“The man I marry will have to love me, not my money. I want love, not a merger of assets.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have made such a sharply worded reply, but she didn’t get a chance to amend her statement. As they entered the house, they were met by the butler, who informed them that the viscount was in the breakfast room and asking for Edward. “I don’t think he slept well,” the butler said.
“That’s a euphemism meaning he’s in a rotten mood,” Edward translated. “He doesn’t like Worlege.” Edward’s footsteps on the wood floor echoed down the long hallway. “He says the birds make so much noise, it’s impossible to sleep.” They could hear Cyril’s querulous voice even before they entered the breakfast room. “I often have breakfast in the village when the family is at Worlege.”
Eden could see why.
“Where have you been?” the viscount demanded the moment they entered the room.
“Eden and I went for a ride.” Edward headed straight for the sideboard without looking at his father.
“They invited me to join them,” Patrick said from his place at the table, “but I decided to stay in bed.”
“You should have taken Daphne,” the viscount said.
“She doesn’t like horses,” Edward reminded his father for the umpteenth time.
“Then you should have offered to take her in the buggy.”
“She said she wanted to sleep late,” Eden told the viscount. “She was tired after the train ride.”
Stymied, Cyril angrily attacked his breakfast.
“Have my parents had breakfast yet?” Eden asked Patrick.
“They were down earlier,” Patrick told her. “Your mother and mine are comparing notes on how to preserve fruits. I think your father was headed to one of the farms to see a bull Edward told him about. He likes the idea of going back to Texas with a better bull than the one your brother Chet has.”
Daphne’s entry into the breakfast room caused a small stir. Patrick jumped up to help her with her food and then seated her at the table between him and Eden. Cyril remained sitting at the head of the table. Edward drank coffee from his position by the window.
The viscount turned his angry gaze on Edward. “What entertainment have you planned for Daphne this morning?”
“I have to work,” Edward replied. “I—”
“There’s nothing that can’t wait,” the viscount said, interrupting his son.
“I’ve been away for more than a week,” Edward objected.
“Potter has been here,” the viscount pointed out.
“Potter handles the accounts.” Edward gazed at the remains of his coffee rather than his father. “He doesn’t know anything about the crops, livestock—”
“He would if you didn’t get in his way,” Cyril said. “Let him deal with hay and turnips. Daphne needs your attention.”
Daphne looked up from her breakfast. “I’d prefer not to spend the morning bouncing over muddy roads in an uncomfortable buggy looking at crops and animals I have absolutely no interest in.”
“I had planned to ask Daphne to ride into the village this afternoon,” Edward explained.
“I have no desire to be introduced to the rustic way of life,” Daphne announced, “or people with whom I cannot possibly have a thought in common.”
“At least she knows what’s due the family’s position,” the viscount growled. “You should leave everything to Potter.”
Edward struggled valiantly to hold on to his temper. “If I did that, the family would be living in cramped quarters on one of our small holdings instead of spending half the year in London.”
“The family appreciates everything you do for us.” Alas-tair had come into the breakfast room in time to hear the last remark.
“It’s what he hasn’t done I’m complaining about,” Cyril said.
Daphne quietly continued eating her breakfast, apparently unconcerned that she was the center of an argument.
“I’ll take care of my business in my own way in my own time,” Edward said from between clenched teeth.
“But it’s our business,” Cyril thundered back.
“We’ve got the morning already planned,” Eden put in, hoping to ease the tension in the room. “Patrick has promised to give Daphne and me a tour of the house and grounds.”
“Edward can show Daphne the house,” the viscount stated firmly.
“I prefer Patrick,” Daphne said. “Edward barely knows a Gainsborough painting from a Turner.”
“Why can’t you leave things alone?” Edward asked.
“I would if you would stick to your business,” his father shouted. shouted.
“That’s what I intend to do right now.”
Edward put his coffee on the sideboard and walked out of the room, ignoring the viscount’s shouts that he return.
Unable to stand any more, Eden abandoned her breakfast and left the room, too.
“He doesn’t mean half the things he says.” Patrick had followed her. “He’s just worried about money.”
“Then he shouldn’t spend so much,” Eden snapped.
“He doesn’t know how to live any other way.”
“He still has no right to treat Edward the way he does.”
“Yes, Edward was really upset. Would you talk to him?”
The request surprised Eden. “You ought to do that.”
“He’s had to listen to me too often already. He likes and respects you.”
Eden wasn’t sure about that, but she was worried about Edward. It had to hurt to have your father constantly berate you, especially in front of the whole family. “Where would he have gone?”
“To the stables. He always goes for a ride or to one of the farms when he’s upset.”
“Tell my parents where I’ve gone when they come in,” she said.
On the way to the stables, she tried to think of something to take Edward’s mind off what his father had said, but she couldn’t think of anything except ways to drown the viscount or suffocate him in his sleep.
“To my way of thinking, he’s headed for the village,” the groom said as he saddled a horse for Eden. “He’s most likely in the pub right now.”
After getting instructions on a shortcut to the village, Eden set out at a fast canter. A few minutes later she spotted Edward sitting his horse alongside a field, staring at a group of grazing sheep. A swiftly flowing stream ran between the road and the field, noisily threading its way between smooth rocks and exposed tree roots. He looked up when he heard her approaching, but his expression didn’t change.
“Did Patrick send you to make sure I didn’t throw myself in the river?”
“I was worried about you. I don’t understand how your father expects you and Daphne to fall in love when he constantly sets you against each other.”
Edward gave her a long-suffering look. “Haven’t you learned that titled aristocrats facing bankruptcy can’t afford to waste something as valuable as marriage on something as insubstantial as love? We have to marry for advantage—social and political but especially financial—so we can preserve our position in the world.”
The bitterness in Edward’s voice saddened Eden. “Nothing is more substantial than genuine love. I see it in my parents every day.”
“Then they’re very lucky.” He gathered up his reins. “I’m going into the village. You’d better turn back.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“I’m going to the pub.”
“I’ve seen men drink. I wouldn’t blame you if you got drunk. How can you stand your father?”
“He can’t help himself. He doesn’t have any idea how to live without money.”
“Do you?”
Edward’s look turned thoughtful. “I’ve never had to try, but I don’t want all the things my father finds so necessary.”
“What’s important to you?”
They kept their horses at an unhurried walk. Edward was reluctant to begin but soon was talking about the land, the stock, the tenants,
their families, the village, his plans for the future, things she was certain he’d wanted to share with his father. He talked about the children like they were his own, about the tenants like they were family. He knew their names, their interests, and their troubles.
“Why haven’t you asked Daphne to marry you?” Eden asked when he finally fell silent. “That seems to be the main reason your father is angry with you.”
“She’s only the latest reason he has to be unhappy with me. He used to brag about me, tell people how good I was with horses, how well I could ride or shoot. He didn’t pretend I was perfect, but I think he was satisfied with me.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged. “I grew older and started to have different ideas and interests. Meanwhile, Patrick grew into exactly the kind of son he wanted. I used to try to get him to at least consider my opinions, but he never would. Finally, I gave up and just did what I thought was right.”
“Is that why you haven’t asked Daphne to marry you, because you don’t think it’s right?”
Edward gazed straight ahead. “I had always hoped to marry someone I could talk to, who would be my friend as well as my wife. My family wants Daphne for her money, and her family wants the title I’ll inherit. I keep trying to say the words, but they won’t come out. I’m hoping she will find something at Worlege that would give us at least one thing we could share.”
Eden pictured Daphne as she’d last seen her, a haughty beauty disdaining all around her, and doubted she and Edward would ever have anything in common.
As they approached the village, an old woman emerged from one of the stone cottages. She looked a little unsteady on her feet, her gaze a little unfocused, but when she saw Edward, she waved and came toward the fence that encircled her yard.
“Who’s that?” Eden asked.
“Mrs. Bright. My old nurse,” Edward said with a smile that drove away the last of his gloom. “She knows all my secrets, the family secrets, too.”
“I can’t wait to meet her.”
Chapter Six
Eden couldn’t imagine having someone other than herself take care of her own children. Everyone in her family felt the same. Maybe it was the lack of such close sharing that had caused Edward and his father to be so distant.
“Are you the young lady Edward’s going to marry?” the nurse asked when they brought their horses to a stop just outside the rose-covered wall that enclosed her home and small garden.
Eden chuckled at the startled look on Edward’s face. “No, ma’am. I’m a distant cousin come to visit for a few weeks.”
Surprised, the nurse subjected her to close scrutiny before turning to Edward. “Your father swore he’d never let those relations set foot in Worlege.”
“Miss Maxwell is American. She’s not one of those relations,” Edward assured her. “My father would still take a gun after them if they came near Worlege.”
“He doesn’t need to worry about them inheriting the place,” the nurse assured him. “He took care of that long ago.”
Something about the way she said it caught Eden’s attention. There was an element of disapproval or maybe something stronger. The old woman had obviously been drinking something besides her morning tea. Her eyes were clear and her gaze penetrating when she looked at Eden, doting when she looked at Edward, but her hands were unsteady and she leaned against the wall for additional support.
“What do you think of your English relations?” the nurse asked Eden.
“I like Edward and Patrick very much. The earl and Charlotte are okay, but I’m not very fond of the viscount. He’s too hard on Edward.”
“He’s not really—” Edward began.
“Don’t try to wrap a pig in clean linen,” the nurse scolded Edward. “I’ve known your father longer than you. So you like Edward,” the nurse said, turning back to Eden. “I bet you’d like to know what he was like as a little boy.”
Eden thought she could see tears come to the woman’s eyes, but she couldn’t be sure. Women her age, especially when they’d been drinking, sometimes had leaking eyes. “I’d love to hear about him.”
“You come by some morning by yourself, and we’ll have a nice little chat,” the nurse said to Eden before treating Edward to a fond smile. “He was the most energetic little boy, always just where he shouldn’t be, full of questions I had to answer, and always determined to have his own way.”
“Apparently nothing has changed,” Eden said with a laugh.
“When are you going to bring that young lady you’re going to marry?” the old nurse asked Edward as she pushed herself away from the wall.
“How about this afternoon?”
“Bring her in time for tea.”
She turned toward her house and made her way slowly across the lawn and inside without looking back.
“You mustn’t believe everything she’ll tell you about me,” Edward said as they went on toward the village.
Eden laughed. “I intend to believe every tale of mischief. Then I’ll tease you mercilessly.”
“I don’t mean that. She tends to imagine things that make me sound better than I am.”
“I think that’s sweet,” Eden said. “All my parents remember is what I actually did. My brothers are only too happy to corroborate everything they say.”
“You can’t fool me. Your parents adore you.”
“And I adore them,” Eden said. “They sent me away to school, maybe hoping I’d meet some nice young man and get married, but I couldn’t wait to go back to Texas.” Though sometimes she wondered if she’d done the right thing. As much as she loved the Hill Country, her future there was looking increasingly bleak.
Her depressing thoughts were banished when the village came in sight. A shout went up from somewhere, and over the next few minutes a gaggle of children poured out of cottages and from lanes to converge on Edward, all pelting him with questions.
“We’re having a fête champêtre up at the house next week,” Edward explained. “The whole village is invited.”
“He’s promised us games and prizes,” one of the boys said.
“And food,” another added.
“I want to ride a horse,” one of the girls said, only to be informed by several boys that there’d be an insurrection if she got to ride before they did.
The ragtag parade followed them into the heart of the small village but began to disperse when mothers started appearing with orders—and a few cuffs around the ears—to remind them of neglected chores.
One of the women came up to Eden. “My name’s Nellie Melsome. My husband, Peter, is one of the earl’s tenants,” she said. “Unless I miss my guess, Mr. Edward is headed for the tavern to have an ale and talk to the bunch of worthless men who’ll be there. It’s not a fit place for a lady,” she said good-naturedly with a twinkle in her eye. “Why don’t you have coffee with me?”
“Yes, go on,” Edward said. “Nellie loves to gossip about what’s going on up at the house.”
“There hasn’t been much to gossip about in ages,” Nellie said. “I hope that’s about to change with your prospective bride coming to the house for a visit.”
“Nothing is private in Green Moss,” Edward said.
“Not when all the servants are related to someone in the village,” Nellie explained to Eden. “It’s just sharing with family.”
“It’s being damned nosy,” Edward said without heat.
“Come on,” Nellie said to Eden. “He’ll be a lot more friendly once he’s had his drink and a chance to talk about pigs and turnips.”
Eden allowed herself to be led to a small house in a row of small houses. The cottage had little, low-pitched rooms, but it was neat and clean.
“My mother is staying in bed this morning,” Nellie said, “so you only have to put up with me.”
Eden settled in the tiny parlor while Nellie talked to her from the kitchen. Before long she had coffee and a plate of cookies set down before her.
“Now tell me abo
ut the latest argument between Edward and his father,” Nellie said as she settled into a chair opposite Eden. “Don’t look so surprised. Everyone knows Edward never comes to the tavern after breakfast unless his father has been at him again.”
Eden was in a quandary. The woman obviously had Edward’s approval, but that didn’t mean he wanted her to be privy to everything that happened up at Worlege.
“It was about him marrying that young heiress, I warrant.” Nellie took a swallow of her own coffee. “You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. I’ll have the whole conversation in a couple of days. The servants can hear the viscount all the way to the kitchen.”
“I wish he wouldn’t abuse Edward,” Eden said, unable to hold her tongue. “Edward’s very conscious of his responsibilities, but he’s also concerned about making the right choice for Daphne.”
“That’s Edward all over,” Nellie said. “He’d find things would go a lot easier if he’d just think of himself like the rest of that lot does.”
“I don’t think the earl mistreats him,” Eden said. “And Patrick is very fond of him.”
“The earl’s not a bad man, but he’s old school. Patrick tries, but the viscount won’t listen to anyone except the earl. Is that heiress the kind who’ll make him a nice wife or the kind that’ll be more worried about her new dress than her husband?”
Eden didn’t feel she could say anything that wouldn’t ultimately get back to Edward and his family. “I haven’t known her long enough to make that kind of judgment.” Anxious to change the subject, she said, “The children seem to be looking forward to the fête.”
“They’ve been talking about it since last year,” Nellie said, following readily. “After the viscount canceled the last one, we were afraid there wouldn’t be another, but Edward said the children couldn’t be disappointed this time.”
“I can’t imagine the lengths he must have had to go to to convince his father to change his mind.”
Nellie huffed. “He didn’t. Edward’s paying for the whole thing. At first the viscount even refused to let Edward use the grounds, but the earl put his foot down.”
Texas Loving (The Cowboys) Page 7