THE LEGEND OF NIMWAY HALL: 1888 - ALEXANDRA

by Victoria Alexander

They stepped into the parlor. Alex settled in a chair and indicated the American should sit on the sofa. It put him at a slightly lower level than she, which she’d found to be most effective when dealing with anyone. Unfortunately, his lordship was tall enough that there was little difference in their respective heights. Pity.

  “Now then, my lord.” She adopted a pleasant smile, poured a cup of tea, and handed it to him. “Why were you snooping around my house in a most discourteous manner?”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” He winced. “You’re absolutely right. I wasn’t thinking. Please accept my apologies. But it is a delightful house.”

  “We have always thought so,” she said, not the tiniest bit mollified, although he did seem sincere. But then she was not the best judge of men. Wiser to guard against all men rather than be taken in by one more. She refused to make another mistake. She poured a cup for herself. “You said you had a matter of business to discuss.”

  “I do.” He studied her thoughtfully. “I was wondering if you would consider selling.”

  “Selling what?”

  “The house. Nimway Hall. And the property, too, of course,” he added.

  For a moment, she couldn’t say a word.

  “Miss Hayden?”

  She stared, at once regretting she had left the candlestick in the dining room and yet somewhat grateful. Smashing a candlestick over the head of a newly met neighbor—no matter how annoying he might be—wasn’t the least bit welcoming. “Are you mad?”

  “I intend to make you an excellent offer.”

  “There is no offer excellent enough!”

  “Come now, Miss Hayden. According to what I’ve heard, you are experiencing financial difficulties at the moment.”

  Brian! Alex resolved to thrash him thoroughly as soon as possible. But losing her temper now would not do anyone any good. She took a sip of tea and forced a measure of calm. “I assure you, my lord, your information is not entirely accurate.”

  “I understood every property owner in England is having problems to one extent or another.”

  “You really shouldn’t believe everything you hear.” Not that he wasn’t right, although every property owner might be an exaggeration.

  He chuckled. “That would indeed be foolish.”

  “Might I ask why you’re interested in Nimway? Don’t you now own Brynmore?”

  “Have you been to Brynmore lately?”

  “Quite frankly, I can’t remember a time when there was anyone living there.”

  “I assure you, no one would want to live there now.” He shook his head. “The house is falling down, and the grounds are appalling. The property is past the point of needing mere maintenance. We were hoping to use the estate to entertain and as a place for a tranquil retreat in the English countryside. My family is very excited at the prospect.” He glanced around the parlor. “This place is perfect. Grand and yet welcoming. It feels like home.”

  “Perhaps because it is a home. My home. It has been my home for my entire life. It was my mother’s home and her mother’s before that and so on. It’s said Nimway was built on the very site of Nimue’s cottage.”

  “Who?”

  “You don’t know who Nimue was?” And really, what could one expect from an American?

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Nimue was a powerful sorceress, the consort and true love of Merlin.”

  “King Arthur’s Merlin?”

  “There is no other Merlin that I’m aware of. So yes, Arthur’s Merlin.” She rolled her gaze toward the ceiling. Did they teach nothing of importance in America? “My family descends directly from Merlin and Nimue. The spelling is different, but the estate takes its name from her. The hall is said to have been built over her cottage.”

  “What an excellent story.”

  “It’s not a story.” She huffed. “It’s my family’s legacy.”

  “A house with a connection to legendary characters,” he said, almost more to himself than to her, as if he were calculating the value of her family’s heritage. “My mother will love that.”

  Alex frowned. “She’s welcome to visit.”

  “Perhaps we need to discuss exactly what I’m willing to pay.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head. “Nimway is not for sale.”

  “It’s been my experience that everything is for sale for the right price.”

  Alex clenched her teeth. “What part of ‘Nimway is not for sale’ do you not understand?”

  “What I understand, Miss Hayden”—he leaned forward and met her gaze directly—“is that in spite of your protests, it’s obvious just from my brief look around that time is taking its toll on Nimway and you don’t have the financial resources for basic maintenance. Might I point out you were weeding the garden when I arrived.”

  “I like weeding the garden, and my finances are none of your concern.” Alex rose to her feet. “I suggest if you want a country house, you put your own in order. It’s been my experience that anything can be put to rights with enough funding. Perhaps you should take the money you intended to spend on Nimway and use it for Brynmore. As I said, Nimway is not for sale, nor will it ever be.”

  “At the moment,” he said.

  “Always.”

  “Ah, well, we’ll see,” he said in an offhand manner. “I always get what I want, Miss Hayden.”

  “Then this shall be a new experience for you.” She nodded at the door. “Pearson will see you out.”

  He grinned. It was very nearly irresistible if one was taken in by a winning smile, blue eyes, and an air of relaxed confidence. Alex was not.

  “Are you throwing me out, Miss Hayden?”

  “Not at all, your lordship. I simply assume you’re a busy man and have other matters to attend to, as do I.”

  “I see.” He considered her thoughtfully. “I’ll leave my card and my solicitor’s with your butler on my way out should you change your mind.”

  “I wouldn’t wager on it if I were you.”

  “Only a fool wagers on something he does not expect to win, and I would hate to see you lose.” He smiled, took her hand, and raised it to his lips.

  The most absurd sensation raced through her at his touch.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

  She tugged her hand free. “I know it will linger in my memory.”

  “Our paths will cross again.”

  “I daresay that’s inevitable regardless of our best efforts.” She shrugged. “You do own the property next to mine.”

  He chuckled. Apparently, the man found her most amusing. “Good day, Miss Hayden.”

  “Goodbye, Lord Brynmore.”

  Alex maintained her perfectly composed expression until the door had closed behind him, then she rushed to the window to make certain the man was actually leaving. She wouldn’t put it past the American to assess the property just as he’d inspected the house. Sell Nimway indeed!

  Brynmore climbed into his carriage, and Alex had to admit he was a fine figure of a man. He settled in his seat then glanced directly at her and tipped his hat. She resisted the urge to jump behind the drapery and instead nodded coolly. After all, this was her property, her country, and her world. She didn’t care what title he had inherited, an overconfident American had no place in it.

  Worse than the man’s arrogance was the fact that he was right about the state of Nimway Hall and her finances. She was well aware of every water-stained ceiling, every bit of peeling paint and faded wallpaper in the house. It didn’t seem that things looked especially worse than they always had, but perhaps now that she didn’t have the money for even minor repairs, she was seeing it all with fresh eyes. She was more aware than ever just how much needed to be done. Alex had managed to keep up until the Julian fiasco, but everything had deteriorated rapidly after that. Relatively trifling matters she’d put off then had now grown to larger problems. The outbuildings—the stables and dairy and smokehouse—all needed work but were holding up better than the hall its
elf. She’d used most of her dowry to fund work on the tenant houses and had been forced to take out a few small loans to pay the staff a bit extra before she let them go.

  The idea of selling Nimway was out of the question. The estate had been through hard times in the past and would weather these days as well. All Alex needed was an influx of funds to tide things over until harvests and crop prices and all the other factors that were contributing to the country’s current depression improved. All she needed was a miracle. Or a dose of Nimway magic.

  Neither of which seemed even remotely possible.

  The moment they were out of sight of Nimway Hall, Robert shifted to the carriage seat directly behind the driver. “You could have warned me about Miss Hayden, Wilcox.”

  “I could have, my lord. But where would be the fun in that?”

  Robert bit back a retort just as he realized the man was right. Sparring with Miss Alexandra Hayden was more fun than he’d had in a long time and certainly more fun than he’d ever had with a woman. Well, a fully clothed woman.

  “Besides, it wasn’t my place, sir.” Wilcox kept his eyes on the road, but Robert could hear the grin in his voice.

  “Yes, I believe you mentioned that.” He turned to Comstock. “When we get back to London, I want you to find out everything you can about Miss Alexandra Hayden and Nimway Hall.”

  The solicitor nodded, flipped open his notebook, and jotted a note. “Perhaps we could learn more in the village before we go.”

  “Oh, I doubt we’ll get any useful information from the locals. Isn’t that right, Wilcox?”

  Wilcox snorted back a laugh.

  Robert couldn’t fault the man for his loyalty to the mistress of Nimway over a stranger, although Robert’s family had been in the county through much of this century. He could see why Wilcox was so amused by the situation. Robert found it rather amusing himself.

  “I could have used some help, you know, Wilcox,” Robert said mildly. “Now I know how Daniel felt in the lion’s den.”

  “As bad as all that, my lord?” Wilcox asked.

  “Worse.”

  Wilcox chuckled. “They call her the Dragon of Nimway Hall.”

  “Why don’t I find that surprising?” And extremely interesting. “She does seem to have a fierce loyalty to the place.”

  “Well, yes, that and she chews men up and spits them out.”

  “Good Lord.” Comstock’s eyes widened.

  Robert laughed. “She sounds like a worthy competitor.”

  “Depends on the competition, I would say,” Wilcox said.

  Robert nodded. “She is rather impressive.”

  “She’s a beauty all right, sir.”

  “I was talking about her intelligence, but you’re right—she is lovely.” Robert might never forget his first sight of her surrounded by spring blossoms, the sunlight highlighting sparks of red in her dark hair, her green eyes flashing. “Why isn’t she married, Wilcox?”

  “Hasn’t found the right man, I suppose.” The villager hesitated. “She’s been engaged, just never made it to the altar.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she’s as smart as you think she is. Anyone could see none of her intendeds were right for her.”

  Robert stared. “How many have there been?”

  “It’s common knowledge, I suppose. Mr. Comstock will find out the moment he starts looking. She’s nearly married three times.”

  Robert choked back a laugh. “Three times?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Wilcox paused. “As someone who has known Miss Hayden all of her life, might I offer a word of advice?”

  “I could certainly use it.”

  “I would suggest you put the notion of purchasing Nimway out of your head.”

  “Excellent advice, Wilcox.” Not that he intended to take it. At least not completely. Oh, certainly, Nimway might not be for sale at the moment, and its lovely mistress obviously disliked him, but he was no more likely to put her, or buying her estate, out of his head than he was to accept defeat. “And for the moment, I will take it.”

  Wilcox eyed him skeptically. “Not giving up, then?”

  “Oh, I never give up on something I want.” Robert grinned.

  “I suspected as much, my lord.” Wilcox returned his grin then shifted his attention back to the road and chuckled. “God help you both.”

  Chapter 4

  “You look like someone who is having a very bad day.” Miles Kenton—or rather, Lord Miles Kenton—sank into the overstuffed chair next to Robert’s in the lounge at the gentleman’s club, where a membership had been handed down from one Viscount Brynmore to the next since the club had first opened its doors.

  “Thank you for noticing,” Robert said dryly and tossed back the rest of the fine Scottish whisky in his glass.

  Miles signaled a waiter for a refill. “Dare I ask what new disaster has befallen the London office of Curtis Brothers, Unlimited?”

  “Some important legal papers were misplaced. The deadline for filing them has passed, and no one realized they weren’t filed until they were discovered today.” He paused while a waiter replaced his empty glass with a full one then nodded his thanks. “Which means both a delay and a hefty fine.” He raised his glass to his friend. “Just another day in jolly old England.”

  Miles winced. “Things haven’t been going well for you, have they?”

  “Not recently.” In fact, in the three weeks since his return to London from Somerset, whatever could possibly go wrong had done so. The lost legal filings were minor in comparison to everything else. There had been a fire at the New York office, an important deal had fallen through, and one of their ships had gone down—fortunately with no loss of life. “I’m beginning to think that woman put a curse on me.”

  “Because you tried to buy her property? I don’t think that’s how curses work.” Miles chuckled. The son of a marquess—which was apparently far more important than a viscount—Miles had been fast friends with Robert and Drew since their days together at Harvard. Miles could have attended Cambridge or Oxford but had chosen Harvard instead as a means of getting as far away as possible from his family, at least for the length of his education.

  “This one does,” Robert said darkly. He really wasn’t inclined toward silly superstition, but it was impossible to ignore facts. His string of bad luck had started very nearly the moment he’d left Nimway, when the carriage they’d taken to Glastonbury lost a wheel and they’d missed their train back to London. As it was apparently market day or there was a local fair in progress or something of that nature, there were no rooms available at the local inns, and he and Comstock had been forced to sleep on the benches at the train station.

  Even worse, there hadn’t been a night since his return to London that he hadn’t dreamt of Nimway Hall and its lovely mistress. In the beginning, his dreams were rather pleasant and innocuous—enjoying an extensive tour of the house, being shown around the estate on horseback, strolling through the woods—all with Miss Hayden by his side. But as the weeks passed, the dreams became more intense, focusing less and less on Nimway and more and more on its owner. The caress of her hand, the inviting smile on her lips, the tempting look in her eyes all led to something far more intimate. Rarely a day went by now when he didn’t awake in a state of utter, frustrating arousal.

  “I made some inquiries about Miss Hayden for you.”

  Robert waved off the comment. “Comstock managed to get quite a bit of information, primarily about the state of her finances. Other than that, I’ve learned little she didn’t tell me herself. The chances of my buying the place are slim. Her family has owned Nimway apparently since the beginning of time. It’s passed from mother to daughter.”

  “How delightful,” Miles said and sipped his whisky.

  Robert’s brow rose. “You approve?”

  “I have five sisters, Robert. They’re all pretty, but they’re smart too. Regardless, none of them are legally entitled to anything from Father’s estate. Of c
ourse, only my oldest brother is legally entitled to inherit, barring any provisions my father might make. Thankfully, he has arranged for all his children in the event of his demise. Still, the treatment of women has never seemed entirely fair to me—the influence of my sisters, no doubt.” He shrugged. “But times are changing. Women are making their voices heard. I can’t help but think that’s a good thing, although I do have reservations about their demand to vote.” He chuckled. “But they certainly can’t muck up the world any worse than we have.”

  “You do have a point there, I suppose.” Robert sipped his drink. “Still—and I would never admit this in front of my sister, or my mother, for that matter—a woman’s place is as a wife and mother and not as the owner and manager of an ancient estate. Just a cursory look around and you can tell things are not going well.”

  “I’m not sure you can blame her gender for that,” Miles said coolly. “I daresay the same can be said for many estates in England these days.”

  “Probably.” Robert wasn’t being at all fair. He did like strong, independent women. There was just something about the Dragon of Nimway Hall that made him want to do battle. Or make love? Ridiculous thought. He didn’t even know the woman. The very idea of intimacy with Miss Hayden could be blamed on nothing more than an overactive imagination coupled with the fact that he hadn’t been with a woman for some time. Not that she wasn’t extremely appealing. Bewitching was probably the right word given how he couldn’t get her out of his head. Cursed and bewitched. Coming to England might not have been such a good idea after all. “So what did you find out about her?”

  “Not much, really. According to my sisters—who are shockingly up-to-date on the comings and goings of anyone of note—while she resides in Somerset, she often comes to London to visit her aunt and her parents.”

  “Her parents live in London?”

  Miles nodded. “Odd, but my sisters say they turned the family estate over to Miss Hayden a few years ago. Apparently, it’s some sort of family tradition. While her parents do have a residence here, they tend to spend most of their time traveling. They are currently somewhere in France. At least, that’s the rumor. Oh, and my sisters say Miss Hayden has been engaged three times but never married.”