by Irene Estep
The viscount said to Claresta, "By Jove, when you set your mind to a matter you go bowling at a grand rate, don’t you, Miss Huntington? An earl now, is it? Well, I wish you happy and all that. ‘Tis much more than you could have expected from this quarter, I dare say."
Claresta knew Viscount Langley wasn’t a vindictive sort, but neither was he very astute about tact, either. She would die of embarrassment if he mentioned her quest for a husband, which now seemed common knowledge among the ton. She tried to warn him not to go on about recent events relating to her situation by using various eye movements, and wrinkling her nose at him. Whether he got the message or not, she could thank the pretty young brunette that laughed gaily as her spirited mount galloped toward them for breaking the course of conversation.
A harried groom trailed behind the young woman who wore a modish crimson riding habit trimmed in black.
Claresta noticed Norwood’s eyes light with appreciation upon the attractive creature. She felt quite inadequate in comparison in her plain white morning dress. Albeit, the dress was adorned with pretty cherry ribbons round the neckline and sleeves, it could not be seen, being covered by her dark green spencer. And her green feather-trimmed bonnet, a replica of one featured in a current issue of La Belle Assembleé, didn’t compare to the girl’s elegant black brushed beaver banded with a strip of red ribbon. The long tapered ends of the ribbon, tied into a bow at the back, added a striking symmetry to the lady’s erect posture.
Lady Emmeline Chelsworth was a pixy-faced young miss in her second Season. Claresta had first met the girl at one of Aunt Ester’s soirees a season past, before her situation became so well known among the ton. Emmeline had been escorted there by her uncle, Sir Pedigrew, and had been friendly enough until she learned of Claresta’s lack of social significance. After Sir Pedigrew’s death, Lady Emmeline helped her mother spread the ugly rumors that reduced Claresta’s already seared standing with the ton to soot.
When Lady Emmeline saw whom the viscount was talking to, she stopped her mare abruptly, and the smile disappeared from her elfin face. She called out petulantly to Langley, "There you are, sir. I’ve been looking all over for you."
She managed her horse admirably as he danced sideways. Bringing her mount under control, she gave a quick glance toward Claresta, then smiled coyly at Lord Norwood as she spoke more warmly than expected. "Miss Huntington, ‘tis a fine day for riding, is it not?"
Claresta was left with no choice but to make introductions, which she had no doubt was Lady Emmeline’s intent.
"You are new to London?" Lady Emmeline asked.
"Recently arrived from America, yes," Drake replied.
"Then I must make you welcome and invite you to attend a musicale my mother is giving this evening."
"Of course." He turned to Claresta. "Are you willing to suffer my company for the evening, Miss Huntington?"
Langley coughed. He must know that Claresta would not have been invited to the musicale. But it served Lady Emmeline right for making such an invitation in her presence. Now she was left with no choice but to include her.
"Well . . .Of course, Miss Huntington is welcome to come, if she’s not elsewhere engaged."
"I’m sorry to say, I am." Claresta was pleased when Lord Norwood then declined the invitation, saying he had another engagement as well, that he’d momentarily forgotten.
"Well, Lady Emmeline, we must be off," Viscount Langley said, breaking the icy glare that the lady cast upon Claresta. "’Twas a delight to meet you, Norwood. Perhaps you’ll join me at one of the clubs soon for a game of whist."
"Perhaps," Drake said without committal.
The viscount swung into the saddle and nudged the black in the sides with his boot heels. The brunette laughed heartily again when he said something as she trotted her horse alongside him. When the two rode between the hedgerows from whence the lady had first appeared, the ignored groom kicked his horse to a canter to keep the pair in sight.
"Friendly sort," Drake said absently as he flicked the grays into movement. He’d noticed the veiled glances the viscount gave Claresta, and the way she flirted with the fellow left Drake feeling a bit touchy. Was she attracted to Viscount Langley? Could he be the previous engagement she’d spoken about? Well, he couldn’t expect a beautiful woman like Miss Huntington not to have other suitors. But then, he couldn’t count himself among her suitors, could he? And who she attached herself to was none of his affair, to be sure. He mentally shook the disrupting thoughts from his mind and drove on.
The rest of the day went along pleasant enough, too pleasant actually, Drake thought. He found Miss Huntington to be an intriguing, intelligent and amusing woman. At a museum of fine art, she taught him the difference between the artistic works of Ruben, who championed color over line, and Poussin, who chose line over color. At Madame Tusaud’s Wax Museum, she explained the process for molding the stiff poses of the famous figures. At Gunter’s, when she suddenly made a funny face at a small child, it caused him to choke on his cherry flavored ice and gather stares from the other patrons. And he was thoroughly entertained by her heckling chatter and arm waving antics to get the attention of the lion at London Tower. The uninterested beast turned his rear to his audience, and ignored them throughout their visit.
By the time they returned to the hotel, Drake had begun to worry over how bewitched he’d become by the lady. He reminded himself that he was practically committed to another.
Nearing his thirtieth year, he’d deemed it time to start setting up his own nursery. And pressures for producing a progeny mounted now that he’d need an heir for the Norwood estates. He’d thought Chastity Richardson's disposition suited him since she was quiet, shy, unassuming, and charitable. He only wished she had more enthusiasm. She had a tendency to drop her gaze and blush every time he spoke directly to her. She was a great beauty, though, even if it was her father's enticing offer of the fertile strip of land adjoining Oakcrest that at first attracted him to her. The gentleman had not been so forthcoming when he learned Drake was not to be master of Oakcrest. But, Drake had already hinted to the young lady that he would be asking for her hand in marriage, and he never went back on his word. He glanced at Miss Huntington, and suddenly regretted having made such a rash commitment.
He could not mislead the lady by enjoying her company too often. Besides, he needed to start thinking about how he was going to acquire temporary funds to set up a residence for his sister and stepmother. If he spent all his time acting like an adolescent with his head in the clouds, he’d never accomplish what he came for. So, when Miss Huntington extended another dinner invitation, though tempted to accept, he said, "Sorry, but I have a previous engagement."
CHAPTER SIX
"My lady almost despaired on your coming."
Drake felt appropriately chastised by the dowager’s butler but saw no need to explain. His late arrival in Cheyne Walk had been due to a lack of funds to hire a hackney. He’d hitched a ride on a dray leaving the kitchen entrance of the Clarendon and could hardly object when the driver stopped to make other deliveries along the way.
Drake felt a twinge of guilt for not instructing Lady Norwood’s butler that he would return at a later date when he saw the frail figure napping in a chair beside the fire. The servant tapped the gray-haired lady gently on the shoulder, and her eyes opened slowly.
"He’s here, my lady," was all the man said, then he assisted her to rise from her chair.
As she approached, Drake reached out a hand to support Lady Norwood, for she looked up at him and suddenly swayed as if she’d lost her footing.
He wore a dark green coat, loose fitting buckskins and long boots, but he did not think his unfashionable attire was reason enough for her tired gray eyes to hold him in such a long look of stupefaction.
Finally, she recovered and said, "‘Tis so kind of you to pay a call on such short notice."
He bowed politely over the widow’s gnarled hand. "My stepmother trained her sons to never ignore
the summons of a lady. Besides, Druscilla gave me strict orders to pay the family’s respects as soon as possible. Your invitation saved me a trip back to Mr. Denton’s to inquire of your direction. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am."
"And I yours, my dear fellow," she took a breath and placed a small curled hand over her heart, "more than you can imagine. Forgive me for gawking, but I shall explain shortly--after I’ve had time to adjust. Do have a seat, my lord."
Instead, Drake remained standing and observed his surroundings while Lady Norwood instructed the butler to have Mrs. Minnow bring tea. The room was decorated in the popular style of the previous century--plaster walls of soft pearl shade, cloud ceilings, and wood trim with a grain effect.
Because of the subtle shades one must have a sharp eye, which Drake did, to notice the spots of chipped plaster on the walls. His eyes traveled a thin brown-edged line upward that spouted into a suspicious circle near one corner of the ceiling. Obviously, the roof was either in need or had been in need of repairs at some point in the not too distant past.
He smiled when the lady turned back to him and indicated the chair she had vacated earlier. The sparse furnishings were in the French taste. Diverse items of needlework adorned the arms and seat backs of the chairs and sofa. Obviously, Denton had not lied when he mentioned the insufficiencies of the Norwood holdings.
"I shall have to thank your step-mother. When will I meet the lady?" Lady Norwood asked. She sat down on the sofa, concealing a particularly noticeable area of frayed gold threads in the brocade fabric.
"Sooner than anticipated, I imagine," Drake said.
"Oh?"
He took a seat in the chair that faced the lady. Feeling an immediate camaraderie with the dowager, he confided, "I’m afraid I’ve gotten myself into quite a pickle. No doubt Druscilla, once she gets wind of it, will promptly board the next vessel to England. She somehow still believes she can rescue her children from any unpleasantness."
"And do you need rescuing, my lord?"
"Perhaps, but I’ve already found, or rather, been found by a damsel who seems eager to oblige me."
"Interesting," Lady Norwood said. "Thank you, Mrs. Minnow. One lump or two?" she inquired as the housekeeper sat the tray on the table and poured tea into tiny Dresden china cups. Drake remembered Shipley mentioned the widow being somewhat incapacitated. He surmised the lady could not handle the delicate tea service well with her gnarled fingers.
"None," Drake said and nodded to the housekeeper when she handed the teacup to him.
"Might I inquire of this paragon’s identity?" Lady Norwood asked.
"Miss Claresta Huntington," Drake replied without hesitation.
Lady Norwood chimed with laughter. She waved the housekeeper away when the woman inquired if there would be anything else.
Drake smiled. "I take it you know the lady."
"Know her? My dear boy, everyone in London has heard of that spirited article."
Spirited had also been his impression of Miss Huntington, but he did not think Lady Norwood used the term in a flattering way. "I suppose Clar--er, Miss Huntington may seem a bit more unconventional than most young ladies." He recalled her boldness when she’d strolled into the tavern and thrust a purse into his hand--a pink purse. He’d questioned her motives then, but having met two of her servants that any other employer would have long ago put out to pasture, he smiled. She may be spirited and outspoken, but she also had a humanitarian concern for the less fortunate that he empathized with. "I find her forthright manner quite . . ." remembering she’d very likely saved him from the gaol, he smiled and finished, "liberating."
"Don’t misunderstand me, sir. I very much admire the young lady’s pluck. Wish I’d had more of it in my day." The corners of Lady Norwood’s eyes wrinkled as she narrowed them perceptively. "I can see you’ve been shown a side of the young lady’s disposition that few have been privileged to view. However, you must beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing, dear boy."
"That’s a lesson some of your younger citizens have already taught me, ma’am," Drake said, recalling the urchins who’d fleeced him.
"I take it this lesson has something to do with your current coil?"
Drake gave her a shortened rendition of the story, leaving out the kindness he’d shown the children before they relieved him of his money and papers. Then he spoke briefly of being rescued by Miss Huntington, and her generous offer to take him up in her coach to the solicitor’s office. His meeting with the lawyer, he went on to say, "was a bit discouraging."
"I see. I suppose Denton, being a stickler for formalities, refused to accept you on face value." She again studied Drake’s features intensely and added, "Although, I cannot fathom his reticence for doing so."
"Obviously, he considers himself protecting the estate as if it were his own."
"Perhaps." Lady Norwood slowly sat her cup down. Her knotted finger had trouble letting go of the small handle, and she complained softly, "I spent two months taking the waters at Bath, and I still find little relief from this infernal stiffness."
"May I?" He reached out for her hand.
She nodded and allowed Drake to take her fingers between his palms, and he massaged them gently. She sighed and slowly relaxed.
He said, "I did this for my grandfather many times when he could get no other relief from inflammation of the joints. He used to say I had magic in my hands."
"Your grandfather knew of what he spoke. I presume you mean your maternal grandfather. Were you very close?"
"Yes, I never met my father’s sire. Father never would speak of the reasons he lost contact after he left England, but Druscilla thinks they had some kind of row over him marrying my mother."
"Catherine Sheffield. I remember her. A pretty little thing, too. I believe she came to England to see the sights while Mr. Sheffield was in London on business. Shipping, wasn’t it?"
When Drake nodded, she continued, "Quentin saw her on an outing in Hyde Park. He badgered a mutual acquaintance to arrange an introduction. Love at first sight, I’d say, if there is such a thing. His lordship became quite enraged when his nephew ran off to Gretna Green to be married. Raised the boy from a tyke, you know.
"Well, of course you didn’t, but that is a story for another time. The next thing I knew, Quentin and his new bride had set sail for the colonies and your great-uncle swore never to speak to him again. But I wouldn’t judge him too harshly, my boy. A titled gentleman’s relative marrying a colonial with no royal lineage?" She tsked.
Drake knew how much his father loved his mother. Because of that great, abiding love, he’d turned his back on his firstborn, Drake. It was of no matter now, he thought, but he was somewhat amused by the turn of events. "The old rascal must be turning in his grave, knowing a colonial is about to become the next Earl of Norwood."
"Just deserts, I dare say." Lady Norwood laughed. "So tell me about your family."
"There’s Francine, my sister, pretty as a flower in spring. She’s sweet as honey most of the time but shows a passionate disposition if things don’t go as she’d like them. My brother, Mitchell, is a strapping lad, but he’s got the easy going temperament of his mother, Druscilla."
"And your Grandfather Sheffield?"
"Passed on a couple of years ago. I miss him. He took me to live with him after Mother died. It was rough on him when my father remarried, and Druscilla requested he bring me back to Oakcrest." His grandfather never liked Druscilla, called her a shrew after Quentin died and left her progeny the home that had been Catherine’s family legacy. Drake could not blame Druscilla for the conflict between he and his father. She was often caught in the middle of their quarrels. Quentin never forgave Drake for surviving the mishap that had claimed the life of his beloved Catherine.
Allowing Drake to continue his soothing ministrations, Lady Norwood let his statement go by without comment, and got right to the business side of his inheritance. "I fear Denton has grown much attached to his long-term posit
ion as manager of the Norwood properties."
"Denton runs the country estate himself?"
"No, no, he would not think of doing something so vulgar. Denton dismissed the long-time steward and put his own man in place as retainer a couple of years after my husband passed away."
"Why? Was the Earl’s man inadequate?"
"So Denton says. Being a lady," she said most bitterly, "I’m not privy to details. I’ve not seen the ledgers of any of the holdings since Lord Norwood’s passing. I cannot get about to visit the tenants like I used to, but I’ve been told their homes are going to rack and ruin from lack of repairs. The land, too. Many of the fields have gone fallow since the change, and my banker tells me the profits have suffered greatly in the past year."
The lady seemed less concerned of her own lackluster environment than that of the tenants. If the manor house needed as much repair as the townhouse, Drake knew he’d be a good while longer returning to America for Miss Richardson than he’d hoped. He mulled this over as the lady withdrew her hand and flexed her fingers.
"Amazing," she said. "‘Tis the first freedom of movement I’ve had in my fingers in months.
The information she’d given Drake about Denton only confirmed his distrust of the man. He spoke his next thoughts aloud, "Without funds to hire a mount, I don’t suppose there’s any way I could take a look for myself."
"I am to leave for the estate at sunrise tomorrow morning. That was the reason I requested your visit posthaste. If you would not mind traveling at an old woman’s pace, it would be my pleasure to have your company."
"Are you certain, Lady Norwood? I do not wish to be a bother."
"Posh! I’d be grateful to have a younger, more reliable escort along in case of trouble. I’m afraid my staff of servants is rather thin of late. The butler and housekeeper here at Cornwell House prefer to remain in Town year round, so I do not haggle the matter. ‘Tis better to have a place occupied anyway, is it not? But, that leaves me with only my maid and coachman for escort, so your company will be well appreciated."