The Look of Love

by Kelly, Julia

  At least the trip would be a short one, she reassured herself as she toyed with her black lace handkerchief. He’d promised her that they’d stay long enough to make arrangements and pay their respects to his father and brother. Then they’d return home to Edinburgh, where they belonged.

  When the carriage finally turned off the road and rumbled between two stone pillars that made up an ancient-looking gate, Ina sat up straighter. They were at Oak Park at last.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  Gavin turned tired eyes to her. “As ready as I’ll ever be. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  She smiled tightly, not liking it any more than he did. “Nevertheless, Oak Park is yours now.”

  “I don’t know the first thing about managing an estate this large. I’m well out of my depth, and it overwhelms me,” he admitted.

  Despite the rocking of the carriage, she chanced shifting from her seat opposite him to the one next to him. Pressed close to lend him strength, she said, “You grew up here. I suspect you know more than you think. And didn’t you say Mr. Chase is extremely competent?”

  He nodded.

  “Then,” she said, slipping her arm through his, “seek his counsel and do what you think is best. You’re more than capable, Gavin.”

  He leaned into her. “I know you’d rather be at home in your studio.”

  “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be at this moment than with you,” she said.

  The words were easy, but the extraordinary thing was that she meant them without any reservations. Gavin had stood by her for so many years. He’d been her confidant and companion. Yet this was more than helping a friend in need. They were married, and at some point while she wasn’t looking, their union had become the most important thing in her life. He was her partner.

  The carriage slowed to a stop, and Ina hazarded a peek out of the window. Although dusk was falling, it looked as though the entire household staff was lined up for Gavin’s arrival. He was the new master, and they were welcoming him home.

  A tendril of fear touched her heart. This wasn’t home. This was a place they had to endure for a little while before they could get back to their lives in Scotland.

  The door opened and a footman let the steps down. Ina could see an older man with a shock of white hair step forward. He’d be the butler, no doubt, and it struck her all at once that their household now had two butlers. Two head housemaids. Two cooks. She shifted with unease. Someone had to take care of Oak Park even if they didn’t plan to live there, and it would be a challenge sorting out their staff.

  Out of the massive wood front door banded with iron walked a stately woman followed by a slender, petite blonde with watery eyes. The dowager Lady Barrett and Grace, no doubt.

  “Are you ready?” Gavin asked.

  She nodded, even though she didn’t feel the least bit prepared.

  He climbed down and turned to hand her out of the carriage. She shook her black crepe skirts out to release the worst of the wrinkles from traveling and straightened her ivory-lace-trimmed cuffs as best she could. Then she looped her arm in Gavin’s.

  “Sir Barrett,” said the presumed butler with a low bow.

  Her stomach flipped at the sound of Gavin’s new title.

  “May I be the first to offer my condolences. The entire household is grieved at such a tragic loss,” the man continued.

  Gavin nodded tightly, his lips pursed so hard they were almost white. “My wife and I thank you, Harper.”

  At the mention of Ina, the butler shifted to face her fully and bowed again. “Welcome to Oak Park, madam.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Gavin,” his mother called out.

  Gavin stiffened and covered Ina’s hand with his as though drawing reassurance from her. “Mother.”

  His mother swept down the steps, handkerchief in her hand, dabbing delicately at the corners of her eyes. “It’s a tragedy. Such a tragedy! Your father was so young. And Richard! Such promise. To think he was only thirty.”

  “Your letter came as a great shock to Ina and me,” he said. “May I present my wife, Lady Ina Barrett?”

  Her mother-in-law, who would be called Lady Sophia now that she was the dowager, flicked her eyes over to study her for the first time as Ina dipped into a low, respectful curtsy. “I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  Perhaps it was her exhaustion from the journey or her nervousness, but Ina could’ve sworn that Lady Sophia’s nose tilted a little higher before she said, “Thank you. My husband was a great man.”

  The censure in the lady’s voice made it clear that she thought her younger son was not.

  “Gavin,” said the pretty woman Ina guessed was Grace, extending her hands to him. “It’s good of you to come so fast. We’re beside ourselves.”

  He stared at his sister-in-law so long, Ina had to nudge him. Automatically, he took Grace’s hands and stiffly kissed her cheek. Then he dropped her hands immediately, as though they were hot coals. Ina frowned. She knew he had a poor relationship with his brother, but Grace was a grieving widow.

  “We came as quickly as we could,” Gavin said.

  “Not quickly enough,” said Lady Sophia, turning on her heel and sending her black train snapping out behind her. Clearly she expected them to follow, because she didn’t look back.

  “There’s so much to arrange,” the dowager continued. “Your father was in the midst of buying land that touches the northwest line of the property. Now the deal will fall apart because there’s no one who could possibly manage it.”

  Ina and Gavin exchanged a glance.

  “The deal won’t fall apart,” said Gavin.

  “Of course it will,” his mother shot over her shoulder, leading them into a west-facing drawing room that still had some of the last rays of daylight. “There’s no one to broker it.”

  Gavin clenched his jaw. “I’ll broker the deal. But that’s not important right now. We have other arrangements to make.”

  His mother turned sharply. “No matter what, an estate this size always requires attention and care. There’s no stopping, even for grief. You’d understand that if you possessed even an ounce of your brother’s head for business.”

  “I’m fully capable,” Gavin said, his tone clipped.

  The tension in the room was palpable as mother and son stared at each other, neither willing to move. Grace, beautiful and reserved, stood with her hands folded in front of her, her eyes fixed on the intricate pattern of the rug as though she wished herself a million miles away.

  Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Ina said, “Perhaps we might retire to our rooms before supper? The roads were dusty after Newcastle.”

  “I’ll show you where you’ll be staying,” said Grace. “It’s not so far from the baronet’s bedroom.”

  “Not so far?” asked Gavin. “The baronet’s wife’s rooms are connected to mine unless you’ve remodeled.”

  “Lady Barrett will take rooms in the west wing,” said Lady Sophia.

  “It’s pretty this time of day,” Grace offered. “You can see the sea from some of the windows.”

  “Why would Ina not take your rooms, Mother?” he asked. “You’ll no doubt be removing yourself to the dower house, where you’ll be more comfortable.”

  An appalled silence fell over the room as his mother leveled a stony gaze at him. “Are you suggesting that I be evicted from my rooms while I’m in the depths of grieving for my husband and my son?”

  A hardness Ina had never seen in him before fell over Gavin’s expression. “Didn’t you just say that we must not stop, even for grief?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of asking you to move at a time like this,” Ina said, inserting herself in the conversation to try to calm some of the crackling tension before it exploded. “Of course you should have your rooms for a while longer.
”

  The dowager’s expression was so sour she might as well have sucked on a basket of lemons. “Thank you for giving me permission to arrange my own household.”

  Ina couldn’t resist raising an eyebrow. She understood that mourning was a difficult time and could manifest in different ways, but Lady Sophia’s hostility was unwarranted.

  “Careful, Mother,” Gavin warned, his voice low. “You don’t want to find yourself without a home.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” gasped Lady Sophia.

  “Do you really want to test me? Your unreliable, unpredictable son?” he asked.

  “Think of the scandal casting your own mother out would cause,” said his mother.

  Ina sought Gavin’s hand, threading her fingers through his. “We’ve grown rather fond of flirting with scandal, actually.”

  He gave a half smile and squeezed her hand.

  “The maids will need at least a week to remove my things to the dower house,” said his mother.

  “A week should suit me just fine,” said Ina, her tone considerably frostier than before.

  “Until then, I will join my wife in the west wing,” said Gavin. “I’ll negotiate a move to the baronet’s suite at a later date if it’s necessary.”

  Lady Sophia’s mouth twisted as she chewed on whatever insult she was about to hurl at them. Instead, the lady drew herself up to her full height. “Supper will be served at eight without delay.”

  Gavin’s mother turned on her heel and marched out of the room.

  Grace trailed behind her like a shadow but paused in the doorway. “You don’t know what you’ve done. She’ll be a nightmare for days.”

  “Which is no dramatic departure from how she is on a regular basis,” said Gavin.

  Grace’s mouth twisted into a grimace, but she slipped around the door without another word.

  Gavin let out a breath. “That was my mother.”

  “I’m trying to understand how you could be her child,” she said.

  “I ask myself the same thing nearly every day.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE FUNERAL OF Sir Henry Barrett and Richard Barrett was held three days after Gavin and Ina’s arrival at Oak Park. As was custom, Gavin led the mourners to the gravesite, and the women stayed at home to grieve in private. While he was glad for a reprieve from his mother’s disapproving gaze and Grace’s drawn smiles, he wished Ina could have stood with him.

  If he’d asked her, she would have joined him, but he doubted she wished to incur his mother’s wrath any more than he did. He tried his best to stay by his wife’s side and protect her from some of his mother’s judgment, but it was impossible to be with her at all times.

  It was on their fifth day at the house that Gavin found himself in the study, which still felt very much his father’s, staring at a list of accounts that Chase had handed him. The estate agent was sitting in a chair across the vast wood desk, waiting patiently for his decision on whether to authorize repairs to two tenant cottages that had fallen into disrepair after standing unoccupied for three years.

  “Why is it that my father decided against letting them?” he asked, rubbing his brow to try to alleviate a headache.

  “He was debating whether or not to send workers to dig down past the topsoil to see if there was any hint of coal in that plot of land. There was a vein found ten miles from Ashington, but there’s no guarantee what such a gamble would produce.”

  “And what do you think?” Gavin asked.

  The quiet, capable man thought a moment. “I believe your father was right to be cautious. Viscount Mears destroyed a good deal of his farmable land searching for such mines last season, and he has nothing to show for it.”

  “Where does the viscount’s land lie?” he asked.

  “Four miles south of yours.”

  His land. His house. His title. His tenants. His estate manager. His servants. Everything was his, and yet nothing felt like it truly belonged to him. It was like he’d stolen into his father’s wardrobe and pulled on his clothes.

  Except he could take off clothes. He couldn’t shed a title quite so easily.

  His thoughts strayed to Ina as they so often did when he’d rather not be thinking about farming and accounts. She’d transformed in these past five days, he thought with a deep, leaden guilt. Gone was the impulsive, merry woman he’d fallen in love with years ago. In her place sat a woman possessed of an almost regal carriage who was shouldering a burden well beyond what was expected of her. She sat through suppers with his mother, afternoons with Grace, and evenings reading in the drawing room. Caller after caller came to pay their respects, and she accepted their condolences with a murmur of thanks. Still, the woman they all saw was Lady Ina Barrett, wife of Sir Gavin Barrett, not Ina, sculptor and Bohemian, and that worried him.

  He needed to conclude his business in Ashington and take them back to Edinburgh as quickly as possible. His mother still hadn’t moved out of her rooms, so each night he stole out of his west wing bedroom and made for Ina’s, slipping into bed next to her, seeking comfort and pleasure. But he knew that staying at Oak Park any longer was likely to damage what had been growing between them. He wouldn’t sacrifice that for the world, but first he had to settle Chase’s endless list of questions and concerns. He needed to ensure that the estate could continue on with only his minimal attention and occasional visits. It was his responsibility just as it had been his father’s and should’ve been his brother’s.

  For now, that meant deciding the fate of the dilapidated cottages.

  “Are there families in the village who would be willing to work the land and rent the cottages if they were habitable?” he asked.

  “I know of at least half a dozen men who wish for land to farm,” Chase said.

  “Mining is too much of a risk with no evidence that there’s been coal found in Oak Park. Go forward with the construction.” He paused. “And see if you can arrange for a geological expert to come to the estate. There’s no reason not to explore the possibility of coal if it’s been found in the region, but we won’t gamble on it until we know with more certainty whether it’s there.”

  Chase stood. “I’ll see that it’s done.”

  “Thank you,” said Gavin.

  The estate agent nodded, collected his papers, and left.

  As soon as the door was shut, Gavin let his head fall back onto the soft leather of the chair. This wasn’t his world. Give him paper and pen and a ripping good story, and he was happy. Here he felt out of his depth and surrounded by memories he’d rather not relive.

  The soft sound of a door brushing against carpet reached his ears, and he opened his eyes. Ina filled the doorway, her hand on the jamb as though uncertain whether or not to enter.

  “Hello,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and bringing his hands to the padded armrests.

  “I’m just checking on you. You were in here such a long time with Mr. Chase I feared he’d buried you under a stack of accounts.”

  He laughed. “Don’t jest. The man is a meticulous bookkeeper and nothing would make him happier than to go over every line of Oak Park’s expenses with me.”

  She smiled and closed the door behind her. “How wicked.”

  He dropped his head back against the chair again. “He’s a villain of the worst kind.”

  He watched her circle his desk until she disappeared behind him. When her hands snaked down his chest and back up again, the tension between his eyes melted a little. She pressed harder, adding her thumbs to trace the lines along either side of his chest muscles, and he groaned deeply.

  “You have no idea how good that feels,” he said.

  “You’re giving me an inkling. Do you want to tell me what the matter is?”

  “I’m lacking twenty years of preparation for administering an estate this size,” he said. He’d never admit it
to anyone except Ina, but he felt as though he was drowning, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of the responsibility thrust on him. His world—their world—had changed in an instant and not in a way he would’ve chosen.

  “I’m certain you’ll be just fine,” said Ina, her touch soothing him.

  He stilled her hands and looked up at her. “How can you be certain?”

  Her smile was sweet. “Because you, Gavin Barrett, are the most extraordinary man I know.”

  She rounded his chair, her hand skimming a path along his shirt. His breath quickened as she lowered herself into his lap. Her arms looped around his neck, pushing her breasts up closer to his mouth. He sent up a prayer of thanks for the squared neck of her black dress, which exposed a generous portion of her décolletage.

  “Sometimes when I’m downstairs in the drawing room, my mind wanders,” she said. “Did you know that?”

  “What do you think of?” he asked, intoxicated by her touch.

  “You, sitting up here. You’re behind this huge desk commanding an entire estate with the stroke of a pen,” she said.

  “I don’t feel particularly commanding when I’m doing it.”

  But he felt commanding right now, with her sweet backside grinding against his cock, which was already straining against the confines of his trousers. In an instant, this afternoon had gone from tedious to sensual.

  She clucked her tongue. “Trust your wife. I see the respect Mr. Chase treats you with.”

  “That’s owing to my title,” he protested.

  She raised her brows. “That’s owing to you. You don’t understand how people see you, Gavin. You walk into a room and people notice. You have presence. Your opinion is valued and sought after. You’re respected.”

  Delicately she pushed back a lock of hair he hadn’t realized had fallen over his forehead. He shivered when her nail brushed his skin.

  “And you have no idea how women look at you,” she continued.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “This I want to hear.”