Chapter Nineteen
“If this is an Italian picnic I’m the man in the moon,” Gillian said as she suspiciously inspected the lobster patty on the dainty china plate in her hand. “For one thing, no self-respecting Italian would dine alfresco in such dreary weather.”
Lia glanced at the sky. It was rather cool for August and the clouds and sun had capriciously flirted all afternoon. But compared to the average late summer day in Yorkshire, it was positively balmy. “I suppose you’re right, but Lord Peckworth’s gardens are truly lovely. And it’s so delightful here by the Thames, don’t you think?”
Gillian cast a jaundiced eye at the beautiful flower beds and the lush, ruthlessly manicured lawns. “It’s too damp, but please don’t tell the countess I said that. She’d probably drag me on another tour of the house to punish my lamentable manners.”
The Levertons, Hunters, and a small group of mutual friends had come to enjoy the day at the Earl of Peckworth’s new villa in Chiswick. Lia and Gillian had spent the first hour trailing along in Lady Peckworth’s ample wake, oohing and ahhing over the magnificent house. Gillian had clearly been bored out of her skull, although she’d hid it fairly well. But when Lady Peckworth insisted on showing off both the modern kitchen range and the newly installed water closets, Gillian had adopted a comically pained expression suggesting martyrdom.
Despite her cousin’s lack of enthusiasm, Lia had enjoyed talking with the older woman about the many thoughtful touches that made the expansive villa a truly comfortable home. But the domestic interlude had also triggered a bout of homesickness. She’d now reached the point at which she would have preferred spending her days tending to Stonefell’s kitchen gardens and searching for newly laid eggs in the henhouse, which was a painful comment on her London misadventures. In fact, she’d much rather shoe a horse than be dragged along to yet another musicale or dinner party where the guests snubbed her, ignored her, or, even worse, tried to make polite conversation while pretending she wasn’t a Notorious Kincaid.
Although, in her case, it might be more accurate to describe her as the Notoriously Inept Kincaid, for all the success she’d had in launching her career as a courtesan.
She dredged up a smile at her cousin’s jest. “You must admit the boat ride on the Thames was delightful.”
Gillian deposited her plate with its untouched lobster patty on the little table between their matching wrought-iron chairs. “Yes, that was rather fun, although the boat cushions and upholstery held the oddest musty smell. I began to wonder if I’d forgotten to take a bath this morning. I knew it couldn’t be Charles because he always smells divine.”
Lia had to laugh. “Poor Gillian. I’m sorry you had to be forced on yet another dreary outing on my behalf. You must be heartily sick of them—and me.”
Gillian patted her hand. “I’m just an old grump. And even though Lady Peckworth is probably the most boring woman alive, she has a good heart, as is evidenced by her kindness to you. That house tour obviously made you happy, which makes me happy.”
“It did make me happy. I suppose that makes me a boring person, too.”
“Not at all. But you do miss your life in the country, don’t you, Lia?”
“Yes, I miss Stonefell and Granny very much. Silly of me, I know, because I’ve gotten to meet you and Aunt Chloe and everyone spoils me rotten.”
“There’s nothing silly about it. After all, Stonefell is your home.”
Lia ignored the pang in her heart. “Not anymore. And the sooner I accommodate myself to my new life, the better.”
Gillian crossed her arms and stretched out her legs, stacking her elegantly booted feet, heel to toe. Leverton, who was standing several yards away with Dominic and Lord Peckworth, glanced over at his wife and raised an eloquent eyebrow.
“Oh blast,” Gillian muttered, correcting her boyish posture.
“It can’t be easy being married to the most sophisticated man in London,” Lia said in a humorous tone.
“Try the most sophisticated man in England.” A sly grin teased the corners of Gillian’s mouth. “But it has its compensations.”
As Lia took in the discreet yet smoldering glance the couple exchanged, she had to swallow a tiny sigh. She felt that same intensity of emotion for Jack, although she doubted he returned it. He held her in great affection and he certainly seemed to find her desirable, but it wasn’t the all-encompassing love Gillian and Leverton shared.
That kind of love was a dream she and Jack would probably never realize. Their torrid encounter had been memorable, but the aftermath had been less so. In fact, it had been downright disheartening because it was clear he’d only offered marriage out of a sense of duty and honor. What had been the most wonderful moment of Lia’s life had quickly become one of the most humiliating. They’d ended up fighting, naturally. And, once home, Dominic and Jack had ended up fighting, too, although both men were in stubborn accord that she and Jack declare their banns or marry by special license immediately.
Fortunately, Chloe had understood her trepidation over forcing Jack’s hand. Her aunt had insisted that they needed a little time away from each other to think about their futures. Dominic had grudgingly agreed, although he’d insisted that Lia be closely chaperoned lest she embark on yet another mad scheme to launch her career in the demi-monde. Chloe and Gillian had then swung into action, dragging Lia from one social occasion to another so that she might ascertain if she truly wished to marry Jack or preferred to wait for other potential suitors to emerge from the woodwork. It was a demented plan as far as Lia was concerned, and it left them out of sorts and ready to murder each other.
“Yes, I’m sure marriage to Charles Penley has a number of compensations,” Lia said, thinking how splendid it would be to have a husband who adored you.
“You could be enjoying the benefits of the wedded state, too,” Gillian said. “You and Jack would be very happy together.”
Lia scoffed. “Jack has no true desire to marry me, which you must admit is quite an impediment to marital bliss.”
Gillian rounded her eyes. “No true desire to marry you? That’s a laugh. The man’s an absolute beast whenever the two of you are apart. Charles says he expects him to begin rampaging through London if Aunt Chloe keeps barring the door to him. And when you are together, he can barely keep his hands off you.”
Lia had to resist the temptation to press her palms to her rapidly flushing cheeks. “That’s not love, Gillian. That’s, um . . . well, he admires my form.”
“That’s certainly true, but there’s more to it than that. He adores you.”
“You’re confusing love with affection. Jack has always been more like a brother to me than anything else.”
“Not like any brothers I’ve ever met,” Gillian said sardonically.
Lia winced. “Very well, I suppose we’ve gone past that. But there are other obstacles that make a union impractical if not completely impossible.”
Gillian held up a hand. “Please don’t start on about your status as a royal by-blow. That’s not a real impediment—not with all of us supporting you.”
“Perhaps not, but his mother can’t stand me, or any Kincaid for that matter. In fact, she might try to slip arsenic into my morning tea if Jack and I were to marry.”
“I’ll grant you she’s a dragon,” Gillian said, “but once you’re married, she’d have to accept you.”
Lia shook her head. “She’d make Jack miserable. And they’re close, you know. He would find it very difficult to be up in arms against her.”
“You’d be amazed by what mothers-in-law will eventually accept. My husband’s dear mama is a veritable Tartar and yet she puts up with me.”
“Yes, but—”
Gillian flipped up a restraining hand. “So, we’ve got that obstacle sorted. What else?”
Lia snorted. “I’ll concede the point for now. What I cannot concede is that Jack needs to marry an heiress. Stonefell is crumbling, and it needs a substantial infusion of income
or the situation could become truly dire. I bring no value that would benefit the estate.”
“Nonsense. From what I hear, no one knows Stonefell better than you do or keeps the welfare of its people closer to heart.”
That was probably true, for all the good it did her.
“I’m sure the new marchioness will come to love Stonefell, too,” Lia said, trying to sound serene about the appalling idea of another woman treading the hallways of the beloved old house, occupying the magnificent Tudor bed in the master’s suite with Jack lying next to her.
Gillian studied her with some perplexity.
“What?” Lia asked.
“You do know about the discovery of iron ore on Stonefell’s lands, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I know Mr. Lindsey was conducting some sort of analysis. But Jack had mentioned some weeks ago that he couldn’t afford to exploit any findings they might make. I believe he was having trouble securing the appropriate sort of investors.”
“He’s got the right sort now. Charles and Sir Dominic have made it clear that they’re more than willing to invest in a good mining venture in Yorkshire. They’ll give Jack what he needs to get started in good style. In fact, from what Charles tells me, the preliminary explorations are promising indeed.”
Lia stared at her. “Jack hasn’t mentioned anything about that to me. Are you sure?”
“Our dear Lord Lendale is being a bit stubborn about it. According to Charles, he doesn’t want to be indebted to his friends,” she said with a scoff. “Silly man. But I’m sure my darling husband and Sir Dominic will bring him around.” She winked. “Especially in light of recent events.”
Lia’s face heated again. “If such is the case, I’m very happy for Jack. But it still doesn’t—”
“You’re as stubborn as he is,” Gillian said, cutting her off. “All right, then. Let’s say you don’t marry Jack. That doesn’t mean you have to become a courtesan. Something, by the way, you don’t seem to be very good at. Truly, Cuz, I don’t think it’s your cup of tea.”
Lia was beginning to come to the same conclusion. “What else am I to do?”
“You could try getting married. To someone other than Jack, I mean.”
Lia blew out an exasperated breath. “That’s why you and Aunt Chloe have been dragging me from one blasted social event to the other.”
Gillian shrugged. “We think you should marry Jack, but it’s always nice to have a choice.”
“I don’t think your plan has worked very well either.”
Only a few of the men she’d met recently had seemed at all interested. And rather than courtship or marriage, she suspected they desired a relationship of a less respectable nature.
“I don’t know,” Gillian said. “Sebastian Sinclair seems quite interested in you. And he’s clearly not intending to offer you a carte-blanche.”
Lia was silent for several seconds. “True on both counts, I think.” She’d been surprised by Sinclair’s attention to her over the past week. He’d made a point of talking with her at every event they’d attended and had asked her to dance several times.
“If not Jack, do you think you might like to marry Sinclair?” her cousin asked. “You have to admit he’s a nice man, plus he’s handsome and rich, which is always helpful.”
Lia kept quiet, not wanting to lie to her cousin.
Gillian chuckled. “I thought not. I think you’d better reconcile yourself to marrying Jack because he is certainly not going to allow you to become a courtesan. Nor will Sir Dominic or my husband, for that matter.” She reached over and squeezed Lia’s hand. “Or me. It’s simply not on, dearest.”
Lia gripped her hand. “I don’t know what to do.” She felt wretchedly uncertain, and yet she couldn’t deny that a fugitive hope had sparked to life.
“If you want my opinion, you should marry Jack and put him out of his misery.”
“But if I did, it could cause him more misery,” she said, grimacing.
Gillian cocked her head. “But you do love him, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Lia said, feeling rather growly about it at the moment.
She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t loved him, his gangly, adolescent presence and laughing face the brightest part of her world. As a child, she’d worshiped him with girlish adoration, as if he were her own personal deity. And Jack had tolerated her nonsense, even though she must have irritated him immensely. After all, what boy wishes to have a little girl tumbling after him like an eager puppy, constantly begging for notice?
Yet he’d never been anything but the truest of friends, rescuing her from numerous scrapes and defending her against the slights and censures that sometimes came her way. When Jack Easton was about, no one dared to insult Lia Kincaid—not unless they wished to earn a bloody nose or a black eye.
He’d been her champion for as long as she could remember.
“And you love Stonefell,” Gillian said, gently squeezing her fingers. “If you ask me, both Jack and the estate need you, so you should fight for them. Be there for them.”
Lia sat very still, letting the notion of yes sink in. When she let the idea settle deep inside, without thought or botheration, it felt right. Immensely right.
Over the years, her childish affection for Jack had transformed into something quiet and deep, a love as rooted as the ancient oaks gracing the woods around Stonefell. Lia knew she could live without him if she must, going on to fashion some sort of satisfactory life. But without Jack, something essential would be lost, as if she’d taken the wrong turn onto a road leading far from home and away from everything that truly mattered.
Gillian withdrew her hand. “I’ve made my case and I hope it’s enough,” she said wryly. “Because I think you’re about to take some heavy fire. Stand firm, old girl. Make us proud.”
“What are you talking about?”
Her cousin nodded toward the house. Lia followed her gaze and almost fell out of her seat. Approaching them at a sedate pace across the lawn were Jack and his sister, Lady Anne.
“Oh no,” Lia groaned. “Did she know I was going to be here?”
Gillian cast her a sideways glance. “I suspect quite strongly she did.”
“Did you know about this?”
Her cousin held up her hands in a surrendering gesture. “I knew Jack was coming, but I have to admit his sister’s arrival is a surprise. But perhaps it won’t be such a bad thing.”
“Are you insane?” Lia said. “She hates me.”
Gillian flicked an assessing look at Lady Anne across the lawn. “I doubt Jack would bring her along simply to allow her to make a scene or be dreadful.” She gave Lia a smile before standing up. “Time to fight for what you want, love. Don’t forget: You’ve got the blood of kings running through your veins. That’s got to count for something.”
“I doubt it,” Lia said sarcastically, rising.
Jack and his sister stopped to exchange greetings with their host and Sir Dominic, then made their way to join Lia and Gillian. As much as she hated to admit it, Lia was so anxious that she could barely think straight. She hadn’t seen Jack since that exceedingly fraught night at the Cyprians’ ball. To have his sister witness their meeting was utterly nerve-racking.
Jack gave her a wink and a smile, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. “Good afternoon, ladies. Your Grace, I’m sure you remember my sister, Lady Anne Kendall.”
“Indeed I do,” Gillian said dryly. She gave Jack’s sister a polite nod.
Lady Anne sank into a respectful curtsy. “Your Grace, I’m grateful to have the opportunity to speak with you. I wish to extend my sincere apologies to you and your husband for the most distressing episode that occurred at your ball. I deeply regret my mother’s behavior and the embarrassment it surely caused you.”
Gillian gave a casual wave. “I wasn’t embarrassed in the least. But I can’t say the same for my cousin and your brother.”
Lady Anne regarded Lia with a somber expression.
“Yes, I know. I’d like to speak to Miss Kincaid about that, if she’ll let me.”
“Of course she’ll talk to you. She’s not an ogre, you know,” Jack said. He gave his sister a sardonic smile. “But I don’t think you two have ever been formally introduced, have you? Miss Kincaid, allow me to introduce you to my sister, Lady Anne Kendall.”
Lia dipped into a somewhat shaky curtsy. “It’s an honor to meet you, Lady Anne.”
At least her voice sounded relatively normal. Feeling awkward, she would have given anything to be back in her cozy bedroom at Bluebell Cottage, safe and secure under its welcoming—if leaky—eaves.
Lady Anne flashed Lia a lopsided smile that was all too familiar. In that moment, she looked very much like her big brother, her dark eyes friendly and surprisingly warm. “I very much doubt you consider it an honor, Miss Kincaid, and no one could blame you in the least.” Then she jabbed her brother in the arm. “As for formal introductions, you’re being idiotic, Jack. Miss Kincaid and I know exactly who we are. In fact, we’ve even exchanged a few words on occasion, have we not?”
“Um, yes, I suppose we have,” Lia said.
If you counted the stilted hellos they’d mumbled on the rare occasions they’d accidentally run into each other in the gardens or in the lane behind Bluebell Cottage. Lia had been under strict instructions from Lord Lendale to stay far away from the Easton family on their yearly visits, and she’d always feared that Lady Anne would report their encounters to her mother. But nothing had ever come of it.
“That’s news to me,” Jack said.
“We weren’t supposed to even acknowledge each other’s existence, or have you forgotten that?” his sister said. “And it was rather uncomfortable for both of us, as I recall.”
“As is this unfortunate encounter, I have no doubt,” he replied. “But you did insist on coming.”
“Lord and Lady Peckworth are my godparents,” Lady Anne explained to Lia. “They invited me to visit them while I was in London. When Jack told me he was coming here today, I thought I’d take the opportunity to see them and also talk with you.”
Three Weeks with a Princess Page 26