“You there, what are you doing?” Lind called.
The man emerged from his hiding spot, brushing a few stray twigs from his sleeves. He was dressed as a typical country gentleman in well-tailored buckskins tucked into Hessians. The breeze whipped the points of his lapels into his face. An even-featured face that society ladies might even term handsome. Something about it triggered Lind’s memory, but not well enough that he could call a name to mind.
“My lord,” the man said.
“Have we met?”
“I don’t believe so, my lord.” The stranger pulled out a hat, and set it over his curled mane. Lord Byron had nothing on this man’s foppish locks.
Lind sat back in the saddle. He ought to dismount, but he’d be damned if he’d ask this stranger to give him a leg up once he’d determined the other man’s business. “Clearly, you know to address me as a titled gentleman.”
“A lucky guess, given your dress and bearing, I assure you.” He tugged at the ends of his sleeves. “And am I to assume you are the master of this estate?”
“Indeed, which means you ought to explain why I find you skulking on my property.”
The stranger’s smile was polished and well oiled enough to smooth his way past any obstacle. “I meant no harm by it, I assure you.”
Any obstacle but Lind. “Perhaps you ought to give me your name and tell me why you were paying such close attention to my governess.”
“Oh, was that your governess?” He glanced over his shoulder, as if to make certain said governess was out of sight. “My, my, how Miss Sanford has come down in the world.”
“Come down in the world?” Lind echoed faintly. His voice might have sounded low and calm, but within him, something seethed to life, something akin to a dragon that wanted to burn everything in sight. Or at least tear this stranger apart. He didn’t stop to consider why. “What are you talking about? Who the hell are you?”
The man smiled, and brushed a dry leaf from his lapel. “Someone who clearly knows more about Miss Sanford than you do.”
“However well dressed you might be, you, sir, are trespassing on my property.” Lind nudged Judas forward, crowding the stranger. The urge to ride him down rolled through Lind, hot and wild, but he suppressed it. For now.
Maintain a firm grip on his emotions. Let nothing show beyond cold calculation. The army had taught him that much. Still, it felt good to be able to demonstrate the threat.
“My, my, one wouldn’t think you, of all people, would hire one such as her. You’ve already got enough scandal attached to your name.”
The beast within lashed its tail and prepared a fireball. Not yet. As long as Lind controlled his anger, he controlled the situation. “Either tell me who you are or be gone with your insinuations.”
“I’d be happy to go on my way. Except Miss Sanford has something of mine, something I’d like returned.”
“Are you implying she’s a thief?”
“I might at that. I can see she’s already got you wrapped around her little finger as tight as it can go. Or perhaps it’s her hand wrapped about your—”
Lind emitted a growl, and Judas shuffled forward several steps until the stranger stood pinned against the hedge that lined the path. “Accusations such as yours demand proof. Unless you show me some, you can get off my property.”
The man laughed low and long. “No, I’ll wager you haven’t taken her to bed yet. You’re far too eager. Not to mention overprotective. It’s very charming. Women love that. You ought to save it for when she can see it. Funny, though.” He rubbed his chin while looking Lind over, from the top of his hat to the toes of his Hessians. “You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys pain. But in the event you are, Miss Sanford is quite talented at delivering.”
“What the devil does that mean?” His grip on himself was slipping like the reins through his fingers. It wouldn’t take much more to dig his heels into Judas’s flanks and allow the horse to take the bit. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t ride you down where you stand.”
“Because that would hardly be sporting of you.” Despite his precarious position, the stranger maintained a cheerful enough tone. “You might wish to save the dramatics for Miss Sanford. It could help your case. As for explaining myself, I’d love to, only I don’t imagine you’d be willing to sit down and offer me a drink between gentlemen.”
“I would have if you’d gone about your business differently. Now the only thing I want to see is the back of you. And if I ever catch you skulking about my property again, I’ll have you before the magistrate. In fact, I still might.”
“Just do me one small service, and I shall never darken your door again. Tell Miss Sanford that Mr. Eversham still wants his ring. Other than that, enjoy her. I certainly did.”
Chapter Fourteen
“I cannot believe you walked all that way.” Cecelia closed the door to the nursery, leaned against it, arms crossed, and smiled. “I am quite exhausted. What do you say we send for some refreshment?”
Jeremy returned her smile in a tired sort of way. He looked ready to collapse on the spot, but he also looked satisfied. He hadn’t fallen once, although he had held her hand the entire walk back. If she made him exercise on a daily basis, he just might gain in coordination. He’d certainly increase in strength. There might be some benefit in introducing him to the concept of pedestrianism.
“And while we’re waiting, you might sit and write out your letters for me.”
Shockingly, he didn’t even protest this notion. He dutifully sat at the small table, and picked up the slate she’d found for him. “A, B, C,” he muttered while tracing each of the letters in turn.
She watched him concentrate on his work, the tip of his tongue poking from one corner of his mouth while he carefully placed each line and curve. The letters still wobbled, but he’d definitely improved since his first attempts. “You just keep on as you’ve begun, and when our tea arrives, I might read to you while you eat.”
He nodded and kept writing, the picture of the model student. Who would have thought this was the same boy all the London-trained agency governesses had given up on? They must have taken one look at him and considered him unable to learn. Well, perhaps Miss Crump hadn’t, but she also hadn’t been given the chance to teach him what Lind wanted. For that matter, Lind may never have given the others a fair chance, either, but somehow Cecelia had been fortunate. She’d latched onto the things Jeremy liked and so caught his attention.
Once she’d gained that much, it was a simple question of acquaintance. That and treating him just like any other boy, even if he wasn’t, quite.
He looked up from his work. “Do you think we might play with Emmy again another time?”
Oh dear. “I don’t quite know. She wasn’t supposed to come up here, and we don’t have any convenient way of sending an invitation.” Assuming Mrs. Powell could read.
“I liked having someone to play with.”
Goodness, his delight had shone through. And maybe that also had something to do with his progress. With Emmy, he’d seen another child his age struggle. Her difficulties had proven he wasn’t alone, that even children who didn’t have trouble walking might not pick up a new game so easily. “Once you’re used to riding your pony, we might head in that direction. And maybe if Mrs. Powell can spare Emmy for a while, she might join us.”
“Do you think Emmy would like to learn her letters and to read?”
“She might. We’ll have to wait and see.” Whether Lindenhurst would allow one of his tenants’ children to join Jeremy’s lessons was another question. “I also have two nieces about your age. We could see about inviting them for a visit. For now, why don’t I see if tea’s on its way?”
She darted into the passage and headed for the stairs. The thump of heavy booted feet punctuated with the crack of a walking stick on the parquet echoed up the stairwell. From the foyer two floors below rose the sound of incoherent orders, followed by the patter of feet scattering in sever
al directions at once. Wonderful. The lord of the manor had returned.
From the sound of things, he was in a dreadful mood.
The rhythmic footsteps on the stairs came closer. Before long Mrs. Carstairs appeared panting on the landing. “His lordship would like to see you immediately.”
The housekeeper’s scowl practically added, He’d better not have found out what I’ve told you.
Goodness, what could Lind want? Could he have possibly found out she’d taken Jeremy along the forbidden shortcut, not once but twice? No matter, she had a perfectly good explanation. Surely he’d understand once he’d heard it. And now that Jeremy had his pony, they’d never have to resort to using the footpath again.
“Certainly. I’ll be right down. Can you make sure Jeremy’s tea is served as soon as possible? He’s had a rather adventurous afternoon.”
She pushed past Mrs. Carstairs, who shadowed her every footstep back to the ground floor. The passage and foyer were empty, both of Lind and of servants.
“No doubt he’s in his study,” Mrs. Carstairs said from behind her. “That’s where he always does his business, both the hiring and the sacking.”
“Good heavens, I haven’t given him reason to turn me out.” If she kept telling herself that, she might even come to believe it. Although where Lind was concerned, he might not need a reason. “I’ve fulfilled his every requirement so far.”
“You’ve also been poking your nose into places it doesn’t belong,” Mrs. Carstairs replied huffily. She didn’t bother lowering her voice, either, almost as if she wanted Lind to overhear.
Cecelia raised her chin. “We’ll just see about that. In any case, it isn’t for you to decide.”
“No, it’s not, but no matter. You’ll find out soon enough. Now, off with you. His lordship doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Cecelia straightened her spine. She might as well hold her head high and sail in as though nothing was amiss. Because nothing was amiss. Things were going perfectly swimmingly, and as long as she kept reminding herself as much, they would continue to do so.
She pushed open the door to Lind’s study. “You wished to see me?”
He sat behind his desk, tapping the tips of his fingers together in a rhythmic motion. A young lady at a ball impatient for her first waltz might have tapped her toe in the same cadence. He nodded toward the chair facing his desk. The very same hard wooden affair she’d occupied during her interview.
“Please sit.” His voice betrayed not the slightest hint of emotion. Somehow that fact made her heart rate pick up.
“Have I done something to displease you?” she asked as much to fill the tense silence as anything. It was best to get straight to the point so they could move on.
“Something?” he said lightly, like a man exchanging banter over a cup of tea with the young miss he was pursuing. “Something implies just one thing. You, Miss Sanford, have done several.”
Here it came. He was about to call her out for her behavior last night. “Indeed? And what might those be?”
“I saw a funny thing when I was out riding today.” Still that tone laced with nonchalance. If he’d held a watercress sandwich in his hand, he would have taken a bite.
“I cannot imagine what.” She held in a breath of relief that his issue had nothing to do with the previous evening. At the same time, she suppressed an urge to ring for the tea cart. If they were going to draw this out and pretend to be civil, why not include all the trappings?
“I’m sure you can if you stretch your imagination. Because I saw you and the boy emerge from the path on the opposite side of the pond.”
“Well, yes. Jeremy is too small to manage the long walk around the woods, and we had to see Emmy Powell home.” She folded her hands and graced him with her brightest smile. “I believe those are what are known as extenuating circumstances.”
He began that infernal tapping once more. “When I hired you, I had a condition. Now, what was it? Oh, yes. Stay away from the pond.”
“I shall keep that in mind the next time. Would you like to lend me pen and paper so I can note it down? Make the boy walk twice as far as he needs to, especially given the weakened state of his legs.” Cheeky of her indeed, but if he was going to turn her out, she might as well deserve it wholeheartedly. “You might give me a proper explanation of just why I should avoid that particular spot. As I recall, it’s an old favorite of yours.”
He pounded a fist on his desk. “That will do. It is not for you to question my orders. It is for you to obey them.”
She straightened in her chair, the closest she could come at snapping to attention. “Yes, sir.”
His brows lowered, menacing as a storm cloud on the horizon. “There’s a term for your behavior. It is known as insubordination. In the army, it would have you up before a court-martial.”
“It’s a good thing I’ve never enlisted, then, isn’t it?”
A muscle ticked in his cheek. “I might be convinced to overlook today’s transgressions, only there was another condition set on your employment here. Do you recall what it was?”
“I seem to recall several.” She made a show of inspecting her nails. “You asked me to be staunchly loyal, unquestioningly obedient, and possess impeccable morals.”
“Indeed. Can you claim with any degree of honesty that you’ve fulfilled those requirements?”
“I might concede on the obedience issue.” She bolted out of her seat and placed both palms flat upon his desk. “But since my arrival here, I’ve done nothing to sully my reputation.”
Again that quiver in his cheek, and if she listened closely enough, she just might hear his teeth grinding. “Not for want of trying.”
There it was. The reference to last night.
“Allow me to amend my statement. I’ve done nothing that you haven’t been a party to.”
He leaned forward in his seat, meeting her halfway across the desk. “And before I hired you? Can you vouch for a spotless reputation then?”
She forced herself to return his stare. “You must know I cannot possibly answer that question in a way that will satisfy you. I can lie or I can remind you of what I already hinted at last night.”
“Then would you like to explain who this Mr. Eversham fellow is?” He forced the question through tight lips. “He claims you’ve stolen something of his, and he wants it back.”
A cold finger traced down her spine, raising gooseflesh all over. Eversham. Her stomach churned. How on earth had Lind met the man? And how much detail had Eversham given him? Whatever had almost transpired in Lind’s bedchamber last night, she’d done far worse things with Eversham.
Still, she must brazen this out. “What does he claim I’ve stolen?” She gave a harsh laugh. Since the last thing she felt was mirth, it sounded convincing. “Surely not something so trite as his heart.”
Lind narrowed his eyes. Not a good sign, that. It meant he was buying her story, yes, but perhaps too well. “He mentioned a ring.”
“Is he still going on about that after all this time?” She might have known he’d bring that up, after the note he sent her. “If he wishes to accuse me of thievery—if he had evidence of a crime—why has he waited three years to come forward?” She had taken it from him, as insurance, a trinket she might sell if she came to desperate enough straits.
He settled back, but only slightly. “Then you still have it, and you can restore it to him.”
“As a point of fact, I do not. Since Eversham took it himself, I considered myself free to do with it as I pleased.”
The corners of Lind’s mouth turned down. “And what did you do with it?”
“I restored it to its rightful owner, naturally.” As soon as she discovered who that was, through coincidence, or so she thought at first. “And he was quite pleased to get it back, I might add.”
“That does not absolve you or your reputation,” he spat. A flush of red crept up his neck to his cheeks. “If you were close enough to a gentleman to be aware of t
he ring’s provenance, that implies a certain intimacy…”
“Which is none of your affair, and it didn’t stop Anstruther from making me an offer.” Only because he hadn’t known her true history at the time. He only found out once she’d restored his ring to him.
“And yet you are not married to him. What happened there?”
Far too much, none of which she could safely divulge. And Eversham was involved in that debacle, as well. “Nothing I can disclose without bringing certain unsavory facts to light. Not about me,” she added before Lind could explode. “I dare not impugn the name of anyone so upstanding as Anstruther.”
His reputation for upholding the strictest moral code was the very reason she’d pursued a man nearly twice her age. She’d hoped his good name might protect hers. How wrong she’d been.
The pattern on a set of Anstruther’s cuff links had tipped her off; they matched the ring she’d taken from Eversham. He ought to have been elated about the return of a valuable trinket. On the contrary, he’d made the connection to an unsavory character, but so did she.
Anstruther had been hiding certain proclivities that Eversham had been all too happy to indulge. The ring would have served as concrete proof of their association should Eversham decide Anstruther might cough up some necessary funds.
Cecelia and Anstruther might yet have formed an alliance over their mutual secret but for the whispers that had circulated about her. Unable to support the barest hint of scandal, Anstruther had sent her back to her family in shame. Oh, he’d been kind enough to allow her to be the one to end the engagement publicly, but that was the extent of his magnanimity.
There went Lind’s eyebrow. “And why should I believe a word of this? Anstruther has the cleanest reputation of any gentleman you might name. Hell, your own brother fairly worshipped the ground the man trod on.”
What a Lady Demands Page 14
