidinous pursuits. More than ever, he needed to assure himself that she was well, and then escape the nest of vipers. With that in mind, Michael made a beeline for the doors but was abruptly halted.
Lord Allerton was well into his cups. He’d arrived for dinner already foxed and had continued to consume copious amounts of wine throughout. As the party descended into something more suited to the front room of a brothel, Allerton seemed only to wish to fight.
“There is nothing so dishonorable as a man who will cheat at cards!” Allerton said loudly. Though it wasn’t a direct challenge or insult, it was near enough to have several of the guests gasping in dismay.
“Are you enjoying your new home, Lord Ellersleigh?” he demanded. The question had been worded politely, but the drunken sneer robbed it of any semblance of propriety.
“There is much to recommend it, Allerton. Excuse me, please,” Michael said, and retreated to the garden. At least Allerton's tantrum had offered him a reasonable excuse to vacate the thinly veiled orgy. He walked down a darkened path that led alongside the house, hoping to avoid confrontation. Allerton was an ass, and a drunken one, but Michael did not wish to be put in the position of having to call him out. He had done enough shooting in the army. Putting a pistol ball in another human being was not an experience he wished to repeat any time soon.
Turning his mind from such gruesome memories, he thought of Miss Abigail Barrows. She was a fish out of water amongst the fast set the Whitbys routinely associated with. He'd caught more than one man eyeing her over dinner. He was honest enough to admit that he'd been guilty of admiring her charms as well, but while his heart wasn't entirely pure, his intentions were. He had his own brand of honor, and it left her, entrancing as she was, utterly safe from him.
“It is so nice and quiet out here, Lord Ellersleigh… I am glad you found a private spot where we could be alone.”
Michael groaned as he turned around to see Lady Lavinia behind him. She had followed him. The dancing slippers dangling from her fingers accounted for his not having heard her approach. The hunger on her face was evident. She made no attempt to conceal the carnal nature of her intentions. Even as he looked at her, she brought her hand to her neckline; one carmine tinted finger dipping beneath the fabric.
“You should return to your guests, Lady Whitby,” he said evenly.
Lavinia laughed and continued to approach him. “You needn’t worry about my husband, Lord Ellersleigh. He doesn’t mind that I pursue other avenues of satisfaction. He en
courages it actually.” Her lips quirked upward in a predatory smile. “Your prowess is legendary. Perhaps we could demonstrate for him?”
“It isn’t fear of your husband, madam; it is a lack of interest,” he said bluntly. It had become alarmingly apparent that subtlety would not discourage her.
“You appear to have some interest,” she said, reaching forward to press her hand against the front of his breeches.
Michael pulled back, pushing her away from him. It had been his thoughts of Miss Barrows who had prompted his physical response.
He had been staring at her during dinner, in her simple dress, with her neck and shoulders bared by her restrained coiffure. The hint of cleavage revealed by her gown was far more appealing than Lavinia’s breasts that were all but bared before him.
When she reached for him again, Michael gripped her wrist, the pressure painful but not damaging, “Return to the house, Lady Lavinia, and find some other stud to service you. I haven’t the stomach for it.”
She hissed at him, like a spitting cat. “Then why did you accept my invitation? If you weren’t seeking a liaison with me, why did you come?”
Michael rolled his eyes heavenward, and a pale figure on the balcony above caught his eye. Abigail was seated on a narrow ledge outside the window, not even a true balcony, but a decorative edifice. She was near enough to see, but too far to hear what had been spoken in hushed tones. With a silent curse, he said, “We are neighbors. I had hoped to be on friendly terms…Apparently the terms are not as friendly as you would wish.”
“It’s her, isn’t it? My dear stepsister has caught your eye!” she said. “Well, I wish you the best of luck with her, my lord, for she’s as cold as they come!”
“I apologize for any offense to you, Lady Lavinia. I have no interest in your sister other than to be certain she did not suffer any ill effects after being so unceremoniously evicted from her home.”
The Dark Regency Series: Boxed Set Page 28