THE LEGEND OF NIMWAY HALL: 1888 - ALEXANDRA

by Victoria Alexander

  “Is he?” Alex shrugged. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  “You’ve gone blind, then.”

  “Just help me with the dress.” Alex huffed. Patience had never been one of her virtues.

  It scarcely mattered whether the man was handsome or not. Nor did it matter if his smile did seem genuine or how much money he had. Alex was not in the market for a husband. Not anymore.

  It wasn’t as if she didn’t wish to be married—she did. But she wanted true love as well, and the only way to prove true love was by the appearance of the magic orb that—according to family legend—appeared whenever it was needed to nudge a descendent of Merlin and Nimue toward the right match. That ancestry, too, was a part of family heritage. The orb was said to be an oval moonstone about the size of a woman’s closed fist, cradled in a gold setting that resembled a dragon’s claw. Mother had seen it when she’d met Father, although she rarely spoke of it. Aunt Viv, Mother’s younger sister, had never seen the orb, and while she had seemed content in her two marriages that had left her a wealthy widow, she would on occasion mention how, even though she had cared deeply for both husbands, she had never known the kind of grand passion that true love inspired. Perhaps if the orb had appeared to her, all would have been different. But apparently, the orb’s appearance depended entirely on the right man.

  Alex had counted on that when she’d fancied herself in love five years ago with Philip, Viscount Rexford, son of the Earl of Fordham. She’d met Philip in London during her coming-out season. Viv had insisted she have a season, and Mother had thought it a good idea, as appropriate prospective husbands were few and far between in Somerset. Philip was dashing and handsome and wealthy and seemed rather perfect. Mother and Father approved, and Alex had agreed to marry him, confident the orb would appear at any minute, for surely Philip was her perfect match. Even though the orb had not made an appearance as their wedding day approached, Alex refused to doubt her choice.

  Besides, when Alex married, Mother would turn over Nimway to her, and she would become the new guardian, just as previous generations of mothers had passed on the reins of Nimway to their daughters. It was Alex’s destiny, and she had the small orb-shaped birthmark on her hip to prove it. And at the age of nineteen, she was more than ready to be the next guardian.

  In spite of all of Philip’s sterling qualities, there was nothing he liked so much as wagering on cards or horses or any number of other things. It struck Alex as a harmless pastime and a part of his nature one could overlook. Although as it turned out, what her fiancé had liked even more than gambling was women. The day before their wedding, with his family and hers all inhabiting Nimway Hall, Alex had walked in on Philip and one of the temporary maids hired to help out with the extra guests. While he had tried to explain away what she’d seen as nothing more than a misunderstanding, it was exceptionally difficult to do so persuasively if one was trying to fasten one’s trousers at the time. While Alex was willing to forgive a wager on a game of chance, fidelity was something she expected in a husband. It did seem that a man who strayed the day before his marriage was more than likely to stray the day after as well. Before Alex had the chance to publicly cancel the wedding, Philip and the maid had taken off for parts unknown. For the best, really. Obviously, Philip was not the right match, anyway, as the orb had not appeared.

  In hindsight, she could see how terribly wrong he was for her. No, that wasn’t entirely true. She had suspected him of being exactly the type of man he was by the look in his eye. From the moment they had first met, he brought to mind Lady Caroline Lamb’s description of Lord Bryon: mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Regardless, there was something almost irresistible about a man who was mad, bad, and dangerous to know. While she was furious with Philip’s betrayal and somewhat hurt, even at the time, she realized she was far more disappointed than heartbroken.

  As there was to be no marriage, Mother decided the time was not yet right to hand Nimway to her daughter, and Mother would remain the guardian. Father was not especially happy, as he did feel he had given more than twenty years of marriage to Nimway, and Mother had dedicated her entire life. Father wanted to see the world and wanted Mother by his side. Alex argued that she was more than ready to assume her hereditary duties, pointing out Mother had been little older than Alex when she became guardian. Mother noted it was a different time, Alex had never been especially responsible, and besides, Mother had Father by her side. It was most annoying.

  Admittedly, Alex had never had to work for anything in her life. But she loved Nimway—the history and the air of magic that lingered in the woods and sparkled in the twilight over the lake and simmered in the corners of the hall itself. It was in her blood and her heart. Being the guardian of Nimway was her true purpose in life, and if she had to prove herself worthy—and more than capable—to her mother, she would do exactly that. Alex spent the next two years determined to become the best guardian possible. She reread all the family histories, familiarized herself with the current political climate—even an estate imbued with magic and legend did have to live in the modern world, after all—made certain she knew the needs and abilities of all the tenants, and studied finance and land and estate management. And she found a new fiancé.

  “I’d say the American is almost as handsome as Lord George,” Millie added, pulling Alex’s corset stays tighter.

  “Nonsense.” Alex huffed, as much from the corset as the absurdity of Millie’s comment. “No one ever has or ever will be as handsome as Lord George.”

  “Pity.”

  “The pity of it lies in the fact that the Almighty had seen fit to bestow great beauty on his lordship and unfortunately nothing else.”

  Two years after Alex’s disastrous first engagement, Lord George Harcourt became her second fiancé and second mistake. In appearance, George was a Greek god come to life with sparkling sky-blue eyes and fair hair that always looked the tiniest bit tousled. Tall with broad shoulders, a firm jaw, and the most adorable dimples when he smiled as well as an exceptional physique, he was the sort of man who had women swooning just at the look of him. The youngest son of a marquess, he held an excellent position in society, and his income was considerable. Alex was smitten. He did seem the perfect match. Indeed, one couldn’t ask for a nicer, kinder, more considerate, and more romantic gentleman than George Harcourt. Unless of course one wanted a bit of intelligent conversation or advice on a matter of substance or anything that required the use of even the most minimal intellectual capabilities.

  George was not the brightest duck on the millpond.

  She could have accepted a husband who was little more than a handsome face and a fat wallet had the orb appeared to bless their union. Unfortunately—or perhaps it was incredibly fortunate—the blasted thing was nowhere to be seen. Which finally penetrated the haze of blissful denial Alex had enjoyed since the moment George had asked for her hand. So a few days before the wedding, Alex gently broke it off with her second fiancé. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but George said he understood and perhaps they were not meant to be. For a moment, Alex wondered if she had been wrong. Then George said something inane, and Alex knew she had done the right thing.

  As did Mother. While Alex was resigned to continuing her efforts to prove herself and become the best guardian possible, Mother said the very fact that Alex was smart enough to realize what a sweet dolt George was, was proof that she was indeed ready to accept the guardianship. She and Father packed their bags and headed out to see the world beyond England’s shores. They resided permanently in London now when they were in England but did tend to return home whenever Alex truly needed them, which she attributed not only to parental intuition but to Nimway magic as well.

  “Do you think it’s a social call?” Millie asked and helped Alex step into her skirt. “What with him being new to the area and all.”

  “Possibly.” Alex thought for a moment. “Although I suppose the appropriate thing to do would have been for me to pay a call on hi
m, and I certainly would have had I known of his existence.” It had been a very long time since there was anyone new in this part of the county. Families went back generations, and everyone knew everyone.

  “I can’t imagine you going to Brynmore willingly,” Millie said in an overly casual manner.

  “Don’t be silly.” Alex shrugged.

  Of course, everyone knew everyone’s business as well. It was no secret that Nimway was suffering financial difficulties. Nearly everyone who had long depended on property for their income was facing monetary problems these days. Nor was it a secret that Alex’s last fiancé was an agent of the London legal firm that represented the interests of the Brynmore estate and presumably the viscount. Perhaps the very lord who was even now in her parlor.

  But few knew Julian Shaw had swindled her out of Nimway’s financial reserves.

  Julian had appeared in her life nearly two years ago to oversee a survey of property boundaries between Nimway and Brynmore. Alex had often toyed with the idea of buying the property. After all, it was practically abandoned and would expand Nimway’s holdings. While property was not as valuable as it once was, Alex was confident land values would increase in the future. According to everything she’d read, the purchase of land was never a mistake.

  Julian began frequent visits to Nimway and quite swept her off her feet. He was from a fine family, relatives of a duke, no less. And there was an air of excitement and adventure around him. He often spoke of various successful investments he had engaged in. How could any woman not be taken with him? He, too, was handsome and dashing and—unlike George—brilliant. So much so that when he suggested he could arrange purchase of the Brynmore property at an excellent price—a solid investment—she had agreed to use most of Nimway’s finances to buy the estate. She also agreed to marry him and was confident the orb would appear at any minute to approve of her choice.

  Shortly after their engagement, Julian’s visits to Nimway ceased. Fearing something had happened to him, Alex traveled to London on the pretext of visiting Aunt Viv. Much to her dismay, when she and her aunt appeared at his office to surprise him, the surprise was hers. His older brother informed her Julian was gone and no one had any idea where he was. She further learned the property adjacent to Nimway had never been for sale, and the money she’d entrusted to Julian was gone as well.

  Mother and Father were out of the country during what Alex thought of as the Julian fiasco, and by the time they returned to England, Alex could tell the story of her brief unofficial engagement—he’d never asked Father for her hand, after all—without any of the more regrettable details, dismissing it as scarcely more than a mild flirtation and a momentary lapse in judgment. It was remarkably easy to keep the information about Nimway’s current financial state from her parents, especially as she made it a point to visit them in London, thus forestalling any unexpected trips to Nimway. Still, it was only a matter of time before Mother decided to visit.

  “There,” Alex said firmly, glancing in the mirror. “That will do.”

  Millie’s brow furrowed. “Your hair, miss.”

  “Right.” Alex had her dark hair caught with a ribbon at the back of her neck. She pulled off the ribbon, twisted her hair on top of her head, and quickly secured it with the hairpins Millie handed her, then started toward the door.

  “I don’t think—” Millie began.

  “It will have to do,” Alex called over her shoulder and headed downstairs.

  She reached the parlor door and paused to compose herself. She hadn’t made the best impression when the American had arrived, and she intended to correct that now. She was, after all, the Guardian of Nimway Hall. She breathed deeply, adopted her most regal smile, pushed open the door, and swept into the parlor.

  The annoying American viscount had vanished.

  Chapter 3

  Where on earth had the man gone? Alex hurried out of the room and nearly walked into Pearson pushing the tea cart laden with teapot, cups, and Mrs. Lamb’s best biscuits. “Where is he, Pearson?”

  “I left him in the parlor.” Pearson frowned. “He was asking questions about the house.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “He inquired about the age of the hall, the number of rooms on this floor, how many bedchambers—that sort of thing.”

  Alex drew her brows together. “That’s rather curious.”

  Pearson nodded. “Indeed, I thought so as well.”

  “Well, he isn’t there now. Perhaps he left?” Her spirits lifted at the thought. She’d much rather meet the new viscount under her own terms, and the circumstances today were certainly not her own terms.

  Pearson grimaced. “I’m afraid his carriage is still here.”

  “Good Lord, he must be wandering around the house. What nerve of the man. Americans apparently have no sense of proper behavior.” The idea that the American could be engaged in something nefarious popped into her head. She ignored it, entirely too annoyed to concern herself with the possibility that he was up to no good. Besides, Brian would never bring anyone of a questionable nature to Nimway.

  “Should I find him?”

  “No, I’ll do it. You may set up for tea.” Alex thought for a moment. Surely he wouldn’t be so brazen as to venture upstairs? No, she would have heard him. One of the delightful things about an ancient house was that it was impossible for anyone to sneak up on anyone unawares. Nearly every floorboard and every stair tread squeaked. It drove Father mad. Alex had always found it comforting. Of course, that was before Nimway’s magic had failed, or rather before she had failed Nimway. She pushed the thought aside. She had no time to feel guilty at the moment.

  He could be anywhere, really. Where would a man wandering the house linger? The library, of course. Whether they read a great deal or hardly at all, men did seem to like libraries. They were redolent with those smells that attracted the male of the species like moths to a flame—well-worn leather and aged books, polished wood, and if one wasn’t firm about it, cigars. Alex detested cigars. She started toward Nimway’s library then paused to grab a heavy silver candlestick from a side table. It would make an excellent weapon on the odd chance the man really was some sort of villain. She marched to the library door and threw it open.

  It was empty.

  Where in the hell was the blasted man? She returned to the gallery, looked in the breakfast room, and nearly walked right past the half-open door to the dining room.

  The American was crouched in front of the carved, delightfully naughty marble mantel. The nude female figures were said to be based on an ancestor from the last century.

  “I beg your pardon!” She stepped into the room.

  “It’s Italian, isn’t it?” he asked, running his hands over some of the less explicit parts of the mantel.

  “No,” she snapped. “It was carved right here on the estate.”

  “Well, it’s magnificent.” He cast the marble one more admiring look then stood and stepped toward her. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Robert Curtis, now Viscount Brynmore.” He extended a hand.

  Alex reluctantly took his hand. “Yes, I know who you are.”

  He paused, then his smile widened. “You’re the girl from the garden.”

  “Indeed I am,” she said and pulled her hand away. “I’m Alexandra Hayden.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He leaned closer, and for the merest of moments, she had the most absurd thought that he intended to kiss her. He reached out, and her immediate impulse was to step back or slap his hand away. Instead, for some unfathomable reason, she froze. He plucked something from her hair and held out a small leaf. He grinned, and the look in his blue eyes did the most disconcerting things to the pit of her stomach. “You didn’t need to change for me.”

  “You are a guest at Nimway, my lord,” she said in a lofty manner. “It’s only courteous to greet you accordingly.”

  He glanced at the candlestick and apparently decided to ignore it. “You’re not an employee of
the estate, then?”

  “No, I’m not.” She could have, and probably should have, offered more in the way of an explanation as to who she was and her connection to Nimway, but it did seem best not to offer too much information until she knew what he wanted.

  “And you are?”

  “Alexandra Hayden. I believe I told you that a moment ago. Nimway is my home.” She set the candlestick on the mantel. “Now, how can I help you, my lord?”

  “As I’ve said, I would like to meet the owner of the estate. I have a matter of business to discuss with him that I believe might benefit him greatly.” He paused. “I assume that’s your father?”

  “No.”

  “I see.” He nodded. “Well, then I should probably speak to your husband.”

  “I don’t have a husband.”

  He frowned. “Then who owns this place?”

  She smiled. “I do.”

  He stared. “Really?”

  “Yes.” She raised a brow. “Why are you so surprised?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. Wilcox said this estate had been in the same family for generations. I just assumed it would be passed from father to son. Isn’t that how it usually works in England?”

  “Nimway is not a usual property. It has always passed from mother to daughter.”

  “Has it?”

  “You do need to stop looking quite so shocked at everything I say, my lord. It gives me the upper hand, and I suspect you’re not the kind of man who appreciates that.”

  He grinned. “I never have been before.”

  “As you have business you wish to discuss, I suggest we return to the parlor. Or the library if you prefer.”

  “Oh, I did like the library.”

  “The parlor it is, then.” She turned and headed for the parlor, assuming he was following.

  “It’s a great house,” he said behind her.

  “Indeed it is.” Why was the man so concerned with the house?