Regina Scott (9 page)

He thought she might dimple at the prospect, but the color that had been returning to her cheeks fled once more, and she pushed herself to her feet. “Far too many, I fear. Your father was a darling man, and I was very fond of him. But you mustn’t think his letters told all the truth, my lord.”

“Will,” he said gently, rising as well as propriety demanded.

“Will,” she conceded. “That girl your father wrote about went to London eight years ago. She is not the woman who returned.”

He wasn’t so certain. Oh, surely she had learned something from her time in London. Families often sent their daughters for a year or two to acquire town bronze, as they called it. She seemed to have gathered sufficient amounts. She carried herself with confidence most of the time; she had no trouble conversing with strangers or people she hadn’t seen in years. But had the heart his father had praised, the sweetness, the kindness, the joy of life, truly been lost along the way?

“We all grow older,” he said. “We can only hope our characters grow as well.”

She nodded as if she appreciated his understanding. “That’s it exactly. Sometimes it seems that everyone around me wants to hold on to that wide-eyed girl. I want to be more than that. I want to take responsibility for my life.”

Will spread his hands. “Then do so.”

She shook her head. “It isn’t that easy. There are expectations, hopes. My father’s will.” She rolled her eyes.

“He left some stipulation?” Will asked with a frown.

“One too many,” she replied darkly. “But nothing that need concern you.” She bent to retrieve her fencing shoes. “Thank you for your kindness, Will. I should go.”

He caught her arm as she straightened. “Something is troubling you. You’ve alluded to it twice, and I see the sadness that comes over you from time to time.”

She eyed his hand, and he released her. “My sorrow could merely be melancholy for the past.”

Yet she didn’t claim it was. She clearly didn’t want to lie, but at the same time she had no desire to tell him the truth. He longed to convince her to share her burdens, but now was not the time. He knew by the height of her chin, the stiffness in her frame that she had closed off any opening he might have taken.

Will bowed to her. “I can see that I’ve offended you, Samantha. Forgive me. I know that Jamie cares for you deeply. For his sake I would not see you troubled. If there is anything either of us can do to help you, you have only to ask.”

She smiled then, a gentle upturn of her lips that made his heart lighten. “That is very kind of you, but as I’ve said, I’m fine. I know exactly what I’m doing. I don’t need any help.” She curtsied. “Good day, my lord.”

He watched her walk to the door, saw the footman open it for her and escort her down to her waiting carriage. Her back was straight, her shoulders unbowed.

But he saw the weight she carried, the effort she made to hide it. It was as if something dark was squatting on Samantha’s shoulders, digging its claws into her.

She was bright, she was strong, she was determined. She obviously knew what was plaguing her. She seemed to think she had a strategy for defeating it. He should let her go her way and encourage Jamie to go his.

But as the carriage started away from the house, something else moved among the oaks lining the drive. Will pushed past his footman, who stiffened in obvious surprise, to get a better look.

A man on a powerful roan horse was following the Everard coach. Even though the day was bright and growing warmer, the fellow wore a hooded cloak that obscured his head and body. Only the fact that he rode astride assured Will it was a man.

What was this? Did the lady so fear for her safety she needed an outrider for protection? Who threatened her? And if she had not hired her shadow, what was the fellow about? What brash confidence or evil purpose made him comfortable following her onto Wentworth land?

It seemed the mystery associated with Samantha Everard was only deepening. By the quickening of his pulse, Will knew he intended to solve it.

Chapter Nine

“S
ee that my horse is saddled,” Will ordered his footman. “I want Arrow out front in two minutes.”

The footman gaped, then dashed off with a cry of “Right away, my lord.”

Will kept an eye on the departing carriage. He’d lost sight of the man following it, but he thought the fellow had to be close. All Will had to do was catch that coach.

His groom came running from the back of the house, leading a prancing Arrow. Will was in the saddle and heading across the lawn moments later. He didn’t want to startle his quarry by galloping down the drive, but he knew another way to approach the carriage. He urged Arrow into the pastures.

A carriage had to travel in a U to return to Dallsten Manor—down the drive from Kendrick Hall, along the country lane between the two houses and back up the Dallsten Manor drive. Will on Arrow was unfettered. They pounded across the turf, angling to cut off the coach before it reached the other drive. The cool mountain air streamed past, but Will felt no chill. He was acting for once, not sitting in his office looking at problems that had few solutions.

Was that why he intended to solve this problem? He had no reason to discover Samantha Everard’s secrets, after all. With her having refused Jamie’s suit, she was no threat to his family. And her stated intention of leaving the area after the summer party made her opinions no threat to the future of the valley either. Yet surely as a gentleman he should see a lady protected, even if it was only from the sorrow that seemed to dog her steps. Either way, Will couldn’t rest until he knew the truth.

As he neared the road, he slowed Arrow. He could see the carriage approaching, the empty road before and behind it. Where was the outrider? Had Will mistaken the fellow’s purpose? Had he been after something at Kendrick Hall instead? All the more reason to find him and demand an accounting!

Will chucked to Arrow, felt the horse gather speed beneath him. They flew toward the road and the hedge that separated it from the pasture. Will never hesitated. As the carriage thundered past, Arrow gathered himself and launched into the air, and then they were up and over and onto the road.

Will turned the dappled gray to face the way back, but the road remained empty, save for the dust of the carriage’s passing lingering in the air. And though he rode up and down the lane twice more, he caught no further glimpse of the mysterious horseman. Perhaps it had been Kendrick Hall the man had been watching. Just to be safe, Will rode home and alerted his staff to keep an eye out for the fellow.

But his failure to discover the identity of the man on the roan horse didn’t mean he was willing to let the matter of Samantha Everard go. He had a feeling the person most likely to know her secrets and share them was Jamie. Unfortunately he doubted his son would be amenable to being questioned about the woman who’d just refused his offer of marriage. Indeed, Will was a little concerned about how Jamie would take the crushing blow.

So he kept an eye on his son the rest of the day. Jamie was surprisingly composed, going riding, finding his old fishing rod and trimming it for his purposes. Will even caught him humming to himself at one point. If Jamie was so unmoved, Will felt comfortable approaching the boy over dinner.

The dining room was another of his mother’s projects. She had felt that food and companionship should be the centerpiece of any meal, so the rest of the room was remarkably free of the furbelows she favored elsewhere. The walls were plastered in white, the ceiling gray with white laurels at each corner. The mahogany table was generally draped in white and could easily seat thirty.

He and Jamie sat at one end, Will at the head and Jamie at his right. And by the way his son tucked into the first course, Will thought his stomach was also unaffected by the loss of his dream.

“Do you still plan on visiting all the neighbors?” he asked his son over a spoonful of mulligatawny soup.

Jamie nodded as he swallowed some of the curried mixture of chicken and vegetables. “I do. But first I promised Samantha I would help her with her family’s visit.”

So it was still about Samantha, and his son had not lost his desire to do the lady a service. Did he think to change her mind?

“I was under the impression Lady Everard needed no help,” Will said, testing the waters.

“She asked me specifically,” Jamie assured him, chest puffed out with the honor of it. “I intend to ride over in the morning early to see what she needs.”

“Then I’ll join you,” Will said, digging into the braised lamb his cook had sent up with the soup.

Jamie laid down his spoon and glared at Will. “Now, see here, Father. You’ve followed me about all day. Don’t think I didn’t notice. I’m not a wounded dove.”

Will kept the smile from his face and voice. “I should hope not.”

Jamie nodded as if satisfied he’d made his point, then picked up his spoon and set about emptying his bowl. “So there’s no need for you to trail after me all over Cumberland,” he insisted between mouthfuls. “I’m sure you have other matters to keep you busy.”

Will raised a brow as he set down his own fork. “Shunting me off in my old age, is that it?”

Jamie blushed. “I didn’t mean to disparage you. But I don’t need a tutor anymore. I can take care of myself.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” Will assured him. “But Lady Everard looked rather sorrowful when she left today, and I’d like to be certain there’s no enmity between our families.”

Jamie’s color fled, and his spoon stilled. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Will replied. “You honored her with an offer of marriage. Unfortunately that seemed to upset her more than anything else.”

Jamie sighed as he went after his lamb. “I don’t think it was my offer that upset her. She’s made up her mind not to marry, and she’s not likely to change it. I’ve seen that look in her eyes before.”

Will took the opening his son had offered. “Oh?” he asked, casually poking at his mashed potatoes.

“She can be very stubborn,” Jamie obligingly replied, pushing back in his chair. “If she thought something was right, there was no dissuading her it was wrong.” He glanced at the ceiling as if picturing her at a younger age. Will could imagine she had been a handful for her governess—all that energy and determination.

“I remember there was an old story about a troll living in our woods,” Jamie said, “and she set out to find it. I think I was about six then, so she would have been fourteen.”

“Old enough not to believe in trolls anymore,” Will mused.

Jamie shook his head. “Not her. She always loved believing in the impossible. She had me convinced she’d found the lair, that stone gamekeeper’s cottage about a mile from here. I never saw old Mr. Michaelson the same way again.” He shuddered for good measure.

Will chuckled. “He was my least favorite among your grandfather’s servants when I was your age. I was glad he’d retired and moved elsewhere by the time I returned.” He sobered and set aside his plate. “But I doubt it’s a troll in the woods that troubles Lady Everard now.”

“No,” Jamie agreed darkly, “and what’s troubling her isn’t likely to be resolved the way she’s going.” He pushed away a plate that had been thoroughly cleaned of food.

“Nothing you can do to help?” Will asked, reaching for his crystal glass, as if the topic held no more interest than their usual conversation.

Jamie snorted. “I tried. You heard her. She refused to marry me. How many more offers do you think she’ll get by the twenty-fifth?”

“The twenty-fifth?” Will seized on the date. “Why must she receive an offer of marriage by June twenty-fifth?”

Jamie clamped his mouth shut long enough to shake his head. “Sorry, Father. I’ve said too much. Please don’t press me or her for the matter. She won’t thank either of us for it.”

Will knew the matter was closed for the moment, but he could not be disheartened. He’d gained a bit of leverage to use when he spoke to Samantha Everard the next day. From his experience, the right leverage, applied correctly, could open the floodgates of information.

So he let the matter go then and insisted on joining Jamie in the morning. Together they rode to Dallsten Manor after breakfast. Though it was early to be paying calls by London standards, Will knew, Evendale ran on its own clock. Therefore he wasn’t surprised when they were ushered into the Dallsten Manor withdrawing room to find Mrs. Dallsten Walcott there ahead of them.

It was a decidedly feminine room, with walls that hinted of pink, and classical cameos peering down from the ceiling. The settee and chairs were edged with gilt, the hearth wrapped in white marble. He thought he caught the scent of roses in the air, even though their hostess was yet absent.

“Lord Kendrick,” Mrs. Dallsten Walcott chirped, hands behind the back of her gray-striped day dress. “Lord Wentworth. What a delightful surprise.”

Jamie and Will both bowed, but she made no move to sit, shifting from foot to foot as if anxious to escape their presence. “Lady Everard will be down shortly,” she promised, edging around them. “Please make yourselves comfortable.” Even as Will watched, she backed out the door. What was she doing? As chaperone it was her duty to stay and see to Lady Everard.

“She’s pocketing the goods again,” Jamie murmured as she disappeared from sight.

Will frowned at his son. “What are you talking about?”

He nodded to a rosewood table under the window, where an embroidered cloth showed the mark of something heavy. “There used to be a statue there, of David. I liked to look at it when I was a child. I’m guessing that’s what she had behind her back.”

Will stiffened. “She’s stealing from the house? Is she so lacking in funds?”

Jamie shrugged as if he’d never considered why one might take a priceless object. At that moment Samantha entered the room. Today she wore a plain blue dress with a delicate lace collar; the subdued garment only made her beauty more obvious. Her smile was as bright as usual, but as she ventured closer Will could see that shadows hung under her eyes. Whatever was troubling her had not been resolved, as Jamie had predicted.

“Good morning to you both,” she greeted them. “To what do I owe this honor?”

“You’d asked for help with the summer party,” Jamie reminded her. “We’re here to offer our support.”

Her gaze swung between the two of them and rested on Will. “Both of you?”

Will inclined his head and spread one arm. “Always willing to do a service for a lady.”

Her smile quirked. “How kind. And Jamie? You’re ready to be put to work in the schoolroom?”

He made a face. “If that’s what you need.”

Samantha laughed, a sound as welcome as spring rain. “It is, indeed. You know where it is. Would you go up and see if there’s anything missing we’d need to keep the young ones safe and entertained while they’re here?”

He nodded his agreement and glanced at Will.

“Go ahead,” Will encouraged him. “I’d like to speak to Lady Everard a moment.”

Jamie’s gaze narrowed in obvious warning, but he left the room.

Will turned to Samantha to find her regarding him nearly as warily. “Is there some problem, my lord?”

Will grimaced. “I thought we had agreed on Will.”

Her smile was sweet, but he felt the sting of her tart response. “Very well, Will. What do you need of me?”

“First,” he said, clasping his hands behind him, “Jamie seems to think there may be some items missing.”

She started. “Has he been in touch with Jerome? Were things taken from the London house after all?”

“You’ve had thefts in London as well?” Despite himself, Will dropped his hands and took a step forward. “When was this?”

She waved a hand. “Before I came north. But it sounds as if we’re talking at cross purposes. What thefts are you talking about?”

He nodded toward the empty table. “Here in Dallsten Manor.”

She looked at the table, then returned her gaze to him, cheeks brighter than her smile. “Oh, that. There is no need for concern. I am well aware of where those pieces have gone.”

Interesting. Was she trying to find a way to help the elderly lady without hurting her pride? Or was there some other reason for Mrs. Dallsten Walcott to take the pieces?

“And the things in London?” Will asked.

“Those are a different matter, which was most likely settled by me coming north. Was there anything else?”

She seemed in a decided hurry to get rid of him. He ought to take offense, but he couldn’t help thinking she was only trying to protect herself.

“I am not your enemy, you know,” he said softly. “Why are you so intent on refusing my help?”

She smiled sadly, as if she knew he would not like her answer. “Because I have no need for your help. Thank you again for your kindness. I’ll make sure Jamie gets home when he’s finished here.”

She was dismissing him. He hadn’t been dismissed since the bey of Bendigo had refused to free captives taken as slaves from a British caravan in the Sahara. Then Will had gathered a party of armed men and gone by cover of night to free the captives himself. Perhaps he ought to forgo diplomacy in this case as well. It wasn’t getting him very far.

“So you have everything in hand for the twenty-fifth,” he said, watching her.

She took a step back, and her head came up, skin tightening around her lovely lips. “Jamie told you. The rat! Oh, I could drop him off the pele tower!”

Given that his son had likely reached the top of the opposite tower, where the schoolroom lay, Will thought his heir was safe for the moment. From the fire in her eyes, he wasn’t as sure about his own safety.

“James is remarkably closemouthed when it comes to your secrets,” he assured her. “But he did let slip that the date was significant to you. Why?”

“It’s my birthday,” she said. “Silly of me to make so much of it, but what lady likes the thought of giving away her age?”

She wasn’t telling him the whole of it, he was certain. He was equally certain she would be a woman who would never have to worry about her age; she would only grow more lovely as the years went by.

He inclined his head. “Of course. Please forgive me. I assure you that James and I only wish to be of help. How can I convince you of that?”