The Wayward Son

by Warfield, Caroline

  Much sunnier than the parlor, if every bit as dusty, the place would do for a breakfast room—and for dining, too. Unadorned walls and plain wooden floor gave it no pretense of beauty. More even than the rest of the house, this room felt devoid of life.

  Is that what’s eating you, Lucy? No sign of life?

  Agnes promised to join her, but there would be no tenants. No maids. No Andy and Johnny Thatcher cutting up my peace. No palace guard. No Rob. She thought it located far enough from Ashmead that she need never fear encountering him when he came to visit family—and she had no doubt he would—yet close enough that Emma and even Maddy, duchess she may be, could be persuaded to visit.

  She came around through the parlor again and out to the four-by-four square entryway. Dark and narrow, it lacked windows entirely. A stairway occupied one side, doors to the parlor and Lucy’s office two others. The estate agent stood in the doorway on the fourth side, hat in his hand. Lucy thought of the bank of windows overlooking the drive at Willowbrook and stiffened her spine. She couldn’t expect everything. This place would do.

  “A bit neglected, I know,” the man said. “As I explained, the will sat in the courts for a bit, but they’re ready to sell and anxious to do it. The price is fair.”

  Lucy didn’t answer. The price exceeded her expectation. She could do this, but it would mean hard work.

  “What do you think, Miss Whitaker?” the agent asked.

  “I think I best sleep on it, Mr. Green.”

  Weep on it more likely. But I’ll take it. Rob will sell Willowbrook and leave. I’ll have to take it.

  “Bring your father or brother over to view the place,” the agent said. “They’ll tell you. At this price, even in hard times, this sweet little property will sell.”

  “You’ve been kind, Mr. Green. I’ll bring the deposit in a day or two.”

  *

  That sunny morning Rob rose with resolution in his heart. He would ride to the dower house and ask Maddie to help him with a plan he worked out during the sleepless night, then settle things with Lucy. With luck, he’d be in London in a day or two with a glimmer of hope for a life with the stubborn woman of Willowbrook.

  He sauntered through the tap and dining rooms to the kitchen, snatched up a Chelsea bun and coffee, and joined Da in the bower by the river. Bird song reverberated up and down the banks, and the smell of honeysuckle surrounded them.

  “You look satisfied with yourself this morning,” his father said. From the looks of the old man, he found life a joy as well.

  “I am indeed. Maybe I’ll tell you why this evening.”

  Eli wandered out, still sleepy, coffee in hand, and the three sat in comfortable silence, content to let the birds praise the morning and the sun warm them.

  “Sorry to disturb your peace.” Gibbons strode purposefully into the bower and did just that.

  Rob rose at his approach. “Problems at Willowbrook?”

  “Not that we heard. The countess scampered again. I thought you’d want to hear it immediately.”

  “How the hell did she get away?” Rob frowned at his lieutenant.

  “Good question. The earl had few answers. She took those emeralds she wore yesterday, the rest of the contents of the safe in his study—and the same damned carriage.”

  “Back to her cousin’s?”

  “East this time. More likely Dover.” Gibbons met Rob’s eyes and let the words sink in.

  “You think he looked the other way,” Rob said.

  “You can’t blame him. It’ll be easier than spending the rest of his life watching his back and making sure she didn’t escape that dump in Northumberland,” Eli put in cheerfully.

  A few hours later, after an awkward conversation with his half-brother, in which David casually mentioned what a stroke of luck it was that he had moved most of the cash from the safe in his office to one hidden under the pavement in the estate office, Rob was certain of it.

  The earl, of course, admitted to nothing. He declined the use of Rob’s forces but sent two grooms off to retrieve the carriage, “from whichever port in which she abandons it.” In Rob’s opinion, the man looked too damned smug about the outcome. Still, as long as Willowbrook—and Lucy—were safe, David could do what he wished with his vile mother.

  When Rob changed the subject, David’s eyebrows rose. “You plan to ask Maddy to sponsor Lucy in a London season? Are you daft? I’ve never been able to convince either one to come.”

  “I imagine your mother’s presence was enough to put them off.”

  David allowed Rob’s point, agreed to house the two ladies at Caulfield House if they could be convinced, and walked him out to his horse. “Explain to me again what you hope to accomplish.”

  Rob grinned down at the earl. “I plan to court the woman. Properly. Show her the delights of the city—the respectable ones—and entice her with my charm.”

  David blinked. “Seems a complicated way to go at it. Maddy will have thoughts on that.”

  The duchess’s “thoughts,” left Rob’s ears ringing. “Daft” was the least of it.

  “Drat it, Maddy, just answer yes or no. Will you do it? With the countess gone, a season in London might do you good.”

  “If it comes to it, I will, but you might try talking to the woman, you foolish man.”

  Try talking to the woman… Da’s words and Maddy’s. “I’m on my way to Willowbrook to do just that. I needed my plan in place first.”

  “Your plan won’t get you far today. She isn’t there,” Maddy said.

  “What do you mean? Has she gone down to the Willow? Did I miss her?”

  “She drove over to Botkins to meet an estate agent about a property just north of there that has her interest.”

  “Property?” Rob felt like someone had smacked him over the head with shovel. His eyes wouldn’t focus, and his thoughts couldn’t.

  “She said it sounded ideal, with tall trees, space for her bees, and room for a garden. When you gave her access to the funds she put aside for the steward’s wages, she worked out a business plan.”

  “Lucy is purchasing a cottage.”

  “That’s what I said. As she planned.” Maddy bit her lower lip and let it sink in. Rob stared into the distance until she couldn’t take it any longer. “What do you plan to do about it, Robbie?”

  “I have no say. She can do what she wants.” He still stared.

  “True words, but are you certain you know what that is?”

  His gaze sharpened, and he peered at his sister. “No. I’m not. But I’m going to find out.”

  This time when he ran from Maddie’s house, he ran to something, not away from it.

  Chapter Forty

  Lucy lingered among the lilacs, blossoms long shriveled, that lined the front walk after Green drove away, staring at the cottage. My cottage…

  Words didn’t make it so, and emptiness threatened to overwhelm her. In the deepening afternoon shadows, no birds sang to lighten her mood. But it will be mine. I’ll feel at home once I have the deed. My own place. One no man can take away from me. Repeating those words didn’t make it so either. She had found everything she thought she wanted in this rambling old house and lush grounds, and still, it didn’t feel right.

  It will be home… That word rang the most hallow of all. Perhaps a name might sound more home-like. I could call it Honey House or Appletree Manor. Neither worked. The place was no manor. It would never be Willowbrook.

  The sound of a horse cantering up the lane caught her attention, and she watched a cloud of dust approach, illuminated from behind by the sun that had dropped low in the sky. The vision stopped in front of her, and Lucy blinked specks from her eyes. They misted over when the figure emerging from the cloud of light took shape.

  Rob swung down from the saddle and strode up to her, and her heart pounded, its pace as rapid as the beat of his horse’s gait.

  “What—that is, how did you find me?” Her shock gave her voice a breathless quality.

 
“I encountered a Mr. Green a mile back and asked if he’d seen a stubborn, self-sufficient woman looking for property. He directed me here.” The heat blazing in his eyes took her breath away. She could only gape.

  Rob broke eye contact and peered up at the upper windows of the house. “He said you needed your father or brother to have a look so you could make a decision.”

  “I need no such thing!” Outrage shook her out of her abstraction.

  “Is this what you want?” His gaze fixed on the house, moving from the loose shutter to the peeling paint over the doorway.

  “It has everything I need—room for a bee yard primarily. And apple trees. I could make a good life here.”

  “So Lady Madelyn told me.”

  “You spoke with Maddy about me?” That explained, at least, how he came to follow her.

  When he asked her to show him the grounds, she thought he must want to speak with her, but he walked at her side with his hands clasped behind his back, lost in his own thoughts, never saying a word.

  The clearing at the back of the property appeared lifeless now that she stood there with Rob. The utilitarian plainness of the cobbled space so lacked character that it could have served any purpose. “Green told me it was built to accommodate kennels, but I see no sign of them,” she murmured. “It will do for my hives.”

  He made a quiet sound that could have been assent. “Those fellows think so.” She squinted in the sunlight and followed where he pointed. Weeds peeping through cracks in the cobbles where they met the wall had bloomed. Two little honeybees gathered nectar from that unlikely source. Her smile almost reached her heart. “Resilient little beasts. They would thrive here.” She rubbed her knuckle to dab away moisture from the corner of her eye.

  Rob turned in a circle, scanning the little yard, the path through the trees, and the house beyond. “It isn’t Willowbrook,” he sighed, staring down the path.

  Lucy straightened her spine and wiped her hands together as if removing some non-existent dirt. “It is not and never will be. It will be its own world.” She walked past him into the shade of the trees, every sense aware when he followed her beneath branches heavy with fruit and redolent of apples.

  “You spoke with Maddy about me.”

  He stopped. “I asked her to bring you to London, to sponsor you,” he said.

  Confused, she turned to face him in the light-dabbled pathway. “Why would she do that?”

  “You could attend balls, parade in the parks, enjoy society—things ladies do. In Maddy’s company now, with the countess gone. David agreed to see to your expenses. Gowns and what not.”

  “David what?” Bafflement softened her outrage. “He can’t afford it. But why, Rob? Why their sudden urgency in puffing up an obscure Caulfield relative by marriage?”

  Rob blinked twice and glanced back down the path. “You can’t want this place. Wouldn’t you rather have Willowbrook?”

  There it is. He’s going to offer to hire me as steward. I can’t. He’ll come back now that he’s reconciled with the Bensons. Someday he’ll bring a wife. I would not be able to bear it.

  “Lucy, I’m serious. Would you prefer to have Willowbrook?”

  The man is talking in circles. “Of course, I love Willowbrook, but I won’t be your employee, Rob. I can’t. And what is this nonsense about London? Why would David suddenly take a notion to drag me there?”

  “So that I can court you properly.” As if blinders had been removed, the intense heat of his eyes returned to bore into her, creating a fire in the center of her chest that spread outward.

  “In London,” she sighed, taking in shallow breaths, trying to make sense of it.

  “My life is there, Lucy. I can’t live at Willowbrook, not full time.” Words flowed out of him now, as cider might pour from a jug when a cork had been removed. He described a townhouse. His house. In a neighborhood called Chelsea. “It isn’t Mayfair, but it’s pleasant and new. A good place for families. I think you would like it there if you would but come and see it. I’m only asking you to see London. To try it—with Maddy, of course. We could drive out, go to the theatre, have dinner like civilized folk now the threats are gone. We could—”

  Hope sprouted, spiraling upward like a vine in bud. Still, he confused her. “But Willowbrook? Aren’t you going to sell it? How can I stay there?”

  “Of course, I won’t sell it. I don’t need an employee—not housekeeper, not steward, not accountant—That is, we will, and I have some ideas how we might make use of your skills… Oh, damn it, Lucy. I’m going at this all wrong.” He ran his fingers through his glorious thick auburn hair. “Just try London. We can—”

  The buds of hope opened into full flower. “Are you proposing to me, Robert Benson? Because if you are, you’re making a muddle of it.” She stepped toward him and played with the buttons of his waistcoat.

  He caught her hands in his, raising first one and then the other to his lips. “I am if you’re ready to hear it. Willowbrook is yours. I’ll have Eli make it so for you and your children.”

  She stood on tiptoe until their mouths almost touched. She could feel his breath on hers. “My children? Will they be our children?”

  His arms came around her, tenderly holding her in place, and a slow smile blossomed on his face. “Yes, oh, yes,” he murmured, taking her mouth in a gentle exploration. When his kisses moved across her check and down her neck, he murmured. “So, will you come to London?”

  “No,” she breathed, distracted by the sensation he created.

  He set her on her feet, one hand on each shoulder, and gazed down, hurt and confusion pouring off him. “No?”

  Lucy smiled up at that daft man. “No. I won’t trundle off to London with Maddy and David. When I go to London, I’ll go as your wife.”

  A wolfish grin chased his shadows away, and he bent to kiss her again, but she stayed him with a hand. “But I’ll need to tend to Willowbrook regularly.”

  “We’ll spend summers in Ashmead,” he agreed, pulling her into his arms again.

  “And visit once a month,” she murmured, as he began to do interesting things with his tongue and her ear.

  “Quarterly,” he whispered, with a chuckle, blowing on the wet trail he left from ear to neck.

  “We’ll—” Lucy had no idea what she meant to say because Rob took her mouth with possession so fierce, she lost all coherent thought. She only knew she wanted more. She gave herself up to the feel of his mouth on hers, and the ministrations of his hands, lost in sensual bliss.

  Much later, she leaned against his shoulder as the pony trap, Khalija tied behind it, made its way back toward The Willow and the Rose. People there would, he assured her, be delirious over their news.

  When they turned onto the main road, Lucy sighed. “I know one person who’ll be disappointed.”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Green.”

  Laughter deep and rich rumbled up from inside him and reverberated through Lucy, calling for an answering joy. She knew she’d never tire of that sound.

  Epilogue

  The good folks of Ashmead flowed onto the lawn at Willowbrook to celebrate the wedding of their returning hero, Major Sir Robert Benson—whom all and sundry claimed to know as Robbie, the innkeeper’s son—and their own Miss Lucy. They joined the party from Caulfield Hall and the tenants of Willowbrook in a celebration that paid no mind to seating and little to rank and precedence.

  The celebration had disintegrated to that point where clusters of people formed and reformed, some still at the tables, some gathered on benches placed under the trees, some strolling together, laughter and conversation spilling over everywhere.

  David had insisted on giving the bride away at Saint Morwenna, but The Willow and the Rose claimed the right to provide the wedding breakfast, the remnants of which now lay scattered across the tables that had been placed about Willowbrook’s front lawn. Annie Morris and Agnes Spears had already begun clearing up the leftovers.

  In Rob’s opinio
n, the celebration, joyful though it was, had gone on long enough. After three weeks apart while banns were read and he mended fences with Viscount Rockford at Horse Guards, he wanted nothing so much as to get his bride alone and had begun to regret the decision to spend their wedding night in the same place as the celebration, which showed no signs of winding down.

  With half an ear, he listened to old Mrs. Dobbins, the grocer’s mother-in-law, profess profuse congratulations and spout embarrassing memories of his boyhood, while he watched his new wife deep in conversation with Emma and Maddy. Were the three of them conspiring for ways to keep their menfolk on their toes? Or were the married ladies preparing Lucy for her wedding night? If so, he devoutly hoped they promised pleasure, because that is what he intended to give her.

  He took a step in their direction, but his father waylaid him. The old man had a glow about him that hadn’t come entirely from the Willow’s ale, which continued to flow with abundance. “Is all well, Da?”

  “Never better, Robbie. You did well, son. I told you she just needed the right words.” If his father wanted to take credit for the success of Rob’s suit, he wasn’t entirely wrong. The old man went on. “It gives me joy to know you’ll be coming back here.”

  Whatever he meant to add was interrupted by Matt Corbin chasing David’s son, the little viscount, past them. Before the two men could pick up the thread of their words, two giggling little girls ran past, trailing their brothers.

  “You’ll be coming back and bringing more little ones to cut up my peace,” Da chuckled, his beaming face making it clear that would be no problem at all.

  Rob laughed out loud and clapped his father on his back. As Da moved on, Rob caught sight of David watching them from the corner of his eye. His brother stood with Lord Rockford, who had come up to Ashmead with Rob. David hadn’t missed what passed between Rob and his father, his face softened briefly into an expression Rob couldn’t identify before the earl turned back to his conversation. Odd that.