by Rose Pearson
She watched him closely, surprised when he did not immediately agree but rather looked away from her. The music began to slow, and Lord Yarmouth did also, making certain to stay in time with the music until the final few notes drifted away. Releasing her, Lord Yarmouth applauded the orchestra politely, as did she, before dropping into a bow.
“Thank you very much, Lord Yarmouth,” Tabitha murmured as she rose from her curtsy and immediately took his arm. “I do hope I did not upset you by mentioning your particular situation.” Her heart squeezed painfully as he looked down sharply at her, worrying that she had done just that. “It is a matter of seriousness, of which I am fully aware of. Forgive me for speaking of it lightly.”
Lord Yarmouth smiled at her softly, reaching across to pat her hand as he led her through the other guests to a quieter part of the room. “It is not your teasing that has made me so quiet,” he told her, allowing her to let out a sigh of relief. “Rather, it is the very matter itself that brings about a disquiet within my heart.”
“Would that I could do something to be of aid,” Tabitha replied honestly. “I know that you do not desire to marry as yet.”
He turned to her, and the look in his eyes startled her, for it was not an expression she had seen often on his face. His brow was furrowed, his dark brown hair brushing across it as he gazed at her steadily. His mouth was pulled tight, and there was almost a sense of foreboding coming from him. Tabitha tried to find something to say, something to ask him as to why he appeared so, but instead found that her throat was closing. Therefore, being forced to wait, she felt a tension seizing her, her heart beginning to thunder furiously as, with each second that passed, she felt herself grow all the more anxious as to what he was to say.
“It is no use.” Lord Yarmouth dropped his head into one hand, his fingers pushing through his hair as, with an expression of irritation, he let out a loud groan and looked back at her. “It does not matter, Tabitha. Please, let us speak of something else.”
It was not often that Lord Yarmouth used her given name, although, of course, she had given him permission to do so. This told her that there was something of great importance on Lord Yarmouth’s mind and, whilst she fully expected it to be merely the situation that faced him in terms of his engagement, there was something more in his expression. Something that, she feared, he would not express to her unless she pressed him to do so.
“You are being mysterious, and I do not much like it,” she told him firmly, putting one hand on his arm for a moment so that he would look into her eyes. “What is it that troubles you?”
Lord Yarmouth held her gaze for a moment and then threw up his hands. “Lord Jennings gave me an idea as to how I might find a way through this particular situation without being forced into matrimony with a lady I care nothing for,” he said slowly as Tabitha felt her curiosity stir. “At first, I thought it a capital idea, but now that I am standing before you, ready to explain it, I find that I cannot do so.”
A little confused, Tabitha frowned up at him. “And why is that?”
“Because it might very well ruin all that we enjoy at present,” he explained, although such an explanation did not make much sense to her. “What if our friendship is ruined by such an idea?”
Growing a little frustrated and wishing desperately that her heart would slow its rapid pace, Tabitha let her frown linger. “You need to tell me precisely what Lord Jennings has suggested,” she said resolutely, her chin lifting just a little. “You know very well that I am determined enough that I shall hear it from you whether you wish to tell me of it or not!”
This statement brought a wry smile to Lord Yarmouth’s lips, and he nodded, although he did not immediately say anything to her. Instead, his eyes dropped to her shoulder and then to someone or something just behind her as though too embarrassed or uncertain to look her directly in the eye.
“That is true enough, I suppose,” he told her, a heaviness about his expression. “You must assure me, however, that you will believe that I have no intention of following through with Lord Jennings’ idea, unless, of course, you think that it would be a wise suggestion.”
Tabitha nodded, looking at her friend steadily. “I quite understand,” she said, still having very little idea as to what this particular suggestion might be and why it sent Lord Yarmouth into such a strange manner. “What is it that Lord Jennings believes I can do to assist you?”
Lord Yarmouth pressed his lips together and then shrugged. “He thinks that you and I might become engaged,” he said, surprising her completely. “Not that there is any intention of us to wed, of course, but that we might remain engaged in order to fulfill the requirement of my father’s will. Thereafter, we shall cry off, and it will all be done in a calm fashion, without any particular fuss.”
Tabitha let out her breath slowly, seeing the embarrassment in Lord Yarmouth’s face and feeling a sense of awkwardness filling her.
“You do not know what to say,” Lord Yarmouth muttered, pushing yet another hand through his hair. “That is to be expected. It is a foolish suggestion and, whilst I accepted it eagerly from Lord Jennings, it is not one that I would ever expect you to—”
“I shall think on it.”
Lord Yarmouth stopped dead, looking at her with wide, astonished eyes.
“It is a wise suggestion,” Tabitha found herself saying, surprising even herself with her reply. “For it would not mean anything of significance, I suppose.”
“No, no,” Lord Yarmouth said quickly, one hand slicing the air between them. “It would be only a matter of requirement rather than it having any significance of its own.”
“And we would keep it all very quiet indeed,” Tabitha continued, seeing Lord Yarmouth nod fervently. “So there would be no damage to either reputation thereafter. Not substantial damage, at least.”
Lord Yarmouth did not reply, looking at her with such intensity that Tabitha did not know how to respond to him. Was he seeking to be certain that she knew precisely what she was speaking of? Did he perhaps think that she might immediately change her mind once she had allowed herself to think on it a little more?
“I know that we are very dear friends, and, whilst our friendship is unusual within society, I hope you know that I would be very glad indeed to do whatever is required in order to help you,” she told him as Lord Yarmouth began to nod slowly. “Allow me to think on it a little longer, but I am certain that I shall be quite accepting of the situation.”
Giving her a small shake of his head, Lord Yarmouth’s lips tipped into a rueful smile. “You are quite an extraordinary lady, Tabitha,” he told her, with all the fondness of a dear friend. “I could not even bring myself to ask you such a thing, fearful that it would be too much of a burden, but you have accepted it without hesitation.”
She smiled back at him, feeling her heart now settled into a calm rhythm, contented now that she knew all that had been troubling him. Part of her wondered why she had not thought of such a thing herself but was, instead, grateful to Lord Jennings for his clarity of mind. There was almost a relief in her agreeing to his suggestion, for she knew very well that Lord Yarmouth did not want to be forced into matrimony when he did not feel it yet a requirement to do so. Being a gentleman with his own mind and singular determination, she had heard many times over how the various wills that kept revealing themselves were a cumbersome burden indeed and wanted, truly, to do whatever she could to lighten that burden somewhat.
“The engagement would not have to take place until the end of the Season, if not a little after that,” he told her as she shrugged. “It would be of short duration and only to fulfill the requirement of my father’s will.”
“I am quite contented with that,” she replied, noting how a particular young lady and her mother were beginning to make their way carefully towards Lord Yarmouth, clearly unwilling to appear overeager but still determined to greet him. “Perhaps, however, we should speak on such matters at a later date.” Her eyes twinkled as she saw him
frown. “There appear to be others who are eager for your company, Lord Yarmouth.”
A giggle left her mouth as Lord Yarmouth twisted his head this way and that, only to alight on the young lady in question. An expression of horror ran through his features, and he turned back to face her, wide-eyed and with a paleness to his cheeks that had not been there before.
“You must rescue me!” he exclaimed as Tabitha arched one eyebrow questioningly. “Lady Millerton is quite determined to marry me to her dreadful daughter and has hounded me since the very moment she returned to London!”
“Well, I would suggest we might dance,” Tabitha replied with a shrug, “but that would be one after the other and certainly would be remarked upon.” She could not help but laugh again as the two ladies drew nearer, leaving Lord Yarmouth almost frantic with the desperate desire to escape without any particular ability to do so. “Mayhap, we could go in search of Lady Ashbrook?”
He grasped her arm almost at once. “An excellent idea,” he whispered before stating loudly, “but of course, Lady Croome, I should be glad to return you to Lady Ashbrook. Let us walk this way.”
Tabitha hid a smile as she walked directly past Lady Millerton and her unfortunate daughter, who both watched Lord Yarmouth with equal expressions of frustration mixed with an obvious desire to draw near to him—although, for entirely different reasons, of course.
“You have saved me once again, Lady Croome,” Lord Yarmouth breathed, clearly relieved to have been saved from them both. “It seems as though this Season is to go very much the same way as last year’s!”
“Indeed it does,” Tabitha replied, her arm now looped comfortably through his. “And that, Lord Yarmouth, I consider to be an excellent thing indeed.”
Chapter Three
Lord Jennings grinned broadly and stretched his arms high above his head before relaxing back into his chair again. “Then it seems that you owe me a great deal of appreciation,” he said with a lift of his eyebrows. “For if I had not made the suggestion, then I do not think that you would have ever come to such a conclusion yourself!”
Try as he might, Oliver could not think of a rebuttal to this, sighing heavily and rolling his eyes as Lord Jennings waited expectantly.
“Very well,” he admitted as Lord Jennings’ grin spread all the wider. “You have done very well, Jennings. I will be truthful: I did not expect Lady Croome to agree, but she has done so!” He smiled to himself, picking up the note that he had received earlier that morning and gesturing with it towards Lord Jennings. “She states that she will do precisely what I have asked without hesitation, so long as the date of our engagement does not take place within the Season itself.”
“Very wise,” Lord Jennings agreed, picking up his glass of whisky from the nearby table and swirling the liquid around. “There should be very little talk of it so that none in the ton are aware and can hold it against you when the time comes to cry off.”
Oliver chuckled, sitting back in his seat and feeling as though the world had finally set itself to rights. He had been given a reprieve. There was no need to jump into a hasty engagement and marriage! He had his freedom still and could choose a wife at a time that suited him best. All was contentment once again, and he could not help but feel a great deal of relief capturing his heart, soul, and mind as one.
“Then might I ask,” Lord Jennings said slowly, no longer wearing that broad grin that usually irritated Oliver so much, “whether or not you hold any concern regarding the visit of your solicitors in...” He glanced at the clock. “Ah, in only a few minutes' time?”
“I do not think they shall have anything further to say,” Oliver replied with a shrug. “Or, if they do, I doubt very much that there shall be any significant changes to the will at present. After all, the last three wills have all stated the very same: that I must be engaged by this particular time if I am to gain the rest of my father’s fortune.” He rolled his eyes to himself, half wishing that he could berate his father for his eccentricity in doing such a thing. There had been a fondness between father and son but nothing of any great depth, and, in the latter years of his father’s life, Oliver had found himself growing tired of his strange notions. For the last few years, there had been nothing but confusion and doubt over what was now expected of him, with the solicitors apologizing profusely each and every time a new will was discovered. It was not their doing, of course, and whilst Oliver did not hold it against them, it was all becoming wearying.
“So you are quite certain that this will, if it is a new one they have discovered, will state the same as the last three have done?” Lord Jennings asked, just as a scratch came at the door.”
“I am sure there will be a few changes, but nothing of significance,” Oliver replied honestly. “My father wanted me to be engaged and settled, it seems, and I can hardly imagine that he would go back on such a thing in later documents.” Seeing Lord Jennings rising to leave, he gestured for him to remain sitting. “There is no need for you to depart,” he said before calling the butler in. “I am sure this visit will not take long.”
Lord Jennings sank back into his chair gratefully, whilst the butler walked in and announced one Mr. Irving, whom Oliver knew rather well. The man was short and wiry, with thinning gray hair, a somewhat pointed nose, and sharp green eyes that always unsettled Oliver somewhat. He knew Mr. Irving to be direct and blunt, leaving the others in his firm to apologize continually to Oliver over what had occurred. Oliver appreciated his manner even if he was not ever truly glad to see him.
“Mr. Irving,” he said once the formal greetings had been passed. “Please sit down.” He gestured to a chair, and Mr. Irving took it at once, clearing his throat just a little as he did so.
“I have unfortunate news, Lord Yarmouth,” Mr. Irving began in a practical manner. “As you know, the solicitor who dealt with your father’s will was, regrettably, a little too eager to do all that the earl asked without question or guidance. He was quite willing to go along with this scheme, and, due to his death a short time after your own honorable father, we are unable to find out just how many wills were written.” He cleared his throat again, and Oliver found himself holding his breath, wondering just what would be revealed to him now. “However,” Mr. Irving said in a grand manner, “we have discovered, Lord Yarmouth, another will amongst the final lot of your father’s many, many papers.”
“Indeed,” Oliver said, not understanding the almost proud expression on the man’s face. “And is this one dated later than the one we have at present?”
Mr. Irving’s lips twitched. “It is signed and dated as the day before the earl passed away,” he said, pulling it out and handing it to Oliver with a slight bow of his head. “As you know, your father’s papers were substantial and without order, which is why it has taken us some time to discover it. However, I am quite certain that there can be no other wills present, Lord Yarmouth. This, I believe, is the final will that the late Earl of Yarmouth wrote, and it is with this that I now present you.”
Gesturing to it, Mr. Irving kept his head bowed until Oliver leaned forward and picked it up, feeling a sense of triumph beginning to rise in his chest. The nightmare, it seemed, was at an end. Drawing in a deep breath and seeing Lord Jennings lift his glass in a silent toast, Oliver grinned at his friend and then slowly unrolled the paper.
It began just as the others had done. There were specifics about various servants, grants, bequests, and the like that Oliver was to fulfill. There was also mention of a great aunt and her daughter, which Oliver had not read before. Evidently, in his last few hours on this earth, the late Earl had recalled some family members that he had previously forgotten.
His eyes strayed to the last paragraph, fully expecting it to be the very same as before.
His heart seemed to stop in his chest, his hands cold as he grasped the paper tightly. Over and over, he read the words, reading them furiously as he slowly began to realize what his father had done.
There had been a change—a
significant one at that. No longer was he to merely become engaged in six months: he was to be wed. Married. Settled. Else he would not receive the final portion of his father’s fortune.
“I know it is something of a change,” he heard Mr. Irving say, the quietness of his voice sounding as though he spoke from very far away. “But if you are already engaged, then that does not pose a significant problem.”
Oliver closed his eyes and set the paper down on the table, wishing he could rip the whole thing apart.
“I am not engaged as yet,” he whispered, opening his eyes to see Lord Jennings rising to his feet, a look of alarm on his face.
Mr. Irving cleared his throat for what was now the third time and rose slowly from his chair, spreading his hands in a manner that spoke of his lack of ability to change anything that was written therein. “That is the will we must now abide by, Lord Yarmouth,” he said solemnly. “I am sorry, but there is nothing further I can do.”
Oliver got to his feet and, with what felt like a great effort, reached out to shake Mr. Irving’s hand. It was not the good solicitor’s fault that he was in this particular situation, nor was it his doing that a final will had been found that altered the previous. And yet Oliver wanted desperately to find someone to blame, someone he might go to in order to allow his rage to be fully expressed in words.
“Thank you, Mr. Irving,” he said with as much firmness as he could muster. “I appreciate you coming to inform me of this.”
Mr. Irving nodded but did not turn to take his leave as Oliver had expected. Instead, he held Oliver’s gaze, looking at him steadily, his head slightly tilted.
“Might I ask, Lord Yarmouth, whether or not you intend to fulfill the requirements of this particular will?” he asked, his question direct. “I shall make the necessary arrangements, of course, if you plan on marrying soon.”
“I have every intention of fulfilling my late father’s stringent requests,” Oliver bit out, doing his utmost to keep his temper under control. “Be assured that I shall be a married gentleman before the six months are over.”