Sophia dabbed a serviette to her mouth.
“Of course you are worried. No one would expect anything else. Gunshot wounds are no laughing matter even if they do not hit anything vital.” She paused a moment before continuing. “But did your father not say anything about his opponent? I mean, did he shoot him back or even get his shot in first. Perhaps there is another man lying in London with a wound too. It would be hard to hide it for long.” She took another sip of her wine.
Brendon took a much larger gulp from his own glass. He’d not given a thought to the other man’s condition, though his father had mentioned something about not missing his opponent.
“I think we would have heard if someone had died. Father didn’t actually say if he hit the man. Neither Stevens or Bilton looked for another pool of blood, but the man’s seconds must have had a carriage very close by to get him away within the few moments they had. Perhaps they thought their man had killed my father. It would be a hanging matter if he had.” He didn’t really want to talk about the duel, but if it meant that Sophia would speak to him, he was willing to go over it.
She lifted her glass again but didn’t drink as her delicate brows drew together.
“I just don’t see there being any reason for your father to duel. Unless someone insulted your mother.” Her expression suddenly changed. “Or you.” She put the wine glass down rather heavily and without looking. It hit the side of her plate and tilted precariously. Her hand shot out and only just caught it before the near full glass of wine tipped across the table. She jerked the glass upright again, but over compensated and some of the deep red liquid leapt from the glass. “Oh!” She jumped back, but was far too late. A deep burgundy splash landed somewhere near her throat and trickled down her bare skin into the valley between her breasts.
Brendon didn’t know how it happened, didn’t even know he had done it, but the next second his serviette, and his fingers were plunging into the enticing dip.
The second after that a large hand reached around his throat, cutting off his air as he struggled to take a breath.
“God damn it man, you might be my best friend, but if this wasn’t a private room I’d be calling for the local parson by now!” Algernon’s furious voice growled into his ear. “Keep your hands to yourself!”
For a moment Brendon wondered if the man would carry out his threat if he slid his hands into that bounteous, warm flesh once again. He certainly wouldn’t object to the ceremony, but Sophia’s cry of distress brought him to his senses.
“How dare you! You barely finish with one woman before you begin helping yourself to another. But never fear, Brendon Spencer. However cavalierly you treat me and whatever my brother dictates, I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on this planet.” She threw her serviette down onto the remains of her dinner and ran from the room.
Brendon slumped back into his chair as Algernon let him go.
“I didn’t mean... I didn’t think... I only wanted...” He began stammering hopelessly, but Algernon smiled suddenly.
“You only thought to save her gown? Yes, I recall doing something similar to Felicity. You nearly knocked my front teeth out if I remember rightly. Had to drink soup for a whole week before I dared test my biting ability.”
Brendon dropped his head to his hands.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the times I hit you when you didn’t deserve it. And I’m sorry Sophia thinks I meant an insult to her. Believe me, it was the furthest thing from my mind.”
Algernon took pity on his friend.
“Why don’t you just confess what you are trying to hide? It will make it a damn sight easier to cope with.”
Brendon’s head shot up. Did his friend know? The man looked far too pleased about something, but it couldn’t be... He wouldn’t look gratified. He would be laughing himself silly if he knew the truth. Brendon cleared his throat.
“I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m going to bed. If I stay up a moment longer I am likely to cause even more offence. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.”
Chapter Six
A Rude Awakening
Tired through lack of sleep; the fault of the most uncomfortable bed he had ever had the misfortune to lie in, and due to the myriad of thoughts tumbling in his head, the next day hadn’t been much better than the one before.
Sophia ignored him from the moment they took their table for breakfast, and Brendon simply couldn’t face another three hours or four under her disappointed glare. He abandoned the carriage and rode in the drizzle, until he said goodbye at his turn for Fallows, where things became even worse.
Had his memory gone awry? This couldn’t be the right place. Though the rain had stopped, he sat damp through and beyond exhausted for a moment before he pulled the dripping briars away from the tall gates. The familiar iron scrolls curled into the shape of ‘Fallows’ came into view.
So, it was the right place but it didn’t look anything like the last time he had seen it. He turned the handle hopefully before shaking the gates in annoyance. Damn! Locked, and he hadn’t brought a key. Didn’t think he would need one as housekeepers lived in. He peered through the ornate ironwork up the overgrown and clearly unused driveway. There was no point in shouting. The house wasn’t even in view.
He climbed back onto his weary horse and encouraged the beast along the crumbling estate wall. Estate? He queried his use of the term. State, more like. The bricks had fallen in several places, but not enough to gain an easy access and he wasn’t willing to risk his mount breaking a leg. He followed the wall to the corner and then round along the footpath at the side of the estate. He had to venture into the fields to avoid the piles of tumbled bricks on three occasions and he wondered what the local people thought of their landlord’s neglect.
How long ago had their steward left? His father hadn’t said exactly, but it was clear that this state of decay hadn’t happened overnight. Another corner and the smaller back gates came into view. At least these were open and he rode on through.
It took him a few minutes to ride up to the stable block. A young man, dark haired, long limbed, and well built, stopped clearing dirty hay. He leaned on his fork as he looked Brendon up and down critically before standing a little straighter as he recognized, even though a little bedraggled, wealth and breeding when he saw it.
“I’m afraid that there’s no one home, Sir. The Master lives in London and there isn’t any one available to take a message.”
Brendon eyed the man curiously, a familiarity about him that he couldn’t place. He dismounted and glanced in the stalls. Two horses nodded over the rails at him. They at least looked clean and well kept. He passed his own reins to the man who looked askance at him.
“Brendon Spencer, Lord Gregory Spencer’s son.” He introduced himself. “I’m not sure if I recall seeing you here before or not. There is something familiar about you.”
The man’s expression and attitude changed immediately.
“Good Lord! Master Brendon? I don’t suppose that you do remember me. I’m James, Mrs. Lawson’s boy. You recall the housekeeper, don’t you? I must have been about five years old when you were sent to school.”
Now that he had been reminded, the shock of dark hair was unmistakable even after more than fifteen years. Brendon grinned, happy that at least some things hadn’t changed about the place.
“Always had your hand in the biscuit barrel before I could get there myself, if I recall rightly. You’ve grown some since then.” He held out his hand in greeting.
The man smiled back at him and took the proffered palm.
“Aye, and so have you. But what are you doing here now? We weren’t expecting anyone from the family.”
Brendon looked about the stable yard. It looked immaculate in comparison to the area around the gates.
“My father sent me to take a look at the place and see what needs to be done. I see you have at least kept this area in order.”
James shook his head.<
br />
“Only because I cannot bear to see the animals mistreated or in less than perfect surroundings. They cannot look after themselves whereas what remains of the household can. I’ve had to make difficult choices and decided that the rest of the estate could go to ruin so long as the animals didn’t suffer.” His voice was hard, clearly unhappy.
Brendon’s already good opinion of him soared higher.
“Good man. Animals need a champion in times of hardship, but now I am here, I can take a look at what’s been going on and hopefully set things in order. I’m afraid my father has rather left it to me. He said that he meant to visit, but he was shot only yesterday morning and although he had intended to, he now cannot make the journey.”
James tilted his head curiously.
“His Lordship has been shot? How? Who would do such a thing to him?”
Brendon shook his head even while pleased that James thought the idea as preposterous as everyone else.
“Lord only knows, but it appears he took part in a duel. I have been trying to discover the reasons behind it but the stubborn man will give no information of the insult given or the perpetrator of the crime. He has sent me here in his stead, but I can see that I have only just arrived in time. Can you tell me who has been looking after the accounts since our steward left? He mentioned his stableman.”
James grunted.
“That’s me. There’s no one else who can read or write well enough, or who I would trust to do it. Mother probably could, but she has her hands full with keeping up the house, and neither Molly or Alfred would have a clue. It’s not been easy.” The barely contained anger simmered below the surface of the man’s outwardly calm demeanour.
Brendon tapped his riding crop against his boot, confusion curling through him.
“Perhaps I could have a look at the books. I can’t believe we couldn’t have employed more staff for you.”
James nodded but began forking up the dirty hay again.
“I have to finish here first, but I would like to go over things with you. There is something odd going on. We could afford new staff easily out of the estate’s income but your father sent a note forbidding it. He said that he would be sending someone to help sort it all out. I guess that was you.”
Brendon glanced over towards the huge house and frowned. Weeds were growing up around the doors, a few tiles had slipped from the roof, and the garden, well, he didn’t know if he could call it such any more. It looked more like a hay field with the odd large bush sticking up in the middle of it.
“He stopped you hiring on more help? But this house is huge. Four people cannot possibly manage it.” He took a deep breath as two pigeons flew suddenly from the hole in the roof. “I just don’t understand it, but then I don’t understand a lot of things that are going on at the moment. Can you look after Atlas while I go and announce myself to your mother?” He handed his reins to James. “See you inside in an hour.”
At least the bath was large and the water hot. More than he could say for the dismal facilities at the King’s Arms. He leaned back and let his aching bones relax in the soothing water. Mrs. Lawson might have been surprised to see him but she had rallied round quickly enough and set the stove going, insisting on him having a bath after his long journey. He had been more grateful than he could say, even if it did mean lugging his own buckets of hot water up the long flight of stairs.
Fortunately Mrs. Lawson had also kept three of the numerous bedrooms in the house clean and well aired. Short, round, and with a mop of blonde hair that had begun to turn grey, but didn’t diminish her vitality in the slightest, she bustled ahead of him.
“I like to be prepared even if his Lordship hasn’t been down in years.” She said as they both tipped their steaming buckets of water into the bathtub. “Though I don’t have any fresh clothes for you, and these are awfully damp. I’m not sure I will be able to get them dry within an hour.” She looked at his ensemble doubtfully. “Anything left here I packed and put up in the attic years ago. Besides which, none of your clothes would fit you anymore and I doubt your father’s would either. I cannot believe how you have grown. I swear you used to look more like a whippet than a bloodhound.”
Brendon wasn’t sure that this was a compliment. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror to check for wrinkles and breathed a sigh of relief. He might be tall and broad but at least he didn’t have drooping jowls yet.
“That’s quite all right, Mrs. Lawson. I don’t want you to worry. My valet Andrews is only an hour or so behind me. He should be arriving with my luggage at any moment. If there is anything else I need I am sure it can be made to order.”
Her eyes brightened.
“So he is bringing your carriage. Excellent, that means you must be staying for a while.”
Brendon shrugged out of his coat.
“I came down part-way with Lord Barclay and his sister. We stayed at the King’s Arms last night and I separated from them only at the last moment today.” He stood back and waited for the woman to leave, but it seemed that merely having hot water to soak in wasn’t nearly good enough.
Mrs. Lawson picked up several jars from a shelf and examined their labels. She selected two, tipped some of the salts into the hot water, and stirred it vigorously.
“Ah, young master Algernon and the lovely Sophia. I remember them well. Him so tall and elegant and her... Well, what can one say. A lovely girl. All that dark hair even when she was so young. I expect she has grown into a beauty. Pity about their father. A complete scoundrel, and a well-known womanizer. Many was the time I had to warn the maids when the Barclays came to visit, but that man could talk his way into any unsuspecting woman’s...” She reined in her angry tirade as she noticed Brendon’s appalled expression. “I do beg your pardon, my Lord. My tongue running away with me. It seems a long time since we’ve had company. Perhaps you will see something of the Barclays?” Her expression became somewhat agitated before she took a deep breath and carried on. “Sommersford isn’t that far distant. Half a day’s ride at the most. Less for an experienced rider. You are all but neighbours. But perhaps you will be too busy with Fallows. It’s not as if we have room for many guests and I wouldn’t like to put anyone but his Lordship in the master suite.” She added cautiously.
Brendon began tugging at his cravat wondering at the woman’s sudden reticence and agitation. He hoped she wasn’t holding a grudge against his friends because of their father’s disgusting behaviour, but then he shook his head as he recalled the frosty reception Sophia had given him that morning.
“I doubt I will be seeing anything of them very soon. My sister is about to give birth and cannot travel, and I think my time is going to be taken up sorting this place out.”
Mrs. Lawson appeared somewhat relieved. She smiled as she took his coat and folded it over her arm.
“But you’ll be visiting your sister, surely. What with her due time so close... News does travel, you know, and we are not quite so cut off as it appears.” She smiled at him and he groaned inwardly.
Seeing Felicity meant an inevitable meeting with Sophia. He didn’t know if he had the strength to survive another day of her stiff shoulders and pinched lips. Oh, he knew that he deserved them, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
He ushered the woman from the room.
“I daresay I will venture over there at some point, however, right now I don’t want to waste this delightful bath. Would you send Andrews up when he arrives? I’ll ask him to bring you the rest of my wet clothes.” He closed the door behind her and removed his cravat from around his throat.
The warm water really was rather nice. He wasn’t sure what the woman had added to it, but it had a silky texture on his skin and the perfect hint of cologne. Just as well as the mattress and stale sheets at the Kings Arms seemed to have given him a crick in his neck and a bad case of hives. He hadn’t expected any better but really should have thought of taking his own. Not that any sheets would disguise the lumpiness and narrowness
of the meagre bunk that passed for a bed.
He sighed and let the water slip over him, soothing his irritated skin. Algernon had complained of the roughness of the linen so Brendon didn’t think he was making too much of a fuss, but had Sophia’s sheets been as coarse? The thought angered him. While he and Algernon could stand a little discomfort, Sophia shouldn’t have such horrors touch her skin. She had been through enough over the last years and deserved to lie on the finest silk every night. The thought of her tossing and turning because of scratchy sheets riled him.
The thought of her tossing and turning for entirely different reasons affected him even more.
Visions of her lying naked upon pure white silk, her ebony curls and beautiful pale body displayed for his delight, leapt into his head. He raised his eyebrows as his cock instantly reared up and broke the surface of his bath water. Not that he should have been surprised at his body’s reaction to the delightful fantasy. It was just another reason he had stayed away from the distracting woman for months. It seemed that he only had to think of her and his manhood leapt to attention, straining the fall of his trousers in a most uncomfortable manner, and leaving him aching for hours afterwards.
And even though she clearly detested him, he had been aching for the last two days. He picked up the tablet of soap at the bath side and slicked up his hand. He didn’t like giving into the pressure but he couldn’t possibly sit and concentrate on the accounts unless he gained some relief. He closed his eyes and hissed out a breath as his fingers wrapped his shaft.
“Oh, sorry to disturb you, my Lord. Mrs. Lawson was right. She said you were damp through and now taking a long bath.”
The voice came from somewhere behind his left shoulder and Brendon jumped so violently he nearly took a huge gulp of bathwater as he submerged himself completely. A great slosh of suds slopped over the side of the bath and flooded the floor.
A Promise of Pure Gardenias: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 2) Page 8