“Have you been to Crossley before, Mr. Northcott?”
“No, this is the first time I’ve had the pleasure. What about you?”
“This is my first time, as well. Georgia and Crossley haven’t been married so very long. While we were in mourning, I couldn’t come, and then when Lady Crossley agreed to oversee my Season, I joined them directly in London rather than coming here and travelling to Town together as had been my first thought.”
She could see his expectant expression, and it urged her on to further explanation.
“With Mother ill and Father occupied with the viscount, I had to help with some things at home before I could go off gallivanting.”
Ashford laughed at her expression. “You don’t really strike me as the gallivanting type, Lady Vigilia.”
Despite her misgivings, she returned his grin. “You would be very surprised in that case then,” she countered. “Or so it seemed, anyhow, in comparison with what was taking place at home.”
“Everyone is well, now, though, aren’t they?”
“Yes, thankfully. Mother has recovered, the baby is growing like a weed, and everyone is doting on him.”
Her concerns must have been evident, though, as the gentleman kept his inquisitive gaze focused on her face. “You don’t seem fully convinced, though.”
Vicky sighed. “I feel as though I ought to be there to continue caring for things. I didn’t really feel that Mother was truly fully recovered. And both she and Father are so enamoured with their son that I’m afraid the estate and my sisters will be left to fend for themselves. And none of them will prosper under such circumstances.”
“How long have you been gone?”
“Two months. Well actually, not quite eight weeks.”
“Surely, it shan’t fall down into complete ruin in that short span of time.”
Vicky nodded and avoided his gaze. He was probably correct. But she still had her concerns. Again, it was as though he could sense her thoughts.
“You aren’t convinced, are you?”
Vicky sighed and shook her head. “Perhaps, it is ridiculous of me to worry so. And it’s likely pride influencing my thoughts, making me think that only I can keep things running correctly at Glendale and Sherton. It’s foolish, really, since it has only been in the last eighteen months that I have even known anything about the running of the estates. Now, suddenly, I feel like an expert and it’ll run to ruin if I’m not there to oversee it. And it was my decision to come to Town, so it’s particularly foolish of me to be pining for home.”
“Not foolish in the least, my lady. I know the feeling well.”
Vicky gazed at him with an inquisitive expression of her own, and he responded immediately.
“I chose to leave home at a much younger age than you. I was barely fifteen when I joined my father’s friend in his shipping ventures. I had a lark, for the most part. But there was always a small part of me that longed to be home at Everleigh. And while I lived for letters from home, somehow they only made it worse.”
“You do understand then.” Vicky nodded.
“And so, I also understand that no matter how long you might wish to put it off, eventually, you will have to make your own way in life, so you were right to go to Town. You will be able to return and check on things, I’m sure.”
Vicky nodded but argued, “It’ll never be the same, though. If I’m married, that will be obviously different. It won’t be my home any longer. I’ll merely be a visitor. And if I’m not married, then I’ll be a failure and I won’t feel qualified to help with the running of the estates. I’ll be an interloper in place only until the viscount becomes of age.”
“You will never be a failure.”
Vicky’s head lifted quickly at the vehemence in his tone, and she nearly started at the uninterpretable expression upon his face. She frowned in reaction. He grinned in turn.
“Thank you, Mr. Northcott,” Vicky answered for the lack of anything else to say.
“Won’t you call me Ashford?”
Vicky recoiled, almost as though he had slapped her. “Of course not,” she replied with as much dignity as she could muster as she was recalled to her senses. She had nearly forgotten how she felt about Mr. Ashford Northcott. It was a good thing he had reminded her that he wasn’t truly a gentleman, she assured herself even as her heart sank. For a moment, she felt bereft. She had almost been on the verge of confiding in him, but that would have been a foolish mistake. She had to fight the impulse to goad her horse into a faster pace in order to get away from him. But that would reveal more than she wished to the seemingly perceptive man.
The silence stretched between them. It felt to Vicky as though an entire epoch had passed by, but surely it wasn’t even a full moment. Finally he asked in a low tone, “Why not? I thought we had used to be friends.”
Vicky sighed, surprised that he would draw the matter out. She would have thought he would have the sense to let it go. Uncertainty filled her for a moment before she once again lifted her chin. She was grateful that they were on horseback rather than sitting in a salon for this conversation. There were other places that it was reasonable for her focus to be, rather than being forced to look him in the face while hiding all her jumbled up feelings.
“Surely, having been raised at Everleigh, you are well aware that it would not be seemly, Mr. Northcott, even if we were friends.”
“Not even in private?”
“It would also not be seemly for me to be in private with you,” she replied with a small, surprised laugh.
He laughed, too. “Well, not totally private, of course, but there’s no one within earshot.”
“Mr. Northcott, do not persist in this foolishness. Surely, you realize it cannot be.”
“I realize no such thing,” he insisted before turning the subject with a suddenness that left her breathless. “Very well, we shall discuss something else. What has Bertram been pestering you about?”
Now, Vicky almost wished she had allowed the inappropriate intimacy. She had absolutely no intention of discussing Lord Bertram with Mr. Northcott. But how was she to handle the question?
“Lord Bertram hasn’t been pestering me. Why would you think he was?” Vicky hoped she didn’t flush as she told the boldfaced lie.
“You looked decidedly discomfited while he was speaking to you last night. It was immediately afterward that you became uncharacteristically clumsy. And then again this morning, when he entered the room, your face betrayed you for the briefest moment.”
“It is ungentlemanly of you to remark upon it, if that is the case, Mr. Northcott.” Vicky was ashamed that she hadn’t hidden her reactions as well as she had hoped. Even now, her face burned with the thought of it, and she knew she hadn’t the skill required to prevaricate properly.
“It’s unlikely that anyone else would have noticed, if that is your concern.”
“Are you so very much more observant than our peers, then?” She heard the snippiness in her tone but didn’t care in the least.
“In certain circumstances, yes.”
Vicky laughed again. She hadn’t encountered this particular brand of arrogance before. Her brothers-in-law were very confident in their own right. The Duke of Wexford, in particular, was known for his arrogance. But being born heir to a dukedom would do that to one. Mr. Ashford Northcott was a unique gentleman in many ways.
“Well, I think your powers of observation failed you on this occasion, I’m afraid.” Vicky refused to tell him anything, especially now that he was going to try to insist that he knew what was going on in her situation. He knew nothing, she insisted to herself despite the kinship she often felt with him.
“Lady Vigilia, I meant you no insult, I assure you. I’m concerned for you. Bertram is a louse, and I would hate for you to be caught up in his clutches.”
“It is kind of you to be concerned for me, but I can assure you, I am in no one’s clutches.” Vicky was offended at the very suggestion.
“I beg
your pardon, my lady.”
With a nod, Vicky finally did as she had wanted to do earlier. Digging her heels into her horse’s sides, she quickly outpaced Ashford, getting ahead of him on the laneway they were travelling upon and sidling up next to another young lady in the group.
Chapter Eleven
Ashford watched as Lady Vigilia rode away from him, mentally kicking himself for his foolishness. He was usually able to handle the most complex of negotiations, but somehow he could barely converse with this particular debutante. At least she hadn’t ridden to join Bertram, was the only consolation he could take as the young woman proceeded to ignore him for the rest of the ride.
From the stiff set of her shoulders, though, Ash could see that she wasn’t as comfortable and relaxed as she would want observers to think. He knew no one would be able to tell, except possibly the countess. And Ashford was reasonably sure Lady Crossley was too preoccupied with her role as hostess to truly take note of what Vigilia was trying so diligently to hide.
Ash also saw the close attention Bertram kept upon Lady Vigilia. He had to make a conscious effort to relax his own posture so as to not frighten his horse, as his hands had a tendency to tighten upon the reins whenever he caught the ogling expression upon the viscount’s face as he observed the Sherton girl. It made Ash wish he could take the bounder behind the nearest hedgerow and beat some sense into him. But, in the so-called civilized society they were a part of, that would not be acceptable. Ash shook his head over the foolishness of it all and continued to keep his eyes on the tableau as it unfolded.
His watchfulness was rewarded when he saw Vigilia’s eyes dart toward him when Bertram again approached her upon their arrival at their destination. This assured Ashford that he had been correct in his assumption that Bertram was involving the girl in his assault on him. What it didn’t tell him was whether or not the girl was a willing accomplice, as she quickly averted her gaze and while Ash could easily tell she was uncomfortable, the exact nature of her discomfort wasn’t obvious.
He had handled his conversation with the girl poorly, he admitted to himself. He tried to excuse himself with the fact that he wasn’t terribly experienced in conversing with gently bred females, but that wasn’t completely truthful. He had even briefly courted Lady Vigilia’s sister. And he had a couple of sisters-in-law that he was most comfortable speaking with. The fact that he had failed to gather any information from the girl was caused by far more complex issues than inexperience on his part.
Just because he liked her didn’t mean he couldn’t question her properly, Ash reminded himself with disgust. You must do it again, and do better. He only hoped the girl would allow him another try.
He bided his time, watching with some amusement as she tried to enjoy the excursion while also avoiding both him and Lord Bertram. It clearly took concerted effort.
Ash himself wasn’t terribly interested in the ruins they had come to see. It was apparent they were genuine artifacts of the Roman occupation, but having travelled extensively, he had seen far more spectacular ruins elsewhere. Of course, he needn’t tell anyone that. He took the opportunity to observe everyone else instead.
It was amusing to watch the interactions of the various single members of the party making an effort to set up flirtations, especially if they were trying to not seem obvious about it. But while it was a beautiful day and the ruins had a certain appeal to them, all he really wanted to do was sit Lady Vigilia down and convince her to confide in him. Or if he could plant Bertram a facer, that would be even more satisfying, he thought with a grin.
“What are you getting up to?”
Ash was surprised to be so addressed by the countess.
“I beg your pardon, my lady?”
“Don’t try to hide your intentions from me, Mr. Northcott. I’ve raised four younger siblings. I know what it looks like when a boy is about to get into trouble.”
Ashford chuckled. “You are a great hand, my lady. I’m neither a boy, nor about to get into trouble.”
She made some sort of noncommittal sound in her throat and looked thoroughly unconvinced, much to Ash’s surprise.
“See that you don’t,” she said with a scolding tone before a grin broke over her face. “I’m merely jesting with you, surely you realize. I know you can be counted on to be a gentleman. But you did look quite mischievous there for a moment.”
“I might have been imagining some trouble to get up to,” Ash finally admitted with a grin. “But it was purely imaginary, not to be acted upon.”
To his amazement, the countess nodded with approval. “That’s the best sort. You can relieve your spleen without any ramifications.” She paused for a moment, looking out over the sedate activity of her guests strolling through the picturesque ruins. “Do you think I need to be concerned about Lord Bertram? Ought I to have asked Crossley to make him leave?”
Ashford wasn’t sure how to answer her. He was more tempted than he expected to tell her his true thoughts. But that surely wouldn’t do. Besides, the earl had his reasons for allowing the man to remain. Reasons that Ash mostly agreed with.
“I’m sure Bertram is enough of a gentleman that you needn’t be overly concerned, my lady.”
She gazed at him with a searching expression, as though determining whether or not she ought to accept his word for it. She appeared unconvinced. And then she nibbled her lip.
“I thought Vicky would be happier here,” she commented with a sigh. Ash blinked over the change of subject.
“What leads you to believe she isn’t?”
She shrugged. “Nearly twenty years of association,” she replied with a grin. “She’s hiding it remarkably well. I almost didn’t notice, as I’m so caught up with my duties as hostess. But I’m fairly sure she wishes to return home to Glendale. Or even Sherton. Really, anywhere but here or London.” She sighed again. “My apologies, Mr. Northcott. I shouldn’t really be discussing this with you. I had hoped…” Suddenly she blushed a little and trailed off. She could no longer meet his gaze. “I ought to be seeing to the young ladies,” she blurted before moving off from his side.
Ash watched her make her way carefully over the rock strewn dale toward a clutch of females, who were giggling over something they had found in the ruins. He wondered if the countess had been about to say she had hoped he could make a match with Lady Vigilia. He had suspected the countess was encouraging his suit. But Vigilia didn’t seem to be enthusiastic on the subject.
He might have conjured her with his thoughts. But it was not at all how he would have preferred to see her. Lord Bertram was once again approaching her.
~~~
Vicky suppressed a sigh. The ruins were perfect. The weather was perfect. Her mount had been perfect. Her riding habit fit perfectly. The day should have been perfect. But she had allowed Mr. Northcott to annoy her and now, here was Lord Bertram approaching her once again.
“What were you able to find out?”
“Nothing, unfortunately.” She no longer bothered suppressing the sigh. “I’m afraid a debutante is not cut out for subterfuge. At least, not this one.”
His expression turned sinister for a moment, making Vicky feel momentarily fearful, but he quickly masked his reaction and offered her a rather weasely smile.
“I’m sure that’s not true. There’s still time. You can try again.”
“I would much prefer you tell me what exactly you think he’s up to and how it impacts my family.”
“As I told you, you need to find out from Northcott the information I require, then I will tell you.”
Vicky narrowed her eyes and stared at him. “That sounds rather a lot like blackmail, my lord.”
“Not at all. You’ll just be more prepared to listen, if you do it my way.”
Vicky wanted to rail at him, but she had no intention of drawing attention to their interaction. If she had her preference, she would never speak to the viscount again. She truly believed he was full of hot air. But she just didn’t know what he
could possibly think to accomplish from this. She wanted to write to her sisters to get their view on the matter, but seeing as they were both in the family way, she didn’t want to burden them with her concerns. Perhaps, she could write to either or both of her brothers-in-law, but she wasn’t sure if they would take her concerns seriously. All of these thoughts tumbled around in her head as she stared at Lord Bertram.
“I still haven’t seen the other side of the ruins, my lord. Good afternoon.” Without further explanation, she dismissed the ridiculous man and carried on with her explorations. She had enough interest in the site that she could ponder the problem and explore at the same time. It was a shame she couldn’t engage fully in her exploration. She only hoped she would be able to return one day to see the ruins again, as Lord Bertram had nearly ruined the excursion for her.
Georgia was calling everyone together for their picnic repast, and it struck Vicky as verging on the ridiculous. When she and Georgia had been growing up, their idea of a fancy picnic was a blanket on the grass rather than sitting directly on the ground. Now, there were servants arranging tables and chairs and spreading lovely white tablecloths everywhere. Georgia must have read her dubious expression for her lips twisted with wry humour when their eyes met.
Vicky hurried to offer her assistance.
“Don’t look at me as though I’ve lost my mind, Vick.”
“Well, if the shoe fits, George,” Vicky countered with a chuckle. “It’s all quite lovely, my dear. You’re a wonderful hostess.”
“It’s a far cry from where I came from.”
“Me, too, I suppose, even though I’m a Sherton. We weren’t quite so fancy as girls. But we aren’t little girls anymore, so I suppose this is what’s appropriate.”
A Gentleman to Avoid: Sweet Regency Romance (Sherton Sisters Book 3) Page 10