Happily, the inn was where he had left it, ancient stone and mortar, not looking a whit different than it had on his last visit there. On that occasion nearly a dozen years ago, several of his mates had toasted him endlessly, glass after glass of ale less than twenty-four hours before James set sail for the Americas.
Probably was just as well he had been drunk at the time or, green as he was, he might never have followed through with his plan to leave the country. And that would have been a pity. His sojourn in the West Indies was the highlight of an otherwise uneventful youth.
Until Amanda.
He sighed, dismounting and dusting off his boots. Entering the inn, James was met by cool, dank air and a moldering odor—unique to truly old buildings—that had taken centuries to accumulate.
A young waitress, blonde and attractive in a blowzy sort of way, showed him to a table and took his order. She returned shortly and placed a mug in front of him. The smile she sent James was saucy, almost flirtatious.
“Haven’t seen you around here, gov’nor.”
James smiled back, more out of courtesy than inclination. “Just returned home,” he said, unwilling to elaborate.
“Where’s home?”
“Lonsdale.”
Her eyes widened. “His lordship?”
“One and the same.” He picked up his glass, hoping she would take the hint.
At that moment, the raucous laughter of several males filled the room, and his attention was drawn to the far corner of the darkened inn.
Derrick…and his two friends.
“I wish they would leave,” the waitress said, her gaze following his.
“Are they making trouble?”
Her attitude turned wary. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’. The blonde gentleman said he’s from Lonsdale, too.”
“Not as sorry as I am,” James muttered.
This time she gave him a smile that was genuine and without coquetry. “Relative of yours?”
“Cousin.”
“They’re not making trouble, m’lord, not really. But your cousin is a cheeky devil. Disrespectful, he is. Kind of bloke what shouldn’t drink, ‘cause spirits brings out the worst in ‘im.”
Unfortunately, for Derrick—and all those who knew him—there was no “best” in his cousin, sober or not. James exhaled morosely. He would have to do his contemplating another day. He took a sip of his ale and stood up, bringing the mug with him.
“Perhaps I’ll wander over and see how the chaps are getting on. Won’t hurt for them to know I’m here.”
He ambled across the room, adopting a casual attitude, feeling anything but. Derrick looked up as James reached the table. His cocky smile drifted into a smirk, his transparent gaze growing hard.
“Well, well, if it ain’t Cousin James.”
“Indeed,” James returned pleasantly. “Mind if I join you?”
“Why, Cousin, is this your day to step down in the world?”
“Would seem so.”
Derrick waved his hand toward an empty chair. “Then by all means…”
Sarcasm hung on the air, so oppressive he could wear it like a coat, but James chose to show no offense. He sat down and leaned back, taking stock of Derrick’s two companions.
The first, whom James silently nicknamed “Ratty,” was thin and stringy with shifty black eyes and front teeth that rested prominently on his bottom lip. He exuded cruelty.
The other was built like an ox, small head and smaller ears. He exuded cruelty, also, mixed with a liberal dose of stupidity, a lethal combination under any circumstances. Both fellows looked common and shady, and by his association with them Derrick was characterizing himself.
“You going to introduce me to these, ah, gentlemen, Derrick?”
“Sure, sure,” Derrick said. “This is James Tremont, Earl Lonsdale. Freddy Jones,” he waved at Ratty before pointing at the ox, “and George Little.”
“Jones, Little,” James acknowledged them.
Freddy sucked his big front teeth, and George merely stared at him stupidly.
“It’s grown rather quiet,” James remarked. “Hope I haven’t interrupted anything.”
“Only the fun, Cousin.”
This was met by a communal nod and a round of snickers.
“I hate it when you sound petulant, Derrick.” James turned to his cousin’s friends. “Petulance, not a man’s emotion, don’t you agree?”
The two men looked to Derrick for guidance.
Derrick, ever sensitive, bit back. “What’s the matter, James? Your wife still angry with you?” His swollen lip curled. “Frustration making you irritable?”
That last came so close to the mark that James was out of his chair before he realized he had stood up. To his satisfaction, however, his cousin cringed away from him.
“It never fails to amaze me,” James said evenly, “that a man so terrified of physical pain would go out of his way to invite it. Your lip is nearly healed. Perhaps you would like me to open it again.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Cousin.” The slight quaver in Derrick’s voice belied that statement.
“No, of course, you’re not.”
“And I’m the one with reinforcements.”
“Is that so?”
His gaze skimmed over Freddy and George, but James sensed that neither man was ready for a brawl. Not that they were strangers to violence, he decided, but challenging a peer of the realm in a public place was an unintelligent move even for a stupid man.
James leaned forward and crooked a finger at Derrick’s friends. “Tell you what, gents, I’d like a private word with my cousin. How about waiting outside? Judging by the empty glasses on this table, I suspect a little fresh air will do you both some good.”
Derrick jumped up. “Now wait a minute—”
But his protest was cut off by the hasty retreat of George and Freddy. James was not fooled. Under other circumstances those ruffians would turn his face inside out and not give it a thought. But today was clearly not the day, so perhaps they weren’t as dull-witted as he had at first thought.
Now alone with his cousin, James again took a seat at the table and said, “Sit down, Derrick.” He picked up his drink.
“I can listen to what you have to say on my feet.”
“Sit. Down.”
His attitude as sullen as a wayward child, Derrick flopped into his chair. “Some things never change. Still telling me what to do. In case you haven’t noticed, Cousin, I’m an adult now.”
“Chronologically, perhaps. When did you start getting drunk before the noon hour?”
“Nothing wrong with having a few drinks with a couple of blokes.”
“No. Done it myself many times. Not usually for my morning meal, however.”
“Then…?”
James leaned forward and nailed his cousin with a look. “What are you doing?” He put up his hand to stem the protest. “Not here, not today. Why did you come back to Lonsdale when I expressly told you not to?”
“Did you want me to sleep on the streets?”
“Frankly, I didn’t give a damn then and I don’t now.”
“How do you think Mother will feel about that?”
“Completely in character, Derrick. When are you going to stop hiding behind Aunt Henry’s skirts?”
“Can I help it if she loves me?”
“You can help exploiting that love. Give her a day of pride instead of continually breaking her heart.”
“It is not my fault if I can’t live up to her expectations.”
“No appealing to your better side, is there? You don’t have one.”
James shook his head in disgust, his gaze wandering to the window. He could see Freddy and George standing in the yard, talking and sending black looks toward the inn, no doubt aimed at James and his highhanded methods. Hands flailing, outrage at the ready, Mr. Jones spit through his bucked teeth and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as if punctuating his speech. His tiny-eared friend merely nodded glumly.<
br />
“And what of them?” James asked.
Derrick glanced out the window and shrugged. “What of ‘em?”
“Where are they staying?”
“Here. At the inn.”
“You’ve not introduced them to Mother?”
“Come now. Introduce Freddy and George to Aunt Muriel? She’s barely tolerating me, remember?”
“Why are they here?”
“They amuse me. I’m bored. What more do you want?”
An easy answer—a little too easy. “So…they are visiting just to provide you with companionship?”
“Sounds about right.”
“I see.” James sipped his drink then pursed his lips. “I’m watching you, Derrick. I’m watching Jones and Little. If you wish to keep a roof over your head, don’t give me any reason to send you packing. Because there is nothing I’d like more.”
“No family fealty to temper your attitude?” his cousin sneered.
“None whatsoever. Let’s not fool ourselves. There’s no love lost between us, never has been. If you had not found it necessary to hurt my wife, we could have left it at that. Now there is acrimony.”
“Something I’ll have to live with, I suppose.”
“Perhaps. But unluckily for you, I have the power to influence your future. Seems downright foolish to anger me.”
He let those words ferment between them, Derrick growing more sullen, James basking in a sense of self-righteous satisfaction.
Abruptly, Derrick came to his feet. “If that’s all—”
“I think we understand one another. Yes, that’s all.”
For a brief moment their gazes met, and James was startled by the antipathy he saw in those peculiar eyes. When had a lack of affection become hatred? And why? Maybe it was as simple as jealousy, but whatever it was, he felt he had been warned.
He watched his cousin leave to join Jones and Little outside. A quick discussion among the trio and they mounted their horses and rode from the yard. Away from Lonsdale, he hoped.
James quaffed the remainder of his ale and signaled to the waitress for another. Damn! Now he had more than Amanda’s reticence to think about. As sure as day became night, Derrick would be the source of trouble. How that trouble would manifest itself, he didn’t know. His thoughts turned to Aunt Henry and, for the life of him, the only emotion he could conjure was sadness.
***
CHAPTER 10
“Do you know what I like, Amanda?”
“What is that, Uncle Huey?”
Amanda, Huey and Aunt Henry were sitting in the garden on a stone bench, enjoying a late morning cup of tea. Rose blossoms scented the air, the sun shone brightly and a warm, soothing breeze ruffled her hair. Amanda felt more tranquil than she had in a long time. She was enthralled with Lonsdale and was quickly falling in love with its inhabitants.
“I like picnics. Especially when the sun is shining.”
“Of course, darling,” Henry said. “By their very nature, picnics are no fun in the rain.”
“That is not what I meant,” Huey said in that precise way he had of talking. “But some days are better picnic days than other days. You know what I mean, don’t you, Amanda?”
His green eyes implored her to understand, and Amanda smiled back at him, patting his shoulder.
“Of course, I know what you mean. Like today. Today is a perfect picnic day.”
Huey jumped up, making his cup rattle precariously in its saucer. “I say we have a picnic today!”
“A picnic takes planning, Huey,” Aunt Henry said. “And I have chores to do.”
“But you can come, can’t you, Amanda?” he asked.
“If Henrietta has chores, I should help her.”
Huey’s face fell just as an eight-year-old’s face would fall. “But it would be such fun.”
“You don’t have to worry about chores right now, Amanda,” Henry said. “There’s plenty of time for you to take on the drudgery. Go, enjoy yourself.”
Anyone else speaking and Amanda would have assumed the present chatelaine was reluctant to hand over the keys. Not Henry. She knew that sweet woman was merely trying to make Amanda’s transition from bride to mistress of a large household as easy as possible. She also understood that Aunt Henry was making it easy for her to accept Uncle Huey’s proposal. No one wanted to disappoint Huey.
“If you are certain, Aunt Henry, I would love to participate in a picnic. But we should make a party of it. Do you think Uncle Ham and Uncle Harry would like to join us?”
Huey placed his cup and saucer on the tea cart and began clapping his hands eagerly. “Oh, yes! That is perfect. I am sure the twins would like to come.”
The next hour was a whirlwind of activity, not the least of which was convincing the cook that she wanted to pack a meal. Cold chicken and day old bread was as good as she could do on short notice, she said, but the picnickers were unconcerned with the fare. It was the adventure and a beautiful day that beckoned them.
Amanda did wonder where James had gone. She had not seen him since he left her in the dining room at breakfast. She hated having angered him, even empathizing with his attitude regarding their situation. Unfortunately, rational thought rarely coincided with emotional response. Wanting to please him meant compromising a fundamental part of herself, and she was not yet ready to trust him. She prayed that feeling would not last.
They chose a grove of willows less than a mile from the house, and Uncles Ham, Harry and Huey accompanied Amanda on foot to their destination, the gentleman sharing the toting of the wicker basket—despite his infirmary, Huey insisted he could do his part. There was no impatience or pity from his brothers as he stumbled along, only cheerful encouragement and respect for his effort.
Patches of wild flowers dotted the landscape, and Amanda plucked the occasional one while she walked, forming a riotous bouquet as incongruously beautiful as it was colorful. She sniffed the flowers, tickling her nose, and trilled a laugh. The weather was remarkable, and she felt like frolicking through the ankle-high grasses all the way to the grove.
“You are in a chipper mood today, Amanda,” Uncle Ham ventured.
“I had forgotten how wonderful it is to be outdoors. The sky looks different in the country, so brightly blue, the clouds so puffy. And the earth seems to go on forever.”
“You never left the city?”
“Papa has a country estate but we rarely went there. He was always so busy. I loved it, though, and truly looked forward to our visits.”
“The country smells better than the city, too,” Uncle Harry said, his tone indicating just how foul-smelling he thought the city was.
Everyone stopped and stared at Harry, giving him the opportunity to expound if he wished, but apparently he’d had his say. They all agreed that the country did indeed smell better and continued on their way.
Once they picked the perfect spot under the trees, Amanda, as the lone female, took on the task of unloading the basket and filling the plates. She spread the food on a huge checkered blanket that Harry had carried under his arm. She sat back, leaning on her hands, legs out straight in front of her, and ignored her own meal as the men ate their fill.
“Do you suppose I would be very wicked if I removed my shoes?” she asked.
Ham and Harry shared a look, but Uncle Huey’s answer was to immediately begin shedding his own footwear, including his stockings.
“Splendid idea,” he chirped.
And because Huey could do no wrong the twins smiled in unison, nodding.
“I see no reason why you should not make yourself comfortable, Amanda,” Ham said. “After all, you are among family.”
Her heart warmed, and she sent him a smile filled with gratitude. Bless his heart, he blushed.
Amanda unlaced her boots and slipped them off along with her stockings, wiggling her toes, but pulling her skirt decorously over her ankles. Thank goodness she’d had the sense to leave her hoops at home. They would have made a picnic on the ground nearl
y impossible to enjoy.
“Oh my, that’s marvelous,” she said.
“The grass is soft between my toes,” Huey said. “You have the best ideas, Amanda.” He hopped from his good foot to his bad one, giggling as his balance faltered. “Come, try it. You, too, Ham, Harry.”
The twins looked at each other again, that unique understanding that only twins can share, then began removing their own shoes.
Within minutes the four picnickers were dancing in the tree-filled meadow, all shoeless, linking arms in an impromptu reel, first Amanda with Harry and Huey with Ham. They traded partners, and the merriment continued until Amanda had danced with all three brothers.
She collapsed on the ground, breathless with laughter. “I cannot remember when I’ve had more fun.”
The men joined her as winded as she. There was much good-natured elbowing and tussling among them, and Amanda scooted to the edge of the blanket to escape the fray. This is what it must be like to have siblings, she thought, watching the brothers wistfully.
She repacked the picnic basket with the scant leftovers, plates and utensils, making room on the blanket. The twins stood up, having put their shoes back on.
“Harry and I are going to walk off our meal,” Ham said to Amanda, patting a stomach that would need many walks to reduce its size. “Why don’t you have a rest, my dear, before we head back?”
“I am rather sleepy now you mention it. Good food and good company—and too much dancing,” she said.
Her fond smile took in the three men, and her affection was reflected back at her in triplicate.
“Are you coming or staying, Huey?” Harry asked.
“I want to stay with Amanda.”
Now alone, Amanda and Uncle Huey both lay back on the blanket, heads close together. The sky rose before them, an endless expanse of brilliant blue—the same blue from which her husband looked at the world. Strangely comforted, she allowed her eyes to drift shut, the dazzling light burned on the inside of her lids.
In the Garden of Deceit (Book 4) Page 11