Lord Ashford's Wager

by Marjorie Farrell

  He missed his brother terribly. And Joanna even more, if that were possible. As close as he had grown to Farre, Tony was still the earl. They were becoming friends, but there would always be a certain distance between them.

  He needed someone who cared about him, someone who knew of his struggles, who would appreciate just what it was he was doing. He needed his old friend. But it was more than that. He was dreaming of Joanna often, and in his dreams she was not just Jo, his childhood companion, but an attractive and sensuous woman. He would awaken morning after morning in a state of arousal from her dream touch or kiss, wanting nothing more than to drift back to sleep, where he could return her kisses and tenderly lower himself down upon her, slowly bringing them both to fulfillment.

  He felt mildly ashamed, for here he was, foolishly indulging himself in a fantasy. If Joanna had had any romantic interest in him, if she saw him as any more than an old friend, she would surely have made it more obvious by now. And she most certainly wouldn’t be spending the summer in Cumbria!

  Chapter 37

  Joanna returned from Keswick in mid-August, just before the harvest. Her visit with her godmother had been just what she needed after the upheaval of the spring. She was up early and spent much of her day tramping the fells, and then fell into bed exhausted at night.

  Her godmother, a calm, undemanding woman, joined her in her shorter tramps and introduced her to a few of her neighbors. There were small suppers and a few country assemblies, but for the most part, a complete and needed rest after the frantic activity of the Season. By the end of her six weeks, Joanna could smile and say to herself that she only thought of Tony once a day and was resolved to keep it that way!

  She arrived back home late and went straight to bed after her long journey. But she was up early the next morning and joined her parents for breakfast.

  “It is lovely to have you home, my dear,” said Lady Barrand, as Joanna leaned down to kiss her mother’s cheek.

  Lord Barrand beamed at his daughter and complimented her on her healthy appearance.

  “Don’t try to flatter me, Father. I know I am as brown as a berry,” said Joanna with a laugh. “I am surprised I have any skin left on my nose, it has peeled so often.”

  “Tony looks almost as tanned as you, dear,” said her mother. “In fact, he looks almost as he did when he first returned from Spain.”

  Damn, Joanna said to herself. I am here only one night and already I must be reminded of him. But she merely nodded and gave her mother a polite murmur. “Is that so, Mother?”

  But her parents were very full of Tony, it seemed.

  “He has thrown himself into the running of the estate, Joanna. It is quite admirable,” said her father. “He’s hired a new manager, but the two of them have been working together so much they may as well be partners.”

  “Yes, and the tenants have all come around. They were a bit leery at first, you know, given his history. But he has certainly proved himself,” declared Lady Barrand.

  “It would seem his ordeal in the spring did him some good, then,” replied Joanna, trying to maintain a neutral tone.

  “I wouldn’t be at all surprised if by the fall or at the latest in the spring, he is in London looking for a wife. What do you think, my dear,” said Lord Barrand, turning to his wife.

  “I am certain he will assume all the responsibilities of the earldom, Thomas.”

  Joanna had a hard time keeping a look of mild interest on her face. But if she was only to think of Tony once a day, then this would be it, with a vengeance! She finished her breakfast quickly, and assuring her parents she was recovered from her journey, went upstairs to dress for a morning ride.

  “Do you think that you overdid it a bit, Thomas?” Lady Barrand asked after Joanna left.

  “Not at all. Someone has to bring them to their senses. And now that Tony has reformed, what could be better than to unite the two estates?”

  “I am sure of Joanna’s feeling, no matter how she tries to hide them. But what of Tony?”

  “What of Tony? They are good friends. He was going to marry Claudia on the basis of friendship. Why not Joanna?”

  “But Joanna might want more, dear.”

  “Friendship is as good a basis for marriage as any,” insisted her husband.

  * * * *

  As Joanna rode, she tried to concentrate on the beauty around her. The fields were gold with heavy-headed, ripened grain, and she could see, here and there, a few farmers walking slowly through the corn, verifying its ripeness.

  When she got to the wood that bordered the Barrands’ property and Ashford, she dismounted and led her mare along the narrow path. It was a relief to be in the shade, for the August sun was hot even before noon.

  It wasn’t long before she reached the famous tree where she had struggled and waited for her forgetful rescuer. She leaned her back against it and closed her eyes, and it seemed to her that nothing much had changed. Oh, she was older, and she was not really tied to the old oak. But she felt as trapped as she had then, this time by the bonds of love. Would it always be so, that a part of her, weeping and struggling, would wait for Tony to come and rescue her? Even if he did indeed marry another? What a pitiful woman she was were that true, she thought. She pulled herself away from the old tree and wished that Tony was in front of her, wished she could attack him again, kicking his shins or another part of his anatomy that was more vulnerable. Damn him, why couldn’t he see her? Any why couldn’t she stop loving him?

  * * * *

  Tony had heard of Joanna’s return and waited a day before calling on her. She was in the garden with her mother, the two of them in old smocks and carrying baskets for the seeds they were collecting from the lavender and marigolds. Tony took Lady Barrand’s basket and followed them around, chatting about this and that while Joanna moved ahead of them, hardly acknowledging his presence. Finally, as they came to the end of the path, she stopped and said coolly, “I am surprised that you find the time to visit, Tony. Surely you are busy preparing for the harvest?”

  “Most of it is done, thanks to my excellent manager,” he said with a smile. “We expect to begin tomorrow or the next day, depending on the weather.”

  “Thomas said that too,” said Lady Barrand. Looking up at the cloudless blue sky, she added, “And it looks as if the weather will hold.”

  “I hope so, my lady. I must be off, Joanna. It is good to see you home, looking so rested. Keswick seems to have agreed with you. You are quite the ‘nut-brown maid!’ ”

  Lady Barrand laughed. “Yes, she reminds me of my little girl Jo, who ran wild with you and Ned every summer.”

  Tony smiled, but Joanna, who finally let herself glance up at him, saw the pain in his eyes.

  “I sometimes wish that we had one of those summers back, don’t you, Jo?” he asked.

  ‘There are times when I think things haven’t changed at all,” she replied, her voice even and noncommittal. “On a summer’s day like today it is easy to think so.”

  Tony said his good-byes and after he left, Joanna gave a heavy sigh. “Sometimes I think he hasn’t changed at all,” she murmured.

  “Oh, no, my dear,” said her mother, putting her arm through Joanna’s as they walked back to the house. “Tony has at last grown-up. Oh, he is not Ned, he never will be. But he doesn’t need to be, does he? Tony Varden is turning out to be a fine Earl of Ashford in his own right.”

  “So it seems, Mother. And he will likely do his next duty as you and Father said, finding some willing young miss this next year,” she said bitterly.

  Lady Barrand stopped. “I think you are wrong, Joanna. I think things have changed. The seasons may turn and return, but you and Tony are not only old friends, although you are certainly that. You are two adults who have shared much: the loss of Ned and a harrowing ordeal this spring. One does not come through that unscathed.”

  “But Tony has never shown me any sign that he thinks of me romantically.”

  “And have you ev
er given him an occasion to think differently of you? Whenever I see the two of you together, you are the good old Jo, who keeps her feelings well hidden.”

  “I don’t want to embarrass Tony, Mother. Nor awaken his pity.”

  “Well, my dear, if you would have his love, you may need to risk both! You know, Joanna,” continued her mother, “there is something to be said for gambling. For risking all on the turn of a card, the roll of the dice. I think I understand why Tony was drawn into it after Ned died. When you risk all, you feel very much alive, and between the army and Ned he was so mired in death.”

  “Mother!”

  “Oh, I am not saying that compulsive gaming is a good thing, Joanna. But neither is always keeping yourself safe.”

  * * * *

  The next day proved as fine as the last, and the harvest began. It was traditional for the gentlemen in the neighborhood to join their workers for a few hours of scything, and Tony welcomed the custom. He needed to lose himself in some repetitive activity so he would not think of Joanna. God knew what he would do with himself after the harvest. He might have to make a trip to London and Mrs. Spencer’s.

  The ladies of the neighborhood usually rode out with cider and bread and cheese for the harvesters. Lady Barrand had plenty of help from her servants, so Joanna decided to ride on to Ashford to see how their harvest was going.

  Since Lady Ashford was not up to it, the housekeeper had organized the refreshments, and by the time Joanna arrived, the wagon was there and the men were just coming in from the fields. The smells of sweat, cider, ale, and ripened grain was a heady and familiar combination, and Joanna could have closed her eyes and imagined herself at any harvest over the last twenty years.

  Tony was one of the last off the field. He was wearing an old pair of corduroys and a muslin shirt that was open almost to his waist. Joanna couldn’t keep her eyes off the golden curls on his chest, which were darkened with sweat. Her eyes followed the line of hair down to where it disappeared beneath his pants. It was hard to bring her eyes back to his face and smile naturally at him.

  “Come to help us, have you, Jo?” he teased her.

  “I thought I’d see how the Ashford men were progressing, Tony.” There had been a friendly but serious rivalry between the two estates over which brought in the harvest first, and the men around the wagon began to joke about how if the Barrand men had to send their lady to spy, they must be behind indeed.

  “We are generous to losers, aren’t we?” teased Tony as he handed Joanna a mug of cider. “Here, Jo. You can tell them we will be done well before sunset.”

  Their hands brushed as Joanna took the mug, and she shivered. She might have loved Tony for years and dreamed of kisses and perhaps more, but never had she been so aware of his masculinity as today. The cider was hard and strong, and after only a few sips she could feel it touch the base of her spine, warming her from there upward.

  Tony’s eyes blazed a bright blue out of his brown face. His hair had been bleached silver in places from his hours outdoors. His chest was getting red, and without thinking, Joanna reached out and touched him gently with her hand. “You had better be careful, Tony,” she said. “You’ll be blistered tonight.”

  As soon as she realized what she was doing, she pulled her hand back as though it had been burned, and blushed as red as his chest. Putting down her mug, she bade farewell to the crew, saying that she could tell the Barrand men to rest easy, since Ashford was now clearly a half hour behind!

  “Don’t listen to her,” Tony said laughingly. “She says it only to worry us. Good-bye, my lady spy,” he called, and Joanna waved as she rode off.

  Tony went back to work, but somehow his aching muscles couldn’t help him forget Joanna’s light touch. Surely if it had been the thoughtless gesture of an old friend, she wouldn’t have blushed like that.

  Chapter 38

  The Barrands always held a supper dance after the final work of the harvest was done. Both Tony and Joanna were in a state of nervous anticipation for hours beforehand. Tony managed to spill sherry on his best breeches and then split a seam on the shoulder of his coat as he tried to squeeze his more muscular frame into it. His valet was almost in despair, but managed to dress him almost to satisfaction in his second-best outfit. Tony laughed and reminded him that at least now he had a second suit of clothes and hadn’t had to sell them.

  He set out late and arrived just before everyone was seated for supper.

  Joanna had been equally at sixes and sevens, but had managed to dress without destroying any of her wardrobe. She was wearing the sea-foam green gown that she had worn in London, and Tony, who was seated across from her, couldn’t keep his attention on his supper partner, the vicar’s wife.

  Tony claimed Joanna for two dances, a waltz and a cotillion. Their waltz lived up to neither’s expectations. They were both aroused by their closeness to one another, yet were too unsure of each other to enjoy it. By the end of the dance, Joanna was convinced that Tony still felt nothing more for her than affection, and was about to give herself over to despair. But she remembered her mother’s advice, and as they walked over to join a group of their neighbors, she managed to ask him if he would like to join her for an early-morning ride, now that the work of the harvest was done.

  * * * *

  The next morning, she regretted her impulsiveness. She had spent her summer away from Kent in order to kill off the hope that he might one day look at her as a lover. She thought she had done it. She had returned home feeling calm and ready to turn her mind and heart to other possibilities. And the first time she saw him, bloody hope sprang eternal, she thought. Well, done was done, but this was the last time she would risk her heart, no matter what her mother’s advice.

  * * * *

  When Tony arrived, Joanna was waiting for him, and she hurried them off, not wanting to spend one second more than was necessary in that awful state of anticipation and despair that came over her in his presence.

  It was a sunny day, but already there was a hint of autumn in the air, as if the weather knew the harvest was in, and it was safe for the cold to return.

  They rode slowly along the boundary of the two properties and chatted about Tony’s plans for Ashford.

  “Lady Fairhaven proved a good and generous friend,” said Joanna softly.

  “Yes. She changed my life. And a few others,” he added with a grin, “Jim, the erstwhile clerk and footman, is planning to purchase a tobacco shop. He has become his own man.”

  “But that is also thanks to you, Tony,” Joanna reminded him.

  “And Gideon Naylor…” Tony chuckled.

  “What of Gideon?”

  “He hardly presents himself as a romantic figure, does he?”

  Joanna laughed. “Indeed not. He is much too ordinary-looking. And strong feeling is not something I would associate with him.”

  “Oh, but there is strength and passion there, Joanna. Remember, I saw him in action. Gideon plans to continue for a few more years as a Runner while Mrs. Blisse Spencer trains Carrie to take over her, uh, business and then the two of them will retire to Somerset.”

  “What was Mrs. Spencer’s house like, Tony?” Joanna asked without thinking.

  “A very clean, orderly, and well-disciplined establishment, I can assure you. But I should not be discussing bawdy houses with you, Joanna!”

  “It is surely the only chance I would ever have to picture the inside of one. Do you think Mrs. Spencer worthy of Gideon?”

  “Mrs. Spencer is Gideon’s match in every way, I would think. And she hasn’t been personally involved with customers for a number of years.”

  Joanna was curious about Tony’s familiarity with whores and whorehouses, but even she was not bold enough to ask those questions.

  They were now approaching what Joanna considered their wood and had to make a choice whether to go through the trees or around them.

  “Why don’t we visit the old oak today, Joanna?” Tony suggested.

  J
oanna nodded her agreement and they walked their horses down the small path that wound its way through the trees.

  At a certain point it was easier and safer to dismount, and Tony slipped quickly off his horse in order to be there for Joanna. She had been ready to dismount by herself, and when his hands went around her waist to lift her off, she ended up falling against his chest.

  Tony held her there for a minute, feeling the softness of her breasts under the light wool habit, and drank in the scent of lavender water that she was accustomed to wear. Joanna felt as if time had stopped, and then, all of a sudden, he let her down and turned away quickly.

  He had to turn away to hide the evidence of his arousal. Thank God, ladies went first, he thought, as they led their horses. Or maybe not, he groaned to himself, catching glimpses of Joanna’s curves as she moved gracefully in front of him. But by the time they reached the old oak, he had himself under control.

  He wondered what she was thinking. Was she remembering all the make-believe that had brought her and Ned and him together? He could almost hear the faint echo of their voices in the wood. Ned was more present here than anywhere else, and Tony realized that finally he was at peace with his brother’s loss. He would always miss him, always believe that Ned would have been the better earl, but he knew he could always come here and find him again.

  “I miss Ned,” said Joanna, turning around to look at Tony.

  Tony took her reins and tied both horses to a nearby tree. He gestured to an old stump that had served as Joanna’s throne, the Round Table, or anything else they required it to be, and she sat down. Tony leaned back against the oak and was silent for a minute. “I miss him too, but a moment ago I felt he was right here with us. I will never be able to replace him, but at last I feel I am not letting him down.”

  “I think,” said Joanna slowly, “that you might well turn out to be better for Ashford.”

  Tony looked at her in surprise.