by Jean Wilde
* * * *
Two days later they left London and began their long journey on the Great North Road, stopping every few hours to rest or change the horses. Piers opted to ride his own mount, a large gray beast that answered to the name Titus. He joined Caroline and her cousin whenever they stopped at coaching inns to have a meal or spend the night. He was a charming and witty companion, entertaining them with town gossip and anecdotes from his years in London. But he was also more than happy to simply listen to them talk about their lives in the country. Her poor cousin Jane was already hopelessly in love with him and her abigail, Daisy, flirted shamelessly with him at every opportunity. Caroline had considered saying something to discourage her companions, but she decided it was far more entertaining to watch him deflect their unwanted attention.
They met with no trouble on the road, and after several days of travel, they arrived at Delaval Hall shortly after teatime. The servants, headed by the butler, Mr. Finch, were assembled at the front of the mansion to greet the weary travelers. The Baron was nowhere in sight.
Horatio must be out inspecting the grounds, Caroline thought with a pang of disappointment.
“Welcome home, my Lady,” Finch said with a small smile as he handed her down from the coach. “I trust you had a productive journey to the capital.”
She smiled at her staunchest ally in the household. “A most successful journey, thank you, Finch.”
He began to say something but noticed Piers dismount and stretch his long limbs. Caroline quickly added, “This is Piers Benson, an architect I’ve commissioned from London. He’s agreed to work on restoring the West Wing. Please arrange to have one of the guest rooms with a view prepared for him and make sure he has everything he needs to settle in.”
The butler eyed the guest skeptically but replied, “Of course, my Lady. I’ll see to the matter myself.”
She nodded, satisfied that while the butler was not entirely sure what to make of Piers, he understood her order to place him in a room close to the main chambers which overlooked the park.
“Lord Hastings rode into town this morning on business,” Finch continued. “He said he’ll be home in time for dinner.”
“Good. Please have Cook prepare a meal for three in the small dining room.”
His expression gave nothing away; he merely bowed himself from her presence and began giving the footmen instructions on unloading their baggage. Her cousin had declined her invitation to spend the night at the Hall, and so they’d set her down at her home before reaching their destination.
“This is quite the estate you have, my Lady,” Piers said, looking about him with an impressed look on his face.
Caroline stood taller, pride echoing clearly in her voice. “Yes, it is! Delaval Hall was built just over a hundred years ago after the old keep burned down. It’s in the Baroque style, you see. The classical design is based on the architecture of Greek and Roman temples. There’s one main block with the entry and staterooms, flanked by two wings,” she added, pointing them out to Piers. “Horatio has done a fine job completing many of the projects his father started years ago. The late Lord Hastings was a dreamer and didn’t always have his feet planted firmly on the ground. He started several plans but rarely saw any of them through. My husband has been the one running the estate for the past four years, though he only inherited it six months ago.”
“A realist to his father’s romanticism,” Piers said with a quirk of his lips. “I believe I like your husband already.”
And my husband will certainly like him, Caroline thought a bit sadly. She just hoped she wouldn’t be completely replaced in Horatio’s affections. Shaking off the solemn thought, she said, “I shall retire to my room to freshen up before dinner. Finch will show you to your bedchamber.”
He nodded, looking around curiously as they walked into the house and started ascending a winding staircase. “Very well, although I’m eager to go exploring.”
Caroline smiled. “Horatio will be delighted to give you a tour of the grounds. This estate is his pride and joy.”
“A personal tour by the master of the house himself… I’ll certainly curb my curiosity in deference to such a treat.”
“Some things are worth the wait,” she replied with a twisted smile.
He gave her hand a brief squeeze before following a servant down a corridor to the guest chamber. After they disappeared from sight, Caroline entered her room and breathed a sigh of relief. She was so pleased to be back in the midst of all her familiar surroundings. Delaval Hall had been her home for the past six years, and she was proud to be called its mistress. It all meant nothing, however, without an heir as her mother-in-law liked to harp on. If she didn’t give birth to a son, the family and title would both end with Horatio. Caroline refused to let that happen. She paused in the act of undressing when the door connecting her chamber with the master suite swung open and her husband entered.
Chapter 4
Horatio Delaval, The Seventeenth Baron Hastings, did not stand on ceremony with his wife. The moment the butler greeted him at the door and informed him of the Baroness’s safe arrival, he sprinted up to his bedchamber. After quickly washing his hands and face, he strolled into her bedchamber without bothering to knock. The sight of her smiling face as she caught sight of him eased the knot he’d carried in his breast the past several weeks. He caught her up in a fierce hug and kissed the top of her head. “God, I’ve missed you, Caro. I don’t know what possessed me to agree to that scheme of yours. I’m sorry, my dear, but I won’t be allowing you to travel without me again for a very long time.”
She chuckled and turned up her face to plant a kiss on his lips. “I missed you too, darling. Has it really been so terrible without me?”
He sighed dramatically before releasing her and making himself comfortable on her bed. “The household was fine; Mrs. Banks followed your instructions to the letter, and Finch had everything under control. The evenings were never-ending, though, and I had no one to talk to. I invited Michael and Sylvester to dine with me and play billiards a few times, but they bored me to tears with their lack of meaningful conversation. Those two gossip like a pair of dowdy old women.”
Caroline laughed. “At least they offered you some form of diversion.”
He grunted but didn’t argue. Michael was the son of the local squire. They’d known each other since they were children and had practically grown up together. Sylvester, however, had moved into a neighboring estate a few years back. They were good men and really did help pass the evenings tolerably enough—it was he who was feeling restless. He sighed inwardly and fought the feeling of resentment that was always hovering at the edge of his consciousness. He was a disciplined man and knew how to keep his impulses on a tight leash, though it irked him to do so. He had to, however! He couldn’t risk another incident—it was no longer just him who’d be affected by scandal but his wife as well. He owed her too much to do anything to hurt her. So even though he detested his self-imposed celibacy, he refused to trust anyone after the debacle with Jonathan.
Shaking off his morose thoughts, he brought his attention back to his wife. “And now you’re back where you belong. Tell me all about London.”
He leaned back against the headboard; his long legs stretched before him as she fluttered about the room speaking excitedly about her trip: the sights, the parties, the fashionable shops. He was pleased to see that she’d clearly enjoyed herself.
Suddenly, she paused in her ramblings and looked at him somewhat hesitantly. “I brought back a guest with me.”
“A guest?”
“Well…more of an employee, actually.”
Brows drawn in confusion, Horatio asked, “For what purpose, Caro? Don’t tell me you’ve hired one of those French ladies’ maids that are all the crack in London?”
She bit her lip. “Not a lady’s maid…I hired an architect to restore the West Wing. Mr. Piers Benson comes highly recommended and has excellent references.”
Irr
itated, Horatio rose from the bed. He disliked how she casually informed him of the matter after the fact. Caroline never acted in such an impetuous manner—indeed it was completely out of character for his clever, industrious partner.
“That was very rash, Caroline. Since when do you make decisions concerning this estate without consulting me first? There’s no money this year to begin the repairs. I told you, we have to put all the profits from this year into the shipbuilding venture.”
Her jaw tightened, and she raised her chin stubbornly. “This is more important.”
Horatio ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “You might think so, but I don’t. We simply cannot afford it—not this year anyway. You’ll have to undo it.”
Anger flashed in her eyes, but she turned away from him, walking toward her dressing room. She paused, one hand on the door handle, and said, “If you want Mr. Benson gone, then you’ll have to dismiss him yourself!”
* * * *
Horatio sat behind the desk in his study feeling out of sorts after arguing with his wife. They hardly ever quarreled, but he was determined to stand his ground. The damned West Wing could wait! He was not a farmer at heart, and he had no interest in spending the rest of his life managing livestock. Ships, on the other hand, he loved. Newcastle upon Tyne was the third largest ship producer in all of Britain, and there were many opportunities for someone who had an understanding of the industry and was willing to invest capital.
He drummed his fingers on the desk as he waited impatiently for Piers Benson to put in an appearance. Shortly after taking refuge in his study, he’d rang for Finch and directed him to send for the architect. Horatio wasn’t looking forward to dismissing the man—who’d done nothing wrong except accept a commission—but it was better to get this messy business out of the way sooner rather than later.
The door opened. Horatio looked up and froze. The man who entered the room was nothing like he’d expected. The one architect he’d come across in the past had been an unassuming, middle-aged man with spectacles. This man, however…Horatio couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from him. No one would ever mistake him for a middle-class worker. Indeed, the fashionable cut of his green coat and the superior quality of his white shirt, green waistcoat, and tan breeches made him appear like a member of the nobility.
He must do very well for himself in his profession, Horatio mused.
It wasn’t his clothes that had Horatio gawking at him like a lovestruck fool, however. The architect was one of the handsomest men he’d ever had the pleasure of perusing. He appeared to be in his early thirties, close to Horatio’s own age in fact, and his physique…well, he looked like he spent more time in the saddle than out of it. Horatio was considered a dashing fellow himself. His tall, slender figure; dark blond hair; and green eyes had set many a heart aflutter. But Mr. Benson put his looks to shame. No wonder Caro had lost her head and hired the man without consulting him first. He felt an irrational flare of jealousy.
“Lord Hastings, a pleasure to finally meet you,” the architect said, reaching across the desk with his right hand extended.
Horatio jumped to his feet, taking the proffered hand. “Mr. Benson. Thank you for coming to see me so promptly.”
The other man smiled, flashing straight white teeth. Of course, his teeth were perfect…one couldn’t have rotten teeth mar that gorgeous face of his.
“I could hardly ignore a summons from the master of the house. Although, something tells me I’m not going to like what you have to say, my Lord. Pray, don’t keep me in suspense; what is it you wish to discuss that couldn’t wait until dinner?”
Horatio sat down and gestured for his guest to take one of the chairs across from him. “To be quite frank, it seems that Lady Hastings has acted without my consent.”
“Oh?”
“While she was correct in informing you that a large portion of the house is in need of repairs, now is simply not the right time for it.”
Mr. Benson did not look the least bit perturbed by that statement. “But you haven’t seen my work…how do you know it’s not precisely what you need right now?”
Horatio frowned, unsure what to make of that statement. “My wife did mention that you came highly recommended. However, while I’m sure you’re exceedingly capable at your job, I’m the one who knows what’s best for this estate. I apologize for any inconvenience my wife’s decision may have caused you. I’ll compensate you for your time and your journey here, of course.”
“Hmm,” the other man replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That’s too bad, I was rather intrigued by this project. I’ve never been this far north before, and I wanted to spend more time exploring the area and your grand estate.”
“You’re more than welcome to stay as our guest for a few days.”
“You are too generous, Lord Hastings. I would hate to overstay my welcome.”
Such excellent manners! Horatio smiled. “It’s no imposition. Lady Hastings and I are so often on our own that it would be a welcome diversion to have someone stay with us.”
“Well, I’m nothing if not entertaining,” the architect said with a chuckle. “Thank you. I believe I will stay a few days to experience everything Newcastle has to offer.”
Chapter 5
An hour later while seated at the dining table with the lord and lady of the house, Piers felt a slight twinge of unease. When he’d met Hastings in the study earlier, he’d thought they’d gotten on quite well. The Baron had certainly caught his fancy. With his soft baritone voice and slightly dreamy expression, he’d reminded Piers of a poet. Bedding the Baron would certainly prove no hardship on his part. And yet, it seemed to him as the evening wore on that Hastings did not like him.
His aloofness confused Piers who was skilled at entertaining all manner of people regardless of their age, gender, or social background. It was part of his job to assess potential clients and to arouse their interest. He was failing quite miserably with Hastings, it seemed. The man cut short his every attempt to engage him in conversation. The Baroness, on the other hand, responded enthusiastically to his attentions, and so he turned his focus on her, keeping her well-entertained throughout dinner.
Both men stood as Lady Hastings rose to withdraw to the drawing room, leaving them to smoke or drink port. She inclined her head slightly to Piers, indicating she wished for him to escort her to the door. He quickly complied, and when he reached around her to open the door, she whispered softly, “I think you’re making Horatio jealous.”
The absurdity of that statement took Piers by surprise, and he opened his mouth to say so. He stopped himself, however, when she gave a slight shake of her head. He shut the door behind the Baroness, not immediately discounting her observation. She knew her husband far better than he did, after all. He accepted a glass of port from his host and covertly studied the other man as he sipped his drink. The tenseness of Hastings’s shoulders and his clenched jaw were quite evident, lending countenance to the Baroness’s astute observation.
“You’re quite fortunate, Lord Hastings, to have found such a remarkable partner,” Piers began, testing the waters.
“Indeed?” Hastings replied in a clipped tone. “And what do you know about it? Are you a married man, sir?”
Piers chuckled. “God, no! I’d make a dreadful husband, I should think.”
“And yet you have no trouble dealing with other men’s wives.”
He could have reassured Hastings or at least made it quite plain that he had no interest in his wife. Piers, however, had a malicious streak, and he couldn’t resist goading the other man a bit. “Married women exude a certain confidence, which I find appealing. They don’t simper or pretend to be demure to secure a marriage contract. I find them to be bold and quite skilled at the art of flirtation. In a way, they’re safe as well—a man has no fear of becoming leg-shackled simply because he is found talking to a married lady in a darkened hallway.”
Piers could tell he’d struck a nerve when a pair of gr
een eyes glared back at him.
“In case it has escaped your notice,” Hastings said from between clenched teeth, “we are not in London, and Lady Hastings is not like those women—she doesn’t preen, flirt, or dabble in affairs the way women in the capital do. It would be best if you remembered that during your stay with us.”
Piers inclined his head without replying. Oh, yes, Baron Hastings did not like to share his wife’s attentions. If Piers hadn’t seen the way the other man had ogled him in the study earlier, he might have doubted the lady’s claims of her husband’s sexual preference. But he had seen it, and there was no mistaking the Baron’s interest…in Piers’s body at least.
He excused himself shortly after to retire to his bedchamber for the evening. He had been planning on drawing out his seduction of Hastings, at least for a week or so. Given his history, Piers had wanted the man to grow comfortable around him and learn to trust him. He had a feeling, however, that if he didn’t act soon, he’d lose his opportunity for good.
* * * *
Over the next few days, Piers did his best to smooth Hastings’s ruffled feathers. He was the perfect employee-turned-houseguest: courteous to the servants, friendly to his host, and charmingly entertaining to his hostess—without being overly familiar that is. It gave him much relief to find that his conduct did, in fact, make a difference with the Baron. Hastings regained much of his initial affability. While Piers wasn’t sure if he’d been completely forgiven for his ill-advised taunts about married women, Hastings did join him and Caroline during mealtimes and chatted amiably about Newcastle and his estate.