The Vexatious Widow (Regency House Party: Havencrest Book 2)

by Michelle Pennington

  Mrs. Daw hesitated only a second longer. “It would be wonderful to have a few kegs of ale from the Cock and Crow. With all these gentlemen in the house, I simply must have more to offer them than tea.”

  “You are quite right. I shall attend to it.”

  Mrs. Daw let out a long breath of relief and dipped a curtsy. “You are a blessing to us all, Mrs. Thorne.

  She rushed away before Joanna knew how to answer her. And perhaps it was best not to admit that a great deal of her motivation was purely selfish. For her schemes to work, it would be better if Lord Tyndale was not in a towering ill-humor over the next few days. And from the color of the sunrise that morning and the way the fisherman headed out to sea a second time that morning, she thought that they would soon find themselves trapped in the house with stormy weather.

  As she went into the morning room, she indeed found the Lovell ladies sitting sedately at their stitching, chatting away with a dozen other ladies—some of whom were known to Joanna and some who were not. It was going to be difficult to extend an invitation to just one young lady, so she took a moment to think how best to go about this. It took only a moment to find the inspiration she needed. “Good morning, Lady Lovell.”

  Lady Lovell looked up and smiled sweetly at her. “Good morning, Mrs. Thorne.”

  “I have just been out walking and came across Lord Tyndale. He was riding into town, and when I mentioned that I to needed to go into Brighton on an errand, he asked me if I would ask your permission to take Miss Lovell with me. He seemed to think she might like the opportunity to see some of the sights.”

  The lady looked a bit surprised but mostly pleased. “How kind of him. Yes, of course she may go. Phoebe, did you hear that?”

  “Yes, I did. May I please go?”

  “Well, certainly, since your uncle approves. Run along and fetch your bonnet, and be quick about it. You don’t want to keep Mrs. Thorne waiting.”

  As Phoebe hurried away, Joanna smiled at Lady Lovell. “Thank you so much. I will take very good care of her.”

  “Of course you will. I have no doubt about that at all.”

  Phoebe returned so quickly that Joanna thought she must have run the whole way. Indeed, she was even a little out of breath. “Excellent. I believe the carraige will be waiting for us outside. Shall we go?”

  A footman assisted them into the carriage, and as soon as they were settled, the driver set off. For the first little while, they barely spoke as Phoebe had her head turned toward the view. Joanna smiled and didn’t attempt to distract her from it. As lovely as she found view herself, it must be entrancing for someone who hadn’t seen it before.

  “Oh, I do so love seeing the ocean, Phoebe said, turning toward her at last. “I have only seen it once before, you know—when I was a little girl.”

  “I love it too. I grew up here, and I never tire of looking at it.”

  “Thank you for inviting me to go with you,” Phoebe said, her voice perfectly demure. But there was a spirited light in her eye that made Joanna think there was more to this young lady —than manners and sweetness.

  “Of course. I am glad for the chance to get to know you better. It is so difficult to make friends in a large group, isn’t it? I much prefer spending time with one person and being able to really get to know one another.”

  And so, Joanna led her skillfully into the conversation. Phoebe proved to be as open and free as she had hoped she might be once she grew more comfortable, and soon Joanna knew all sorts of interesting things about her. But never once did she mention Mr. Seymour’s name. And that made Joanna suspect that this lovely young lady had more to her than she was revealing. Delighted with her and the promise of a challenge, Joanna smiled as they rolled into town.

  She directed the driver to take them along the Stein, past the Royal Pavillion. “For you have to see it in the morning,” she told Phoebe. “When the sun is bright like this, it shines like something out of One Thousand and One Nights. And we’re sure to see all sorts of fashionable people.”

  “Really?” Phoebe asked, at last betraying an excited anticipation.

  As they drove slowly down the Stein, Joanna nodded and waved to several people of her acquaintance who strolled down the crowded street. She had known that the likelihood of meeting Mr. Seymour was good, guessing that such a gentleman would want to be where the action was, so to speak. And she was not disappointed.

  “Miss Lovell, do you know that gentleman up ahead? He looks to be staring at you. Oh, yes, now he is bowing. Shall I have the driver stop?”

  “Oh, um, yes, please. I do know him…a little.”

  Joanna did so, quite sure by her attempts to hide her excitement that this was the gentleman in question. When he came forward, he clasped the hand Joanna held out to him with exaggerated pleasure.

  “Miss Lovell, what a blessed morning this is. How the day has blessed me. And you are more beautiful and radiant than ever.”

  Watching closely, but discreetly, Joanna saw Phoebe cast a sidelong glance in her direction before she answered him. “Why Mr. Seymour, how pleasant to see you. This is Mrs. Thorne.”

  Joanna was too far away to shake hands so she merely nodded. “Pleased to meet you. Are you and Miss Lovell well-acquainted?”

  Phoebe and Mr. Seymour both looked at her sharply, warily. He forced a smile. “I believe so. We met at many events during the season.”

  Phoebe clapped her hands together as if that was a pleasant surprise. “Excellent. Mr. Seymour, the housekeeper at Havencrest sent me with a charge that I confess will prove a bit difficult. Perhaps I might trespass on your friendship with Miss Lovell and ask you to help me.”

  He bowed his head and smiled charmingly. “I would be very pleased to do so. How may I assist you?”

  “Will you go to the Cock and Crow and order four kegs of ale? Have them delivered to Havencrest Manor. Please have them put on my tab. You shouldn’t have any difficulties as my credit is very good here.”

  “A simple matter, Mrs. Thorne. Are you sure there is not a more taxing matter you wish to entrust to me?”

  “Not more taxing, no. But perhaps you could join Miss Lovell and I to eat ices when you are done and tell me if you were successful. It would ease my mind considerably.”

  His eyes stole to Phoebe. “I should be delighted to. Shall we say, in half-an-hour then?”

  “Perfect. Thank you, Mr. Seymour.” She told him the name of the establishment where she preferred to get the frozen treat.

  “Your servant, Mrs. Thorne. Miss Lovell.” He doffed his hat and strode away in the direction of the Cock and Crow.

  Joanna was well-pleased with the success of her scheme. When he joined them later, she would be sure to make some excuse to be alone for a few minutes and plan their first assignation—for such she was sure they were desirous to do. She didn’t think it would be very difficult to discover when it was to be so she could apprise Lord Tyndale of it in time to interrupt it and warn Mr. Seymour off.

  By which point, she was sure Mr. Seymour would likely have made inquiries about her and learned that she was a better prize than Phoebe and one that came without a difficult guardian.

  “Well, how nice it was to meet someone I know,” Phoebe said.

  “And such a charming gentleman, too. But I’m sure a diamond like you garnered a great deal of attention during your season.”

  Phoebe shook her head and looked a bit wistful. “Not so many. I have admirers I suppose, but Uncle Martin ensures that they keep their distance.”

  Joanna smiled gently. “He must care for you a great deal.”

  “Then he should want me to be happy.”

  “Well, in my experience, gentlemen rarely know or care much about the happiness of the females in their lives. Lord Tyndale, however, strikes me as being out of the common way.” She thought that was enough work for the time being. “Oh look, there is the merchantile. I have several other items I would like to purchase. Do you mind if we stop before we meet Mr. Seymour?”<
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  “Not at all,” Phoebe said. “Indeed, I have some pin money with me, and I would like to purchase some candles myself. I used up the stub I was given last night.”

  Chapter Six

  With the wind howling outside the window, working in a snug library on his business correspondence should have been a cozy way to spend the afternoon. However, Tyndale felt unsettled and frustrated, in no small part because of the poor stationary supplies laid out for the guests. When his pen sputtered for the tenth time, splattering his fingers with ink, he growled and pulled out pen knife to try to repair the nib, again. It was likely due as much to the age-thickened ink as anything else.

  But when someone entered the room and he looked up to see Mrs. Thorne, the pleased feeling that came over him proved that a great deal of his disgruntlement was over not seeing much of her since the morning before. He was at a loss to explain it, however, which made him glare at her as she approached.

  “Good heavens!” she said, coming to an abrupt halt. “What has occurred to put you in such a foul mood again.”

  He certainly couldn’t tell her that he had looked for her in vain all morning, knowing that she would relieve his immense boredom. That he had gone on the tour of the manor organized by the housekeeper only for the hope of discovering her whereabouts and hadn’t found her. And so he pointed dropped his pen in disgust and said, “It is impossible to write a letter with this pen. And the ink is an abomination.”

  She looked at his fingers and bit her lip in an effort to not laugh at him. But that annoyed him even more.

  “I shall send my writing case to you, my lord. You are welcome to make use of it. Now, the matter I came to apprise you of is a bit urgent. Your sister-in-law has been looking for your niece and I have been informed by one of the maids that she was seen slipping out of the house not long ago.”

  “Confound the girl. In this weather? What is she up to.”

  “Oh, I’m quite sure she is meeting Mr. Seymour. They met in town yesterday, and I was able to give them plenty of time for a private tete-a-tete to arrange a rendezvous.”

  “You did what?” Tyndale stood out of his chair.

  Mrs. Thorne’s head tilted slightly. “I took her to town yesterday and ensured they had a moment to talk. It kept her from doing anything indiscreet, you see. And now you know you may interrupt them and give Mr. Seymour a proper trimming—put a bit of fear in him.”

  He stared at her a moment, trying to understand how a woman who appeared to be levelheaded could do something so foolish. “If I had a moment to spare, I would stay and tell you precisely what I think of your meddling, madam.”

  Remaining completely unruffled by his thundering voice, she merely smiled and waved him forward with both hands. “Yes, you may scold me later. We should hurry and find them.”

  “You? You will not. Have you heard the wind outside?”

  “Certainly. But don’t forget, I am very used to the weather here and it will not bother me in the least. We should check the path down to the ocean because he would be able to go around that way without being seen from the house.”

  He wanted to walk away at such a furious stride that she wouldn’t be able to keep up with him, but even with so little time being acquainted with her, he knew she would follow anyway and then he would only make himself look ill-mannered. Which was how he found himself walking outside in a windstorm, bareheaded because bothering with fetching his hat seemed pointless since he would only be fighting to keep it on, walking beside an irksome female with her shawl draped over her head, looking for his minx of a niece in a strange place with darkness falling early due to the storms coming in.

  “I swear I don’t know if I want you to be wrong or right about this,” he said, almost yelling to be heard.

  “Maybe you could argue your points for each and I could help you choose.”

  He turned and studied her, again wondering if the odd things she said were because she was an escaped Bedlamite or because she was trying to annoy him and secretly laughing at him all the while. He suspected the second because every time he looked into her green eyes, he saw intelligence and, yes, sanity there. He would have preferred her to be crazy.

  Since he had nothing better to do while tramping down a treacherous path, steep and damp with spray from the ocean, he said, “If you are wrong, I will feel fully justified in wanting to wring your neck—not that I would do it, mind you, because—”

  “You’re a gentleman?”

  “You make it difficult for me to remember that fact, but yes. And if you are right, I will have the devil of a time not wringing Phoebe’s neck.”

  “It seems a pity you can’t wring Mr. Seymour’s neck.” Her voice was much too cheerful for such a grisly discussion.

  “Who says that I cannot wring his neck.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t advise it. Then he would become a martyr you see, which would be as good as encouraging Phoebe to believe she is in love with him. No, I suggest that you keep your temple cool, but you can threaten him to your heart’s content as long as it is subtle.” He stopped and stared at her, during which time, she stopped and breath heavily.

  “Thank you for your permission.”

  “Now, don’t be prickly. Look, there they are, standing together in the open. Though I suppose they wouldn’t think that anyone would come down here in this weather.”

  “Why not? It is perfectly comfortable to be out in this cyclone.” The amount of sarcasm he’d infused into his response startled him.

  Mrs. Thorne didn’t answer him but continued forward across the pebbles that comprised the beach. He had no choice to follow after her.

  As they approached, Phoebe and Mr. Seymour spring apart, both of them startled at the interruption. Phoebe straightened her posture and glared at her uncle, but Tyndale thought her swain looked rather pleased.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Tyndale asked.

  Instead of answering him, Seymour looked at Phoebe and said in a dramatic fashion. “My darling love, we are discovered. But I will defend your reputation with my name, never fear.”

  “Defend it from whom?” Tyndale took a long, exaggerated look about the deserted beach. “Who in their right mind besides you two mutton heads would be out here to see you.”

  Seymour looked momentarily nonplussed then looked at Mrs. Thorne. “Well, she is here. And women do have a great tendency to gossip.”

  “Clumsy,” Mrs. Thorne said, though he was likely the only one to hear here over the wail of the wind and the crash of the stormy surf. And since he was all out of charity with her at the moment, he resented the fact that he wholeheartedly agreed with her. How did Phoebe not see through this man’s very transparent act?

  “I am quite sure I can depend on Mrs. Thorne’s discretion. Just as I am sure I may depend on you keeping your distance from my niece. I assure you, I am in no mood to suffer the machinations of fools. Be off with you.”

  Seymour glared at him, gave a sharp, arrogant bow, and strode away down the beach to where he’d left his poor horse standing in the elements. But if he thought was the end of the drama, he was much mistaken.

  Phoebe, who had been watching her suitor retreat from the skirmish, rounded on him and demanded, “I suppose you think that you have beaten us. Well, you have not. I am in love with him and nothing you can say or do will keep me from him.”

  Unimpressed by her bravado, Tyndale snapped. “Oh, take a damper. You have dragged me and Mrs. Thorne out in this inclement weather to save you from sullying yourself. Why you want to tie yourself to someone with so few scruples that he would subject you to the hazards of nature as well as bad public opinion is beyond my comprehension. I cannot cure you of your misplaced trust, but I can at least get you under a roof before your poor mother worries herself into a spasm. Let us go.”

  “I came on my own, and I can very well return on my own,” Phoebe responded. “And anyway, I would rather get horribly lost and fall off a cliff than walk back with
you.”

  She tore off running, scrambling up the steep path with surprising agility.

  Mrs. Thorne laughed as they followed after her. “Well, that was certainly dramatic, wasn’t it. And now, no doubt she will hate me for my part in it. Which is rather too bad, but unavoidable. Besides, she would have come to that anyway.”

  Tyndale, who had only been listening with half an ear—his mind more focused on how to manage Phoebe’s behavior—looked down at her. “What do you mean?”

  “It will be a very natural reaction, you know, once she sees me throwing out lures to Mr. Seymour.”

  His brows knit together. “Which you intend to do?”

  “Of course. And he will respond, willingly. Wait and see if he does not. Because however beautiful and young and elegant Phoebe undoubtedly is, I have by far the fatter purse.”

  Tyndale resented the failing light for obscuring her. She sounded cheerful as if it was all very amusing, but he could not miss hearing an underlying note of bitterness. But why did he feel such a sharp sting of sympathy for her when the only reason he was dealing with such a vexing ordeal was because of her. Every discomfort and frustration of this whole affair could be laid at her door.

  “Do you honestly think that your fortune is the only reason that a man might be drawn in by your lures, as you call them?”

  She hesitated and her voice wobbled slightly. “I have no misconceptions about my looks, sir.”

  “This is hardly the time or place for this discussion, but in the interest of candor, which I believe we agreed upon, you have a number of attractive points that you must be failing to take into consideration.”

  She was slightly ahead of him on the path, so as she paused to look back over her shoulder at him, he found himself almost eye to eye with her. “Such as?”

  “Why do women always want a catalog of their attractions? Very well, you have fine eyes, a good figure, and a warm smile.”

  Mrs. Thorne’s attention was completely focused on him until the moment her foot slipped and she began to fall. Reaching out, he caught her by grabbing her waist between his hands and steadying her until she found her footing. In all the commotion, her shawl slipped off her head, leaving her deep, golden hair to blow around in the wind, pulling free from of its clips. He felt a strange urge to touch one of the silken strands.