The Seduction of Mr. Yarnsby

by McQueen, Hildie

  “You already have plans today, Miss Vivian,” Mr. Yarnsby interjected.

  “I do?” Vivian met his gaze and immediately lowered hers to his mouth. Mortified, she quickly looked away.

  “We are to go bird-watching with my aunt.”

  The darned birds. She’d forgotten all about that. The man had her brain all muddled, and now, after the most unfortunate of incidents, she was to spend the afternoon out in the frigid cold with him.

  “I can’t wait to hear all about it,” Penelope said with an impish grin.

  Chapter 6

  “That is unexpected,” William said, leaning back in his chair. “Do you really think someone broke into your home?”

  Alex looked up from the ledgers he studied. “I am sure someone was in my house. I can’t prove it, really, but it’s a sense I have.”

  “How do you think someone entered your home undetected?”

  He shrugged. “If anyone came while I was away, the staff did not mention it. I am sure they would have.”

  Anxious for their annual holiday, it could have been possible that his butler had forgotten. But Harold had served the family since before Alex had been born, and in all those years, had not once left details unsaid.

  “I believe it happened after the staff left,” Alex said. “The question is why.”

  William looked up from the accounts he’d been studying. “Perhaps because they wish to find information as to where all the accounts are. Studying your father’s documents would be an easy way to find out.”

  A shiver of apprehension traveled down his spine. Whatever the siblings were planning, it could affect him greatly.

  Thankfully, upon his father’s death, he’d brought most of his father’s files and ledgers there to Lark’s Song so he and William could study them. He’d not left anything of importance at his house.

  “I must find a way to hide as much of my father’s money as possible.”

  His friend gave him a perplexed look. “Why would you do that? You are the only heir. They have no basis for their claim. They do not even have your father’s last name.”

  “They use it, father’s last name,” Alex replied.

  He blew out a breath. “Bedroom doors were open, items moved. Whoever came to my house was taking inventory. They did not take anything that I could tell, however. It was recently, in the last couple of days. It could have been when I was at Haven,” he said, referring to William’s parents’ estate.

  He had a bad feeling about the entire situation. The fact that nothing could be done until after the holidays was an annoyance. So far there was nothing in his father’s accounting ledgers that alerted him to more than normal business dealings.

  “There are regular payments to someone with the initials N.D. Do you know who it refers to?” Williams pushed the ledger toward him. “There, there, and there.” He pointed to the entries.

  The fifth of every month, a generous amount was logged as a deduction.

  Alex flipped open the ledger he’d been studying and found the same for the subsequent months. “Neither of them had a name that started with the letter N. Could it be their mother?”

  “I wouldn’t read too much into it until you can verify it. For now, let’s keep looking and prepare notes for the investigator.”

  It was only moments later that heightened voices alerted them to a visitor.

  William shook his head. “Mother is here. I presume she could not wait until you and Vivian came to her. She is most anxious to spend time with the Humphries ladies.”

  “I am to spend the afternoon bird-watching. It’s an activity I normally enjoy, however, today my mind will be preoccupied with all of this.” Alex motioned to the ledgers.

  When his friend chuckled, he looked up. “What is so funny?”

  “Are you certain that Vivian’s presence won’t draw your mind away from the ledgers?”

  Alex snorted. “I will admit to finding her rather alluring. However, I have pressing matters that require my full attention at the moment. No time for distractions.”

  “Ah,” William said, his gaze moving past him to the doorway. “I must agree. This is a pressing matter. One that should not be allowed to go on for long.”

  The prickling at the back of his neck made Alex rub it. “As soon as the holidays pass, I am going to the banks and then to see the inspector again.”

  When he walked into the front parlor, his eyebrows shot up at all of the paraphernalia strewn about the room.

  “What is all this?”

  His aunt hurried to him and kissed his cheeks. Although it was something she’d always done in greeting to both William and him, in front of Vivian and her sisters, it felt odd.

  “Alex, dear, you should know—you took them shopping.” The sparkle in Theresa Torrington’s eyes told him she found it amusing.

  From the looks of it, not only had Vivian purchased the spyglass and book, but also pencils, sketch books, journals, a rather peculiar-looking pair of boots, and what looked to be a walking stick. “I don’t remember that,” he said, pointing to the cane.

  “Most of the items we purchased were delivered later,” Penelope replied as Vivian continued studying the items.

  If they tried to carry half of the items, birds would be startled and fly away. Alex looked at the items. “All you require is the spyglasses, sturdy shoes, a warm coat, gloves, and perhaps a small notebook for notes.”

  Duchess Torrington gave a firm nod. “I agree. I used to carry my sketchbook but ended up finding it much too cumbersome.”

  “I will only take the small notebook and spyglasses, although I’m not sure what I’ll be looking at,” Vivian said, her cheeks pinkening.

  When Alex could finally drag his gaze away, he met his aunt’s knowing look. Her lips inched up, and he wanted to roll his eyes. “I will see about gathering my things. Ladies, we will leave promptly.”

  “Mr. Yarnsby,” Penelope started, only to stop when he held a hand up.

  “I insist you and your sister call me Alexander, or Alex. Whichever you prefer.”

  Penelope nodded. “Very well. Alexander. I will not be going, but I do wish to ask when you would be available to give me a tour of your home.”

  “How about the day after tomorrow? I must spend a day working on some business.”

  He had to smile at the young woman’s happy squeal.

  * * *

  “Are we to ride?” Vivian asked, unsure of where exactly one went to find birds. Just a few moments after leaving the house, and already her nose was cold.

  Duchess Torrington wore a dove-gray coat with a hood over her head. They’d insisted Vivian do the same so her red hair would not distract the avifauna, the word she’d learned from the book that referred to birds or fowl.

  “No, dear, we are going to walk from here. We have had wonderful luck in spotting many species just a few minutes’ walk toward the creek.”

  They continued onward, Alexander and Duchess Torrington speaking in low tones for the most part. It was interesting to see their rapport, the easy companionship that came from years of sharing a hobby.

  According to Clara, Duchess Torrington and Alexander had always birded together, while she and William played music and discussed literature. She was a wonderful mother who split her time evenly between her son and adopted son.

  When Alexander chuckled softly at something Duchess Torrington said, Vivian saw him in a different light.

  Unlike William, who was the silent, brooding type, Alexander seemed to have a more casual personality. Although he was quiet and perhaps a bit shy, when with his family, words flowed freely, and he seemed to enjoy telling stories.

  Just for a moment, Vivian felt a bit saddened that she was not part of their circle.

  “Come,” Duchess Torrington whispered, motioning for her to come near. “Look.”

  Vivian lifted her spyglasses to the branches of a nearby tree but could not see anything past the fogging of the lenses.

  “Try these,�
�� Alexander said in a hushed tone. He held up his to her face, and she peered through them. At first all she saw was the brown bark of the branches, then tilting her head up a bit, she caught sight of a beautiful bird.

  Sunlight reflected off its reddish feathers. The bird sat on a thin branch, its head moving side to side as it studied the surroundings. It was strange to see the small bird so close and it not know that someone observed.

  She lowered the glasses and looked to Alexander. Their gazes met for a moment before he lifted the glasses to his face and look up at the tree.

  “It is a male brambling,” Duchess Torrington said. “The female is just as beautiful, but her feathers are a more delicate color.”

  Alexander turned to them. “Should we continue on?”

  The continued for another hour, the time passing quickly as they took turns telling her stories of the adventures they’d had while birding. It became clear that although both did enjoy spotting a bird here and there, the outing was more about spending time together.

  “What is your favorite bird?” Vivian asked the duchess when they’d come to the edge of a creek.

  The woman’s lips curved, a dimple in her right cheek forming. “I believe the swan. Although I must admit to only seeing them in people’s gardens.”

  “What about the time we saw that hawfinch?” Alexander asked her.

  Duchess Torrington’s expression turned to one of awe. “That was a beautiful bird. I would have to agree, Alex. My favorite bird is the hawfinch.”

  Vivian made a mental note to look it up in her book. She turned to Alexander. “And yours?”

  “The nightingale,” her companions replied together, and the duchess laughed. “He has loved the nightingale since he was a little boy. I think it's the bird’s beautiful song that captured Alex’s heart.”

  The wind picked up, and Vivian trembled from the cold. Thankfully, they decided to head back. Duchess Torrington threaded her arm through Vivian’s. “I hope we didn’t bore you too much, dear.”

  “Quite the opposite,” Vivian replied, meaning it. “I may have found a hobby that I enjoy.”

  Lark’s Song came into view, reminding Vivian of what Penelope had said the night before. “Do you prefer to live here or in London?”

  Duchess Torrington spoke with a light smile. “If given the choice of where to remain, I would always pick Berkhamsted. London, although vibrant and full of activity, is good for short spurts. Here, life is slower, and each day can be savored.”

  “What do you think, Miss Vivian? Would you be able to live here?” Alexander asked.

  She studied his face for a long moment, assessing what he thought, but he did not show any expression. Tilting her head, Vivian considered what exactly she felt at the moment.

  If every day were to be like that one, she would not have any qualms in remaining there. Her answer was different.

  “I must admit having done more enjoyable things here than I usually do in London. Is it the exception or the rule to keep busy?” She continued. “How often do you eat together, go birding, or do other family activities?” Vivian did her best to keep a critical tone from her voice, but she wasn’t sure she had achieved it.

  It was Alexander who replied. “I would say we have dinner as a group about three times a week. At least once a week, someone from another estate or London joins us. My aunt and I are sometimes joined by the duke or William for our weekly walks.”

  “There is more time for such things here,” Duchess Torrington said. “We do not have the many social obligations of society. Although we’re often invited to things here and there, it is never because of our station, but because of friendship.”

  The reply surprised her; she’d not expected for there to be such a vibrant existence in the countryside. When her family reposed to their small country home, it was for a month or two of long days, where the most exciting thing they did was go for walks. Admittedly, her mother did go to neighboring homes ever so often for tea.

  Upon nearing Lark’s Song, Duchess Torrington hurried through the gate. “I look forward to a warm drink.”

  Alexander placed a hand on Vivian’s arm, slowing her, and she looked up at him. “Is there something wrong?”

  “You didn’t answer the question.” It was hard to tell if he jested as his expression was unreadable.

  She considered her reply. “If I had to live here, I think it would be enjoyable. My sister is here, and I adore the duchess.”

  Just as he took a step, she spoke again. “Why do you ask?”

  “I am curious. You are hard to read.”

  The honesty of his reply made her eyebrows lift. “I can say the same about you, Alexander. Perhaps it is that we do not know each other well enough.”

  His brows lowered. “I am usually very good at assessing people’s thoughts.”

  Vivian studied him for a moment. “I present a challenge, then?” Purposefully ensuring a blank expression, she met his gaze. “Interesting.” Deciding it was a fun game, she hurried after Duchess Torrington.

  Alexander and William played chess, and Penelope pretended to read while she and Clara discussed the upcoming Twelfth Night celebration at the Torringtons’.

  “Mother and Father should be arriving tomorrow,” Clara said, peering at the paper where Vivian was writing notes.

  “We should invite the Fosters for dinner,” Clara remarked and continued. “Mother will adore Mrs. Foster. They have much in common.”

  Vivian hadn’t the opportunity to speak to the woman, and although she seemed pleasant enough, she’d not smiled even once.

  “Are you certain? She didn’t seem particularly friendly.” Vivian slid a look toward Alexander and William. “Are they friends with Anthony Foster?”

  Her sister nodded. “They are acquaintances.” She let out a breath. “Mrs. Foster is a patron of roses and runs a local group of gardeners. You know how much Mother adores roses.”

  “That could be something,” Vivian reluctantly admitted.

  * * *

  The carriage ride to Alexander’s estate was two hours long. Vivian, Penelope, and Mary were in the carriage. Somehow, probably Penelope’s doing, Vivian ended up sitting next to Alexander. She did her best to ensure enough distance so that their legs would not touch.

  “High-society members would pay an eyetooth to stay in a beautiful country estate. They can host large gatherings there…” Penelope exclaimed. She’d talked nonstop, listing different ways Alexander could deal with his large home.

  The entire time, Alexander listened, patiently not interrupting. “I plan to live in the house permanently,” he informed Penelope, who pouted.

  Her sister, for some reason, would not give up the idea of Alexander being some sort of host.

  “All alone in such a large home. It seems a pity not to share the space,” her sister insisted.

  Vivian decided to rescue him. “Penelope, those kinds of…ventures are for the unfortunate sorts who cannot afford to keep a property.”

  “We have arrived.” There was a hint of pride in his voice, and upon peering out of the carriage, Vivian understood why. Her breath caught as she gaped at the immense home. The gray house was lovely.

  It was hard to tell if it was empty or not. The only hint that someone was about was a cart and horse beside what she assumed was the servants’ entrance.

  “My goodness,” Penelope gasped, looking out. “It’s huge.”

  Vivian smiled.

  Within moments, they pulled up to the front door, and the coachman opened the door to allow them out.

  They were greeted by an older man dressed as if he’d been doing some manual work. In only a shirt and trousers, he looked flustered as if not expecting company.

  “Mr. Alexander, I apologize for my attire,” he stuttered.

  Alexander waved his concerns away. “Do not worry yourself, Harold. You are on holiday, and therefore I beg that you carry on with whatever it is you are doing and ignore us.”

  The man�
��s gaze darted to her and Penelope, and he bowed at the waist. Finally, with what looked to be great reluctance, he backed away and hurried off.

  “Poor man,” Penelope commented. “Who is he?”

  “Harold. He and his wife have worked for my family for a very long time,” Alexander replied. “Other than His Grace, Harold has been the solidest force in my life.”

  Upon entering the mansion, a grand foyer once again struck them speechless. Their shoes echoed on the marble floors as they walked to a circular design in the center. On both sides of where they stood, stairways formed a semicircle. The rounded bannisters were a dark-colored stone.

  Vivian itched to run up the stairs and begin exploring, however, propriety held her in place. She gazed down the hallway to the left, which seemed to go to a library. To the right, the door was closed.

  A woman came from a side corridor. “I am sorry Sir, I wasn’t aware you were here.”

  “Ladies, this is Moira, Harold’s wife. She is the estate housekeeper, who should be at home resting.”

  Moira gave him an endearing look. “I will prepare some tea.”

  Vivian’s companion, Mary, went with her.

  “We will start with this floor,” Alexander said, looking to the right and then down. “This way.” He opened the door and led them through. It was a dim room that looked to be a study of sorts.

  The room looked as if it had been uninhabited for many months. It wasn’t dusty or dirty, but by the lack of fresh air, no one went in there.

  “This was my father’s study,” Alexander explained and looked to the desk. “I prefer to work in the solarium.”

  “Better lighting?” Vivian asked as she walked closer to a family portrait. A younger version of Alexander peered outward, a rather amused expression on his face. His father and mother seemed to not be as entertained. “You favor your father,” she said. “The same eyes and nose.”

  Penelope came to stand next to her. “I’ve seen your mother in London. She attended a social meeting hosted by Lady Barrow.”