Read Anne Barbour Online

Authors: Kateand the Soldier

Anne Barbour (14 page)

Regina did not reply, but rose swiftly, forestalling any further discussion on the subject.

“Come, my dear.” She laid a hand on her son’s shoulder. “It is nearly the time appointed for our interview with our new master.”

Lawrence remained slouched in his chair.

“Let him wait. I have not yet finished my wine.”

Regina’s fingers tightened.

“I would prefer to go now. As I said, I have other matters requiring my attention this afternoon.”

She turned and glided from the room, and Lawrence, after sullenly tipping his wine down his throat, rose to follow her.

There was a moment of silence in the faded elegance of the dining room, and portraits of Merritts in periwigs and ruffs and doublets gazed
down in startled disapproval.

“Whew!” breathed Crawford in awed tones. “A complete rout! You should have stayed in the army, Mr. Pelham. You’d probably be a general by now.”

Kate laughed aloud and rose from her chair to bestow an impetuous hug on David’s friend. Cilia said nothing, but her eyes rested on the young man from Kent for a long time.

David stood at one of the long windows in his study, staring blindly at the scene outside. The vista was a pleasant one, of a broad sweep of lawn sloping to an ornamental lake, but David saw only a shadowed face hovering above his and a tumble of red curls turned to black in the darkness of his bedchamber.

Dear Lord, had he dreamed the whole thing? Usually his dreams were not so pleasant. But no, the soft whisper of her voice, the curving, pliant warmth of her body pressed against his had been real to the point of agony, and the sweet lavender scent of her seemed still with him.

She had come to ease his distress, but thank God she had left at his command. For if she hadn’t, he surely would not have been able to deny the almost overpowering urge that had swept through him to seek her mouth with his own and to push aside the fragile linen that presented such an insubstantial guard to her virtue.

It must not happen again. She was under his protection for God’s sake! He had already become aware that he was growing much too fond of his erstwhile playmate, and last night’s interlude proved the danger of any further intimacy between them.

He permitted himself a bitter smile. How fortunate that the means of ending their friendship completely lay so easily at hand, for when he spoke to her of Philip, and how her brother had died, he knew with painful certainty that she would not wish to be in the same drawing room with him, let alone a moonlit bedchamber.

His reverie was interrupted by a diffident knock at the door as Fleming announced the imminent arrival at his study of his stepmother and half brother. He rose to greet them at the door; this was not an interview to which he looked forward with any degree of pleasure, and he wished to get things started in as cordial a manner as possible.

He gestured them to chairs by the fire, and took another for himself.

“I have spent a number of days going over the estate accounts,” he began quietly. “And it is clear that matters have come to a desperate pass. We are all of us going to have to rein in sharply or we’ll be in the suds.”

He had tried to put as light a face on it as he could, and now, glancing at Lawrence’s impatient expression, saw that he had erred in doing so.

“What I mean is,” he continued hastily before either Lawrence or his mama could interrupt, “the estate has become so unproductive that it is bringing in very little income, and the same can be said of Seldon Hall, in Buckinghamshire and the place near Cambridge. Our expenses, on the other hand, have maintained a steady increase over the years, until the point has been reached where our extravagant life-style has outstripped our ability to pay for it.”

“I think you’re making a great deal of fuss over nothing,” said Regina. “We’ve had bad years before from time to time, but we always come around again. You’ll see, my dear.”

David’s face hardened.

“I don’t think you understand, my lady. It is not just low water with us, it is near ruin.”

To his astonishment, Regina only laughed.

“You’ve been listening too much to Smollett,” she said with a dismissive wave. “And Pettigrew. Every time those doom-sayers put their gloomy noses in the door, they preach of economy and other tiresome things—always putting Thomas in a fury. He usually ended up showing them out of the house within an hour after they’d arrived.”

Gripping his temper and his patience with both hands, David said shortly, “Perhaps he would have done better to spend more time listening to the doomsayers and less in his club at the faro table.”

At that, Lawrence stiffened.

“Are you proposing to teach your betters how to spend their time?” he snarled.

His words were returned with a level stare, and after a moment, Lawrence dropped his eyes to begin a minute study of his boots.

“Let’s get one thing straight, brother,” David said in a tone no one at Westerly had ever heard him use. “I have never perceived anyone living under this roof to be my better. And, no, I do not propose to instruct anyone on the use of his time. What I am saying is, very simply, that everyone in this family has been living beyond the means of the estate, and it must stop.”

David watched as Regina’s eyes narrowed to slits and her nose pinched unbecomingly. He said nothing more, but simply waited, smothering the thought that this little chat was proving to be every bit as painful as he had envisioned.

“I am not,” her ladyship began portentously, “considered to be an extravagant woman. And I will
not
be dictated to according to your shabby-genteel notions of household management. Would you have us sit down to boiled mutton at dinner? Do you intend to make us the laughing stock of the county by dressing us in homespun?”

It was quite evident that she did not expect an answer, and David did not attempt one.

“You have spent over a week,” she continued, “absorbing, apparently without question, the petty complaints of persons who have no concept of life in a noble home. Now, let me make something clear to you. One can only decry the circumstances that contrived to make you Falworth of Westerly, but as such, you have a position to uphold. My son, though he has been denied the title that should have been his, is still the Honorable Lawrence Merritt of Westerly, and his position is one that must also be maintained properly.

“Since,” she concluded, and David could only marvel inwardly that she scarcely found it necessary to draw a deep breath, “you have not the smallest notion of the standards that have always been observed in this house, you will do much better to leave things in more capable hands than yours.”

She rose, abruptly, like a monarch signaling the end of an audience, then turned to deliver an apparent afterthought. “By the way, I have instructed the servants that Mr. Pelham will be leaving us first thing in the morning. He has been a disruptive influence here, and was most unpleasant at lunch. I trust, David, we will not be receiving any more visits from your unsavory companions.”

She gathered her skirts preparatory lo making a stately departure, and Lawrence, with a triumphant glance at his half brother, made as though to follow her. They were both brought up short by the sound of David’s voice.

“Sit down, both of you.”

Again, he spoke quietly, but there was that in his tone that caused Regina to look over her shoulder at him in astonishment. Lawrence, still crouched above his chair, sank back, openmouthed. After a moment’s hesitation, his mother followed suit.

“As you say, ma’am, I am Falworth of Westerly, and however distasteful the situation may be to you, it is my word that will be obeyed here.” He ignored Regina’s outraged gasp and continued composedly. “I have outlined some specific areas in which our expenditures may be decreased.” He limped awkwardly to the desk and selected a paper from among those littering its surface. “If you would, please, confer with the staff as to their implementation.”

He held the paper out to her, but Regina remained where she sat, tree-trunk stiff, her hands folded in her lap. David rubbed a hand tiredly over his eyes, and spoke again, in a softer voice.

“Really, ma’am, we must contrive to rub along better than this. I will see these measures taken with or without your assistance, and unless you wish to be on the losing end of a very bad situation, you will choose the former. Please believe me; I do not want to create chaos here. I don’t like boiled mutton, nor do I propose to see you swathed in homespun, but I cannot emphasize too strongly the need for stringent measures. Surely,” he finished, with a lifted eyebrow, “it is as much to your advantage—and Lawrence’s—to see Westerly restored to solvency as it is to mine.”

For an instant, hard blue eyes locked with flinty black ones, and it was the blue that gave way. Regina accepted the paper with a great show of condescension, and David was pleased to note a flash of respect in her glance before she bent her head to examine it.

He permitted himself an inward sigh of relief as he turned to his half brother. “I’m afraid, Lawrence, I have found it necessary to cut your allowance.”

“What?”
The young man fairly paled in outrage. “B-but,” he sputtered, “I am just getting by now!”

“No, you are not getting by. You have continually applied for additional funds far beyond your stipend, and that will cease.” David fixed him with an icy stare. “Do you understand me, Lawrence? From now on, there will nothing forthcoming once you have spent your allowance. I will pay no debts, and I shall certainly not sport the blunt for sweet-goers or any of your other extravagances.”

Regina had been staring at David during this last, an odd, unreadable expression on her face, and when he was through, she cut into Lawrence’s agonized babble of protest.

“Never mind that, now, my dear. I must have a word in private with David. Please leave us.”

Lawrence was unprepared to cease his lamentations, but after one glance from his mother, he fell silent immediately, and left the room without further argument.

David gazed watchfully at Regina as she took a turn about the room, pausing to riffle her fingers through the documents that lay in untidy heaps on the desk.

“Well, my lady?”

She turned and gave him a measuring stare.

“I was merely wondering, if, in all these plans and schemes of yours, you have made provisions for Lawrence’s marriage to Kate?”

 

Chapter Ten

 

David stared in bemusement at Regina.

“Marriage?” he echoed stupidly.

“Well, of course it’s early days to be making any plans.” Regina’s laugh was soft and agreeable. “We shall have to wait a year, although here in the country, we might see it done a little earlier.”

Why was he having such difficulty in absorbing her words? Perhaps because the idea of Kate and Lawrence together was ludicrous—as though one were discussing a bad play or something else equally outside the bounds of reality.

“I was unaware of a betrothal between them,” he replied coldly.

“But surely you have not forgotten.” Her eyes were wide and ingenious. “We spoke of it at dinner the evening you came home—the understanding that has stood for some years.”

“But, ma’am, I have seen no evidence of such an understanding. Indeed, Kate has given me to believe that she does not wish for such a marriage.”

Regina chuckled amusedly.

“Kate is such a dear. I believe sometimes she does not know her own heart, but she and Lawrence have grown very close since you and Philip left.”

“An affection that can at best be called sisterly hardly seems a basis for marriage.” David fought an urge to take Regina by the shoulders and shake that complacent expression from her face. As if reading his thoughts, she smiled confidently.

“It has been many years since Kate thought of herself as Lawrence’s sister. The signs have been obvious for some time. For example, when we were in London for Kate’s Season, her favorite partner was always Lawrence, and she compared every would-be suitor to him—generally to the disadvantage of the suitor.”

“Odd,” mused David, “I have seen no sign of such lover-like behavior since I’ve been home—on the part of either of them.”

Regina shot him a brief glance from beneath her carefully darkened eyelashes, and brushed her fingertips once again over the papers on the desk.

“I’ve noticed that, too,” she replied off-handedly. “I believe they had a tiff some weeks ago, and now they’re behaving like tiresome children. Kate never misses an opportunity to put her claws out at him, and Lawrence simply sulks at her.”

David raised a skeptical eyebrow. He was well aware of Regina’s dilemma. She was no longer the wife of the Earl of Falworth, and the continuing control she had always assumed would be hers through her son had slipped from her grasp. Thomas had had virtually nothing to bequeath to her, and she was now all but penniless. The idea of applying to her hated stepson for every farthing of her existence would no doubt be galling beyond endurance, hence her urgent desire to get Kate’s inheritance under her fingers. Her ladyship, he knew, would not stop at bending the truth in the matter of their supposed “understanding.” Still—could there be a grain of truth in her explanation of Kate’s seeming indifference to Lawrence?

Observing the glimmer of concern in David’s gaze, Regina prudently chose to drop the subject. She turned as though to leave. David watched her through narrowed eyes, and suddenly called out to her.

“One moment, my lady.” He moved to overtake her at the door. “Regarding Lucius, please be advised that he will not be leaving in the morning or at any time soon. I have invited him to remain at Westerly for as long as he chooses.”

Regina’s features hardened.

“But, have I not told you of his behavior?”

“I regret that his presence discommodes you, ma’am, but he will stay.”

An unbecoming flush spread over her cheeks as she drew a sharp breath.

“Really, David, to make such a fuss over a farmer’s son ...”

“It is you who is making the fuss, my lady, and as for Lucius being a farmer’s son ...” A glint of amusement sprang into his dark eyes. “You have been uncharacteristically obtuse in your judgment. Lucius’s father does indeed call his home a farm, but in actuality it is an enormous and luxurious estate. Have you never heard of Horace Pelham, ma’am? He is one of the wealthiest men in the country.”

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