“Thank heavens, they’re gone!” She clutched her head in frustration and crossed her eyes, making Foster laugh. “I felt like I was the red cape between the matador and a bull!” She walked to the stairs. “I don’t imagine there will be many more visitors… other than…”
“Your grandmother,” without a second’s hesitation, Foster finished her sentence.
Grimacing, she started up the stairs. “After that silent contest of wills, I need to freshen up before I face Grandma.” On her way upstairs, she reflected that, in spite of her two visitors’ antagonism, it uplifted a woman’s confidence to have a handsome man come specially to see her. She’d been isolated in the country for so long, that she’d never really had male callers. Other than Spence, of course, but he didn’t count. He was more like a brother and, his amorous imaginings aside, he was certainly not of any romantic interest to her. She may have sworn off marriage, but it was nice to know she was not without some allure to the male species.
She was just nearing the first floor landing when there was another knock at the door. Another visitor, already! Who now? In Evesham, she’d been able to avoid much of the ritual of morning visits. She’d long considered the custom of morning calls a wearisome business and much overrated. She’d preferred to let her mother and sisters do most of the entertaining, since they appeared to enjoy it. And in recent years, when they were gone, thankfully few people bothered to visit. She flew up the second flight of stairs to her bedroom to catch a few moments respite and never heard Grandma Lawton greet Joseph at the door.
“Good afternoon, young man. What is your name?” Lady Lawton moved forward forcefully, almost bowling the boy over.
“Joseph, ma’am.”
“Good day. You can tell your mistress that her grandmother is here.” Not waiting for his reply, she proceeded to march right past him. “There must be a library in this house?” She threw the query over her shoulder, but continued walking.
“Yes, ma’am.” He pointed toward the end of the hall, then he seemed to recall something and came running behind her. “Buuuut ma’am!”
She turned and sent a smile back at him, still forging ahead along the hallway. “I imagine it’s this way?”
“Yes, ma’am, but…”
She wasn’t interested in his buts. “Everyone knows that if you want to have a good talk, you won’t find it in a room with other callers,” she explained.
“But ma’am, you can’t...” he cried, running to keep up with her brisk pace.
“The library is more conducive to a private chitchat,” she told him, ignoring his protests and continuing to stride toward the door he had indicated. “There, one is rarely interrupted by tiresome visitors.”
Lady Lawton paused for a moment to look down at the boy. The poor child looked frightened, as though allowing her beyond the drawing room was a crime. Surely he wasn’t afraid of being chastised for it! And what was a child doing answering the door? He was far too young to be doing a footman’s job.
Where on earth was Foster?
She tried to reassure him. “As I said, I’m Miss Talia’s grandmother. She won’t be angry with you for showing me to the library.”
Gazing into his fearful eyes, she hoped she was right. Something or someone had badly upset the child. She’d be astonished if Talia was the one. Her grandchild had been taking in every stray animal since she was able to walk. It was inconceivable she could be cruel to anyone.
There was, however, something odd going on with her. She was hiding something, of that Lady Lawton was certain. That was why she was determined to meet her in the library where they could have some privacy. She wanted to find out exactly what the girl was up to. Coming to London, renting a house on her own, and not informing anyone... Imagine! The girl had always been too independent but there was something not quite right about this business.
The boy pushed past her to stand in front of the closed door. At first, she thought he was going to block her way then he seemed to reconsider and, opening it, he stepped aside and said, “Here you are, my lady.” He stood there awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other. “I’ll go get Mr. Foster.”
She hesitated a moment. Was she apt to find out more from Foster alone? Probably not. He was unswervingly loyal to Talia. “No, no, dear. No need to bother Foster.”
“But I must ma’am. I’m not supposed to let anyone past the front door, so I have to tell him about you.” He began to move off, then turned and said, “Would you like some tea, ma’am?” The boy looked pleased with himself for remembering to ask. Trust her kind-hearted grandchild to hire an untrained, much too young child.
“No, thank you, Joseph, you said your name was? While you go tell Foster that I’m here, I’ll be perfectly happy just looking at the books in here. There seem to be an awful lot of them.” She waved the boy away and wandered in to begin perusing the titles on the shelves along the wall immediately to her left.
A throat clearing had her spinning around in surprise.
“Young man! You scared the wits out of me! You should know better than to skulk about like that. It’s enough to give an old lady palpitations.”
Reed forbore to point out that, until he stood politely when she entered the room, he’d been sitting comfortably in an armchair for the past half-hour or so. Not exactly skulking.
“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”
The elderly lady advanced on him in an aggressive manner. Who was she? And who had let her in? What was she doing in the library and not the drawing room? He hoped Tally didn’t delay coming to greet her newest visitor.
He’d heard the earlier visitors arrive and had remained close by in case she needed his help. He didn’t trust that Dubuc. He was the man who had been pouring on the charm last night, when Reed had looked in the window.
The lady was waiting for him to do or say something. So he executed a small bow and said, “Reed Leighton, at your service.” He’d almost said “Reed Gordon Eames”, now that he was fairly certain it was his true name. But until he understood more about his present circumstances, he deemed it best to bide his time.
Her eyes fair goggled at his introduction. She looked astonished.
He shifted uneasily. Did she know him? He didn’t feel like explaining his affliction to a stranger — a belligerent-looking stranger at that, so he maintained his silence.
“Indeed?” She seemed at a loss for words.
A happy circumstance, in his opinion. “And you are?” He was all set to let her have some of her own inquisitive behavior back, but she rudely interrupted him.
“And what are you doing here?” Having found her voice, she wasted no time in launching another salvo.
“I believe it is customary for a visitor to offer her name in return.” Good lord! Where had that come from? He must be a brave fellow when he had a memory!
He thought he saw the beginnings of a smile, but couldn’t be certain.
“I am Lady Lawton.”
She muttered something that might have been “as if you didn’t know”, but it was too low for him to be sure. He sensed she was watching him carefully for a reaction. What an eagle-eyed, sharp-tongued old biddy!
He hoped his wife arrived soon to rescue him.
“Pleased to meet you.” He hadn’t a clue who she was, but he had the feeling she knew exactly who he was. He watched her carefully for any recognition. He found himself hoping she would tell him, and, at the same time, that she wouldn’t. He was suddenly afraid of what she might reveal. Given that he wasn’t using his own name, he worried he was involved in criminal activity. If that were the case, he imagined it must be clandestine, and he certainly didn’t want anyone friendly with his family to know about it.
He paused to give her an opening to say something, but she kept quiet, which appeared to surprise her. She didn’t look like a woman accustomed to remaining silent.
His head began to ache from the strain of meeting someone who, he felt sure, knew him. If he’d been o
stracized by his family, did he want this lady telling him about it? He shook out his arms a bit at his sides, trying to loosen the tension around his neck and shoulders. He wished he could have avoided this. But it was already too late to hide from her, so he had to brazen it out.
“I heard you refuse tea. Perhaps you would prefer a sherry or brandy?” When all else fails, resort to time-honored, civilized manners!
“A little brandy might help with the shock,” she agreed.
What shock? But he was damned if he was going to ask. He crossed to the Hepplewhite side cabinet, where he’d put the liquor he’d asked Mason to buy for him. He’d been taken aback to find no alcoholic beverages in the house. What did his wife think they were going to serve to their male visitors? He poured generous measures into two glasses. He could use the restorative as well.
They were tiptoeing around each other warily. He handed her a glass and gestured to an armchair “Shall we?”
Now that he was able to take a good look at her, he noticed something familiar about her face or was it the expression? He groaned inwardly. She must be related to Tally. The resemblance was faint but there, nevertheless.
Damn it. Tally wasn’t going to be happy. He’d just ruined her plan to keep their marriage hushed.
Faced with this elderly lady’s inimical stare, he struggled to find an opening to make normal conversation, but found himself curiously tongue-tied. The idea that she might know who he was, and be wondering why he hadn’t recognized her or was purposely not acknowledging her, was upsetting.
“Now that we’ve dispensed with the formalities, I will ask you again, what are you doing here?”
She certainly was blunt. No shilly-shallying around the point. Should he tell her the truth?
“Since I was here first, surely that should be my question.”
“You live here?” Her voice rose in disbelief.
He saw no way around that, other than lying, and he didn’t want to do that. “Yes, we’ve leased it for the Season.”
“We?”
Nosy old battleaxe! Why should he answer her rude questions? Really, he didn’t even know who she was.
Lady Lawton, she’d said. Lawton? Was she related to that artist, Wendal Lawton? The one whose work they’d just viewed at the Royal Academy? Why hadn’t Tally mentioned she was related to the artist? Because he was quite certain this woman was her relative. It would certainly explain his wife’s own amazing artistic talent!
That decided him. He was going to take an evasive tack in this… interrogation. Answering her earlier question, he said. “I’m searching for information about…” Should he? Ah hell, why not?… “my family.”
“What do you want to know?” She sounded prepared to tell him.
“Who they are,” he said tentatively, wanting to see what she might say about the Eames family. All he really knew was their names and what Debrett’s said. He had no idea what kind of people they were.
“You need only ask...”
“Grandma Lawton!”
He’d qualify Tally’s tone as exuberant shock.
The older woman jumped visibly. Guilt was writ all over her face.
“What are you doing in the library?” She looked and sounded horrified to see the two of them together.
So... the old lady was his wife’s grandmother. Their secret was well and truly out of the bag now. He cast a sheepish look at Tally as he rose to greet her, but she ignored him completely. A bad habit he deeply disliked.
She addressed her grandparent, “I see you’ve met Mr. Leighton.”
“It appears I have.” The elder woman’s tone and face were enigmatic, though her eyes darted between the two of them inquisitively.
“Come, let’s go to the drawing room and leave Mr. Leighton to his reading.”
How formal she was being! He expected Lady Lawton to object. She seemed on the verge of doing so. He might have enjoyed watching his wife and her grandmother battle it out, but suddenly, he felt all of his vitality deflate like a pricked balloon.
Perhaps the doctor was right. Maybe he should allow his memory to return in its own time and manner. Already many recollections were returning, especially since that attack in the lane. It was surely only a question of time before everything came back.
He took the initiative out of their hands. “I was just leaving, so I’ll bid you adieu, ladies, and leave you to your tea.”
He was surprised not to be summoned back. He even heard Tally’s grandmother begin, “Oh but…”
Pretending not to hear, he made good his escape. He wasn’t a coward, but he sensed having a conversation with his wife’s grandparent right now could set back his recovery immeasurably.
* * *
Utter shock kept Lady Lawton silent. What is that rascal doing living in the same house as my granddaughter?
She followed Talia into the drawing room. She was so preoccupied, she barely noticed how nicely appointed it was. She sat on the sofa, expecting her grandchild to join her, but she excused herself for a moment saying she was going to help Joseph with the tea. A pretext, of course. No doubt she was warning that rogue not to show his face in here. Mr. Leighton, indeed! His name was Reed Gordon Eames, Viscount Selwich!
Flabbergasted was a mild word for how Eva Lawton was feeling.
Selwich was her best friend’s grandson. She hadn’t known he was back. He’d been living abroad for years. Daphne must be overjoyed that he was finally home. But why hadn’t she mentioned it yesterday when Eva visited her?
There was more to this than met the eye and she meant to get to the bottom of it.
Selwich had been a bit of a rake before he left England’s shores, and she would never have allowed him anywhere near her granddaughter then. But Daphne insisted he’d reformed and was doing very well for himself since he’d moved to foreign parts.
Eva smiled to herself. If he had indeed changed, she’d be well pleased were he and Talia to get together. A fine match, indeed, for her grandchild.
But surely she had misunderstood. He couldn’t be living here! He knew better. If it became known they were living under the same roof, life for Talia would never be the same. She may claim she wanted to shun the Season’s events, but she had no idea how hard Society was on those who flouted their rules. No matter where she went, cruel remarks and shame would always follow her.
Something strange was at play, she thought, now that she was recovering her aplomb and was able to think calmly about it. She’d have expected him to know who she was. Not that they’d met all that often, being two generations apart. And men were notorious for their poor memories about matters other than their horses and attractive young women. But even so…
She’d almost had an apoplexy when he’d introduced himself as someone else!
He’d looked her straight in the face, without a glimmer of recognition, and told her a barefaced lie… and he’d practically claimed to be living with Talia!
She’d come close to confronting him, to telling him she knew exactly who he was, but she’d been unable to detect any sign he recognized her. Had some misfortune addled the lad’s brain? That might explain Daphne’s not mentioning his return. Perhaps she was ashamed to admit their heir had lost his mind. He might not be such a fine match, after all.
She had the feeling that this was one of those times when it would be wiser to hold her tongue until she knew more about the situation.
And what was her granddaughter’s role in this? She was hiding something. Until this afternoon, Eva believed she’d known what that was.
They couldn’t have wed in secret, could they!
What if he’d married Talia under a false name? She’d cheerfully throttle him if he’d done that! But if her first thought was correct and they’d wed while he had no memory, matters could become very tricky, indeed. Eva knew Reed’s father, George. He was the epitome of the intrusive father who wanted to control his children’s lives. Daphne had confided that was why her grandson left all those years ago. No
, George would not be pleased.
Such baffling circumstances. They bore watching… up close. She needed to protect Talia from ruin. The child thought her Grandma didn’t know about poor Cousin Minerva falling ill and being quarantined.
Oh Ida, how I wish you were here. As she often did, she silently spoke to her long-departed twin. Don’t fret, dear sister, I won’t barge in and cause trouble. I’ll bide my time for now and see what is really going on before squawking. But she couldn’t allow Talia to continue like this. Something had to be done immediately… and Eva knew just what she was going to do.
“Sorry for taking so long, Grandma,” Tally hurried back into the room, followed by Joseph struggling to carry a tray loaded with tea, biscuits and the very best china. She prayed he didn’t drop it. To avoid that, she’d carried it from the kitchen to the door, but she didn’t want her grandmother to know how few servants she had, so she’d allowed him to take it these last few steps. “Mrs. P is out, so it took longer to organize the tea.”
And she’d asked Foster to keep a watch on Reed so that he didn’t decide to join them for tea in the drawing room.
She pointed to the small serving table beside her grandmother. “Put it down right there, Joseph. Good. Thank you. You can go help Foster now.” He started to race toward the door, but slowed down to a more seemly walk when she cleared her throat.
“So Mrs. P came up to town, did she? Marvelous, I do love her cooking.”
That sounded like Grandma intended on being here often enough to enjoy Mrs. P’s cooking. “Have you been here long, Grandma? No one warn– told me you were here.”
“That would presuppose you had enough servants to do that,” was her grandparent’s wry retort.
Tally groaned inwardly. Grandma Eva had just arrived and already she’d assessed the situation accurately. “I haven’t had time to hire everyone I need yet.”
“Surely it doesn’t take long to hire sufficient servants!”
“It does when it’s your first time in London and you aren’t sure where to go to hire the best people.”
“And whose fault is that?” Her Grandma went on the offensive. “Had you advised us of your arrival, we’d have done our utmost to help you.”
The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Page 32
