The Artful Match

by Jennifer Delamere

  Her nose crinkled. “I hope I shan’t have to dress like that. What odd clothes.”

  “She’s wearing that while she is learning,” Henry explained. “We’ll have her fitted up with a proper riding habit soon.”

  “That’s a fine-looking pony,” Mr. Myers observed. “I don’t ride myself, but I’m a good judge of horseflesh. I’m an excellent driver, too, if I may boast a little. I especially like those four-in-hand coaches. I suppose you have other horses at your stables as well?”

  “Naturally. Would you care to look around?”

  “I’d love to.”

  Henry sent another glance in Cara’s direction, and this time, Mr. Myers noticed. “Good day to you, Miss Bernay!” he called out in his cheerful, robust manner. He waved for her to join them, and she had no choice but to comply. When she reached them, he said, “Do you enjoy watching these lessons?”

  Miss Myers sent a disapproving frown toward her father. Did she think he shouldn’t be talking to the governess?

  Cara lifted her chin. “I am paying close attention in hopes of using the information in the future. I want to learn to ride someday.”

  She enjoyed seeing Miss Myers’s look of incredulity. Cara had promised to play the part of a governess, but she saw no reason a governess couldn’t harbor a desire to ride horses.

  Mr. Myers didn’t seem to find it outlandish at all. He merely said, “A fine goal! Perhaps you two can watch the lesson together while Lord Morestowe and I inspect the stables.”

  Miss Myers looked taken aback by this suggestion. But then a look passed between her and Henry. When he gave her a tiny nod, Miss Myers seemed to understand.

  She brightened and said, “Yes, that’s an excellent suggestion!” Her admiring gaze lingered on Henry as he and her father walked toward the stable. “Lord Morestowe is very nice, isn’t he? He seems just the epitome of an English lord. I believe he is a man of his word.” She spoke dreamily. “But that’s the way all English gentlemen are, I suppose.”

  Cara sensed a lot of meaning behind those sentiments. She told herself firmly that it didn’t matter. They watched the lesson for several more minutes without speaking.

  “I suppose her ladyship and Mrs. Myers did not wish to walk out to the stables on this hot afternoon?” Cara finally ventured.

  “I beg your pardon?” Cara’s words seemed to call Miss Myers out of her reverie. “Oh yes. My mother was worn out by the croquet match.” This statement was accompanied by a sly smile. Cara remembered the way Miss Myers had sent her mother’s croquet ball flying to the far end of the field. Perhaps she’d done it more than once. “Lady Morestowe offered to stay with her.”

  Mr. Hart had Amelia bring the pony down to a walk, and they came around to where Cara and Miss Myers stood.

  “Where’s Cousin Henry?” Amelia asked.

  “He’s gone with Mr. Myers to inspect the stables.”

  “They’ll find ’em in good order,” Mr. Hart said proudly. He tipped his hat to Miss Myers. “Do you ride, miss?”

  “Not yet. I’m eager to learn, especially after seeing this young lady doing so well.”

  Mr. Hart gave a nod. “I’ve had a lot of experience teaching ladies to ride.”

  Cara caught the meaning behind his words. Mr. Hart would know the gossip no doubt being passed around by the rest of the staff: that Miss Myers was the prospective future mistress of this estate. Therefore, he would expect the duty of training her to ride to fall on him one day.

  Maisie shifted and gave a little snort, as though impatient to be moving again. Amelia held the pony in check, speaking a few words in its ear.

  “What is your pony’s name?” asked Miss Myers.

  “Her name is Maisie,” Amelia answered readily, still warmed by the compliment Miss Myers had extended about her riding. “She’s a handful, but she’s cheeky, not naughty.”

  “Is she?” Miss Myers said with a laugh. “I think that sounds like the best kind of horse.”

  “It is, once they learn they must not throw you off.”

  Miss Myers’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you manage that?”

  “They have to respect you, but not fear you. Here, I’ll show you.” With a click of her tongue, she set the pony in motion. Mr. Hart must have decided this was all right, because he raised no objection when she guided the horse around the ring. As she went, she described what she was doing, as if she were the one giving lessons. Both Mr. Hart and Miss Myers seemed to find this amusing.

  Cara was proud of Amelia, but also envious at how well she and Miss Myers were getting along.

  After a few minutes, Henry and Mr. Myers returned from the stables. Amelia immediately urged Maisie over to them. “I’ve been showing Miss Myers how to ride,” she told Henry proudly.

  “Shall we wrap up the lesson for today, your lordship?” Mr. Hart suggested.

  Henry nodded, and even Amelia seemed ready to stop. She allowed Henry to help her off the horse. Cara loved seeing them together. She could see the bond between them getting stronger. It made her happy, even if the feeling was laced with sadness at the thought of leaving.

  “Good-bye, Maisie! You behave for Mr. Hart!” Amelia said. Mr. Hart grinned as he led the pony away.

  “Who’s ready for tea?” Henry said.

  “I am!” Amelia responded without hesitation.

  “Shall we all go back to the house together?”

  Cara could think of no reason to object. As they began walking, Amelia said to Miss Myers, “We saw you playing croquet today.”

  “Did you?”

  Amelia nodded. “We could see you from my bedroom window.”

  Henry looked troubled at this, and Cara could imagine why.

  “I saw your foot shot,” Amelia continued, and the two of them walked on together, with Mr. Myers joining them.

  Henry took Cara’s arm to hold her back. “I want to tell you how sorry I am that I—that is, I had no idea that—”

  “It’s all right. Langham told me.” Cara shrugged. “It’s water under the bridge.” Maybe she was as good an actress as her sister Rosalyn.

  He seemed taken aback. Perhaps he was expecting anger or recrimination. “I’m going to London for a few days with the Myerses. When I return, I’ll be bringing Miss Leahy with me. She has wrapped up her mother’s affairs and will be resuming her post. Then—”

  “Cousin Henry!” Amelia had turned and was beckoning for him to join her. It seemed her comfort with the newcomers only went so far.

  Henry gave Cara an apologetic smile. “When I return, we’ll have that talk. Remember?”

  How could he even bring that up? That conversation was supposed to be about something else altogether. Not about how and why he was going to never see her again—which was what had to be coming. Cara nodded but averted her gaze. She was angry, yes, but so mortified at her own foolishness that she couldn’t even look at him. Her steps remained slow as Henry hurried to catch up with the others. As they returned to the house, Cara continued to follow some distance behind. It seemed fitting.

  CHAPTER

  32

  HENRY SAT PATIENTLY while Myers considered the information Henry had just shared with him. He pretended to take an interest in the cigar he was holding, even though he was only smoking it as a gesture of goodwill after Myers offered it to him.

  Myers did not look happy. Henry had expected this. By suggesting that Myers consider Carrington as a suitor for Florence, he was tacitly and politely declining to offer for her himself. This had clearly been a blow to the American’s plans.

  “I won’t say I’m not disappointed,” Myers said at last. “After meeting you and your family, I would have been pleased to see a connection forged between our two dynasties, as it were.” He eyed Henry. “Are you sure there is nothing wrong with Florence—other than this pesky business about Carrington?”

  “Sir, your daughter is lovely and charming. I find no fault in her at all.”

  “Except the fault of being too honest.
” Myers shook his head. “I suppose I have only myself to blame. She’s my only child, and so clever and sharp-witted. I’ve always allowed her to speak her mind.”

  Henry was relieved Myers seemed to be taking this so well. “I was concerned you might think I was intentionally misleading you during your visit to my home. I would never do such a thing.”

  Myers took a moment to survey the room; they were in the lounge at Henry’s club. “I understand why you asked to meet me here. When our women learn what we’ve discussed today, there will be all kinds of emotional outpourings—positive and negative.”

  “Yes, that was my thought as well.”

  “I think they all three had particular goals they were determined to pursue, no matter what.” Myers leaned back in his chair. “I was happy to go along with my wife’s desire that Florence marry an English lord, especially as it seemed to be Florence’s dream as well. We took this trip to England with high expectations, but things did not turn out exactly as we planned. I’m not such a tyrant as to force my daughter into a marriage she does not want. However, the corollary is that I will do anything to get her into a marriage of which I approve.”

  Henry nodded. “I understand.”

  “You laid out very kind reasons why you’re not going to pursue this match. You’ve been generous in your compliments toward Florence and our family. I can’t help but think there is an element of self-sacrifice in it. Many men would not hesitate at the chance to marry a young lady with such an appealing dowry.”

  “I would like to think I have higher principles than that. However, I will admit I had hopes we might nonetheless strike another kind of deal—one that has nothing to do with marriage.” He held his breath while Myers considered this.

  After a moment, the American shook his head. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Lord Morestowe. I think for now it’s best if we go our separate ways. I wish you all the best, and I have no doubt you will be successful with your mining enterprise.”

  “I understand.” It was disappointing but expected.

  Myers rose to his feet. “I suppose I had better get back to the hotel and face the onslaught that will follow when I tell them about this conversation.”

  Henry wasn’t looking forward to telling his mother, either. She would be livid. But it wouldn’t be the first of her storms that Henry had weathered.

  “It will be hard on my wife, as she had her heart set on this,” Myers said as they walked toward the door. “But if this Wesley Carrington proves to be suitable, perhaps she’ll be mollified in the end. I’ll check into his background right away. If I find any evidence he’s nothing but a fortune hunter, he’ll get nowhere near Florence. I may be softhearted when it comes to my daughter, but I didn’t get where I am today by giving away the store.”

  Henry could believe this. “I put out a few inquiries. From what I’ve learned, Mr. Carrington is telling the truth about his current circumstances and the prospect of an inheritance when his uncle dies. In addition, he seems to be solidly in the circle of His Royal Highness’s good friends. If your daughter marries Mr. Carrington, she’ll have greater entrée to the royal family than I could give her.”

  Myers looked pleased. “I’ll keep that in mind when I try to win my wife over to the idea.” As they paused to shake hands before parting, he said, “There’s just one more thing I’d like to ask you. It’s mere shameless curiosity on my part, and you don’t have to answer.”

  “I’d be happy to, if I can.”

  “By the time you met Florence, she’d already given her heart to this Carrington fellow. Whether that was a foolish mistake remains to be seen. Throughout our conversation, you never gave any hint that you might have your eye on someone else. Even so, I can’t help but wonder if that was a factor in your decision.”

  “You are very perceptive, Mr. Myers.”

  “It wouldn’t happen to be your governess, would it?”

  Henry stared at him in admiring surprise. “Was it that obvious?”

  “I may be perceptive, but I’m no mind reader,” Myers replied. “In my factories, I always pay attention to what the men on the floor are saying. The same principle can be applied to these big country houses. My valet overheard a comment in the servants’ hall—that Miss Bernay had been dining at your table in the evenings, and in every other way being treated as a guest—until we arrived. I’m sorry she was demoted on our account. I hope you’ll do something to make it up to her.”

  Henry could think of a thousand ways he would like to do that. “That’s kind of you to say.”

  “What’s her background? I assume she has no money or position.”

  “Miss Bernay is . . . a friend of the family, you might say. However, we were not lying that a reason for her being there was to help with Amelia. She has a lot of experience working with children. She was raised in an orphanage.”

  “An orphanage! Well, well.” Myers looked impressed. “Yet you obviously feel she has the potential to rise to better things. I hate to be a braggart about my native country, but that does seem more of an American point of view than an English one.” He accompanied this remark with a little grunt. “Except in New York. Those people seem overly interested in people’s pedigrees. But I believe that will change in time.”

  “I feel the same way about English society.”

  “As you are aware, my wife and I both had hardscrabble childhoods. She didn’t marry me for my money or social position. No, sir. We didn’t have a dollar between us. My Maybelle and I married for love, and we’re still happy today, despite one or two differing opinions.” He chuckled. “Or maybe three.”

  Henry smiled.

  Myers reached out again to shake his hand. “I wish you all the best, sir.”

  “And to you.”

  As Henry watched the American stroll off down the street, he felt troubled. He was sure he’d made the right decision, but that didn’t make the road ahead any easier.

  Henry returned to his club. He sat in the lounge, brooding over what steps he should take next. The path seemed to be clearing, yet many obstacles remained.

  To marry a woman with no dowry was folly for a man in his position. Not only was someone of his social standing entitled to a wealthy and well-connected bride, but the financial burdens he carried made it seem imperative. And yet hadn’t he been determined to succeed on his own? It was too soon to give up on the idea of making the mine work. Also, there was no reason crops might not be better in the coming years. The future was, as it had always been, in God’s hands. He would keep working, and he would keep praying for help and guidance.

  Then there was the question of his mother. This was both a hard and an easy problem to tackle. She might attempt to make his life miserable if he married Cara, but she could not stop the marriage from happening.

  Perhaps the thorniest issue was how little he knew about Cara’s background. He had no doubt that she was a good person, and yet he could not afford to risk his reputation if it were discovered that her family had skeletons in their closet. As the Earl of Morestowe, he had responsibilities he could not shirk, no matter how much he might want to.

  Henry mulled over what he knew of Cara based on their previous conversations. There was that mad story of her hiding from the police in a giant washing kettle. That alone ought to be a warning. It had the potential to make a laughingstock of him and the family name. But would it? Cara had made it clear that both she and her sister were absolved of any wrongdoing.

  As he considered this, another detail of the story came to mind. Cara had said the barrister, Michael Stephenson, was now her brother-in-law. Henry knew who this man was. The widely publicized lawsuit that Stephenson had won for the Earl of Westbridge had made his name well-known among the peerage.

  Henry rose from his chair and walked to the other end of the club’s lounge, which had paper and pens available for its members’ use. There were many things Henry didn’t know about the future, but this was one thing he could do. He would see about arrang
ing a meeting with Stephenson.

  “She really does have a flair for this, doesn’t she?” Langham said, joining Cara as she watched Amelia’s latest riding lesson.

  By now Amelia had graduated to a larger ring and was riding fully on her own. Mr. Hart was still there, giving instructions, but these were finer, more subtle corrections to her posture and movements. One side of the ring had a set of raised benches covered with an awning, providing a place where Cara could sit comfortably while watching. She had brought her sketch pad and was doing her best to capture horse and rider.

  This was the first lesson since the Myerses had come to the stables three days ago. Cara had spent most of her waking hours since then at the dower house, launching wholeheartedly into her painting. That had been easy yesterday, when the Myerses were still here and Amelia had been invited to join them in a croquet match. She and Henry had won against Mr. Myers and his daughter. Amelia had related all the details to Cara later. In any other circumstances, Cara would have counted it an achievement that the girl had spent a congenial afternoon with the adults. Instead, she had found it painful, like a harbinger of the separation that was to come, even though she knew it was wrong to feel that way.

  Shaking off those thoughts, Cara brought her attention back to Langham. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Right as rain. Your prescription once more did the trick.”

  Yesterday Langham had stayed in his room, complaining once more of a headache. Cara thought his recovery might actually have something to do with his relief at the Americans being gone. She suspected he might ordinarily have enjoyed such gregarious people, but he still held a grudge toward his mother for the underhanded way she’d brought Miss Myers into their midst.

  Cara had watched from an upper window yesterday as Henry and the Myerses had boarded the carriage for the railway station. She had seen with painful clarity the pleased smiles on everyone’s faces—especially the ladies. It was easy to imagine what was happening in London. Henry would be concluding his deals with Mr. Myers. Would one of those be a marriage contract? Remembering what Henry had said about wanting to speak with her when he returned, her heart had filled with trepidation. The dreamlike wonder and excitement of those beautiful moments in the dower house had mostly vanished in the glare of the days that had followed.