Authors: Reforming the Viscount
He was crossing the last of the stone bridges before the final sweep up to the house at exactly the same time that the coach lurched to a halt beside the shallow front steps.
So he had a ringside view of everything that happened next.
First of all, just like a creature from one of his heated nightmares, a wild-haired woman came rushing out of the house. Screaming.
The horseman dug in his spurs, urging his mount to intercept the screaming woman before she could reach the carriage.
As the woman tried to dodge round him, Robert—for Lord Rothersthorpe now perceived that it was he—kicked his feet free from the stirrups, dropped to the ground and caught the creature in his arms. She struggled frantically with him, screaming incoherently at the top of her lungs. Robert’s horse shied away, but after shaking its mane as though thoroughly disgusted by the behaviour of the nearby humans, trotted off round the corner of the house with its ears pricked up. Only once the horse was well on its way to what Rothersthorpe assumed was its comfy stable did Robert slacken his hold, allowing the she-demon to rain down blows upon his head and chest with clenched fists. She knocked off his hat and even caused him to stagger back a pace or two under the force of her attack.
And yet Robert made no move to either defend himself or restrain her now that the horse had taken itself off out of range. He just stood there, absorbing the blows, whilst very deliberately blocking her access to the coach.
It was such a bizarre sight that Rothersthorpe brought his own horse to a standstill. Robert’s horse had a place of safety, well known to it. But his own mount was far from its home and he wasn’t at all sure what its reaction would be. If the wild woman darted out of Robert’s range, it might rear and lash out with its hooves and injure her. He reached down and patted its neck, murmuring soft words of reassurance just in case.
Eventually the woman slumped in exhaustion against Robert, though her shoulders still heaved through the force of her sobbing. Only then did he allow her to approach the coach. He pulled the door open and Lydia stepped out. The sobbing woman tottered over to her, they flung their arms round each other, and then, because the wild woman was much larger than Lydia, the pair of them collapsed in a froth of petticoats on the gravel beside the coach steps.
The woman’s weeping grew less noisy as Lydia stroked her tangled hair, so that when Lord Rothersthorpe’s horse pawed at the gravel, impatient at being obliged to stand so long in the heat when it could smell a stable close by, Robert’s head flew up.
He scowled, then stalked back down the drive towards him.
‘Best come straight round to the stables,’ he growled. ‘This way.’
He turned and strode away. Rothersthorpe followed, though it wasn’t easy to tear his eyes from Lydia, who was crooning something softly to the wild woman, whilst somehow managing to rock her rhythmically. As he passed the stationary coach, he glimpsed another girl, a little boy and a dog clustered together just inside the front door of the house, as though undecided whether it was yet safe to approach the heap of tangled skirts and splayed limbs that was Lydia and the sobbing female.
The boy had a look of Lydia, somehow. Rothersthorpe supposed it was something about the shape of his face, and his flaxen hair.
For a moment, it felt as though the sun had gone behind a dark cloud. He shook his head, impatient with himself. He’d known she had a child by the Colonel. Somebody had told him, not long after the event. So the sight of the boy should not have come as a shock.
He didn’t care that Lydia had a child by another man. Why should he? She was nothing to him now.
‘I hope,’ said Robert as they entered the stable yard, ‘that I may rely on your discretion about the incident you just witnessed.’
Rothersthorpe dismounted and saw his horse led into the shady stable by a capable-looking groom while he puzzled over Robert’s peculiar choice of words. But curiosity got the better of him. Raising one eyebrow, he turned to Robert, and said, ‘My discretion?’
Unabashed, Robert looked him straight in the eye, and said, ‘Fact is, this is a bit of a tricky situation. Cissy will calm down soon enough now Mama Lyddy is home to care for her, but if Rose were ever to find out about the state she was in just now, she might take it into her head never to leave again. And I won’t have her tied here. It wouldn’t be fair.’
‘You don’t wish Rose to become distressed,’ he echoed. What the hell was going on here? And who was that screaming, violent woman that Robert had left Lydia alone with?
‘I don’t want Cissy distressed either,’ said Robert with a scowl. ‘Dammit, I should have paid more attention to what Lydia tried to tell me. She has not travelled so far from Westdene for years, so I didn’t realise...’ He struck at his boot with his riding crop a couple of times, his frown deepening. ‘Her problems, you see, were nowhere near so obvious when she was younger.’
‘Your sister Cissy is—’
‘Careful what you say,’ snapped Robert. ‘I won’t have her described as a lunatic, whatever appearances to the contrary might indicate. And if you cannot deal with that, perhaps you had better leave right now!’
Rothersthorpe raised both eyebrows. ‘No need to take that tone with me, Morgan. I merely wished to understand the situation.’
‘Beg pardon,’ said Robert, though his scowl did not abate one whit. ‘Fact is, having Cissy throw a tantrum like that has rattled me. This whole house party I wanted to throw for Rose is going to be a damned sight more difficult than I’d thought if she doesn’t take to the guests. We’ve always sheltered her from strangers, do you see, so this is going to be a monumental challenge for her.’
Something flickered in the back of his memory. Robert telling his guests on that long-ago picnic that they could have the run of the grounds, but that the house was out of bounds. He’d made some jest about his father having a nasty temper and warning his guests to avoid him if they didn’t want to feel the lash of his tongue. He’d taken that statement at face value, but if Cissy had been so easily disturbed, perhaps there was another reason why strangers were not welcomed within doors.
And perhaps that was why all Robert’s parties had ceased. He’d known that Robert had fallen out with his father over his marriage to such a young woman and had avoided Westdene for some time. But he’d assumed, when he did not resume throwing parties, and inviting people for picnics in the grounds, after the Colonel’s death, that Lydia had somehow been the cause. Now it looked as though it might have had more to do with the strange woman—Cissy—who was, apparently, not quite right in the head.
Not right in the head, and very, very dependant upon Lydia.
His vision of her lifestyle wavered and shifted. He’d always wondered why she had not returned to town sooner after her husband’s demise. With the amount of money she must have at her disposal as the widow of a nabob, anyone would have thought she would make frequent trips to town, for shopping sprees.
But she hadn’t.
Robert sighed. ‘I wanted Rose to have the freedom to choose a husband, without having to worry about how it would all affect Cissy. But I
should
have thought how the disruption to her routine would affect her.’
Rothersthorpe’s eyes narrowed. Robert had expressed concern for Rose’s freedom, and Cissy’s welfare, but none at all for Lydia. He seemed to assume it was Lydia’s place to look after them both.
It was damned peculiar for the old man to have kept a child like that within his household at all, let alone have his young wife become the creature’s nurse. If ever anyone in his own circle had a child that was abnormal in some way, they paid someone to take them off their hands. Someone trained to deal with that kind of infirmity. And they would keep them at a safe distance from the whole members of the family, in order to prevent disturbances of the kind he’d just witnessed.
Instead of which, he seethed, Colonel Morgan had married a girl with no family to protect her and given her the job of looking after his unbalanced daughter. For some mysterious reason, she had not balked at the task. And she’d somehow slipped in to the role of being the poor creature’s security. Well, perhaps he could see how that might have happened. Lydia might have many faults, but he’d seen with his own eyes that she had a way with the poor demented creature.
Maybe he could understand why Lydia felt entitled to take a lover. It sounded as though she’d been virtually incarcerated down here, caring for Colonel Morgan’s children by all his previous wives, and the unbalanced one in particular.
It struck him as supremely ironical that as he’d been making his way along the driveway, he’d imagined her reigning over it all like a queen. Colonel Morgan, he could see, was something of a collector and he’d assumed the man had installed his pretty young bride in this lush setting like the jewel in his crown.
Instead, it looked very much as though she’d earned every penny the old man had spent on her. Ah, poor Lydia, he thought, with a cynical smile.
And it hadn’t ended with the Colonel’s death. It sounded as though Robert permitted her no personal freedom at all. No wonder she’d snatched at the chance of getting him down here, while she could.
He eyed Robert with curiosity. His words indicated an attitude of putting everyone’s needs before Lydia’s. In public, in London, he had presented a façade of friendliness with his very young stepmama. But how deep did it really go?
He remembered the hostility he’d displayed on the announcement of his father’s latest marriage and the names he’d called Lydia. And the way he’d stood guard over both women in his charge, at that ball, his hand clenched on the back of his sister’s chair. He had not deferred to Lydia in the matter of his sister’s possible dance partners. Why had he not picked up on that marked lack of respect before?
Because he’d been too busy dwelling on his own resentments, that was why.
‘Look, I’d better show you up to your room,’ said Robert, ‘where you can freshen up. I shall have to go and reassess the situation before I risk introducing Cissy to any of our guests.’ Shoulders squared, he began to march towards the rear of the property.
‘Do you plan,’ asked Rothersthorpe, setting off behind him, ‘to keep the girl hidden away then?’
‘Plan?’ Robert snorted. ‘No, that was not the plan. Damned if I know what will happen now. Rose swore she’d send everyone packing if Cissy got upset, so the whole party might have to be abandoned, for neither she nor Lydia would countenance shutting Cissy out of sight.’
Robert shot him a level look as they reached the back door. ‘You must do as you please. You have seen her at her very worst. If you’ve a mind to stay, and you have it in you to be kind to her, we need say no more about it.’
‘Thank you,’ he replied, without making the slightest attempt to disguise the sarcasm.
‘If you decide to grace us with your presence,’ Robert replied, with an equal measure of sarcasm, ‘send me word and I will have you collected from your room in about an hour. The others will have arrived by boat by then and will be picnicking down by the Persian Pools. We will walk down and join them.’
Lord Rothersthorpe remained silent while Robert led him through the house and up some backstairs to a corridor that led to a guest wing.
But there was no question of him leaving. For good or ill, he’d made the decision to come down here and lay his first love to rest. Even though now it appeared there was more to Lydia’s subsequent lifestyle than met the eye, it made little difference. He was going to be her lover. Purge her out of his system so he could get on with his life, mad stepdaughters and vengeful stepsons notwithstanding.
So, as Robert flung open the door to a small, rather Spartan room, he said, ‘There is no need to send word. Just come and get me in an hour.’
Robert’s expression eased into something approaching a smile. He made no comment, but the way he clapped Rothersthorpe on the back expressed his approval clearly enough.
Rothersthorpe shucked off his riding jacket and tossed it on to a chest that sat at the foot of a rather narrow bed, feeling as though he’d just passed some kind of test.
Not that it mattered. He neither needed nor wanted Robert’s approval.
He wanted to wash off the dust of travel and change out of his sweat-dampened shirt. He went across to the marble-topped washstand, which stood next to the window. There was a pitcher full of water ready for his use, though since his valet had not yet arrived, there was no chance of changing his shirt. He poured water from the pitcher into the basin, knowing he would have to make do with just washing his face and hands. Then he ran his wet fingers through his hair, in lieu of a comb, which he devoutly hoped his man would remember to pack, and inspected himself in the mirror.
He saw an idiot looking back at him. An idiot who’d come haring down to Surrey the minute Lydia had crooked her finger at him. An idiot without so much as a change of clothes, so eager had he been to get here. An idiot who’d spent the entire journey reminding himself of all Lydia’s numerous faults. Who had not been on the premises five minutes before he’d started to see her as a victim of circumstances, rather than a woman getting her just deserts.
An idiot, who had listened with mounting anger as Robert revealed what her life here must be like, and who had actually started to sympathise with her.
What difference, he admonished his reflection, did it make if Robert was holding Lydia prisoner down here? This was a luxurious prison. She’d walked into her marriage with her eyes wide open, and if she’d subsequently found that caring for Robert, Cissy and Rose was no sinecure, it was none of his business.
And if he could see why she might want to conduct a secret affair, right under the nose of her tyrannical stepson, that made no difference either.
Whatever her reasons for inviting him down here, his had not changed.
He simply had to get over her.
Chapter Six
‘H
ow is she?’
The moment Lydia entered what had once been his father’s study, Robert strode across the room and took her hands. It was all she could do not to snatch them away.
Except, for once, he really did look contrite.
‘I had no idea she would have become so upset whilst parted from you, Mama Lyddy. I would not have acted as I had...’
‘You mean,’ she replied coldly, ‘in keeping all news about her
tantrums
from me whilst I was chaperoning Rose to balls and parties?’ Since arriving home she’d found that not only Marigold, but also Mrs Broome, had written to Robert expressing concern.
‘Yes. Unforgivable of me, I can see that now, but you must believe me...’
‘No, Robert,
you
should have believed
me.
Did you really think anyone could know her better than I?’
‘No.’ He had the grace to look a bit shamefaced. ‘It was just that I thought you were being over-protective. You...well, you and the girls...you all fuss over her in a way that seems totally unnecessary.’
‘Unnecessary.’ Lydia blinked, once, then nodded her head. It was pointless staying angry with him when his repentance was so genuine. He loved Cissy and she knew he would never do anything to hurt her, not deliberately. It was just he had this irritating tendency to think he knew best. About everything.
‘You can only say that,’ she pondered aloud, ‘because you were not here when she first came to live at Westdene. By the time you forgave your father for marrying me and came to visit, she had settled down.’
Now that she was not so angry with him, it became possible to withdraw her hands from his, go across to the window and hitch her hip on to the broad sill.
‘But Marigold or Rose could have told you about her,’ she said.
A tide of guilty colour swept across his cheeks. She sighed.
‘You are so like your father.’
His brows drew down into a sharp frown.
‘You never actually ask what those who depend upon you want. You assume you know best and just expect to have your orders obeyed without question.’
He flung himself into his father’s chair and scowled at her, silenced, for once, by the accuracy of her observation.
‘But no matter. I understand that, like him, you are trying to do your best for us all.’
‘I...’ He looked down at a pile of papers, stacked neatly on the desk, and moved them fractionally to one side. ‘We are getting away from the point,’ he growled. ‘Which is Cissy and why she went so completely to pieces, just because you were not here.’
‘Ah, yes. Perhaps I should begin with the nightmares she used to have when she first came to live here. Nightmares from which she used to wake up screaming, night after night. Or perhaps we should talk about the way she would not let either me, or your father, out of her sight for one moment during the daytime.’
‘What?’
‘It was her fear that broke through both Rose and Marigold’s tendency to resent having another mother foisted on them.’ She smiled wryly. ‘They are, at bottom, good girls. And so it wasn’t long before they threw their hearts into coaxing Cissy out of her tendency to cling to me all day.’
‘I have to admit,’ said Robert gruffly, ‘that I was surprised that they had finally started to think about someone other than themselves. Surprised and impressed. For when they were very little, they both seemed rather spoiled. Father’s little hothouse flowers,’ he said with a bitter twist to his lips. ‘I suppose,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘Cissy is the sort of girl who brings out the best in people.’
‘In this family, that has been true,’ she corrected him. ‘But I have discovered that she can also bring out the worst in people. My guardian, for example. When my parents died and I met the new holder of my father’s title for the first time, he seemed like a decent sort of man. He said he was willing to be quite generous to me, in respect of franking me for a Season. But he flatly refused to give Cissy house room. He said he had no intention of being saddled with what he termed a halfwit. He would not listen to my explanations of her condition, but packed her straight off to an asylum.’
‘Yes. I know that...’
‘What you do not know is what she suffered there.’ Lydia paused, steeling herself to speak of a time that had been so horrific she didn’t even like to think about it.
‘When we went to collect her, we found her locked in a room no bigger than a cupboard, manacled to her bed. When your father remonstrated with the governor of the place, he said it was for her own good. That he did not want her to accidentally hurt herself, when she was in a wild state. That he found patients learned to behave with more docility if he had them strapped down when they rebelled against his regime. And then he began to expound the scientific basis for the methods he employed to effect a cure for what he termed the feeble minded.’ Lydia screwed up her face in revulsion. ‘It involved strapping his patients to a chair and repeatedly plunging them into baths of freezing water to stimulate blood flow to the brain. Or turning them upside down, and suspending them thus, for hours at a time.’
‘Good God...’
‘And all the time he was boasting about his scientific methods,’ Lydia went on as though she had not heard his shocked utterance, ‘she was lying there, in her own filth, crying and straining towards us. And then your father...well, you know how terrifying he could be when he got into one of his rages. That first time I saw him lose his temper it was just like how I would imagine it would feel to witness a volcano erupting.
‘But I felt like cheering him as he reduced Cissy’s tormentors to quivering, apologetic jellies. And from that moment on, your father was her hero. When I told her he was to be her new father, she flung her arms round him and kissed his cheek. In all her filth.’
At that point, Lydia had to rub at her eyes with the cuff of her long-sleeved gown. A lesser man would have repulsed her. But he had not. He had not even wrinkled his nose as he’d hugged her back.
‘And it was Cissy’s total adoration of him that made all the difference to the way your sisters behaved towards me after that,’ she said. ‘Her face lit up whenever he walked into the room. Because I’d told her he was her father now, she treated him exactly as she had done our own father. When he sat down, she would just climb into his lap and cuddle him.’
She had to take a deep breath and screw her eyes shut for a moment to hold back the tears. It was when she’d seen how he thawed whenever Cissy demonstrated her affection openly that she’d begun to see him in a new light, too. Under all that bluster, he was, really, quite a sentimental sort of man.
‘So,’ said Robert, ‘by the time I’d cooled off and come home for my first visit, there you all were hugging and kissing the old martinet, and him revelling in all the affection you showered on him...’
‘Oh, your face when you walked in that day,’ said Lydia, with a watery smile.
‘Did my jaw actually drop as far as I thought? I thought you had wrought nothing short of a miracle,’ he said, regarding her with fondness.
Lydia sobered at once. ‘It was nothing to do with me.’
Robert shrugged. ‘It was a miracle, though. The girls looked pleased to see me. My father was pleased to see me. There were no recriminations for having stayed away so long. No lecture about my lifestyle. For the first time, instead of all snapping and snarling at each other, it felt as though we could become a real family.’
His voice had turned very soft and reflective, but all of a sudden his face flushed and he started fiddling with a letter knife.
‘Well,’ she said briskly, recognising the symptoms of embarrassment in a male tricked into speaking about his emotions. ‘We really do have more pressing business to consider than what happened years ago and that is the question of Rose’s suitors.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ Never had a man looked so relieved to have the subject changed.
‘I came in here primarily to tell you that I think we should continue with the house party.’
‘What? Are you quite sure?’
‘Oh, yes. I looked over the guest list carefully after Rose sent the invitations out. And I believe each person on it has the potential to cope with Cissy.’
In fact, she thought Rose had shown remarkable perspicacity for a girl of her age. For one thing, she had invited two of the gentlemen to bring their sisters, which was bound to have the effect of broadening her social circle, as well as leavening the mix. It would have been rather awkward if the house party had consisted solely of single gentlemen.
‘As she
usually
is, yes, but—’
‘She will be fine now. The reason she became so upset was because somebody—’ she gave him a loaded look ‘—told her, just as we were leaving, that Rose was going to London to look for a husband. Which reminded her that, once upon a time,
I
had gone to London to look for a husband.’
‘But she can’t have thought...’
‘Cissy never did understand why she had been sent to that asylum. I never spoke of it once we’d rescued her, since it upset her so much. Except to assure her it was over, that she was safe here. Only...’ she pursed her lips ‘...the longer we stayed away, the more the memories of what it had been like last time I was absent for any length of time must have preyed on her mind. I do not think she really believed any of us would ever send her back to a place like that. But...’
‘Oh, God,’ Robert groaned. ‘To think I was trying to offer her reassurance. I could see she was unhappy at the thought of you going away, so I reminded her of how good it had been for you to find a husband in my father. And I said it would be good for Rose to find someone, too. I was trying to pave the way for some new person to come into her life.’
‘Yes, I do realise that,’ she said. ‘But please, in future, do not attempt to think you know what is best for Cissy. Or try to keep anything about her condition from me. I am best qualified to judge what she needs. She is
my
sister, Robert. Not yours, no matter if your father did adopt her.’
He gave her a jerky nod, grudgingly acknowledging her point.
‘And another thing.’ She was sick of him undermining her, just because he was now head of the family. ‘It is about the addition to the guest list, which you did not run by me. I refer, of course, to Lord Rothersthorpe.’
She had not been able to believe her eyes when she’d looked up from the ground, where she sprawled with Cissy cradled in her arms, and he’d been there, gazing down at them in appalled fascination. She’d felt as though the bottom had just dropped out of her world. He was the last person she had expected to see. What on earth had prompted him to ride up to Westdene, today of all days?
‘D-did you invite him here? I suppose,’ she ventured hopefully, ‘you thought it would be pleasant for you to have someone nearer your own age to bear you company while the place is taken over by all the youngsters that Rose has asked down here.’
It would be just like Robert to invite a guest of his own, without bothering to check how his decision might impact on anyone else.
‘He is not here at my invitation at all,’ said Robert. ‘It was all Rose’s idea.’
So that was that. There was no point in hoping Robert was using the occasion to mend fences with a man who had once been his friend. The lure of Lord Rothersthorpe’s handsome face, and his title, had overcome Rose’s scruples about certain aspects of his character. She was giving him another chance to prove himself.
And he had taken it.
‘She did discuss it with me,’ said Robert, ‘since she needed my permission to send Peters out at dead of night.’ He gave her one of his piercing looks. ‘And when she explained her reasons, I decided there would be no harm in letting her have her way. Amidst the crowd already approaching, what difference does one more make? Can you really object to a last-minute addition on the strength of place settings, or vacant bedrooms, or any such rot?’
‘No.’ But then that was not the reason she objected to having him here. She had been so relieved that he had not made it on to the original guest list. Now it appeared she was going to have to deal with the painful emotions caused by having him numbered amongst Rose’s suitors after all.
‘Then let us not quarrel over such a one as Rothersthorpe. For heaven’s sake, Lyddy, let us concentrate on what really matters here.’
‘By all means,’ she said dejectedly. And what mattered was most definitely not her. This week was about Rose’s future. Cissy’s welfare naturally came a very close second. And she...well, as usual she was of no importance in the scheme of things at all.
She got to her feet, smoothed her skirts and went to the door. She was used to putting the needs of others before her own. It was just that the strength of her feelings for Lord Rothersthorpe would keep rearing up and demanding she listen to them.
‘I shall go and see if Cissy is ready. I made her understand that Rose and her friends are coming by water, and that if she wanted to see her today, she would have to wash her face and tidy herself up. I left Betsy helping her choose one of the new gowns we bought her in town.’ Seeing the trunk full of presents, which Lydia had brought with her in the carriage, had done much to improve Cissy’s frame of mind. Michael’s reaction had helped, too. On seeing all the mysteriously wrapped parcels, he had dived in, gleefully searching for labels that bore his name, and Cissy had caught his highly infectious enthusiasm.
‘I think it would help her if we all walked down to the Persian Pools to join the others, together, if you do not mind waiting? I know you wanted to be there to greet everyone the moment they stepped ashore, but...’
‘There are two naval officers on board to deal with all that,’ he said, making a gesture of impatience. ‘Mrs Broome has the picnic well in hand and Rose is there to act as hostess. It is more important to support Cissy. Besides,’ he added with a hard smile, ‘I wish to observe their reactions to her. Then we shall see what they are all made of.’
Lydia wondered if the grim look on his face had anything to do with Lord Rothersthorpe’s reaction.
‘And Lord Rothersthorpe?’ She paused in the doorway, her hand clenching convulsively on the doorknob. ‘What did he make of the scene he witnessed?’ If he was really as repulsed by Cissy’s behaviour as he’d looked, and Robert had sent him away, then good riddance to him! He was not worthy of Rose.