Beastly Lords Collection

by Baily, Sydney Jane

  Why, that would practically brand her as Simon Devere’s mistress!

  Chapter Ten

  As if she had been invited to sup with the earl, Jenny dressed in her best day gown. After all, she was not going there today to work in the library as a bookkeeper. She decided to look like a visitor and not a tradeswoman.

  “Ooh,” Eleanor cooed when she entered the dining room where her family always sat since Ned had taken up residence in their parlor.

  Maisie looked up from her seat next to Eleanor and smiled. “You look as if you’re going courting.”

  Courting? Should she change into something more demure? Perhaps she looked too fetching, as if she had designs on Lord Lindsey. Or as if she enjoyed his long appraisals of her person.

  That was too outrageous to consider even for a moment!

  At the sideboard, she lifted the lid on each platter to see what Cook had laid out for the midday meal.

  Ned came in a moment later, and Jenny could feel the disapproval coming off of him in waves. Yet uncharacteristically, he said nothing, merely helping himself to coffee and sitting down.

  “Brother, aren’t you going to have some mutton pie?” Maisie asked, buttering a piece of bread.

  Ned ignored her, keeping his eyes trained on Jenny, who felt more ill at ease the longer she stood there. Quickly, she placed a piece of pie on her plate before ladling it with gravy and sitting down. As she reached for bread, Ned did the same.

  “After you,” he said, pulling his hand back.

  Jenny offered him a tight smile, which he did not return, and delicately grasped the last piece from the plate.

  “Eleanor, go tell Cook that we’ll need more bread.”

  “Don’t trouble yourself on my account,” Ned said.

  How odd! As if asking Cook for more bread was troubling. Yes, it would be lovely if they had a bell system in the cottage, but her father had never seen the need to have one installed. With the home’s rather compact size, calling for service was not a problem if you had a good set of lungs.

  “Maggie and my mother will be in soon, and I’m sure they’ll want some.”

  He nodded and sipped his coffee, and then he seemed to come to some decision. Jenny saw it the moment it happened as his expression was an open one.

  “When are you leaving?” Ned asked her.

  “Soon after I’ve finished eating. Why?”

  “I should like a private word with you before you go.”

  She had put her cousin off since the day he’d arrived, yet it seemed he was determined to make his declaration. Jenny was equally determined not to let him. She needed a distraction. Eleanor and Maisie were discussing ribbons, the merits of satin versus silk skirts, and other such nonsense. They were no help at all.

  Cook entered at that moment, giving Jenny time to think.

  “More bread, please.”

  The woman nodded and turned to leave. Stalling, Jenny stopped her with a question, “How is George?”

  Cook looked perplexed. “He’s fine, miss. Thank you for asking.”

  “And Thunder. Has George made any progress in that regard? With the horse, I mean?”

  Cook shrugged. “I don’t know, miss. Do you want me to fetch him?”

  Eleanor giggled, no doubt at the idea of their stable boy coming into the dining room during their meal.

  Jenny shook her head. “No, that’s fine. I’ll check with him later.” The woman must think her mad.

  At that instant, her mother and Maggie entered, each getting a plate of food before seating themselves.

  “My, don’t you look lovely,” Anne said. “As if you were at dinner during the Season.”

  Maggie fixed her with a knowing smirk, and Jenny wished she had stayed in her room until it was time to leave.

  “I’ve ordered more bread,” was her only comment, before she ate her pie in silence.

  Seeing her mother raise a questioning eyebrow, Jenny lowered her gaze and kept it firmly on her plate. Even with her mother opening The London Times that the housemaid had set by her place setting, and Maggie opening the Journal, Jenny was quite aware that Ned’s eyes were still upon her, waiting for a response.

  Sipping her coffee to wash down the last of the crust, Jenny finally returned his gaze. She wanted to tell him how rude he was to stare. Instead, she gave him the second polite smile of the morning.

  “Perhaps when I return, Cousin, for I have no desire to keep the earl waiting, not when he is, as you said, our benefactor.”

  Appearing resigned, Ned nodded. “As you wish. I’ll be here upon your return.”

  *

  When Jenny arrived at Belton, feeling strange in the absence of her abacus and satchel, she eschewed the servant’s entrance and went to the imposing front door. Mr. Binkley answered the bell, ushering her in.

  “Will you step into the drawing room for a moment, Miss Blackwood?”

  Wordlessly, she followed him into a cavernous chamber, the great room she remembered from her childhood. A drawing room, he called it. More like a ballroom! Certainly, one could fit a hundred guests in there easily.

  Glancing toward one end, she recalled precisely where the massive Christmas tree stood each year. In fact, she could picture Simon nearby, greeting people with boyish humor and a warm smile.

  Except for two sofas by the colossal marble fireplace and two wingchairs beside her, the room was blatantly empty, looking nothing like her memories of candles and musicians, holiday decorations and treats. Clearly, it had not been used in a long time.

  “I understand you discussed Lady Devere with his lordship.”

  Jenny blinked. She had not expected such a question, instead thinking she would hear immediately something about the withdrawal of the earl’s offer to pay for Maggie’s gowns and event tickets.

  “Yes.” Should she apologize? To the butler? “I didn’t realize that he was unaware of his cousin’s family living here. Until I told him.”

  “Yes, just so. There are a number of things that his lordship has not been told regarding changes that have occurred while he was away. The earl has been in an introspective state of near unresponsiveness since his return. There was no way you could know that, of course.”

  She stared hard at the admiral. It was not regular for a servant, indeed, an entire staff, to keep secrets from the master. Yet, she could understand how it might have been difficult to impart anything of great importance to a man sitting in the dark.

  “I see.”

  Mr. Binkley nodded. “Good.”

  She waited. What did the man wish to impart to her?

  “His lordship understood clearly when I told him about the sale of Jonling Hall,” she added into the awkward pause. She wondered if the butler had thought the earl was unsound. “Do you know that he wants me to tell him about the ledgers and the accounts?”

  “Yes, I’m aware. I think it extremely important that he knows everything, and I’m glad you will be explaining it to him.”

  What, then, was the hesitancy in the man’s voice?

  “Is there something amiss, Mr. Binkley?” Would he now mention her sisters’ fate?

  Very slowly and carefully, the butler spoke. “Lord Lindsey believes himself to be as yet Lord Devere.”

  Jenny frowned, mulling over the words for a moment. Then their import struck her.

  “Dear God!” she muttered before sitting down heavily in the closest brocade-covered, wingback chair. “He doesn’t know he is the current earl?”

  Mr. Binkley, hands clasped behind his back, shook his head.

  “You mean he doesn’t know his father passed away.”

  “Correct.”

  “And you wish me to be discreet and not mention it to him?” After all, there was no need for it to come up. They’d already had numerous conversations without any mention of his father at all.

  “In that, you would be precisely not correct.”

  She frowned, not liking his turn of phrase, and this was the second time the butler
had corrected her in the same manner.

  “His lordship reacts well to you. When Lord Lindsey returned from his captivity, he spoke little and gave very few orders. However, he was adamant that none of his friends or acquaintances be allowed into the manor. What’s more, he instructed me and the entire staff to leave him alone. I have overstepped my bounds and disobeyed his orders as much as possible, but you, Miss Blackwood, you have made him speak more than I have been able to in all these weeks. What’s more, he has actually requested your presence.”

  Jenny swallowed. “I believe he is not helping himself with the isolation nor especially with the darkness. Don’t you agree?”

  The butler seemed to move his weight from one foot to the other. “It is not for me to counteract the earl, but I do think a convalescence that included daily walks in the garden, weather permitting, and the company of others would do him good. Again, it is not for me to say.”

  “Then who? He has no family left here.”

  “You,” Mr. Binkley said. “I believe you can get him to come out of his room. And you must also explain that his father has passed away and that he is now the Earl of Lindsey.”

  “I must?” She stood, feeling agitated. “There is no must about it. We should send for his uncle. Surely, Lord James Devere should be the one to explain the circumstances to his nephew.”

  Mr. Binkley’s face twisted into a sour expression. “I sent word to Lord Devere directly upon my master’s return. I sent word again when I understood the extent of Lord Lindsey’s issues. Still, there has been no word from his uncle.”

  Jenny realized she was chewing on her lower lip. Her fingers were fiddling with the cloth of her skirts, and she sorely wished she had her abacus in her hands so she could slide the smooth beads back and forth.

  Mr. Binkley said nothing more, but fixed her with a stare worthy of Maggie’s nickname for him. Only an admiral who knew how to manipulate his troops could have such a half-pleading, half-demanding look. She’d never experienced anything quite like it!

  “I will endeavor to bring him outside,” she conceded.

  The butler still didn’t move.

  “I will find the right way to tell him of his father’s passing,” she added, feeling resentful at being pressured to handle this duty that really had nothing to do with her. She was used to doing whatever was necessary for her own family, but how on God’s green earth had she got herself mired in this mess?

  Mr. Binkley’s face remained passive, but his eyes crinkled in the corners and he nodded before bowing quite low, which she took to be an expression of his gratitude.

  “The earl is waiting,” he said, turning away as if she had been dawdling. Then he strode from the room, clearly expecting her to follow.

  Remaining silent as he led her upstairs to the earl’s chamber, she wished she had more time to gather her thoughts or even plan for how she would tell him.

  Mr. Binkley knocked on the chamber door, then, at his master’s response, he turned the brass knob, pushed the door open, and gestured for her to enter.

  After she stepped across the threshold, instead of leaving the door open as propriety dictated, the butler pulled it shut behind her.

  That small gesture caused her heart to pound. Simon Devere was waiting for her, standing by the window. When he turned at her entrance and saw the closed door, his eyebrows seemed to lift.

  No doubt he thought she’d done it. She dropped her gaze to the beautiful rug. How should she start?

  Coughing slightly as she realized her throat had closed up, Jenny wondered if she could ask for water and use the earl’s glass. Was there another glass in the room? There ought to be. What kind of chamber held only one glass? Obviously, the earl had not been entertaining, but still …

  Calm yourself, she ordered, wrenching her hands apart to stop from ringing them, then locked them behind her back in the style of the admiral.

  “You wished to see me?” she asked at last.

  “Yes.” Simon hesitated, glancing back toward the window, his gaze fixed on the world beyond. “I want to walk with you.”

  “You wish to walk with me?” Jenny repeated. “You summoned me here to walk with you?”

  Me, the last woman on earth whom you would marry? How she wished she was brave enough to add those words!

  “Summoned you?” He sounded puzzled. “I didn’t order you to come as if you had no choice to visit with me.”

  She smiled. “True enough, my lord. Still, it is not every day that one receives an invitation from the lord of the manor.”

  Nodding, he still looked uncertain. An air of trepidation surrounded him.

  “Will you walk with me? Outside,” he added.

  Oh, so this was more than a stroll through his chambers. And he wished to go outside.

  Fulfilling the first of the butler’s requests was going to be easy if the earl was willing. Yet, it didn’t sit right that he’d asked her back for this reason, not when she still felt the sting of his overheard words.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He tilted his head, considering.

  “Because I fear that I am hampering my recovery by recreating the environment of my captivity. That is, no sun, stagnant air, no long walks.”

  “You mistake me, my lord. I understood what you meant about going outside—and I wholeheartedly agree you should. I meant, why me in particular? Why don’t you walk with your valet? Or with Mr. Binkley?”

  “I do not wish to walk with my valet or my butler.” His expression softened. “I want to walk with a friend.”

  A friend. She hadn’t expected that. All at once, her heart contracted, thinking how she had her sisters and her mother if she needed companionship or comfort, whilst his lordship had no one.

  At her silence, the earl frowned. “I do have friends, Jenny. I was not always this way.” He spread his hands indicating his situation in the room. “However, none of them live close by. They are in London or abroad. I’ve had letters,” he admitted, “from those who wish to visit with me since my return. I have ignored them all.”

  “Perhaps it would do you good to write to them, even to share your experiences with those closest to you. And then, if you are up to it, let them visit.”

  She hoped she had not overstepped with her blunt advice. “I do not think isolation is good for you. In fact, I’m positive it is not.”

  Against all expectations, he smiled, ever so slightly. “That is why I wish to walk with you. Binkley would have remained silent on the topic of letters and friends, or said that I was doing the right thing, whatever it is that I am doing. Or not doing, for that matter, because he is a servant.”

  “You wish to walk with me because I don’t instantly defer to you or agree with you. Is that right?”

  “Exactly,” he said. “For that is how friends behave.”

  Apparently, even though he could never have a friendship with his servant, he could disparage her in an intimate discussion with Mr. Binkley. However, to help the earl, indeed to help the entire estate, she would push that petty thought out of her mind.

  “Very well.” Jenny was glad she wore sturdy ankle boots and not her fancy kidskin slippers. “Are you ready?”

  Simon looked startled. “What? Now?”

  “No time like the present.”

  “Would you care for tea first? Or sherry?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. Was the earl going to need her to literally push him out of doors?

  “My lord, I will wait for you in the front hall. I will wait five minutes by that splendid chiming clock I observed next to the main staircase.” She walked to his door before glancing back at him.

  Still, he hadn’t moved.

  “If you are not there after the minute hand has moved five times, then I shall depart.”

  He blinked, then nodded.

  “Do you have a valet?” Jenny asked him belatedly, for she’d not seen one, though she supposed that was not unusual. Many such grand houses had hidden passages for the s
ervants so they could serve almost invisibly.

  Again, he nodded.

  Jenny closed the door behind her and went directly to the front hall where her lightweight wrap and her reticule lay on the small tufted divan precisely as she’d left them. Slowly, while eyeing the pendulum of the grandfather clock, she donned her outerwear. Then she waited.

  Should she have stayed with him and urged him onward? Simply because the earl wanted to go out, that didn’t mean he could. Maybe …

  His footsteps on the landing captured her attention. He still wore what he was wearing when she had arrived, but he had added a coat, and boots now covered his stocking-clad feet. She had never seen him in boots or shoes for that matter. In fact, seeing him on his staircase, fully dressed and staring at her warily, he seemed far more imposing. He looked every bit the earl of the manor that he truly was.

  And for some reason, he wanted to walk with her.

  She swallowed.

  “I’m glad you made it on time.”

  “You have a sharp tongue.”

  “No, that is my sister, Maggie. I have a sharp brain.”

  “I think you have both,” he said, taking her arm just as Mr. Binkley appeared as if by magic and opened the front door for them.

  She noted the admiral’s hopeful yet wary expression. It mirrored what she felt inside.

  They got as far as the edge of the top step when the earl halted. Then he turned heel, taking her with him.

  The door that had already closed behind them reopened. Mr. Binkley now wore a resigned, defeated look.

  “My lord?” Jenny asked.

  “This is all wrong,” the earl muttered.

  “I don’t understand your meaning. You do see that this is your home and you’re in Sheffield, England, don’t you?”

  He looked down at her, frowning at her question.

  “Yes, of course. I am not in a delusional state at present, I assure you. I simply don’t want to walk out the front. The last time I went down those stairs, I got into a carriage and didn’t come back for three years.”