by Cheryl Holt
“He what?”
“He invited Josephine Bates to spend the night.”
Barbara glared at her brother, Richard, and she wanted to shake him. Or perhaps shout and demand he take control, but with Peyton having arrived at Benton, Richard couldn’t manage their affairs any more competently than she could.
From the moment of Neville’s death, when he’d been mortally felled by a lung infection, she’d been enraged. Neville had been annoyingly healthy, had bragged about never being sick. How could Fate have laid him low?
She and her husband hadn’t gotten on at all. They were two different people, with different habits, tastes, and dreams. And Neville had been a philandering dog.
For her part, she hadn’t meekly ignored his peccadilloes. They’d constantly battled over his tendencies, and the more she’d protested, the more blatant his conduct had become. He hadn’t cared about any of the illegitimate children he’d sired, but he’d enjoyed throwing them in Barbara’s face. He’d enjoyed humiliating her.
It had been a twelve-year slog of recrimination and nastiness, and it had been almost a relief when he’d passed away. That is until his Will was read and she’d discovered he would continue to plague her from the grave.
She’d met Peyton on precisely one occasion, that being on the morning of her wedding to Neville. He’d put in an appearance at the ceremony as his brother’s best man, but a day later, he’d snuck away and they hadn’t seen him again. Not until six months after Neville had been buried, when Peyton had finally staggered home to assume his rightful place.
None of them knew what to think of him. He carried on as if he were an alien being who’d been dropped into a world where he didn’t understand the customs or language.
He was aloof and detached, clearly demonstrating that he didn’t like any of them and didn’t consider himself to be a member of the family. He didn’t join them for meals or any other events. He preferred to waste pointless hours walking in the woods and talking to the tenants and neighbors.
Barbara and her brother tiptoed around him, terrified they might unwittingly antagonize him, and Barbara simply wished he’d slink back to the navy and sail off into the sunset.
Richard had once asked him if he intended to resign his commission and return to Benton for good, and he’d claimed he had no desire to retire and probably wouldn’t. Probably? What kind of answer was that? Where he was concerned, how were they supposed to make plans?
Because of how she and Neville had bickered, he’d rarely tarried at Benton, so she and Richard had had free rein to run things however they liked. They wanted their free rein again, but it could only happen if Peyton left. She hadn’t been informed as to the length of his furlough, but it couldn’t end soon enough.
“Why would he have Miss Bates stay the night?” she asked her brother.
They were in the front parlor, huddled on a sofa, their heads pressed close, so they could whisper their secrets.
“Who can guess?” he said. “The man is a complete mystery to me.”
“He didn’t seek my permission.”
“Well, he wouldn’t, would he?”
“Are we to entertain her? Are we to have her down for tea? How about for supper?”
“I’m not certain about tea, but you should expect her for supper.”
Barbara grumbled with frustration. Her initial impulse was to brawl and win any skirmish. She was countess at the estate, and she’d been in charge ever since she’d married Neville at eighteen.
She should have marched out and located Peyton. She should have apprised him that Barbara still had rights in the manor, first among them being the authority to decide who was welcome in it and who wasn’t. But she would never have that conversation with him.
Neville hadn’t liked or trusted Richard, so he’d bequeathed everything to his brother, even total power over her daughters, Alice and Nancy. Barbara hadn’t received a single farthing, so she was fully dependent on Peyton for the least little expenditure.
If she angered him, he could evict her, take her daughters, and leave her a penniless widow, begging for shelter from her acquaintances in London.
Although she hadn’t broached the subject, she thought he should marry her. Why not? It was the perfect solution to her problem. He hated Benton, and it was obvious he was desperate to escape. If they wed, he could flit off to the navy he loved so much, and she could resume the life she’d always lived.
He was about to turn thirty, and so far, he’d avoided the matrimonial noose, but he was an earl now, so he couldn’t remain a bachelor. He had to wed. He couldn’t delay, and if he didn’t pick Barbara, he’d pick someone else. He’d bring in another female and give her Barbara’s home.
She was only thirty as well, and she was much too young to be the dowager countess. She’d kill any woman who lined up to become Peyton’s wife, and she’d already devised numerous dirty tricks she could play on any candidate stupid enough to contemplate it.
“Does Miss Bates even have clothes for supper?” she asked.
“He sent a rider to fetch some of her belongings.”
“Isn’t that sweet?” Barbara sarcastically crooned. “Have you met her?”
“I told you I had.”
“And…?”
“She’s pretty and charming, but a bit bewildered by the situation with Daisy.”
“She had no idea her sister was such a whore?”
“No. She’d never heard a word about the scandal.”
“I want Daisy gone!” Barbara seethed. “It doesn’t matter how Miss Bates bats her lashes at Peyton. This must be resolved once and for all!”
Neville’s three bastards were departing Benton by July fifteenth. Barbara was finished with tolerating her husband’s insults, and she didn’t care about Peyton’s opinion. If the children’s families refused to take them, then she would place them in an orphanage—and her conscience would be clear.
“You’ll be shed of them by the fifteenth,” Richard said. “I guarantee it. Don’t worry.”
“I do worry, Richard. How can I not?”
“Peyton won’t be at Benton forever.”
“Let’s hope he’s not. I can’t bear much more of this upheaval.”
“He can promise whatever he likes to Miss Bates, but the minute he heads back to the navy, Daisy will vanish.”
“Swear it to me.”
“I don’t need to swear. Have I ever failed you?”
“No.”
“Then I won’t fail you now.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Peyton bounded down the stairs to the foyer. The ledger book was stashed in his bedchamber, and he’d grabbed a jacket so he looked more presentable. He was eager to catch up with Miss Bates out in the park.
He couldn’t figure out why she fascinated him, but with his having spent three tedious weeks at Benton, she was a fresh face and a distraction from his having to deal with Barbara and Richard.
With each passing day, he was more unsettled by his position. It seemed wrong that Benton had been bestowed on him. He should chuck the whole bloody thing and return to the navy, but that would mean abandoning the property to Barbara and Richard.
A crueler person would kick them out, but he wasn’t an ogre. Benton was their home, and he was the interloper.
He’d like to hire a new estate agent, one he’d chosen and who would be loyal to Peyton rather than Barbara, but he couldn’t imagine firing Richard. Not without it causing a huge uproar.
Ooh, but he detested all the budding dilemmas! Life was so much simpler when he was at sea. It was just waves and water and weather. He had to get back there.
He was about to proceed down the hall when Barbara stepped out of the front parlor.
“Peyton, there you are,” she gushed. “Richard and I were just talking about you.”
“The notion makes me shudder. What sin have I committed now?”
“Nothing, silly. Don’t be so t
esty.”
He kept walking, but she tagged along, matching him stride for stride. With how he was hurrying, she was practically running. He forced himself to slow down so it didn’t appear as if he was trying to escape—which he definitely was.
“Richard advises me we’re to have a guest for supper,” she said.
“Yes, Miss Bates will join you. I was sure you wouldn’t mind.”
His stern tone warned her to give the appropriate reply, and she obliged him.
“Any guest you invite is fine with me. It’s your house after all.”
He snorted with grim amusement. His ownership galled her, and she’d never been able to conceal her exasperation at the predicament Neville had created.
“It’s nice to hear you’ve finally realized the house is mine,” he said.
“Of course I have. Ah…ah…Richard mentioned he’d discussed Neville’s other children with you. Please tell me you won’t be difficult about their leaving.”
“I haven’t decided what I think of your plan. I’ve only just learned about the children, and I’m still coming to grips with the news.”
“This situation has been an open wound for me for years. I’m very weary at having had to constantly abide it.”
He pulled up short. “I understand, Barbara. I truly do.”
“Your brother wasn’t the easiest husband.”
“So I’m told, and believe me, there’s a reason I never visited Benton. You don’t have to convince me how horrid it can be here.”
Actually, Neville hadn’t spurred Peyton to stay away from Benton. He’d barely known his brother, and they’d had no significant issues. The rancor had been caused by their father.
When Peyton had first been sent away to school, he’d been very lonely. The other students would depart for holidays, but he’d remain behind.
Initially, it had hurt very much, but his friend, Evan Boyle, had toughened him, had helped him to develop a hard shell. A professor had been incredibly kind too, had filled Peyton’s hours with busy tasks so he didn’t focus on how he was being shunned by his parents.
Gradually, he’d stopped missing Benton. It had begun to feel as if he’d never resided at Benton Manor, as if he’d never had a brother named Neville. He’d grown up so detached from all of it that he might have been hatched from an egg.
“May we discuss this in the future?” she asked. “I would never nag at you, but I would like to lay out my position more clearly—in case Richard hasn’t.”
“Richard was very clear.”
“I’m glad.”
She flashed a nervous smile, and he might have laughed if it hadn’t been so tragic.
She was a beautiful woman, but in an icy, aloof manner. There was a brittle edge to her so she always appeared about to fly into a rage.
She had Richard’s blond hair and blue eyes, and his same facial features, but not his bodily type. Richard was thin and lithe, but she had gotten chubby from the rich diet at Benton. While a few extra pounds could make a female seem very voluptuous, it hadn’t worked with her. She merely looked as if she’d stretched the seams on her gown as far as they could go.
From the moment he’d arrived, she’d been hinting that she’d like a closer relationship with him. No doubt she and her brother had devised a scheme where she would charm Peyton, then suggest a marriage between them.
In a normal world, he’d have agreed that it was the perfect solution, but he didn’t live in a normal world. He was a commander in the navy who’d inherited an earldom and estate he’d never wanted, and he would never exacerbate his problems by marrying his brother’s churlish, unlikable widow.
Besides which, he’d been seriously flirting with Evan’s sister, Amelia, and he’d been blatant enough about his interest that they would be expecting a proposal.
Amelia was pretty, fun, and very independent, so she’d be an excellent wife for a seafaring man such as himself who was absent from England for long stretches of time. He’d persuaded himself that marriage to her wouldn’t be the worst idea, and he was almost thirty, so it wouldn’t kill him to wed.
Of course that was then, and this was now. She might have been a good choice in the past, but with his being an earl, she was quite a bit below him—if he was concerned about that sort of thing. He‘d never previously been, but his elevation to the title was messing with his head. He was ceaselessly considering issues he’d once deemed absurd.
Barbara had taken his arm and was holding tight. She always cleverly forced him to socialize, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d wind up spending the rest of the afternoon with her.
“Will you excuse me?” he said. “I have an appointment.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was delaying you.”
“It’s all right.”
“You’ll join us for supper, won’t you? You can’t leave us to entertain Miss Bates on our own.”
He rarely dined with the Slater family. He’d quickly discovered that it was an unpleasant and awkward experience. “I can’t guarantee I will, but I’ll let the butler know what I decide. I wouldn’t be too sure of Miss Bates either. After what she’s learned about your plans for her niece, she might not be anymore keen to eat with you than you are to eat with her. Maybe she’d rather have a tray sent up to her room.”
At the snide comment, Barbara bristled. “The little tart better not act that way.”
“Now, now, don’t be a snob. And don’t call her names. I like her.”
He whipped away and hurried off, and he lengthened his strides, so she couldn’t keep up. He rushed out a rear door and crossed the verandah, and he stood at the balustrade searching the park. Jo was on a bench out by the lake, and an odd wave of emotion swept over him. He dawdled briefly, desperate to figure out what it was.
As he recognized it to be extreme delight, he was a tad startled. Yes, he was bored and lonely, but Josephine Bates could never divert him in any fashion that mattered.
He skipped down the stairs, and there was a definite spring in his step. She noticed him approaching, and she smiled.
“Hello, Lord Benton,” she said. “I was wondering if I’d bump into you again before I left.”
“Why wouldn’t you? These days, I’m a rich, indolent aristocrat. I have nothing to do.”
“Well, sit yourself down and do nothing with me. It’s such a lovely afternoon, and you should tarry for a few minutes to enjoy it.”
She patted the spot next to her on the bench, and he sidled over and plopped down. She’d removed her bonnet, and she scooped it up to make space for him.
“I took off my bonnet so the sun could shine on my face,” she said. “Are you shocked?”
“You’ll find, Miss Bates, that there is not much that shocks me.”
“I agree that you’re quite stout of heart.”
“I’ve been in the navy since I was sixteen. I’ve engaged in more living than most men could manage in a hundred lifetimes.”
“How old are you? Eighty? Ninety?”
“About to turn thirty, you minx.”
“You elderly codger, you.”
“Did the housekeeper get you settled?”
“Yes, and everyone has been very kind. She even assigned a maid to help me which seems silly when I don’t have a brush or an extra gown to change into. I feel like a princess in a fairytale.”
“I’m glad the servants are spoiling you, and you’ll have your belongings very soon—unless you provided bad directions to my man and he’s lost.”
“I was very precise, so if he’s waylaid, it’s not my fault. It will mean he can’t read.”
“Hm, I hadn’t thought of that. When I gave him your note, his literacy—or lack thereof—never occurred to me. He might end up wandering the rural roads for decades.”
“I’d hate to be responsible for any adversity he might suffer.”
They were quiet for a bit, the scenery soothing. Butterflies drifted by, and birds c
awed in the trees. The grass was so green, and the foliage smelled marvelous. It left him nostalgic for things he couldn’t describe.
“I envy you,” she said.
“Really? Why?”
“Because you’re in the navy, so you’ve been able to have adventures. Have you seen many interesting sights? Even if you haven’t, lie to me and tell me you have. I want to envision you having a grand and exciting life.”
“I don’t have to lie. I’ve visited many exotic locations: China, India, Arabia. I’ve sailed the globe. I’ve even floated down the Nile on a barge.”
“You haven’t!”
“I have.”
“You men are so lucky. You can just pick up and go while we women have to sit by the hearth and mend socks.”
“A fate worse than death I’m sure.”
“I’m so jealous.”
“You should be jealous. It’s been very fun.”
“I’ve never been anywhere. Have you any notion of how fortunate you are?”
“Yes, I constantly realize it.”
He hadn’t joined the navy to travel the world though. At the time, it hadn’t crossed his mind at all. It had been a more mundane decision.
He’d enlisted after nine years in a military boarding school. All of his teachers had been sailors or soldiers, and every summer, he’d worked on sailing ships, learning how to handle the ropes, how to gauge the wind, how to plot a course and arrive at a destination.
On graduating, he’d never imagined any other option than to become a sailor. Why would he have craved another option? And he still felt the same way.
Yet as he stared at the manor, it was from a vantage point he’d rarely observed prior, and it produced a wistful tug of home that rattled him.
He’d wasted his days trekking the length and breadth of the estate, investigating all of its nooks and crannies. He’d met the tenants and neighbors, had studied the woods and the deserted lanes.
It had been in the Prescott family for three centuries. It was steeped in British history, with all the famous and infamous historical characters staying in it. Ghosts walked the halls.
The entire place was his, the mansion, the barns, the fields, the pastures. The money was his too, the servants, the animals, carriages, and equipment. The stunning amount of riches given to him—simply because his brother had died—was almost obscene. It seemed sinful for one person to possess so much, but it was his now. For good or ill.