by Cheryl Holt
He realized he’d been woolgathering. How embarrassing! How long had he been in his trance? Arthur was frowning, clearly disconcerted by Peyton’s mental lapses.
“Let’s call it an afternoon,” Peyton said.
“Very good, Lord Benton.”
When Peyton had first arrived at Benton, he’d been aggravated by his new title, and he’d had everyone refer to him as Commander Prescott, but it was time to exhibit more power, time to remind others of his rank and his ability to command them.
Was he beginning to like the sound of Lord Benton? No, but people snapped to attention when he used it.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he told Arthur.
“By nine o’clock or so, I’ll be in the upstairs bedchambers with the other men.”
“I’ll track you down. In the interim, if you encounter any difficulties, please locate me. I’ll get things squared away immediately.”
Arthur nodded. He was young, only twenty, and a wounded soldier who’d had to resign from the army because of it. He’d witnessed several of Peyton’s quarrels with Barbara and was aware of the tribulations Peyton was facing. Arthur wouldn’t be prevented from completing his assignment.
He stood and left, and a terrible quiet settled in.
Peyton decided he’d benefit from a lengthy walk. He rose and hurried out too, hoping to escape the manor for a few hours, but as he marched down the hall toward the foyer, Barbara stepped out of the receiving parlor. He couldn’t bear to chat, but he couldn’t avoid her.
“There you are.” She smiled slyly. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”
He tamped down a sigh. “Can it wait? I’ve been in the house all day, and I need some fresh air.”
“I’m sorry, but no, it can’t wait. I’m afraid you’ll depart when I’m not looking, and I’ll miss my chance.”
“All right.”
“I’ll be brief.”
She dashed into the parlor, and he followed her. She’d staged the room with an eye to his comfort. A fire burned in the grate, and two chairs were positioned in front of it. There was a table between the chairs with a brandy decanter and a glass on a tray.
She went to the chairs, and she gestured for him to join her. He sat as she poured him a brandy. Then she sat too.
“I won’t dither,” she said.
“Praise be.”
She chuckled. “I have a proposal I wish to tender. It might shock you, but I’m tendering it anyway.”
“I’m quite unshockable, Barbara. I doubt there’s a topic you could raise that would astonish me.”
Without preamble, she proclaimed, “You and I should marry.”
He was so taken aback he was glad he was sitting down. If he hadn’t been, his knees might have buckled.
“You and I? Marry?”
“Yes. It would solve so many problems.”
“Well…ah…ah…”
He was sputtering, choking on his liquor. He couldn’t formulate a coherent sentence, and she jumped into the awkward breach.
“It’s obvious you don’t care about Benton, and you’re eager to return to the navy.”
“I am.”
“If you sail away, who would run the place? Who would ensure we kept things on an even keel?”
“It’s been vexing me. I admit it.”
“Would you bring in strangers who have no connection to Benton?”
“I wouldn’t be too enthused about that.”
“If you picked me, you wouldn’t have to worry about the estate. You could resume your career, and while you were away, I could be your manager.”
He thought that comment was categorically false—he’d worry constantly—but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he mumbled, “That might work.”
“We’ve had some fiscal issues, but they’re your brother’s fault. I swear! Without him squandering every penny, I’m convinced I can get us back to normal. Won’t you let me try? Please?”
She paused, her gaze beseeching, and he noticed he was gaping. He’d insisted she couldn’t shock him, but evidently, she could.
“Barbara, we don’t even like each other.”
“What does that have to do with it?” she absurdly replied.
“You’ve already had one horrid marriage, and you’re young. You can wed again. Wouldn’t you like to shoot for a better man the second time around?”
“You’re not your brother.”
“Thank God,” he muttered.
“We could keep it all in the family. I understand you’d like to kick us out, but you wouldn’t have to.”
“It’s not that I’d like to kick you out. It’s just so complicated to have you remain.”
“If I was your wife, the complications would vanish. We’d be a team. We’d be pursuing the same goals.”
“We would?”
“Yes! We both want what’s best for Benton, don’t we? You could leave England, and you wouldn’t have to wonder if strangers were performing their jobs correctly. I would be in charge, and the property would be here—in pristine condition—whenever you’re able to visit.”
“Wouldn’t it seem…ah…disturbing to have me as your husband? The notion sounds positively incestuous to me.”
“I could put aside any reservations. Could you?”
“I don’t think so,” he said. “Why would you attach yourself to another Prescott male? Aren’t you afraid you’d be making a huge mistake?”
“Trust me. After my experience with Neville, no husband could surprise me in the least.”
“Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“We’d get on fine, Peyton. I’m certain of it.”
It was such a peculiar remark. Her dislike of him had always been blatantly clear. Why would that alter merely because they were married? And what about her brother, Richard? Would he stay and be a permanent thorn in Peyton’s side?
He suffered a fleeting vision of Barbara and Richard in one corner of the room and Peyton in the other. With them, it would always be two against one, and the prospect was exhausting. How could she not see that?
She was practically rippling with excitement, and she was very brave to have broached the subject with him. In most families, her ploy would have been viewed as the perfect solution, but Peyton didn’t feel himself to be a Prescott and never had.
It had been his parents’ choice to send him away and cut ties, and it had skewed his perception of ordinary topics that others took for granted. He would never do what most families would do.
Barbara was the type of female who demanded power, who fought for what she craved. She was the type who could completely emasculate a man without his even realizing she was holding a very sharp knife.
He downed his brandy, poured himself another glass, and downed that too. He hated to upset her, but honestly! There wasn’t any other option.
“I’m sorry, Barbara,” he said, “but I could never wed you.”
“Don’t decide yet,” she implored. “Promise me you’ll consider it.”
“I don’t have to consider. I’m flattered by your suggestion, but I couldn’t have you as my wife.” He leaned over and patted her hand. “It’s not in the cards.”
She frowned. “Is there someone else? Are you about to become engaged? Don’t tell me you are. You can’t bring an interloper into my home.”
“I have no engagement in the works—and won’t have for many years.”
Her shoulders slumped with defeat. “Why won’t you ponder this? If you’d explain the root of your concerns, perhaps I can chase them away. You have to give me a chance to persuade you.”
“You could never persuade me,” he insisted, but gently.
“Is that your final answer? May I raise the issue in the future?”
“I won’t ever change my mind.”
He stood, and she glared up at him. Suddenly, she appeared much older than thirty, and he was disheartened by her fretting. Before he coul
d talk himself out of it, he said, “We’ll leave matters as they are for now. You don’t have to move over to the Dower House.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll deliberate over the resolution I should implement, and I’ll discuss any plans with you prior to my executing them.”
“As you’re contemplating, will you include my idea about marriage?”
“No, I won’t. I can’t.”
He walked out, and though she called to him, he continued on. He left the manor and went out into the park, and he crossed to the woods so he could be swallowed up by the trees. He kept glancing over his shoulder, terrified she’d follow him outside.
She was like a dog at a bone. When she bit her teeth into a situation, she didn’t release it until she got her way.
He wondered if he should create a trust account for her and hire a lawyer to manage it. The lawyer could deal with her, so Peyton wouldn’t have to, but that seemed unworkable and wrong.
There was a reason his brother had bequeathed everything to Peyton. Obviously, Neville had felt Barbara required male guidance in her affairs. And what about her daughters, Nancy and Alice? Peyton was in charge of them too, but he’d barely ever spoken to either of them. Could he dump them on a lawyer?
He hadn’t known Neville at all, but Neville had intended for Peyton to look after his daughters. He hadn’t wanted Barbara to be in control of them. Was it simply Neville being spiteful? Or had Barbara’s influence needed to be tamped down?
He was wandering down a trail, and he arrived at a pretty glen he enjoyed. There was a fallen log in the middle, and occasionally, when he sat quietly on it, a deer would meander by without noting his presence.
His mind awhirl, he plopped down, and after awhile, an acorn dropped on his head. He peeked up, expecting to find a squirrel, but instead, Barbara’s younger daughter, Alice, was perched on a branch in the tree above him.
She scowled down at him, clearly irked that she’d given herself away.
“Hello, you,” he said.
“Hello, Commander Prescott.”
“You can call me Uncle Peyton if you like.”
“I’ll think about it,” she churlishly grumbled.
“Why are you up there all by yourself?”
“I’m hiding. Why would you suppose?”
“I get that, but why?”
“I…just…figured I should hide.”
“I understand perfectly.” He indicated the spot next to him on the log. “Would you like to join me? I often come here. A deer might stroll by.”
“I know that. I see them too.”
She dithered forever, not happy he’d intruded, but in the end, she scooted down. She was only ten feet off the ground, but still, his pulse raced when she jumped the last few feet.
Her hands were scraped, her knees too. Her skirt was filthy, her cheeks smudged with dirt. How long had she been out in the woods by herself? Had anyone missed her? How about her mother? Didn’t she have a governess? Shouldn’t someone be watching over her?
He was such a pathetic guardian that he had no answers.
She was tough and brave, and she didn’t appear to be afraid of him or anything else. With Neville’s blond hair and blue eyes, she was very fetching, and she resembled Daisy exactly.
“How old are you these days?” he asked when she finally seated herself.
“Nine, but almost ten.”
Daisy was nine too which was a potent sign that his brother had been a philandering dog.
“Ten is a good age,” he told her. “When I was a boy, I liked being ten.”
She shrugged. “I imagine it will be all right.”
“I attended a military academy, and we used to go sailing all the time.”
“You were permitted to sail as part of your lessons?”
“Yes.”
“Boys are so lucky,” she furiously muttered.
“I’ve always thought so,” he agreed. “Should you be out in the woods by yourself like this?”
“Don’t worry about it. If I’m missing, no one will notice or care.”
“Where is your governess?”
“Uncle Richard fired her.”
“Why?”
“He said she was lazy.”
“Was she?” Peyton asked.
“Probably, but I liked her anyway. The people I like all leave sooner or later.”
“That’s a sad statement on your condition.”
“Well, it’s true,” she sullenly replied. “Uncle Richard claims he’ll hire a new one in the fall—when we have to start school. Do you believe he will?”
“I don’t see why he wouldn’t. You shouldn’t grow up without an education. We don’t want any dunces in the family.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m a dunce. I hate studying. I wish I could be a sailor like you.”
“It’s a grand life. I admit it. I wish you could be a sailor too.”
She frowned. “You won’t tell Mother I was out here, will you? She gets so angry with me. She’d put her foot down, and then, I wouldn’t be able to come back.”
“No, I won’t tell her. Mothers don’t have to know everything.”
“No, they don’t!” she heartily concurred.
She was aggrieved and livid, as if she’d been unfairly accused or unjustly chastened.
“Why are you hiding?” he asked. She was mulishly silent, and he nudged her with his elbow. “You can confide in me. You seem upset. What happened?”
“Nancy thinks she’s so smart, and I’m tired of it.”
Nancy was her sister, older by two years. “Why are you tired of it? I won’t stop pestering you until you spit it out.”
She dithered again, struggling to determine what to share. “There were some children at Benton besides Nancy and me. They stayed in a cottage out past the lake.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
Suddenly, he was very wary. She was referring to her half-siblings, her father’s other children, Bobby, Jane, and Daisy. Was she aware of their actual relationship? Had they been friends? If so, had Barbara discovered a connection was formed? She definitely wouldn’t have liked it!
“There were three of them,” Alice added. “They left Benton a few weeks ago.”
“Yes, they did.”
“Nancy said Uncle Richard sold them to an orphanage. I told her she’s a big, fat liar, but she swears Uncle Richard was talking to Mother about it.”
“No, they’re not in an orphanage. Daisy is with her Aunt Jo in London.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, and Bobby and Jane have gone to Jane’s uncle in Cornwall. Their governess, Miss Watson, traveled with them to guarantee they arrived safely. They’re fine too.”
Peyton wasn’t positive the information was accurate. Last he’d heard, Jo had corresponded with Miss Watson’s cousin, but there had been no message from Miss Watson. Alice’s questions reminded them that he had to check on Bobby and Jane. The second he was in London, he’d have a man ride to Cornwall.
“Are you certain Miss Watson is with them?” Alice asked. “Nancy said Uncle Richard fired her too. They quarreled, and he kicked her out on the road with just the clothes on her back.”
“She wasn’t fired. She quit so she could accompany Bobby and Jane. She didn’t want them to make the journey on their own. Nancy is teasing you.”
“She can be so spiteful sometimes.”
“This might be one of those times.”
Alice blew out a heavy breath. “I’ve been very worried.”
“Were you friends with them?”
“Yes. We played together constantly. I miss them.”
“Of course you would.”
He was awash with unease. He should have expected all of them might meet. Benton was a small area and a scandal was difficult to conceal. He was dying to learn if she realized her link to them, but he wasn’t about to dive into the issue.
&nbs
p; If she hadn’t been apprised, he wasn’t about to explain about unfaithful husbands, broken marriage vows, and bastards.
“Can I tell you a secret?” Alice asked.
“Absolutely.”
“I wasn’t supposed to ever hear about it, but Bobby told me.”
Peyton’s spirits flagged. “Told you what?”
She leaned nearer and whispered, “They’re my siblings. My father didn’t like us, and he had a different family from ours—one that he liked better. He had other children.”
Peyton sighed. “It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, Alice.”
“My mother knows about it, and she’s very angry.”
“Yes, she is.”
“Could they live here again someday? They were very scared about what occurred, and this was their home.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Why are adults so mean?”
Out of the mouth of babes…
“I have no idea, Alice. I’ve wondered about it myself.”
“You won’t make us leave Benton, will you, Uncle Peyton? Mother said you hate us and you’ll eventually kick us out too.”
“I don’t hate you,” he scoffed. “She shouldn’t say things like that.”
“If you force us to depart, where will we go?”
He stared out at the trees, feeling a heavy weight press down.
Each and every minute, his burdens seemed to crush him more completely. While he dickered over his decisions, he conveniently forgot that there were real people involved in any resolutions he chose.
If he evicted Alice’s mother, where would they go? It was an urgent query that had no good answer. Alice and Nancy were the daughters of the Earl of Benton. Would Peyton send them to London to reside in a seedy apartment with Barbara’s brother, Roger? Could he treat them so shabbily?
He didn’t think so.
“You won’t ever have to leave Benton,” he said before he could come to his senses and shut up.
“Promise?”
“I promise. The only time it might happen is when you grow up and marry. Then you’d live with your husband at his estate, but until then, you’ll remain right here.”
She solemnly nodded. “Thank you. I’ve been fretting over it.”