Grenville 02 - Lord John's Dilemma

by G. G. Vandagriff

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

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  { 22 }

  { 23 }

  { Epilogue }

  Author’s Note

  Book Preview

  { 1 }

  Other Books by G.G. Vandagriff

  About the Author

  Lord John’s Dilemma

  A Regency Romance

  G.G. Vandagriff

  { 1 }

  Major John Lambeth felt every bump his horse trod on the long road home through the high summer green of England. His scarlet regimentals dusty and torn, he carried his arm in a sling.

  I never knew England to be so beautiful. With Napoleon defeated, I need never leave it again. But what will I do with the rest of my life?

  The thoughts were not new. They had plagued him ever since he had been discharged from the field hospital at Waterloo. He had had enough of the army. After the din and death of the epic battle, John longed for the peace of his family’s country estate in Lincolnshire. He wanted to see his brother, his sister-in-law, and their rowdy brood of four. He wanted to sleep in the bed in his childhood room with all its memories which, at this moment, seemed bright and sweet as though they were in another life—swimming in the lake and dunking Anabella, swordplay in the long gallery with Alex, chess with his father in the long summer twilight.

  It would not be long now. He was in the County.

  The devil take it! A carriage lying precariously half-in and half-out of a ditch blocked the narrow road ahead. Two people stood to one side while a pair of horses bucked in their traces. He must offer his help of course, but he was dreadfully weary. The travelers, whoever they were, were most likely weary as well.

  Slowing his horse, he made out a young woman dressed in drab traveling dress, standing with her hands on her hips. Her stance made it clear that she was not a weeping female, thank goodness. Accompanying her was a servant, dressed in the scarlet and green livery of John’s neighbor, Lord Lindsay. The young woman who possessed a riot of red curls cascading down her back underneath her bonnet was not Miss Lindsay. Miss Lindsay—she would be close to twenty now—had black hair.

  Memories of her from his last leave had entertained him briefly during his ride home. The eldest of four sisters, she had grown into a lovely young woman, if a bit reserved. None of her sisters had red hair either.

  As he dismounted, he realized this woman was a tiny thing. Tapping her foot on the dirt road, she was all impatience as the servant attempted to calm the horses.

  John moved in and, even with one arm, was able to soothe the team. He instructed the servant to unhitch them from the carriage. Murmuring to them soothingly, John managed to keep them from bolting. He stood by the horse on the right and stroked its nose until it stopped showing the whites of its eyes. The horse on the right picked up its partner’s new mood because it, too, relaxed and John and the servant were able to lead them a short distance ahead where they succeeded in securing them to a fencepost. Only at that point did he return and introduce himself to the young lady.

  “I am Major John Lambeth.” He touched his hand to his hat, barely lifting the bicorn from his head.

  “Thank you for your assistance. I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Miss Haverley.” She surprised him by walking to him, her hand extended to shake his. He took it and shook. Though her hand was small, her grip was fierce. She possessed a small round face with round green eyes. Her tight little smile revealed a slight dimple at the corner of her mouth. Not a raving beauty, but assuredly a young woman of firm character. Her skin was white and porcelain smooth beneath her bonnet. Certainly a lady. What was she doing out and about without an abigail?

  “I recognize the livery,” he said. “If I am not mistaken, you are on your way to Lord Lindsay, my neighbor’s home.”

  “Yes. I am the new governess to his two youngest daughters, the Misses Molly and Mariah.”

  He felt a moment’s surprise that she should be in such a servile position, but he addressed himself to the immediate problem. “An easy solution presents itself,” John said. “I propose that I mount you on Odysseus here, and I shall walk beside you to my home, Grenville Manor. There we can find a couple of stable lads who will return here to right your carriage and drive it to Lindsay Hall with your luggage.” She cocked her head to one side like an inquisitive bird as he spoke. He went on, “Meanwhile, our coachman can drive you in one of our carriages to your destination. Does that sound reasonable?”

  “It is very kind of you, Major. But how far shall you have to walk? If I am not mistaken, you are just come home from the war and you are wounded, as well. I can easily wait here with the carriage until your lads arrive.”

  His laugh was bitter with irony. This little dab of a thing was worried about him? He, the hardened campaigner who had been at war these four years? “Night is coming on soon,” he said shortly. “I would not have you waiting here. It is not far to my home.”

  “You are very good, Major. I am certain I am a great nuisance.” She stood frowning, and he thought she still might refuse. However, she said, “If you are bound to help me, could I beg your indulgence for just a moment? I must retrieve something from my luggage.”

  “You cannot enter the carriage while it is so unsteady,” he said, hearing his own gruffness. “I think whatever it is, you can safely leave it.”

  “I would rather not,” she said with surprising firmness. “I do not weigh much. I will be very careful.”

  So saying, she did not wait for his reply but stepped onto the carriage wheel and hoisted herself through the open door of the tilted vehicle.

  What a stubborn and heedless young woman she is! What could she have of such value that she would risk her safety like this?

  Moments later she reappeared clutching a small, soft leather case. He used his good arm to help her to descend.

  “Thank you. I am quite ready to proceed now,” she said. John could not help but admire her steadiness of nerve.

  At his bidding, the liveried servant formed a stirrup with his hands to enable the slight woman to mount Odysseus while John held the precious case. It was surprisingly heavy, as though it contained something very like jewels. But what would a governess be doing with a fortune in jewels?

  Once he had handed the case to her, he took the reins in his good hand and they commenced their walk. He noted another fact about Miss Haverley. She had an excellent seat on a horse.

  “Was it very bad at Waterloo?” she asked when they had been walking for a while.

  The question annoyed him. Proper young women were not supposed to ask such things. It was war. Worse than anything he would wish her to imagine. “It was louder and more confusing than most battles,” he replied shortly.

  For a while she was silent, and he was satisfied he had scotched that subject.

  “I can see that my question was foolish. But I want to personally thank you for fighting that battle. I lost my brother on the Peninsula, so I am very glad to have the conflict finally at an end.”

  He felt a complete churl. “I am sorry for your loss, Miss Haverley.” He did not know what else to say. John could not begin to comprehend how her brother’s death must have affected
her life. Perhaps it had something to do with her present plight.

  “Thank you for your condolences.”

  Again, she was blessedly silent. A quarter of an hour later, she asked, “Do you have a large family awaiting your arrival?”

  He was more tired than he had thought, and his energy was flagging as he proceeded on foot. The last thing he wanted was to make polite conversation. “You are very curious,” he said more sharply than he intended.

  “I beg your pardon. It is a failing of mine. If you prefer, we may proceed in silence. I would not torment you with banalities when you were kind enough to help me.”

  “I am weary,” he said. “I would prefer silence at the moment.” John knew he was rude, but he was out of practice with social niceties and much too tired to pretend otherwise.

  It was a longer walk than he predicted, and the silence became onerous. But then he began to see the familiar landmarks of his brother’s estate—the poplar-lined avenue, the thick hedgerows, and at last the stone gates marking the entrance to Grenville Manor’s park.

  “We have arrived,” he said. His boots crunched up the gravel drive, and even Odysseus seemed to perk up his step as he recognized his surroundings.

  The manor house had been made over at some time in the distant past to resemble a medieval castle with turrets, crenellated battlements, and a moat, now blessedly dry and carpeted with lawn. Late summer roses in shades of pink lined the drive, while a wild English garden faced the setting sun before the giant doors of the house. The welcome sight filled John with gratitude for Felicity, Alex’s wife, whose dowry had restored the Manor to its former glory. No longer did he come home to crumbling walls and the smell of damp. There were horses in the stables. The tenants lived in houses that were mended and dry.

  He led Odysseus and his rider around the dwelling to the stable block. Miss Haverley was noting everything around her, and he could almost feel her stifling her comments.

  “Lord John!” cried Nick, the head groom who was John’s own age and the son of the head groom before him. “It is that good to see you home!”

  A handful of stable lads descended upon them, helping the young woman down from the horse. John slapped Nick on the shoulder.

  “Have you brought back a bride?” Nick asked with a wink.

  John looked from the governess to Nick and back again. He was not amused, and she was studying her feet.

  “No, you insolent beggar,” he said. “This is the new governess at Lindsay Hall, Miss Haverley. She had an accident a few miles down the road toward Boston. We need to send a couple of the lads to pull Lord Lindsay’s carriage out of the ditch and send it along home. I would like Toby to take Miss Haverley to her new home in our carriage.”

  At that moment, he spied Felicity coming to greet him from the direction of the terrace. She had one of her two-year-old twin daughters by the hand. His brother’s wife was a honey-haired beauty who had won a special place in John’s heart, hardened though it was.

  He forestalled any further misunderstandings by calling out to her, “Felicity! Lord Lindsay’s new governess had an accident on the road.”

  When she had approached them, he said, “Miss Haverley, meet Lady Grenville, my sister-in-law.” When another governess would have curtseyed, this little woman put forth her hand for another handshake. Clearly amused, Felicity took it.

  Afterward, his sister-in-law stood on tiptoe and kissed John’s cheek. “Welcome home, dearest brother.” Turning to the young woman, she asked, “So you had trouble on the road, my dear?”

  “Yes,” the governess said. “Fortunately, Major Lambeth came along just after the carriage overturned.”

  “That was fortunate, indeed,” Felicity agreed. “Have you traveled far?”

  “From Kent,” Miss Haverley said. For some reason, this admission was made with another blush.

  “Oh, my,” said Felicity. “That is a way off. Did you come on the Mail to Boston? You must be starving! Come to the house for tea and sandwiches before you go any further.”

  “You are very kind, but no, thank you,” the smaller woman said, looking at John. “You have Major Lambeth just home from war, and I would like to arrive at Lindsay Hall before it is dark.”

  John gave her full marks for tact. “Here is Toby,” he said. “He will take you on by carriage. I wish you good luck at your new post, Miss Haverley.”

  “Thank you very much for helping me, Major,” she said, her chin raised, enabling her to look him in the eye. “I pray your wound may heal soon and that you will find respite with your family.” Turning to Felicity, she curtseyed. “It was lovely to meet you, my lady.”

  She turned on her little boot and walked off with Toby, her straight back and set shoulders speaking of an independent spirit.

  Felicity chuckled. “Whatever did you do to put the girl on her high horse, John?”

  Frowning he answered, “I do not believe she was raised to be subservient. She is going to have a difficult time of it as a governess.”

  “Ah, but governesses have a difficult time, by definition. They are neither servant nor guest. They all have to find their own path.”

  John felt a twinge of sympathy for the redhead. Lady Lindsay was a notable martinet.

  “Now, who are you?” he asked of the little blonde-ringleted creature by Felicity’s side. “Lady Emma or Lady Catherine?”

  The child let go of her mother’s hand and twisted about shyly. “Cate,” she mumbled.

  Bending down, he hoisted his niece up with his good arm just as the carriage from the stables went by. Cate gave a little wave to its occupant. John turned to see Miss Haverley waving back with a smile and a dimple. Perhaps he had been too churlish with the governess. Maybe someday he would have the opportunity to apologize.

  Hours later, he sat over a glass of port with his brother, Alex, in the dining room following a welcome-home feast that would have pleased even the Prince of Wales.

  “Thank you for letting us know so speedily of your survival, John,” Alex said. “The tales of that battle were horrendous. For days, we did not know who had won. Our anxiety over you knew no bounds.”

  “My men and I spent most of our time holed up in a strategic farmhouse, firing out the windows. But you are right. When the battle was over, the carnage on both sides was the stuff of nightmares.” He swirled the remaining port in his glass. “I have decided to resign my commission, Alex. I believe Napoleon will stay beaten this time.”

  His brother looked into his own glass with a furrowed brow. “Just how bad is your wound? Do you want Felicity to look at it?”

  “I think it will be all right. It could probably do with some of her magical honey and a clean bandage, however.”

  “We’ll see to it,” Alex said. He was still frowning.

  “I do not want to be a burden to you and Felicity,” John said, feeling his ill temper return.

  “You would never be a burden, John. You are my brother. Grenville Manor is your home, too. It is only by the grace of Felicity that either of us still has it.”

  And there John came up against it: His new abhorrence for the life of a landed gentleman who could not soil his hands with anything resembling work. Their father had nearly lost their estate with his profligate ways, leaving his heir to save it by marrying a fortune.

  “I fear a life of leisure will never suit me, Alex. I have had a lot of time to think about our way of life during the past four years. I was fighting to preserve it. So were my men. Even though it offered them nothing, they laid down their lives for it.” He could feel the scowl come over his face. “Most of them will be discharged. Unlike their officers, they have no cozy homes to go back to.”

  For a moment, there was silence.

  “The war has changed you, John. I fear you have become a Radical.”

  John pushed back his chair, got to his feet, and began pacing around the table. “I am tired, Alex. Beastly tired. But I cannot bear the thought of being idle.”

  “Ther
e is plenty to do here on the estate. My first love and concern is politics, as you know. I have been looking for an estate agent. Would you care for the job?”

  John stopped his pacing. “You are serious?”

  “Quite.”

  “Thank you, Alex. That will do very well until I get my head in order.”

  “I am glad to hear it. However, I must insist that you relax for at least a few days and let Felicity see to your arm. You are restless, but the fact is you need rest.”

  “I need work, Alex. I need to feel useful.”

  Felicity showed him into her small sitting room and unwound the dirty bandage around the shrapnel wound deep in his bicep. She cleaned it with soap and water while he gritted his teeth against the pain of having it touched.

  “I am afraid this is seriously inflamed, John, dear. If Anabella’s husband were not so far away in London, I would have him look at it.” She put a hand to his head. “Why, you are burning with fever! Why did you not tell us you were ill?”

  “Was Anabella’s husband not the doctor who told you about honey’s curative powers? I am certain if you slap some on the wound and bandage it up, I will be right as rain.”

  “The wound has closed. I am not certain it would do any good, but we can try it. You must get to bed. You have your old room. I did not change a thing, so do not worry. You had better get off to it this minute. I will mix up a fever powder and have Alex bring it to you.”

  John did as he was told. He felt suddenly sluggish and unable to object. Bed sounded good at the moment. He would worry about his men tomorrow.

  During the night, John slipped into delirium. Somewhere in his head, he knew Alex was at his bedside, but the only thing he saw as he tossed and turned and sweated was a redheaded chit looking at him with reproachful green eyes.

  { 2 }

  Delia Haverley made a conscious decision that she would emphasize her status as a member of the gentry by appearing at the front door instead of the service entrance. Lindsay Hall was a very grand gothic structure, but she would not be intimidated. Lord Lindsay was only a viscount, after all. She was the daughter of an earl, though it was true that the Lindsay family was not aware of that fact.