‘It is not a speech as much as a question. Pelham advised me to keep it short, unless I have plans to become a great orator, which, I assure you, I do not.’
He frowned. She looked paler than usual. Unhappy. ‘What is this issue you are having with the gypsies?’
‘Apparently, they are stealing laundry left and right.’ She gave a short unhappy laugh. ‘As predicted by Mrs Beckridge.’
‘You know for certain they are involved?’
She got up and went to the window, looking out as if she did not want to see his reaction. Or maybe to hide hers. There was more to this than met the eye.
‘Who else could it be?’ she said evasively. ‘I know I did not agree with Mrs Beckridge at first, but it seems we both might have been wrong. Now they have finished clearing the deadfall, could you not ask them to leave?’
‘I told them they could stay for the winter if they wished. I do not generally go back on my word.’
Damn it all. This was not what he wanted to talk to her about. And yet he was loath to discuss a more delicate matter while this topic put them on opposite sides of the fence.
She turned to face him. ‘What if they were caught in the act? Would you ask them then?’
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘It would certainly be in their interests to go if one of their number was caught in a criminal act.’ He narrowed his eyes on her face. ‘It is not the only reason you have for wanting them to leave, is it?’
She sighed. ‘No. The villagers seem to be blaming Marguerite and me for their continued presence here. Because we took their part against the Vicar’s advice. They don’t say anything, but they are not as friendly towards us as they once were.’
‘The Beckridge woman again, I suppose.’ Damn her. If she couldn’t make trouble one way, she found another to accomplish her ends.
‘Most likely.’ Petra smiled unhappily. ‘Though I think she didn’t need to say much on the subject to have them up in arms after the loss of valuable items. Next, they fear their homes may be pillaged, I am sure.’
As a landowner, it was his responsibility to protect his neighbours. Both the villagers and the likes of the two lady widows. And he wasn’t having her made unhappy because of a point of honour. ‘You say they have not yet been caught in the act?’
‘Unfortunately, no. I was thinking of setting a trap.’
He started. ‘You would need to be very careful. Any creature who is cornered can be dangerous, but it is a good idea.’
‘That was why I wanted your help. I was thinking of spreading one of our tablecloths on the laurel bush in the front garden. It wouldn’t be the first time we have used it to dry larger items.’
‘You are going to use yourself as bait?’ He did not like that idea at all.
‘Who else can I ask? Besides, the villagers might be grateful to us if it was Marguerite and I who were the ones to finally capture the thieves.’
‘You really care what these people think of you, don’t you?’
‘Naturally. We live here. To be ostracised by our neighbours would be horrible.’
Well, he had a different answer for that problem, but now was not the time. ‘When do these thefts occur?’
‘Usually in the evening. Honestly, I had no idea how often people forget to bring their laundry in at night, though I believe they are being a lot more careful now. We have not had any incidents for two days.’
‘Then this is what we shall do. I will return here after dusk and set up a perimeter with O’Cleary around the laundry and we will nab our thieves.’ He stood up. ‘Wait to put out your linens until after I have gone.’
‘Thank you, Ethan. I knew I could count on you.’ His heart warmed at the words he’d never heard from a woman before.
She came forward, hands outstretched, and he took them in his. So tiny. So easily broken. He raised one to his lips and brushed his lips against her knuckles. ‘You know you can call on me for anything at any time.’
Her eyes went moist for a moment, as if tears were close to the surface, but her bright smile made him think he was likely wrong. ‘I know it,’ she said huskily. ‘Though I will try not to take advantage of your kindness.’
He wanted her to take advantage of him as often as she wanted. The idea pleased him and he smiled back. Only just in time did he stop himself from taking her in his arms. That would come later, after he put paid to the petty thieves who were causing her concern.
Instead of folding her into his arms, he picked up his hat and gloves. ‘Once you have put out your laundry, stay inside the house with the door locked.’
* * *
Petra could hardly sit still. Every little sound made her jump. Putting aside her book, she glanced out of the window and shook her head at herself. It wasn’t fully dark yet. Soon, though. She could scarcely see to read. Was Ethan out there already? What if he came too late?
He wouldn’t. He was a man one could rely on. It was one of the things she liked about him. She got up, lit the candles and pulled the curtains closed as they usually did at this time of the evening.
Marguerite raised her head from the stocking she was mending. ‘Is something wrong, dearest?’
‘No. Why do you ask?’
‘You sighed.’
Oh, dear. She really did not hide her emotions very well. ‘I am not finding this book as entertaining as I thought I might.’
‘What is it?’
Petra looked at the cover, having chosen it from random off the shelf and not read a word. ‘The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith.’
‘You do not like it? I found it vastly entertaining. Indeed—’
Petra tossed the book aside. ‘I am simply not in the mood.’
‘Then I suppose you are not in the mood to read it to me,’ Marguerite said, laughing. ‘Take out your mending, my dear. I know you have some.’
Petra winced. How could she bear to sit reading or sewing when Ethan might be outside apprehending a criminal? What if the man was dangerous? ‘I will read it to you when I return from the privy.’
‘You are surely not going outside now?’
‘It is not yet full dark. I won’t be but a moment.’
Marguerite grimaced. ‘Surely it would be better to—’
Petra whisked out of the room before her sister could finish. It was all very well using the chamber pot, but it then had to be emptied—besides, the privy was simply an excuse. She snatched up her cloak and quietly unlocked the back door, intending to sneak around to the front garden to see if her tablecloth remained where she had left it. Of course, she could have gone upstairs to look out, but it would be difficult to see exactly what was going on.
She hadn’t gone but a few steps when someone grabbed her from behind and covered her mouth with a large warm hand. The scent of cologne gave her attacker away. Ethan. She relaxed. He turned her around and lifted her hood over her head. ‘That bright hair of yours,’ he whispered.
Oh, she had forgotten about that.
‘I might have known you would not wait indoors,’ Ethan muttered in her ear. He pulled her down the path and into the shelter of the hedge.
‘No one came?’ she whispered.
‘Not yet.’
‘Is Mr O’Cleary here also?’
‘Yes. Hush.’
She subsided into silence, pleasantly tucked against his large warm body. Petra prayed Marguerite would not come looking for her as the minutes ticked by. A squeak of hinges. A burly shape freezing at the sound, then tiptoeing along the path and across the grass. In a second, the tablecloth was torn from the bush and bundled beneath the interloper’s cloak.
Ethan and Mr O’Cleary stepped forward. ‘Hold,’ Ethan ordered sternly.
The thief squawked, made a dash for the gate and was caught around the waist by O’Cleary, who raised his fist, then stepped back, startled.
>
‘I have a pistol,’ Ethan warned.
The thief made a choking sound. Mr O’Cleary uncovered the light of a lantern he must have brought for the purpose.
A scared face scrunched up at the sudden glare.
‘Good Lord!’ Ethan exclaimed.
‘Oh, goodness!’ Petra gasped. ‘Mrs Beckridge?’
The woman drew herself up straight. ‘Someone had to do something to get His Lordship to listen to reason.’ Despite her bravado, her voice shook.
‘Nonsense,’ Petra said curtly. ‘How dare you try to put the blame for the thefts on the gypsies? And what is more, you will return everyone’s belongings first thing in the morning and apologise for giving them such a scare. Lord Longhurst I assume you will deliver this woman to her husband?’
‘That I will. And I will be having a few words with that worthy gentleman.’
Mrs Beckridge moaned.
‘Lady Petra,’ Ethan said, ‘I will call tomorrow to let you know the conclusion of tonight’s events.’ He bowed and grabbed Mrs Beckridge’s arm. ‘This way, madam.’
The front door opened. Marguerite stood framed in the doorway with the light behind her and a coal shovel raised above her head. ‘Who is out there? Show yourselves,’ she quavered.
‘It’s all right, dearest,’ Petra called back. ‘It is only I.’
‘What on earth is going on?’
‘A slight case of mistaken identity,’ Petra said, going to her side. She hooked her arm through her sister’s and drew her back indoors, trusting Ethan to handle the matter satisfactorily.
She trusted him more than ever she had trusted Harry. She liked him, too. A great deal more than she should for someone who had sworn never to marry again.
Chapter Twelve
Ethan was disappointed when it was Lady Marguerite who met him at the door, but her greeting was warm. ‘Quite the adventure last night,’ she said, smiling at him.
‘Indeed, it was.’
‘I assume the Beckridges will not be remaining in Westram?’ She sounded pleased. Everyone had sounded pleased.
‘They are packing up and preparing to move as we speak.’
She nodded. ‘Petra is dying to hear all about it. And she will tell me all about it later. You will find her in the kitchen garden. She is expecting you.’
Finally. ‘Thank you.’
‘Go around the side of the house. I would offer to take your hat and coat, but the wind is rather chilly this morning.’
He did as she suggested and found Petra on her hands and knees weeding an herb garden. She sat back on her heels at his approach. ‘Lord Longhurst.’ She laughed. ‘You always catch me at the worst possible moments.’ She gestured to her muddy hems and gardening apron.
As far as he was concerned, any moment he caught her was a good one.
He took her hand and helped her to her feet, inhaling the scent of lavender and thyme and rosemary. ‘I am probably earlier than you expected. I apologise, but I thought you might be anxious to hear about the rest of last night’s adventure.’ That was his story and he was sticking to it. At least for now.
‘I am all agog.’ She gestured to a wooden seat overlooking the rest of the small garden and the view of the fields beyond. ‘Come, let us sit and be comfortable and you may apprise me of all that occurred after you left here.’
He seated her and sat beside her. He crowded her a little more than he ought to, but that was how he felt at the moment. The need for closeness.
‘I could not have been more shocked to discover our thief was the Vicar’s wife,’ she said.
‘Nor could Beckridge. At first, I thought they may have schemed up the idea together, but his shock was real enough. He had assumed his wife was tucked up in bed with a headache. His jaw almost hit the floor when she appeared with us on his doorstep.’
‘What on earth did he say?’
‘Well, it seems Mrs Beckridge rules the roost in that household, so he tried to support her in her exaggerated claims about the gypsies, but when I threatened to call the magistrate and the constable, he collapsed and admitted she was in the wrong.’ Though she had threatened to reveal all that she had seen in his study the day she had barged in on him and Petra. A few pithy words had convinced her husband to ensure her silence. He’d also made sure she understood that in his noble circles, widows did as they wished, as did gentlemen, and that neither he nor Petra gave a damn what people like Mrs Beckridge and her social ilk thought.
That the woman believed that about Petra simply proved her stupidity.
‘She really is an awful woman,’ Petra said.
‘Beckridge is a fool to let a woman lead him around by the nose.’
She stiffened slightly.
He frowned. ‘I mean in regard to his vocation, his dealings with his flock. He should have known better.’ He wasn’t sure he had made things any better. The ground beneath his feet felt a little slippery.
‘Did you call the constable?’
‘Not when Beckridge agreed to leave immediately.’
She nodded. ‘That sounds fair.’
He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘He said he had been thinking about going to America anyway. He had a letter from someone he knows out there indicating they were in need of a pastor. He asked for references.’
‘Did you give them?’
He was back on dangerous ground. ‘I said I would think about it.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I did tell him that I would only do so if he promised not to let his wife run amok again.’
‘It would be better if you extracted that promise from Mrs Beckridge.’
He gazed at her, at the tightness around her mouth. Of course. This was where he was going wrong. And he definitely did not want to be going wrong at this moment. It would not do at all given his real purpose in coming here today.
‘You are right,’ he said. ‘And so I shall insist.’
Her posture relaxed. Hallelujah.
‘There is another matter I wish to discuss with you,’ he said.
She perked up. ‘About the estate?’
‘In a manner of speaking. You will recall the painting you noticed in the hall in my town house. The view of Venice.’
‘I do.’
‘Well, upon your departure, I got to thinking about the agent who initially offered to take all the items in the house off my hands. He was also quite eager to look at what we had put out in the barn here at Longhurst, with a view to disposing of them. There was something familiar about his name.’ He could not keep the note of excitement out of his voice.
‘Ethan?’
‘I recalled a bill of sale among the papers my cousin left. When I located it again, it was a receipt for a French table and the price was exorbitant, except that someone had scribbled on it the word Versailles. I asked around and eventually was given the direction of an agent who purchases French items for the Prince of Wales. He came and looked at the piece and confirmed it indeed could well have been purchased for the Palace of Versailles along with several other items that he looked at. For the paintings he recommended another expert. It turns out the picture you spotted is the genuine article by Canaletto.’
She was staring at him, wide-eyed. ‘It must be worth a fortune.’
‘My cousin’s collection is almost priceless apparently.’
‘Oh, my word. What are you going to do?’
‘Sell it.’ He shrugged. ‘Or most of it. My predecessor should never have spent the money he did on all that stuff when the estate needed funds so badly. I am assured that there are several collectors, including the Prince himself, who will be more than happy to pay a fair price for the artwork and the furniture as soon as the provenance is fully documented. And he saw no problem at all with that.’
She beamed at him. ‘That is amazing. Wonderful. I am so pleased for you.’
He grinned back at her. ‘Now I can finally put the estate to rights. Which leads me to the last reason I came here today.’
He sought the item he had tucked in the watch pocket in his waistcoat and went down on one knee. He smiled at her. ‘I think you know how fond I am of you, Petra. I believe you do not hold me in aversion either. I would like to beg for the honour of your hand in marriage.’
At first, she looked surprised—nay, shocked. And perhaps a little pleased. Slowly, though, her expression turned to one of dismay. ‘Oh, please. Do not.’ She averted her face.
Pain seized his chest. What the hell was the matter with him? He should have known better than to have expected her to behave in a rational manner. His mother never had. One day hot. One day cold. He got to his feet staring down at her. ‘I beg your pardon. I must be under some misapprehension about your feelings towards me.’
‘No. No. I like you very well, Ethan. Truly I do. I do not wish you to feel that you must marry me, because of what Mrs Beckridge might say to others. I will not do it.’
He shook his head. ‘My offer has nothing to do with that woman, I assure you.’
‘Are you saying you...love me?’
Love? Did she really expect such a thing? His mother and father had thrown the word around as if it meant everything and nothing. He had certainly not felt more than mild affection for them, as one must for one’s parents.
‘I am fond of you. I have affection for you. We deal well together. I can now offer you an estate with good prospects which we can build together. Is that not a more solid foundation for a marriage that some passion that is likely to be over within a few months of marriage?’
Her face drained of colour. What had he said to make her react so?
She inhaled a deep breath and rose to face him, or rather look up at him, she was such a tiny thing. He stepped back a little so as not to overwhelm her. She gave a faint smile at that.
‘Ethan, I am truly honoured by your proposal. Deeply touched.’
She didn’t sound touched, she sounded hurt. As hurt as he felt. He gritted his teeth.
An Earl for the Shy Widow Page 16