Putting her packet next to her, Teresa brushed her hands over the skirt of her gown. “Neil. Thank you for coming with me. I know it was practically decreed by the countess, but you could have said no. I did not realize how uncomfortable it would be for you and the earl to spend so much time in one another’s company. I am sorry for that.”
“I already told you,” he said quietly, still not looking at her. “We will rub along well enough together, for the time being. I have no intention of provoking him.” Then he did look at her, from the corner of his eye. “And if they had not invited me, I would have invited myself. Presumptuous of me, I know.” He turned a little more away from her. “But how could I let you make such a journey without a friend?”
She had to have imagined the bitterness lacing that last word. Friend ought to be a sweet word in all circumstances. Even theirs. She undid the ribbons of her bonnet, more for something to do with her hands than anything else. “Lady Inglewood is very beautiful. Young, too.”
“I believe she is four and twenty,” Neil said, somewhat absently. “And yes, quite pretty.”
Teresa’s eyes lowered to her gloved hands, knowing full well the roughness beneath the soft leather. Teresa was not as tall as Lady Inglewood, and her hair was a great deal darker. She rather suspected herself the darker complected of the two. And she was older, due to turn one and thirty that very winter.
Not that it mattered, how she compared to someone as distant from her socially as Abigail the cow was to a duchess’s lapdog.
“I was wondering. If all goes according to our hopes tomorrow, if Mr. Clapham is forced to return to me all that is mine, will it change my arrangement with you?” She bit her lip, her eyes steady on her lap.
“Why would it?” He shifted, crossing one leg over the other and sighing. “You will still need a pair of hands around the farm, will you not? Unless you mean to ask if I will suddenly require payment. I assure you, I have no need of your funds, and I will hold to the original agreement.” When she looked up at him, she saw him still staring across the way, his eyes narrowing a fraction. “I will labor for you until my family relents. You may have the worse end of the bargain, madam. They may never wish to have me back.” Then he looked at her, dropped a quick wink, and stood.
Teresa’s heart warmed, and she stood too, ready to declare herself happy by that idea.
“We are watched,” Neil said before she spoke. “Get your things.”
She went cold and did as he said. “Where? And by whom?”
Neil took her hand rather than her arm. “Your brother-in-law, at the corner of the park. Do not look. We will return to the house and see if he approaches us.”
Swallowing her nerves, she nodded once and fell into step beside him. His fingers squeezed hers gently, then his thumb ran across the skin of her wrist. The gesture calmed her. Neil would look after her.
Not once did she look behind to see if they were followed, though she noticed Neil occasionally turning to look at carriages they passed. He covertly checked behind them.
“Still there,” he said when they arrived before the house where they stayed. “Perhaps he only means to find out where you are staying.”
“Let us hope so.” Teresa hugged her packet tighter, making the paper crinkle against her chest. “I am most upset with him for ruining our walk.”
“Is it ruined? I cannot think so. I enjoyed the time with you.” Neil spared a moment to turn his most charming smile upon her, one corner of his mouth higher than the other. “But then, I always do.”
“Even that time I made you fall out of the cherry tree?” she asked, the conversation proving a much-needed distraction.
“Especially then. Because not five minutes later, something happened that you have made me promise never to discuss, even if I will never forget it.”
Her cheeks colored and she turned, lips parted in her surprise. He alluded to their kiss.
They were at the door to the house. Neil knocked, then turned around and stared pointedly behind them. Teresa did not look back. Neil’s stance made it clear enough that his stare was a challenge, a declaration to the man following behind them. The door opened, and Teresa went through, Neil just behind her.
“Heavens.” She took off her bonnet and put it on the table, then her gloves. “That was somewhat disturbing.”
“I doubt he will bother you again.” Neil put aside his hat, too. He did not even have any gloves. “Teresa, do you play the pianoforte?”
She looked at his reflection in the mirror above the table, raising her eyebrows. “After what just happened, you wish to know if I play?”
“Of course. I think we could both use some music. I have already ascertained that there is an instrument upstairs, in a sitting room.”
Teresa turned to face him. “I play. Or I should say that I used to. I have not touched a pianoforte in almost two years.”
“Ah, then you are most fortunate to have this chance. Come. I long to hear you relearn the instrument.” Neil grinned, an expression she once might have called predatory. But she knew better. He was goading her, for her own good, to turn her thoughts elsewhere.
“Very well. I suppose I cannot disappoint you.” Even if she wished to speak of something else. Such as their kiss, as he had nearly done. But he was right. There was no point to it. A marquess’s son was far above her, even if she had her funds restored.
Neil followed her up the stairs, and she tried to stop thinking about anything except what piece she might remember well enough to play for him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
With bank notes from the jeweler in hand, and a line of credit that made him rethink everything he once had about the worth of a ten pound note, Neil went directly to a tailor. He had no intention of commissioning a full set of clothing, but if there was anything the tailor had completed for another client, Neil might be able to bribe the clothing and a few alterations out of the shopkeeper. He followed the same successful line of thinking to obtain a pair of gloves. Shoes were impossible, but he had his fine pair from before the marquess’s exile. They just needed a bit of attention.
Money made the world an easier place to navigate, to be certain, but he only had so much. And he meant to save most of it. But he would not escort Teresa to the court on St. Helen’s street dressed like a pauper.
Neil had nearly left the shopping district when he spotted a shop window full of brightly colored fabrics and a beautiful display of shawls in the window. He went inside and came out a quarter of an hour later with three packages more.
He had chosen a dark blue shawl for Mrs. Godwin, a rosebud pink for Caroline, and a delicate white shawl for Teresa.
Their family had been kind to him. The shawls were a simple way to express his gratitude. Hopefully, that was what Teresa would think. Their conversation in the park that morning had skirted into dangerous topics. He would not leave her, as he promised, but if they had dwelled on the subject much longer he might have said something imprudent. Such as asking if he could stay indefinitely, if only to be near her.
Foolish nonsense more suited to poets than someone of his age and station in life.
Neil was back upon the street where they were staying when he saw Mr. Clapham again. The man paced upon the pavement across the street from the house. Why did he bother staying there? Teresa would not come out of the house again until morning, and certainly no one would permit the villain inside.
Pretending to ignore him, Neil went up the steps to the house. He deposited his things on the table but kept his hat when the butler came forward to take it. “Not necessary. Tell me, is there a way to get out of the house without being seen?”
“There is a side door that goes into an alley, my lord,” the butler said, not batting an eyelash at the strange request. The sign of a well-trained servant.
“Is there a reason you are sneaking out?” Inglewood’s voice carried down from above.
Neil glared up at him. “If there were, your shouting about it would h
ardly help matters.”
The earl came down the steps at a leisurely pace, unhurried and feigning disinterest. “I do not generally condone secretive actions, but whether you come or go is of no interest to me.”
“Yet here you are, asking as though you wish to know.” Neil heard the biting sarcasm in his voice and ground his teeth together. The time for petty disagreements had passed. “Mrs. Clapham’s brother-in-law is across the street. He has been there at least two hours. I mean to question him, but if he were to see me coming directly from the door to his place on the walk, he might scamper away before I give him a proper warning.”
A most peculiar expression appeared on the earl’s face. Complete indifference changed into surprise. “I cannot say I have ever seen you care this much about the welfare of any person other than yourself before this summer. First it was Lady Fox, now an impoverished widow. Neither lady has anything of value to offer you in return.”
Impatience mounting, Neil gestured to the front door. “There is a man out there who has made it a point to cheat and lie to a woman under his protection. I wish to take a moment to tell him he is not welcome here. Might I have your leave to do so, my lord?”
Inglewood crossed his arms, appearing to consider the request. “I think I will come with you.”
“Have it your way.” Neil stalked through the corridor behind the butler, and Inglewood followed. They were out into a narrow alley in moments, where the greater houses could accept deliveries and such. Neil led the way through to the street, around the corner, and then directly behind Clapham. The blasted thief was so occupied with his watch of the house that he did not realize Neil was upon him until Neil tapped him on the shoulder.
Clapham turned, and Neil had the satisfaction of watching all the color leech from his face.
Neil lowered his chin a fraction of an inch, lifting his eyebrows as though surprised. “Mr. Clapham. How unexpected. I did not think to see you until tomorrow. At court.”
Moving casually to the other side of the gentleman, Inglewood flanked him. “This is Mr. Frederick Clapham?” The earl’s famous stony expression kept him from appearing no more than bored. “Not entirely what I anticipated for one of such low morals.”
The nervous gentleman looked from the earl to Neil. He had to know Inglewood’s identity, given he had tracked Teresa to this house and whatever information his solicitor had given. But Neil had no intention of making a formal introduction, throwing Clapham even more off balance.
“I had hoped to speak to my sister-in-law,” Clapham finally said, looking at Neil. He squared his shoulders and thrust his chin out. “Family should not have to resort to court to work out their differences.”
“Family also should not lie, cheat, and steal from one another. Do you not agree, my lord?”
“Certainly. But it seems not all the gentry have learned such a lesson.” Inglewood shifted subtly, angling more toward Clapham. His eyes narrowed. “It is such a shame, too. My wife declares Mrs. Clapham is a dear creature, worthy of close friendship. I dislike thinking of all Mrs. Clapham has had to endure these many months. Lord Neil, how has such a gentle woman borne the hardship placed upon her?”
Neil’s lips curled upward. “With grace and dignity. Mrs. Clapham impresses me daily with her fortitude in the face of all the adversity she is forced to endure.”
The way Clapham drew himself up, puffing out his chest, was almost comical. The man might have every appearance of a gentleman, but as soon as he spoke he revealed himself to be a sniveling coward. “You must let me speak to her. Poor woman merely does not understand the way these things work. I have done my duty by her, of course. I did not turn her out of her house, she chose to leave. Certainly, the courts need not become involved—”
With a wave of his hand, Neil interrupted the buffoon. “I have no interest in discussing any of that with you. Indeed, I had rather not speak with you on any subject.” Neil stepped closer, and when the other man tried to back away he remembered Inglewood behind him and stiffened. “I only require you to listen to me, very carefully. Mrs. Clapham is now friends with very powerful people. Not me, of course. You know well enough my situation, as you attempted to use it to your advantage already, but the man behind you has more influence in this county than practically anyone else. You have acted dishonorably, proving yourself a cowardly wretch taking advantage of someone who ought to have had you as her champion.”
Neil lowered his voice, speaking with something akin to delicacy. “He can ruin you with one word. And I? I will stand as protector at Bramble Cottage so long as I am needed.”
Clapham swallowed. He looked from Neil’s glare to over his shoulder at the indifferent expression of the earl.
Inglewood’s tone was cold as he spoke. “One hopes you have enough of an intellect to take Lord Neil’s warning to heart, Mr. Clapham. Best not to loiter.”
Neil stepped back, allowing Clapham to escape away at last. He did so, nearly at a running pace, never looking back.
“I find myself almost inclined to approve of you in this moment, Lord Neil.” Despite his words, Inglewood’s tone had not changed from how he had addressed Clapham.
“Let us not be too hasty, my lord.” Neil relaxed somewhat. “Though I will express my thanks for your part in all of this. I admit, I did not expect you to show any interest at all in Mrs. Clapham’s situation. Given that I am the one that brought notice to it.”
Inglewood shrugged, then made to cross the street.
Neil followed a step behind.
“I confess, I was more intrigued precisely because you were involved. Your assistance this summer with Sir Isaac and Miss Wedgewood confused me. I thought it an abnormality in your behavior.”
They stepped into the foyer, the butler there took their hats and acted as though nothing strange had occurred with the two lords running out a side door only minutes before.
“While we have never cared much for each other, Lord Inglewood, I am not as morally lacking as you seem to believe.” Neil crossed his arms over his chest and pulled in a deep breath. It was time to do the right thing. Teresa’s admonishment from the inn the day before had stayed with him. “There is more I would say to you, if we might step into a private room.”
Inglewood raised his eyebrows but gave no other indication of his curiosity. He motioned to a nearby door. “This room will do.”
Neil went inside first, but stopped after only a few steps. Lady Inglewood sat in a chair near the window, looking out over the street. She watched them enter, her hands folded in her lap. “I heard your voices downstairs a few minutes ago, but by the time I entered the corridor you had both gone. Imagine my surprise when I came in here only to spy two lords, who are known to dislike each other, across the street together. You both appeared to be on the same side for once.”
Neil hesitated and looked to Inglewood, whose expression had cracked enough to show his amusement.
“Interesting, is it not? Lord Neil brought my attention to an unwanted guest.” He went to stand by the countess’s chair, and he dropped a kiss upon her cheek. “Lord Neil wanted to speak to me in private on some matter or other.”
“Should I leave?” She prepared to stand.
“Please, stay.” Neil’s bravado vanished completely before the young countess. Her presence would actually make easier one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life. “What I have to say is best said to you both.”
“Now I am most intrigued,” Inglewood murmured, one hand on the back of his wife’s chair.
The lady gave her husband a narrow-eyed glare, then turned a more welcoming look upon Neil. He had always liked her. First, he had been intrigued by her beauty, and then by the way her husband had seemingly put her aside as though she was completely unwanted, directly after their marriage. Having been cast off and left to himself, made to feel unwanted by his own flesh and blood, Neil had seen in Lady Esther Inglewood a chance to offer comfort and in turn receive comfort.
Yet now he re
alized, with a clarity he had never sought, how wrong his actions had been.
“I am well aware that I am regarded by your family and friends with dislike, and no little amount of suspicion. As I have cultivated that view with my actions for the last several years, I will understand now if you have difficulty believing what I am about to say.”
“A man’s actions speak more to his character than his words,” Inglewood grumbled.
“I cannot think that Lord Neil has acted in too many reprehensible ways, darling.” Lady Inglewood looked up at her husband, her expression one of patience. “Let us hear him out.”
When the earl said nothing against him, Neil cleared his throat. Then he stood with legs apart, back straight, and hands at his side. He met Inglewood’s stare with directness. “I wish to apologize to you, both of you, for my conduct toward Lady Inglewood after your marriage. I approached her with a dishonorable intention, and I convinced myself what I was doing was not wrong, merely because so many others have acted the same.” He saw the earl’s scowl darken, and Lady Inglewood’s eyes widen.
Neil kept his words firm, speaking with all sincerity of heart. “I have justified my actions to myself more times than I care to count, but I have of late realized the immense stupidity and heartlessness of what I attempted. I should never have risked your reputation, my lady, nor attempted to cause you pain, my lord.” He braced himself for Inglewood’s displeasure, for his wife’s disgust. “I wish to make amends, if possible. I also offer to see myself out of this house, if that is preferred.”
For several long moments, no one said anything. Then Lady Inglewood stood and turned to her husband, placing her hand over his where it remained gripping the chair. Neil watched, fascinated to see how they communicated with nothing more than their eyes.
Reforming Lord Neil: A Regency Romance, Inglewood Book 5 Page 19
