“Yes, my lord. I am Mrs. Thorne’s cousin.”
He nodded. “How may I be of service to you?”
“Are you aware, my lord, that Mrs. Thorne was very upset last night?”
So that was it. What had Joanna called Mrs. Pike? Her dear dragon. He didn’t know how apt the dear part was, but from the slight jutting of her jaw and the forthright glare of her beady eyes, the dragon part fit well. “I notice that too. And how is she this morning?”
“Very unsettled, if I may say so.”
He was actually glad to receive whatever information he could glean from Mrs. Pike, but still he knew he needed to step carefully. He moved from behind the desk and moved forward to the fireplace, stirring the coals with an iron poker as he took a moment to decide how to proceed. “I am sorry to hear that. Is there anything I may do for her?”
“Yes. You can court her in earnest.”
Tyndale straightened and returned the poker to its hook. “Court her?”
“I know it is extremely untoward of me—”
“Yes, it is.”
“—but I have been with Mrs. Thorne since her husband died, and I have never seen her respond to a gentleman as she has to you. And there have been scores of them—each one turning her more cynical than the last. She’s a kind-hearted woman who deserves to have a home and children. But who will see to it if I don’t.”
“Does she know you are here?”
Mrs. Pike actually shrank back, pressing her hands to her bosom. “No. She would never countenance this. I have only taken this step, like I said, because I can see that you affect her. And because I have seen the way you look at her.”
“And how is that?” he asked in a sharp voice, unsure if his annoyance was more with her or himself.
“Like you are trying to sort her out in your mind—unlike others who only look at her as if they’re plotting something. So, I will do all I can to further your interests with her, for she’ll be a hard one to convince. And as for me?” She paused and raised a handkerchief to her nose, sniffing into it energetically. “Well, I suppose living a life of penury all alone will be a small sacrifice to make for my poor Joanna’s happiness. Not that she would be able to live in peace knowing I was not comfortable, but no doubt you will ease her distress by inviting me to live with you and care for all the babies.”
Tyndale blinked at her.
She drew in a deep breath and exhaled it on a loud sigh and smiled blissfully at him. “There. Now that we have come to an understanding, you may be assured that I will do my best to promote a happy outcome.” She bobbed a curtsy and left.
Babies? What the devil?
The door was barely closed behind Mrs. Pike before it opened again and Joanna herself came in, carrying a writing case. She was followed by a maid carrying a silver tray and salver. When she saw him, a shy hesitant look swept over her face, though she mastered it quickly and forced a smile. “Oh dear. I just discovered my dear dragon has been bothering you. What did she want?”
“I daren’t tell you.” The last thing he wanted to do was discuss babies with her.
She chuckled. “Was it that terrible? Well, just ignore her. I do most of the time. I heard you were in here and remembered that I promised to share my stationary with you. Also, here is a tray with some leftover ham, bread, and butter. With the weather being too bad for you to escape into town, I knew you’d need sustenance. And I warn you, dinner will be atrocious tonight as Mr. Garvey has been invited to the pavilion and Mrs. Garvey is determined to be economical to make up for his lavish frivolity.”
“Thank you,” he said, touched by her thoughtfulness.
“My pleasure,” she said, dipping a curtsy. “I’ll leave you to your work.”
But as she opened the door, he called out to her, “Joanna, I—”
“There’s no need to apologize about last night, my lord.”
He smiled. “Good. I didn’t intend to.”
“Oh.” Her brows pulled together. “Why not?”
“Because, even though I acted on impulse, I do not regret it. No, I was going to tell you that I believe Joanna is plotting something.”
“But you wanted to me to leave her to you.”
“I have changed my mind.”
She nodded and looked pleased. “I am pleased to hear it.” Then, looking mischievous, she added, “Because I intended to help regardless. I will not stand back when I might save a young girl from falling into a fortune hunter’s schemes.
When she left, the room felt empty, as if the life had gone out of it. And stranger still was the realization that he had used Joanna as an excuse to continue their association.
Chapter Nine
Joanna stood with Mrs. Garvey and Mrs. Pike in the vegetable garden, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face and only vaguely listening to them complain about the amount of asparagus that would need to be harvested for dinner that evening.
“Yes, it does seem like an extravagance,” Mrs. Pike said, “But it must be cut before it grows too tough. And one must cater to royalty, you know.”
“I don’t know why,” Mrs. Garvey said, her voice tight with indignation. “The man is as fat as a frog and eats extravagant feasts every night. Why he must needs come here and cut up my peace and eat all of my vegetables I don’t know.”
“It’s an honor that he should single out your husband and household in such a way, you know. Just think. To have the Prince Regent dine with us tonight.”
“You’d think we were feeding the whole court the way Mr. Garvey has the servants scurrying about and deliveries arriving constantly. No, I can’t bear to witness any more of it.”
Joanna chuckled softly, careful not to let her hear. The poor woman had been fretting and fuming all morning. “Then let us go out to the front lawn. Most of your guests are gathering to play games and enjoy the change in the weather.”
“Yes, I know it. And they’ll likely all track mud in the house later and tear up the fields. A bunch of heathens parading as ladies and gentlemen.”
There was no assuaging her temper, but Joanna needed to go. She had schemes at play. “Mrs. Pike, will you stay to help Mrs. Garvey? I have a guest arriving soon and I need to be ready to greet them.”
“What guest?”
Joanna smiled mischievously. She had been relating the whole scheme to Mrs. Pike and knew she only partially approved. “Mr. Seymour of course. I sent him word at the Cock and Crow that he would be welcomed to join us. I implied that I was desirous of furthering my acquaintance with him. I even intimated that I would console him over his disappointment over Phoebe.”
Mrs. Pike shook her head. “I suppose you’ll have Lord Tyndale and that lovely Miss Lovell in fits before dinner.”
“No doubt I shall,” she agreed, strolling away. The thought of what Lord Tyndale’s reaction would be was providing her a great deal of amusement.
She could still remember the way he had automatically dismissed her when he had first seen her, so it was something of a victory that now he not only saw her but responded to her in extremes was a matter of curiosity. Agitated, that’s what he was. And though that agitation usually meant he was irritated with her, it had also, one time, led him to kiss her. And well, if that was a possible outcome, she would be happy to spend time every day for the rest of the party irritating him.
Because as confusing and overwhelming it had been to her emotions, it had been the first kiss she had ever enjoyed. The sweep lightning through her senses from his lips on hers had the strange effect of kindling hope within her cynical heart that maybe even she, for this one man, might have some small power to captivate and attract. How odd that he could say so bluntly, “You, Joanna Thorne, are not a beauty,” and yet make her feel—for the first time in her life—that the dynamic between a man and woman might be based on other things.
So yes, it had destroyed her peace, but it had also made her…open…to considering possibilities as she had never done before.
Which made it a
ltogether odd of her to not be seeking Tyndale’s attention, but rather the smart young gentleman approaching the front lawn down the graveled drive on a prime stallion. Yes, he was decidedly gambling every groat he had and running into dun territory in order to nab himself a fat matrimonial prize.
As he dismounted and gave his horse into the keeping of one of the stable hands, she saw that his handsome countenance was set with tension. But as soon as he saw her, the change that came over his expression commanded her appreciation. In only a wink of time, he was suddenly relaxed, smiling, and supremely at ease. With his bright blue eyes and lean, masculine beauty, she had no difficulty understanding how Phoebe could have lost her head over him.
He would not find such an easy conquest with her, but she would certainly encourage him to try.
“Mr. Seymour,” she cried, injection pure delight into her voice. “I am so pleased you came. I was not certain you would, you know.”
“How could I stay away?” he asked, bowing over her proffered hand and looking very steadily into her eyes with just the right note of flirtation in his voice.
“Very easily, I suppose, but I know what convinced you to make the effort.” She smiled at him wickedly. “And it was not me.”
After offering her his arm, Mr. Seymour led her over to a shady spot on the fringes of the lawn games being played by the other house party guests. “I must protest,” he said. “What else could have lured me out from the delights of Brighton but an invitation from your hand?”
As they grew closer to the group of guests gathered around to watch the shooting competition, she nodded her head toward Phoebe, who had seen them and stood watching. “The knowledge that your very beautiful acquaintance would be here.”
Joanna noted the way he tensed and hesitated a moment, and his mournful tone when he spoke was a work of art. “Yes, but as you well know, I have been warned off of pursuing a closer friendship with Miss Lovell.” He smiled down at her then, in such a charming way. “And it is just as well. She is very lovely of course, but I have discovered that I much prefer the company of a lady whose quality lies in her mind and personality—as well as in her pretty features.”
It was rather well done, Joanna thought. Not to flowery as to be unbelievable, and striking just the right note. How had Mr. Seymour not caught himself a matrimonial prize before this? “You flatter me, Mr. Seymour.”
“Only if the truth is flattering, Mrs. Thorne.”
“Oh, look. They are about to start shooting, but I do not think my delicate nerves can handle such noise today.” Joanna had realized they were about to come within earshot of Tyndale, who was watching them much too closely, and used the excuse to stay just far enough away from him that he was blocked from moving easily over to them. She would not let Tyndale’s interference destroy her morning’s work. “Will you walk with me out to the little pond behind the church? It will be quieter there and there is a very nice obelisk there that you should see, and a rather charming cascade as well.”
“It will be a pleasure.”
As they walked forward, Joanna glanced back at Tyndale and saw him striding toward them. She gave him a stern look, shaking her head at him. He stopped and glared at her but obeyed her silent command to let them go.
She spent the next hour strolling through the gardens with Mr. Seymour, playing the game of flirtation as deftly as he while the occasional reports of guns firing rumbled like distant thunder. He did an excellent job of keeping the conversation light and entertaining, responding to her airy jokes and observations with complete attention. It was all that any woman might wish for, and yet, as always, she was constantly aware of the hollowness of it all. As if their conversation were spun sugar and nothing else.
Unable to help herself, she compared the way this conversation to any that she had experienced with Tyndale. How much better it was to be challenged, to be talked to as an equal and not as some inferior, but necessary being, that only required a bit of attention. How long after marrying her would Mr. Seymour cease such assiduous attentions toward whatever pour soul he married? Not long, she wagered.
At last, when she had completely tired of him, she coaxed him back to the front of the house and sent a footman off to apprise the stables to bring his horse around. “Thank you for a lovely walk, Mr. Seymour.”
“The thanks are all on my side. And I sincerely hope that we may have the opportunity to meet again soon.”
Joanna smiled at him and winked in a rather naughty way. “I am quite sure that can be arranged. I am not so restricted by propriety…or guardians…you know.”
Mr. Seymour grinned and bowed, kissing her hand in an extravagant way. “Then let us consider it as good as arranged.”
With a promptness that earned her gratitude, a stable hand came around then with Mr. Seymour’s horse. As he went, she stood watching after him, enjoying the relief of being left alone at last. It was a simple reminder of the days of her marriage when the only peace she’d gotten was when her husband had left her to her solitude. What would it be like to be married to a man that one wanted to be with?
Footsteps on the gravel behind her alerted her to someone approaching from behind. She turned and saw Tyndale, his enigmatic expression piquing her curiosity.
“Are you very angry with me?”
“Did you intend that I should be?”
Joanna bit her lip, trying not to smile. “Must you always cut straight to the heart of the matter. Don’t you know that subtlety is charming?”
“If I thought you cared a farthing's worth for charm, I would very likely be as jealous right now as you no doubt intend me to be.”
“I intended nothing but to show Phoebe that Mr. Seymour has feet of clay.”
“Well, you certainly did so. She stormed off not long after you two disappeared. And so, having accomplished what you set out to do, would you listen to my advice?”
“Listen? Always.”
“Meaning you may or may not accept it? Very well. Mr. Seymour, my adorable schemer, strikes me as having a great deal too much at stake to accept your future rebuff with complaisance.”
She smiled up at him, pleased with his concern. “Pray don’t worry over me, my lord. I am quite accomplished at refusing proposals.”
His eyes sharpened with humor and…some other emotion that she couldn’t name but that gave her a strange, soaring sensation. “I am sure you are. But how are you at accepting them?”
“I have never done so before. Not willingly.”
“Then perhaps, instead of scheming to save my scamp of a niece, you could consider how you might do so in the future.”
Then, before she could think how to answer, he bowed and left her gaping after him. She wanted to call after him, cry out for him to stop.
This couldn’t be happening. Tyndale was supposed to be the one man who didn’t want to marry her. The one man who didn’t flatter her and pretend to love her just to obtain her fortune. She’d believed so completely that his manner of speaking with her and associating with her had been genuine. But if a handsome, titled prize of the marriage mart was intending to propose to her, it could only be for one reason.
And that broke her heart.
Chapter Ten
Tyndale’s valet blinked oddly at him when he requested riding breeches and boots instead of his nightshirt and pipe after a long, long evening.
“For the morning, you mean, my lord?”
The corner of Tyndale’s lips raised slightly that he should be acting so out of character that his own man was uncertain about his directions. “No, I mean for this very moment. Cannot you see that it is a fine night for riding?”
The valet’s eyes stole quickly to the window where indeed a full-moon bathed the landscape outside, but a sharp wind had once again picked up to toss the trees violently. He knew very well, however, that it was not his place to question his employer’s momentary lapse into insanity. “Certainly, my lord.”
Within half-an-hour, Tyndale was able to set off do
wn the road into the city. As he rode, carefully watching for any holes in the road that might lame his horse and thinking how much more comfortable a bed would be—especially now that he had suitable sheets—than the back of his horse, he could not help but smile at the irregularity his life had devolved into.
But he no longer minded as he had just days before.
All of the discomforts of the house party had long since faded in importance to Tyndale. Indeed, so too had the vagaries of his hosts, including the strange bursts of luxurious entertainment Mr. Garvey provided like the sumptuous banquet that evening with the Prince Regent in attendance—the Prince deigning to join his cronies’ household for a meal between his own engagements. Yes, such was Tyndale’s state, that even a presence of royalty paled in comparison to the proximity of Joanna Thorne.
He did not completely understand it, though he had spent many futile hours trying to do so. Before bringing Phoebe to Brighton, he’d had no intention of taking a wife any time soon—of complicating his life with such an upheaval as marriage would be. If he had done so, he would not have considered a woman who was headstrong, independent, forceful, and wickedly mischievous. He most certainly wouldn’t have looked for a widow—not that her previous marriage gave him pause except for the emotional scarring he knew it had inflicted on her. He hoped he might be able to help her heal and experience the fullness of love a man and woman might share with one another, but he had no way of knowing if he would be successful in giving her all that was growing in his heart. Indeed, everything about this courtship he had decided on was a gamble. And Tyndale had never been one to risk anything. He liked certainties and logic and sensible decisions.
So why did he so much want to keep Joanna close when she turned his life into a carnival of absurdity?
When he got into Brighton, the streets were nearly empty but the windows of the Cock and Crow still gleamed with light. Tyndale was prepared to track his quarry down to whatever gaming den he spent his evenings in, but thought it more likely that Seymour would keep to the less ruinous entertainments of the hostel.
The Vexatious Widow (Regency House Party: Havencrest Book 2) Page 6