A Fragile Chain of Daisies: Flowers of the Aristocracy (Untamed Regency Book 4)

by Jackie Williams

  Madeleine wrung her hands.

  “How can I be happy with a man neither of us knows?”

  The earl gave a sudden smile, his eyes sparkling and giving a glimpse of the man she once knew. Her heart leapt. Was he about to tell her that this was all a horrible joke? But her hopes were dashed again when her father shook his head.

  “But I do know him. Do you think I wouldn’t check up on him before I suggested this plan? I believe he will suit you well. Your mother approved of him too.” He carried on as quizzical lines crossed her brow. “I instigated a meeting a few years ago while you were at Mrs. Twigs’ finishing school. Your mother and I were in Bath where she could take relief with the healing waters.” He ignored his daughter’s sudden gasp. “Madeleine, please listen to me. Derwent is not greedy. He is not digging for gold, or out for an easy life. The man is simply my only heir. He knows nothing of the money, for I wanted to test him and did not tell him of my fortune. And with that in mind he has worked hard to earn one of his own. He is in shipping and has increased his line considerably. He certainly hasn’t let the grass grow beneath his feet while waiting to come into his inheritance. I confess that I am impressed with his endeavours. With this damn illness taking my sanity and my sight, I have no choice but to see you settled. There is no one else worthy of you. This is my only option. Please give him a chance before you refuse him.” He pressed his fingers to his forehead again as if massaging away the ache.

  Madeleine searched her father’s pale blue eyes. Desperation mixed with sorrow and pain filled them. How could she refuse to meet the man who was to inherit her home? Though she already had a plan for her future in mind, meeting Benjamin Asher Derwent would appease her father, might gain her some time. Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

  “All right. I agree to meet him, but nothing more. I refuse to be forced into this marriage if we are incompatible in any way. I would rather live in a cottage in Clareton than be compelled into a partnership I don’t want.” She regarded the tense lines about her father’s mouth and eyes and gave a small sigh. “But if it will keep your headache at bay, then I will meet Benjamin Asher Derwent tomorrow. For tea.” She added as an afterthought. She didn’t want her father to think that he had everything his own way.

  Thomas Frederick Leyman stood outside his master’s study door and tried to breathe evenly. Married in five weeks! She was to be married off in five weeks. A band of white hot metal circled his heart and burned deep.

  He had never stood a chance. Not that he had expected to win her father’s approval, but ever since she had given him reading and writing lessons he had held onto a glimmer of hope.

  Thomas took a few steps back from the door, his chest heaving with the ache of crushed dreams and injured pride. He moved just in time, for the study door suddenly opened and Madeleine ran out. She barely raised her eyes as she hurried towards the stairs.

  He stood staring after her until the sound of her silk skirts faded and she disappeared without even a second glance back at him. Clenching his already tight jaw, he turned towards the study again. The heavy door had closed behind her. Slammed in his face. Another blow to his dignity. He almost turned away. The Earl could stuff his prized mare up his own arse! What did Thomas care if the foal died?

  He let out a sigh as he berated himself. Of course he cared. He loved the animals in his charge, even those that had not been born yet. His concern had been what led him to see the earl on this, the least favourable of nights. His personal problems and disappointments had to be put aside. He took a few more seconds to wallow in his own self pity before raising his knuckles to tap the door.

  His head snapped up and his hand remained poised in mid air as a narrower door opened to the left of him. Gertrude, the new chambermaid smiled boldly at him, her crooked, yellowing teeth and pointed nose reminding him of the rats he regularly chased away from the feed store.

  “Well, if it isn’t Thomas Leyman! And wot be you doing up at the house at this hour? Mr. Flack says his Lordship is not to be disturbed this evening.” She cast her dull brown eyes about the hall before sidling up close. “It be the anniversary of her Ladyship’s death, you know, and with this visitor arriving tomorrow, there will be no one checking on what we are doing tonight. You could come to my room right now. Just to talk, to get to know one another a little better. If you like,” she whispered as her sparse eyelashes fluttered up at him.

  Thomas raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the spidery display. And could that be the scent of cheap gin on her breath? He wasn’t immediately sure, but she took another step closer and he stopped breathing through his nose as she confirmed his suspicions. Her breast brushed his arm as she took a few steps around him. Did she have to be so obvious? He glanced about the hall, glad that no one else could see her display.

  “Not now, Gertrude. I am in rather a hurry.” He knew that he had set his own sights far too high, but he wasn’t about to become entangled. Not with the likes of her. He looked back at the study door and took a long stride towards it. “I have news for the master. It will not wait.” He rapped his knuckles on the dark panel, taking the easiest escape route from the woman, knowing that she might follow him if he simply left the hall.

  “Who in God’s name dares disturb me tonight? Haven’t I enough to put up with...” The muffled voice of the earl called impatiently from inside, but ignoring the irritated tones, Leyman turned the shining handle and walked in.

  The earl looked up blearily.

  “I thought I had asked not to be disturbed.” He grumbled as he reached for his glass of hastily poured brandy. The argument with Madeleine had upset him greatly. Stubborn girl. While he admired her independent spirit, he wished she had taken the news more gracefully. If only she knew that he might not last the five weeks he had given her. Doctor Finch’s prognosis hadn’t been nearly as favourable as that. He might not last the next five minutes, but Richard Derwent forced himself to hope and pray that he had not left things too late.

  He finished the glass in a gulp and poured another as he peered up at the trespasser who dared flout his rules. Thomas Leyman, his stable master, damn and blast the man! He never showed his face unless there was an insurmountable problem. Now the earl knew his head would really hurt.

  “Well, spit it out man. What is the reason for this intrusion?” Pain made his words harsher than intended, but he refused to take them back.

  Thomas glowered. He held the position of stable master, not that of a lackey.

  “The mare is foaling. It is taking longer than expected and she’s struggling. I might need help and thought you should be informed before I attempt to obtain it.” Thomas growled from between his still clamped jaw.

  Richard Derwent closed his eyes briefly as his head pulsed from inside. Milady had been his wife’s favourite mare. Another reminder of the three years he had spent alone. Damn it! Why did the bloody horse have to foal today of all days. Madeleine would be distraught if the animal died. He opened his eyes and stared at his stable master, noticing the man’s stiff shoulders and ticking jaw.

  “Is there something seriously wrong? You look more surly than normal.” He couldn’t help the angry tones, the day had been trying enough already with Madeleine disappearing for the whole afternoon, and his head ached fit to explode.

  Thomas frowned. Surly? The nerve of the man! The earl might be his employer and far above him in rank but it gave him no right to be offensive. Leyman’s temper flared.

  “It’s your bloody mare! And it was your idea to breed her. I thought you should be informed of the animal’s progress, but I can see that I have imposed at an inconvenient time. I’ll go back and ask the mare to stop being so awkward and foal on another day, shall I?”

  The Earl’s eyes widened in surprise at his man’s angry tones. Thomas Leyman might not be the easiest man to read but he could normally be relied on to hold his temper. Milady must be in dire difficulties for Leyman to speak in such a manner, but regardless of the horse’s predicament, outright d
isrespect could not be tolerated. The Earl stood slowly and leaned forwards.

  “How dare you speak to me in that tone! I have a good mind to send you on your way. Without references.” What am I saying? He closed his eyes for a moment as pain speared behind them. This damned sickness is making me lose my mind.

  Thomas drew in a breath. Was it an empty threat? He wasn’t sure. There had been rumours about Flack, the earl’s pompous butler being refused extra time off. A threat had been issued.

  The thought of leaving Claiborne suddenly filled Leyman with panic. His words had been offensive but his disappointed heart and angry tongue had spoken for him. His stomach clenched at the thought of never seeing Lady Madeleine again. He had to back down, to control his temper and make amends. There were still five weeks before she was lost to him forever. Anything might happen. And where there was still hope, there was a chance for him. He might even persuade her to run away with him. He bit back his anger as he crushed his hat in his hands.

  “I apologize, my Lord. I don’t know what came over me. I am simply worried about the horse. I know she is important to you.” He made his excuse, the only one he could give, as his gaze dropped to the floor.

  The earl sniffed, sat back down heavily and took another gulp of brandy, letting the mellow liquid ease the ache behind his eyes.

  “Well, yes, of course. You will have to forgive me also. You know what today’s date is? Yes, the anniversary of my wife’s death. I cannot tolerate being disturbed tonight of all nights. It has been bad enough with my daughter’s outburst.”

  Thomas watches as the man rubbed his temples and drank more deeply. He felt his heart throb. Outburst! As if being if being forced to marry a man you had never met wasn’t good enough reason for one. His anger grew unbidden.

  “You can hardly blame her, my Lord. I doubt I would want to be married off to someone I have never met either.” He regretted opening his mouth as soon as the words fell from it. Why couldn’t he keep his thoughts to himself? But it was too late to take them back. The earl appeared to swell, his face becoming a horrible shade of red.

  “Good God man! You were eavesdropping at the door! How dare you! My affairs are no business of yours! You know nothing of the matter and your opinion is both unwarranted and unwanted. Do what you must with the mare, but get out of my sight! And tell that idiot Flack to make sure no one else disturbs me this evening! I’ll sack anyone who does!” He suddenly picked up his now empty glass and threw it in the fireplace where it crashed into a tinkling of crystal shards.

  Thomas glared at Derwent for a few seconds longer, wondering if he dared speak again, but the earl stood up and swayed as he crossed the room to his drinks cabinet, fetching both a new bottle and glass.

  There would clearly be no talking to him tonight. Best save any further insults for when the man could appreciate them. Thomas turned on his heel and stormed from the study, almost crashing into the aforementioned Flack as he crossed the hall.

  The butler glared at him.

  “Was that raised voices and a glass I heard breaking? And what the devil are you doing in there anyway? His Lordship was not to be disturbed.”

  Thomas lifted his chin. He wasn’t about to be berated by any slack-jawed butler.

  “Yes, but you needn’t panic. He has already retrieved another glass. Another bottle of brandy too. And I know about his orders, but I had to speak to him about his mare. We have settled the matter and I will be on my way now. I won’t bother the household again tonight.” He made for the door under the stairs.

  Flack sniffed at the man’s retreating back and then glowered as he noticed the trail of muddy footprints across the polished wooden floor. Intensely annoyed, he reached out and rang the bell. After a short delay, a young woman came from the door beneath the stairs.

  “You rang, Mr. Flack?” She rubbed her hands down her apron as she bobbed the man a small curtsey.

  “This floor needs polishing. See that someone gets it done immediately.” He waved his hand towards the marks on the planking.

  The maid frowned and pressed her hands to her hips as her gaze followed his gesture.

  “But I only scrubbed and polished the floor this morning.” She glanced back towards the under stairs door and glared as she recalled almost being knocked over by an irate stable master. “Oh, I see! That Thomas Leyman walks about this house like he owns it! Traipsing filth from the stables all over the place. Like I don’t have a hundred other things to do! I’ve a good mind to...”

  Flack interrupted impatiently.

  “No one cares what you have mind to do or not, Mary. I dislike the man as much as you but his Lordship seems to have faith in him.” He thought about the raised voices he had heard, but instantly dismissed them. It was a bad day for his Lordship. The man took umbrage at anything on this anniversary. Not that he blamed Leyman for answering back. The earl had become more than a little infuriating recently. He almost wished he had been as brave as the errant stable master on the subject of his own sister’s funeral. But that was in the past and over with. There was no point in resentment now. And it wasn’t as if he was about to walk out. Claiborne was his home. He had lived there almost his whole life. He sniffed dismissively and glanced up and down Mary’s dusty apron. “Just see that the floor is cleaned again before dinner. Or ask Gertrude to do it as it appears that you are already busy.”

  Mary gave an irritated huff.

  “No point in even trying. Cook is already in a flap about our visitor tomorrow. She just sent Gertrude out to gather vegetables for tonight and tomorrow’s meals. And with Mrs. Grenfell on the war path over all the extra arrangements for Mr. Derwent, I suppose I’ll have to do the blasted floor again.” She turned tail and departed the way she came.

  Flack instantly forgot about her and walked across the hall to the drawing room. Mrs. Grenfell, the housekeeper could be over particular at normal times. With an important visitor about to arrive, Flack thought it prudent to make sure everything was in readiness. It wasn’t as if the earl or his daughter would use the drawing room again that night. The anniversary of the mistress’s death meant a quiet night for all, usually. He tilted his head as he heard noises behind the drawing room door. Was the woman moving the furniture? A smile played across his lips. Perhaps she might need some help. And he might be able to spend a few minutes alone with the alluring Tabitha Grenfell.

  About to turn the door handle, a sound in the hall had him turning on the threshold. Phillips, the master’s valet stood nervously at the bottom of the stairs.

  “I wondered if you had spoken to his Lordship. I don’t want to disturb him if he has left instructions with you.” The man shuffled from foot to foot, a nerve ticking at the corner of his eye, his agitation obvious.

  Flack nodded while almost sneering at the man. He never stopped sweating, shuffling, or twitching and rarely showed his face below stairs except to sneak a bottle of brandy from the study. Phillips refused to eat with the rest of the staff, only appearing for a few seconds each mealtime when he collected his tray before disappearing back to his own quarters next to the master’s suite. He probably thought no one knew of his weakness for spirits. It irritated the butler decidedly and he wondered how the earl put up with it. Flack knew he would have dismissed the man well before now.

  Not that it was any of his concern. The earl could employ whomsoever he pleased. Flack just wondered at the man’s choices. Take the new maid, and the two urchins from town. Gertrude was a simpleton, a hussy, out to grab any man she could, and even a few she couldn’t.

  Flack thought of the proud stable master. Gertrude had set her sights on him within minutes of seeing the fellow, but he was holding strong and not giving in to temptation. Not that the maid was any kind of temptation. The butler swallowed and shuddered as he thought of the woman’s sparse eyelashes and narrow face. And the twin boys were something else. Flack wasn’t sure what. The earl had taken them on in some kind of rush of charity after they had been caught scrumping apple
s the year before. Flack thought they both needed a good whipping, but after a tearful discussion with their widowed mother, the earl had decided they could work off the cost of their thievery. They simply hadn’t gone home since.

  Phillips’ nervous cough brought Flack from his reverie. He nodded back at the valet.

  “I will take the master his supper later. Not that I think he will eat it. He has apparently already finished one bottle of brandy. I doubt he will make it to his bed tonight. I’ll check up on him before I turn in, but I think it safe to say that you won’t be wanted again before the morn.”

  Phillips pranced some more and glanced anxiously at the closed study door before coming to some sort of decision.

  “I’ll take myself back to my room then. I have a book I want finish. I’ll come down for my own supper tray later.” He turned and made for the stairs.

  Deciding to check that no one else was about before he attempted to beguile Tabitha Grenfell, Flack walked back across the hall and opened the under stairs door, just as Mary came back with a scrubbing brush and a steaming bucket.

  Flack gave her a nod.

  “I’ll be back to check the floor in half an hour. See that it’s sparkling. Don’t forget that we have Mr. Derwent arriving for breakfast with the earl, and I am sure that we would all like to keep our jobs when the man eventually takes over.”

  “Don’t worry about that, Mr. Flack. I swear that you will be able to see your face in it by the time I finish.” Mary pushed up her sleeves, dropped down on her knees, and set to work.

  Thomas Leyman strode around the house, his temper still flaring, his heart still aching. Goddamn it! What had he been thinking? He shouldn’t have answered back. Shouldn’t have argued. The earl was ill. Thomas could see it if others couldn’t. Why would the man have given up riding, one of his pleasures, if there hadn’t been good cause? His daily visits to the stables had dwindled to perhaps one a month, and the man’s hands shook like autumn leaves still hanging onto a tree in a storm.