Virginia glanced at her husband in time to see him smooth away a smile of amusement. Clearly, Gresham knew his job well.
Mr. Macon entered, coming into the room the way a thundercloud rolled across a landscape, bringing darkness and a scowl with him. Virginia’s heart picked up speed and she stood straighter.
Lucas gave her hand a final squeeze before releasing her and tucking his hands behind his back. Lucas’s normally pleasant expression was gone, replaced by the cool and formal mask of a peer of the realm. She tried to follow his lead.
Mr. Macon bowed first and Lucas barely returned the gesture. Virginia’s curtsy was given in equal measure to the earl’s.
“I have heard a great deal about you, Mr. Macon,” Lucas said before the other man could open his mouth. The statement sounded neither positive nor censuring. “What brings you to our part of the country?”
If Gerard Macon had only smiled once in a while, instead of making out that the whole world was against him, he would’ve resembled her late husband more. He had black hair, deep brown eyes, and a squared jaw. He might’ve even been considered handsome if she did not know the selfish tendencies of his heart.
“I have come to speak to my sister-in-law.” He drew himself to his full height, which was still short of Lucas’s by a few inches. “On family business.”
“Excellent. Please, take a seat.” Then Lucas looked down at her and gestured to the couch behind them. “My lady.” And he sat with her.
Mr. Macon’s eyes narrowed. “I am afraid it is private business, my lord.”
“Family business, private business, both would involve me. Your sister-in-law, as you must’ve gathered by now, is my wife. If you wish to speak to her, do so now. Otherwise, you may take your leave.” He said each word with complete authority, though his posture remained relaxed, as though he hadn’t a care whether Gerard Macon spoke or not. He angled his body in Virginia’s direction and smiled at her.
Virginia took a measure of courage from that smile. “What can I do for you, Mr. Macon?” She felt no need to be less formal in addressing him. She had rarely seen him when her husband was alive. Now that the family connection between them had been distanced, she felt no need to pretend any sort of familiarity with him.
Looking from her to the earl, Mr. Macon drew up taller in his seat. “I would like an explanation as to why a woman who has been a widow for a matter of weeks suddenly remarries. Have you no respect for my brother’s memory?”
The question came nearer to hurting her than anything else he might’ve said. She had expected him to first speak on the matter of guardianship to her sons. Had he guessed the best way to wound her would be through her betrayal of Charles? It did hurt, knowing in the eyes of many her act would seem disrespectful when nothing could be further from the truth.
“I found it necessary,” she said slowly, “to take my life into my hands and forgo the guidance of society in this matter.” Virginia drew herself up, calling on a lifetime of training for putting people in their place, firmly beneath her. “I think you must understand why, though I feel no need to discuss my personal business with you on this matter.”
“Charles is barely cold in his grave and you’ve already taken a new husband,” Mr. Macon said, some heat in his words. “It is heartless.”
“Have a care, Mr. Macon,” Lucas said, his voice low, almost subdued. “Regardless of your relationship with Lady Calvert, she is my wife now, and I will not tolerate anyone speaking to her in an insulting manner.”
Mr. Macon glared at the earl and then back to her. “You sent no word of your decision to remarry,” he said next, bitterness in his voice. “I was informed of the matter by strangers not half an hour ago.”
“The Gilberts are my family,” she answered steadily. “And it is hardly needful for me to inform you of my doings, Mr. Macon.”
His eyes narrowed still further, his hands gripped the arm rests of the chair tightly. “My nephews’ future has yet to be determined. You secreted them from Bath, hid them away from me, and performed a shameful act in order to maintain your hold on the barony. I will not have it—”
Virginia stood, raising her chin defiantly, calling to mind every instance she could of her mother dressing down her victims. “How dare you presume to come into my home and speak to me in such a manner. We both know, Mr. Macon, you don’t care for my sons. You care for nothing but money and power, trying to sink your claws into Charles’s title and wealth. He would’ve shared with you freely during his life, if you but showed even a measure of brotherly kindness. But you are an unfeeling, cold-hearted man.”
He stood as well, his hands gripped into fists at his side. “You are no better. You want the barony for yourself—”
She cut him off quickly. “I want it for my son. Phillip is the Baron of Heatherton and no one will endanger his title or inheritance while I am living. You forced my hand, Mr. Macon, when you tried to take my sons from me. You will never have them under your hateful influence.”
Mr. Macon took one threatening step toward her, a foul word on his lips, but it did not escape. Before he could take a second step, Lucas had risen and put himself between the two of them, his whole body bristling with power and purpose.
“Mr. Macon,” he said, his deep voice like the growl of a tiger. “You will apologize to my wife for uttering such language in her presence and then you will leave. You have had your say. The matter is closed. Lady Calvert, as my wife, is above your reach. Her sons are now mine and under my protection. I think you will return to Bath to find your lawyer has been made aware of the situation, as have the courts, and your case against her dismissed.”
Gerard Macon’s eyes shone with hatred, his lips curled back in a snarl. “I’ll not apologize for calling her what she is. Crawling into bed with an earl—”
Lucas’s fist flew expertly into Mr. Macon’s face, silencing his hateful stream of words.
Virginia covered her mouth with her hands, pushing back a scream. She’d never witnessed a physical altercation between gentlemen. Though her heart raced with the sudden burst of Lucas’s energy, she remained frozen on the spot, unable to do more than watch in horrible fascination.
Mr. Macon staggered backward, falling into the chair. Silenced, at least for the moment, his shock apparent on his face. Virginia might’ve laughed had she not been preoccupied with her own surprise.
The doors to the sitting room flew open and three of the footmen came inside, their matched heights less important to Virginia than their broad shoulders. They took hold of Mr. Macon, who was half-growling in his anger, and dragged him from the room.
“You’ll regret this, Virginia. You’ve made an enemy. I’ll not let it go without a fight. I swear—”
Once he was in the hallway, Gresham reappeared, bowed and closed the door on the spiteful monologue. Virginia heard her former brother-in-law begin to shout a string of profanities.
Going cold all over, she moved in the direction of the door. “The boys—”
“—are in the kitchen enjoying biscuits.” Lucas’s hands settled on her shoulders, then gently turned her around. “I’m sorry, Virginia. I thought he might cause a scene, which is why I asked the men to stand by, but I hoped for better.”
Virginia shook her head. “He’s always been a bitter, cold man. I’ve never seen him that angry before, though.” She shuddered. “He must’ve been sure of winning his case, of getting the boys and control of the estate.”
“He must’ve. But there’s no need to worry further about it. He will be sent on his way and I have a groom ready to follow him, until he leaves the county.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders and tilted his head to one side, regarding her with a gentle look in his eye. “Virginia, you’ve done the right thing. That man should never come near you or your sons again. You’ve saved your boys from falling under his influence.”
She forced a laugh, humorless though it was, and raised a hand to her temple. “You have to say that, you know, since it is by
marrying you that I’ve done such a thing.”
He shrugged and tugged at the lapels of his coat in a self-important way. “My dear lady, I will take my share of the credit. It is chivalrous, you know, to save a lady in distress. But I am very certain that you will be the hero of this story when your sons are grown and understand all you have done for them.”
Is that how he saw her? She hardly felt heroic after the scene with Mr. Macon. It was, after all, Lucas and a trio of footman who had removed his latest threat.
That reminded her.
“How is your hand?” Virginia asked, reaching out to take it up, examining his knuckles.
Lucas chuckled and pulled it away before she saw more than the reddened skin around the joints. “No lasting damage done. It may bruise, but that is hardly of consequence.” He offered her his other arm. “My lady, I believe you agreed to accompany me on a tour of the grounds today. Does that still suit you?”
Her nerves would likely do better if she took a nap, but her mind and heart were spinning under Mr. Macon’s cruel words and his unreasonably antagonistic behavior. She would rather not give herself an opportunity to think on it.
“That suits me splendidly. Thank you.” Though Lucas didn’t seem to wish for her gratitude, Virginia could not help but feel it in her heart. She’d allied herself with a man willing and ready to defend her and her sons. That made what anyone might think of her hasty marriage of little importance.
Chapter Eleven
Three days had passed since his ride with Virginia, and the unfortunate business with her brother-in-law. Lucas walked slowly down the second-floor corridor, trying not to dwell on either event. He found his mind kept going to both. Mr. Macon’s wild-eyed accusations, while he’d brushed off as meaningless, nevertheless disturbed him. Lucas didn’t trust a man who would treat a woman, any woman, with disrespect and disdain.
Virginia’s trembling hands had been evidence enough of her feelings about the man. He had thought her strong, resolute, and unshakable when he married her. But after seeing her face her brother-in-law’s accusations, he added brave to the list.
His countess was quite the woman.
Lucas paused, hearing a series of light taps echoing against the walls. He cocked his head to the side, trying to determine where the sound came from.
He went to the music room and saw the door open. Lucas peered inside without moving it and there stood two little boys. Phillip’s ear was pressed to the wall and Edward tapped against it with a small wooden ball.
“It doesn’t sound any different,” Phillip said. “Let’s go over to the other one again and make sure.”
Edward started to nod when he spied Lucas and immediately straightened, tucking the ball behind his back.
Lucas raised his eyebrows and pushed the door open wider. Phillip turned and his expression changed rapidly from surprised to belligerent. He crossed his arms over his chest and stepped in front of his brother.
“We were looking for the passage. You said we could.” It sounded more like an accusation than anything else.
This is going to take a great deal of work. Lucas shook his head and did his best to look non-threatening. He smiled and tucked his hands behind his back.
“I did say that. No luck yet? Would you like another hint?”
“Yes,” Edward blurted, peeking around Phillip’s shoulder. “Please.”
Phillip’s eyebrows lowered still further.
Although he was on the verge of telling them which room to look in, Lucas stopped as another idea occurred to him. The boys had been kept mostly out of his way, in the nursery or outside playing, while their mother learned the ways of the house and became familiar with the servants. Had she spent much time with them? Lucas only saw her at meals. It was best, he knew, that he allow her whatever privacy she wished for, but rarely seeing another soul about the house had hardly done much to improve his feeling of being alone.
“I would be happy to share such a hint, but what will you trade for it?”
Edward’s dark eyes turned at once to his elder brother. “What can we trade, Phillip?”
Phillip’s gaze went from Lucas to Edward, then down to the ground. His jaw worked as he thought, but after a moment he started to shake his head. “Not much. He’s an earl. He’s got everything.”
Lucas hummed thoughtfully, turning away from the boys to pace toward the window. “I don’t have precisely everything.” He watched from the corner of his eye as the boys exchanged looks. Edward appeared hopeful and Phillip doubtful.
“You two may have noticed it has been raining a great deal this spring?”
They both nodded.
“This has made more streams than you can count, flowing all down to the lake. I find myself wondering how fast those streams go. I think, perhaps the best way to time them would be to put paper boats in the water. What do you two think of that?”
“Phillip knows how to make paper boats,” Edward said, his little voice soft. “Don’t you, Phillip?”
Phillip started to nod, but then froze. “Don’t you know how to make a paper boat?”
“My lord,” Edward reminded him with a whispered hiss.
“My lord.” Phillip narrowed his eyes.
“It has been several years since I have done so. I’m afraid my technique might not be what it once was.” Lucas issued a melancholy sigh, which might’ve been overly dramatic, but it seemed to press his case.
“Come on, Phillip. Will you make a paper boat? Please? I want to find the passage.”
Phillip took in Lucas once more before nodding. “All right. If I make you a boat, will you give us another hint, my lord?” His eyes turned to his brother as he spoke the title.
“You must help me test the boat, too. And you had better make at least two boats, so there is a spare.”
The put-upon boy dropped his hands to his side and nodded. Edward’s grin nearly split his face in two.
“Excellent.” Lucas clapped his hands together, allowing his smile to widen. “Then let us go to my study. I have all sorts of different papers and we must find the best for the job.”
The boys started forward cautiously but by the time they made it down the stairs, Edward was chattering happily about the last time they’d had boat races and how his had won half them. Phillip said nothing, though his expression had softened from belligerent to accepting of the situation.
When they arrived at the study, Lucas opened drawers in his desk and brought forth stacks of every sort of paper he owned. There were thicker sheets meant for cutting cards, more expensive linen, a very few vellum, and the paper he used for more informal correspondence.
Phillip lifted each by turn. “Too heavy. This one won’t bend.” He gave judgement on each and at last decided on the middle-weight correspondence paper. He took two sheets and asked for scissors, which Lucas promptly provided.
The boy went to the floor and plopped down upon it, directly in front of the hearth where a fire was crackling cheerfully. Edward was staring at the stacks of paper with fascination.
“Do you like to draw?” Lucas asked, lifting a sheet and holding it out to the boy.
Edward stared at the sheet, his dark brown eyes round and hopeful. But he looked up at Lucas and shrugged. “I’m not very good.”
“Nonsense.” Lucas picked up a pencil from the top of his desk and held it out as well. “Draw whatever you like and then let me tell you how well you do.”
Edward chewed on his bottom lip but his little hands accepted the paper and pencil. He looked around the room, but before he could join his brother on the floor, Lucas gave the top of the desk a pat.
“Sit in my chair and draw here. A proper desk is needed for a proper drawing.”
His eyes widened and his posture straightened. “Your desk, my lord?”
Lucas nodded gravely. “I insist, Edward.”
The boy’s legs propelled him around the furniture rapidly and he slapped his paper onto the surface before turning to climb into the
chair. Lucas moved the chair closer to the desk for him. He lifted his pencil and put it to paper without another word, though his tongue stuck outside the corner of his mouth as he fiercely concentrated on the lines he made.
Resisting a chuckle, Lucas went to see how Phillip was getting on. He’d trimmed his paper and had begun making folds, turning the sheet into something resembling a raft.
Knowing his valet would not thank him for it, Lucas sat down on the floor across from the boy anyway, mimicking the lad’s way of sitting with his legs crossed beneath each other. “That looks like a fine boat.”
“Not yet.” Phillip sighed and created another fold, moving inward.
Lucas let a few quiet moments pass, glancing over to be sure Edward was still enjoying himself with his drawing. The boy looked completely engrossed in his work. A thought came to Lucas and he bent forward, lowering his voice.
“If Edward’s paper boat beat yours in a race, why doesn’t he know how to make one?”
Phillip’s hands slowed, his fingers pressing a fold together tightened. “Papa made Edward’s boat.” Phillip didn’t look up, but his fingers started moving again. “He taught me, though. Mine aren’t bad.”
“I should say not,” Lucas said, his tone softer. Had he made a mistake? The boats might only hurt his chances of a good relationship with Phillip more. But the boy did not seem angry any longer. “And you must remember, I am woefully out of practice myself, so I am appreciative.”
Phillip offered him a sideways look. “You don’t really need a boat, do you?”
“I make studies of the weather, of my property. I have been contemplating hiring someone to come out and survey the land,” Lucas answered carefully, and honestly.
“Survey the land?” Phillip asked, focusing again on his work. “What does that mean? My lord?”
“I would have someone who is a mathematician, of sorts, come visit. He would bring special tools and equipment, and with his things he could measure our hills and streams, the dips in the land, and then give me his calculations. I could use the information he gives me as I plan land improvements, and he could use the information to make maps that would tell others about the land in this part of Kettering.”
The Earl and His Lady: A Regency Romance (Branches of Love Book 4) Page 9
