by Allison Lane
“They were nothing,” she answered his questioning look. “Bruises. No more.”
“I truly am sorry. When I reached Tallgrove, my exasperation over everything that had happened made it easy to believe my aunt’s ravings about the unscrupulous neighbors who were leading Terrence astray. Not until I had investigated for myself did I realize that her claims were false. Please forgive me for my insupportable tirades, Miss Wingrave. I would very much like to start over and see if we cannot behave like reasonable adults.”
Penelope stared into apparently guileless eyes. What was he up to now? There had to be something. Gentlemen did not reverse course without reason. Not even when they were clearly in the wrong. “Very prettily said, but it will take more than words to make me trust you.”
He scowled.
“Yet I see no reason to remain at loggerheads,” she continued. “You need not fear that I will slit your throat some dark night.”
“Had you considered it?”
“Often.”
He laughed, lightening his harsh features with a warmth that sent tingles racing down her arms. “I probably deserved it.”
“Most certainly. But are you really the only one who can solve your family’s problems?”
“Not to sound conceited, but yes. The Averys have long been cursed with weak wills. When anyone of stronger character appears, the others lean on him for advice and assistance. How can I ignore them? If my negligence caused worse problems, guilt would drive me to Bedlam.”
“As with Tallgrove?”
“You would bring that up. I admit to more than one vision of you roasting for all eternity.”
“It does not sound as if you were as negligent as I originally charged. It seems I owe you an apology.”
“Accepted. Truce?” He smiled charmingly.
“Truce.”
His face sobered. Forgiveness had come easier than he’d expected. Would it last through the next portion of his call? “One of my duties as trustee has been to sort my uncle’s papers. I found this.” He drew Lucinda from his pocket.
“My mother.” She cupped the miniature protectively in her palm. “I hardly remember her.”
“You look much alike.”
“So people say.”
“Do you know how Lord Avery came by the picture?”
“Yes.” Her tone was repressive, terminating further discussion. Her gaze remained on her hand, her color rising and fading from emotions he did not even try to identify. It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He debated whether to leave, discuss her mother’s affair, or introduce a new subject. But his brain refused to function, so he silently took a seat and turned his attention to the refreshments.
Penelope stared at the miniature, her mind whirling in shock. She had assumed that no one knew of her mother’s fall from grace. That the arrogant Lord Carrington did was the worst news she had received in a long while. Many people passed the sins of the parents onto their children. Would he use his discovery to hurt her family? Had his proposed truce been a ploy to disarm her?
The drawing room faded from view. Again she sat at her father’s bedside, pitying how his skeletal frame shook with every breath, yet terrified that each whistling wheeze would be his last. But despite his labored breathing, he had insisted on divulging his wife’s affair. The knowledge was a burden she could have lived without, though she had not said so. He needed absolution for mistreating her.
“I wronged y-you,” he claimed, the words coming slowly, for he hardly had the strength to move his mouth. “You are so like her, Penelope. I could not look at you without recalling her betrayal. But committing new sins does not rectify the old. I should have known that, but as usual, my character proved too weak. I go now to face the final judgment and can no longer postpone paying for my actions.”
“It is done, Father,” she assured him, not wishing to see him waste his little remaining energy in talk. “I do not blame you. We need speak of it no further.”
But he had insisted. “She was so b-beautiful,” he murmured. “I could not believe that she returned my regard. When the means to support us suddenly appeared, I grabbed the chance with both hands. But we had not been married a month before I realized that we had made a terrible mistake. She had been unhappy at home. Her father was poor and begrudged every groat he had to spend on his daughters – unfortunately he produced three girls before siring an heir. Desperate to escape, she mistook infatuation for love and accepted my offer. But I was equally at fault. I had dedicated my life to God’s service, yet the privation that curates must endure was so unpalatable that I jumped at the opportunity to become a landowner.”
He paused to catch his breath. Penelope laid a comforting hand on his arm, her heart already breaking for the idealistic young people who had learned too late that money did not guarantee happiness. “I did not discover her liaison with Gareth until long after it had begun,” he wheezed. “I castigated her, calling the wrath of God onto her head and damning her for all eternity, but she refused to give him up and I lack the temperament that could have forced her. But I could not consider her my wife after such a betrayal. She conceived two children by him, though neither lived. And I counted that a blessing, for I could not have accepted another man’s child into my house. You see how badly I failed even in my sworn duty to God.”
“Father, do not torture yourself with this,” she begged, tears flowing down her face. “God will not condemn you for being human.”
“I will soon discover the truth of that sentiment. I have hoped that Lucinda’s infidelity was His punishment for revoking my vows to serve the church. But perhaps He expects more.”
A cough shuddered through him, so powerful that she feared he would die. But he pulled himself together. “It was not until I met Laura that I understood Lucinda’s passion. Love is the strongest force I have ever encountered. My prayers changed then, begging God to forgive her. And I pray you will discover love for yourself one day. My only regret is that I could deny Laura nothing, which has left you in dire straits, and for that I apologize. But I could not help myself, just as your mother could not help herself. Do not hate her for what she did.”
“I won’t.”
Hatred had not even entered her mind. What she felt was sadness, and perhaps a spurt of envy that her mother had found what she could never hope for. Her father’s prayers notwithstanding, she was too long on the shelf for marriage, let alone love. And her responsibilities would prevent her from accepting an offer even if one appeared.
* * * *
“I thought you should have the miniature,” Richard said at last.
Penelope jumped as if she had forgotten his presence. “Thank you, my lord. No other portrait of my mother exists. You say it was with Lord Avery’s papers?”
“With his diary.”
She bit her lip. “Does anyone else know of this?”
“No one. And I see no reason to enlighten them. I will forget the liaison ever occurred.”
“You are kind.” She hesitantly smiled.
“You needn’t stretch politeness too far,” he said dryly. “And this does not mean that I approve a betrothal between Terrence and Alice.”
“Why? She is no relation to Lucinda.”
He could not admit that he still suspected her of coveting Terrence’s wealth. Nor was he willing to reveal his own experiences with scheming women. “Lucinda has nothing to do with it. Terrence is too young to consider marriage. He will be in school for another year and should also spend time in London before making so long lasting a decision.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He was hiding his real reasons, she knew, though his disclaimer about Lucinda sounded true. But his reticence was obvious to one who had spent fifteen years detecting her siblings’ falsehoods. Perhaps he had chosen conciliation to put her fears to rest, thinking the distraction might make it easier to pounce on her estate. But she would not fall for such a trick. She would play along for now because ending the connection between Alice and Te
rrence would be easier if they worked together. But she must never let her guard down. He was even more dangerous than she had supposed, for he was capable of exerting a great deal of charm.
“But I clearly recall that you supported the match.”
She sighed. “Again I must apologize. Please forgive my wretched temper. You infuriated me so much that I had to oppose you, even if that meant lying through my teeth. But it left me in an untenable position. Alice overheard our argument. I had to do some fancy fence-straddling to retreat without making the situation worse.”
“You also believe Terrence is too young?”
“Without a doubt. Whatever his feelings at the moment, he cannot truly know his mind. Boys go through any number of infatuations before they settle down. Especially boys like Terrence who have been coddled since birth. Frankly, Michael is more knowing despite being five years younger. Alice needs maturity and a strong character, not just affection. You have already admitted that Terrence is weak-willed and easily manipulated. That alone makes him unsuitable. But I saw no need to oppose them, instead suggesting that they make no decision until Terrence is out of school. In the unlikely event that they feel as strongly next year, we can either reconsider or resort to playing heavy-handed guardians. But it should not come to that – unless you have already made opposing you a point of honor.”
He set his cup on a table and paced the room for several minutes, frowning in thought. “I might have. I mishandled the matter rather badly,” he admitted at last.
“You did.” He glared, evoking her smile. “Did you expect me to deny the obvious? By coming the odious dictator, you united them in opposition to a common enemy. Regardless of the strength of their feelings, you have made it impossible for them to back down without admitting that they were wrong. I am sure you know how difficult that must be – even for a lad who normally twists with the wind.”
“Damnation,” he muttered sourly.
“You have little experience with children,” she commented.
“True, though I had already realized that my ultimatum was making the situation worse. I tried a different tack with Millicent, but I doubt that was effective, either.”
“She is a problem,” agreed Penelope. “Girls her age consider themselves grown up. They dream of parties and beaux and fairy-tale romances. But few are ready for the realities that underlie those dreams. Millicent is even less capable than most.”
“I am sending her to school for the fall term.”
“Good. I presume you know about Mr. Darksmith.”
He grimaced. “Does all the world know of that shifty fellow?”
“I doubt it, for he has been discreet, but she cannot go on meeting him on the sly. I do not trust him.”
“You do not consider him a gentleman, then?”
She shook her head. “Even his most innocuous conversation contains evasions. He appeared a fortnight ago, arriving on the stage from Exeter – which itself is suspicious since he claims to have come from Yorkshire.” Exeter was in the opposite direction. “He has made no attempt to discuss his business, instead spending all of his time poking about Tallgrove. What might he be looking for?”
Richard was again pacing the room. “I cannot imagine, but I doubt that he wants either marriage or a settlement to leave her alone.”
“Astute of you. I would swear that he only discovered her existence after he arrived. And another odd thing.” She paused to frown. “I hadn’t recalled it until just now when I mentioned Exeter. He was at the Golden Stag shortly before he came here. He nearly ran me down outside the taproom.”
“It is possible that he went there first. He claims to be researching an estate that was once owned by an Exeter family.”
“Possibly, but I got the impression that he was no stranger to the place. The innkeeper did not treat him as a guest.”
“I will have my secretary look into it. He has been unable to trace the fellow so far. Yorkshire is enormous, and I could not pin him down to a specific spot. The closest he came was mentioning Fountains Abbey, but I own a small property near there. He cannot live within twenty miles of it.”
“All the more reason to be suspicious.”
“I hope I can keep Millicent from doing anything foolish,” he said with a sigh, dropping back into his chair to drain his cup.
“What have you done so far?”
“Invited the blackguard to tea. He is slippery as an eel – a nonstop talker who says nothing. But by the time you sift his words to reveal their emptiness, he is long gone. Terrence disapproved of the fellow – or perhaps he is angry over the way I handled it. He cut Darksmith dead in the drawing room and then ripped Millicent to shreds for encouraging him. I called him on it, but the damage was done. I am sure she managed an assignation with him yesterday despite my vigilance.”
“Talk to the boy. Explain your reasoning – and your mistake in creating a scene over his own plans. Blame your antagonism on your miserable journey. Or admit that you have so often been pursued for your title that you routinely look for grievous faults in everyone you meet. If nothing else, such a discussion will give you a chance to judge his maturity. Perhaps you can use the opportunity to postpone any decisions until he finishes his schooling. I honestly believe that their infatuation cannot survive several months apart.”
He nodded and took his leave.
The visit had gone better than he had anticipated, though what had possessed him to share his thoughts he could not imagine. I loathe being head of the family. Dear Lord, where had that come from? It was a sentiment he had not even uttered to Mark! An even bigger shock was Miss Wingrave’s assertion that she opposed any marriage between Alice and Terrence. She had sounded so sincere that he began to wonder if he had misjudged her.
But he was not yet ready to discard his hard-earned lessons. Her sincerity merely confirmed her surprising intelligence. She was using guile to lull him into a false sense of security. And she could do it, for she had already demonstrated an excellent understanding of human nature – better than his own, if his disastrous handling of Terrence was anything to go by. Even the way she twisted his words proved that she was still waging battle. And so he could not trust her.
* * * *
Penelope returned to the bookroom in a trance. An apology was the last thing she had expected from the arrogant Lord Carrington. Or was this a new strategy for the same old game? The man was dangerous – and not just because of his charm. Despite his avowed frustration over his family’s demands, his sense of responsibility was as powerful as her own. And he could appreciate humor, even at his own expense. When she added a quirky, lopsided smile that removed the harshness from his face, and a wayward curl that drooped over his forehead, her spirits plummeted. Though far from handsome, his appearance was striking. And attractive. He was not merely dangerous. He was lethal.
She could not afford to relinquish her heart. Such stupidity would lead to years of agony, for he was no Jeremy, who could be gotten over in a few months. This man could destroy her. She suppressed her suspicion that such thinking proved she was already treading that forbidden path. The idea was too horrifying to contemplate.
Purging the troublesome lord from her thoughts, she returned to the problem of the pottery. She would have to visit Exeter and arrange to replace the clay. Her pen moved swiftly, listing other errands to complete while she was in town.
Chapter Twelve
“Good morning, Miss Wingrave,” called Richard, pulling his curricle to a stop. A matched pair of restive grays champed at their bits.
“My lord.” She nodded curtly, squinting against the sun. Had he come to pester her banker as Lord Avery had so often done?
“I thought we had agreed to a truce.” His voice held challenge.
“So we did. What brings you to Exeter, my lord?”
“Cawdry is checking your hunch that Darksmith is known here. While he quizzes the staff at the Golden Stag, I thought to visit the cathedral and explore the town. Would you care to
act as my guide?”
She frowned. “I still have several errands to finish.”
“Can your maid not handle them?”
“What maid?”
“Do you mean you are wandering around Exeter unaccompanied?” He scowled. “No wonder Aunt Mathilda disparages your reputation.”
“So much for truce,” she snapped.
“Forgive me, Miss Wingrave.” His voice was much warmer.
She glared. “I am too long on the shelf to need a chaperon, and this is hardly the place to discuss my staff or my reputation, even if either were any of your business, which they are not.” She nodded at the passersby who avidly scrutinized the glowering stranger.
“My apologies, Miss Wingrave. Again. Perhaps we should start over. If I assist you with your errands, can you spare an hour to show me the cathedral?”
She smiled ruefully, surrendering to his persistence even as she questioned his motives. “Very well, my lord. My next stop is the linen draper’s on Fore Street.” She allowed him to hand her into the curricle, reveling in the luxury of driving from stop to stop. Her errands were done in the blink of an eye. They pulled into the yard of the White Hart Inn, where he helped her down yet again.
“Shall we?” He offered his arm and headed for the cathedral. “Do you often come to town alone?”
She tensed, but his tone held no accusation, so she relaxed. “Usually. The others are too busy to get away.”