The Beleaguered Earl

by Allison Lane

  “True.” She blushed, for she had accused Merimont of that very failing more than once. “So what would make a sensible lord behave so irrationally?”

  “Lady Montcalm’s death was an accident, but the circumstances were confused, so people talked. They embellished. They speculated.”

  “And they undoubtedly accused him of doing away with her,” she concluded.

  “Among other suggestions – suicide, an accident as he tried to kill her lover, self-defense when she tried to kill him.”

  “Heavens!”

  “He withdrew into the Abbey and refused to see anyone for nearly a year.”

  “I suppose that increased the talk.”

  “Greatly. It has been twenty years, but people still believe he is hiding the truth. Thus he hates gossip. He hates rumor. And he hates hearing his son’s name on anyone’s tongue.”

  She shook her head. “Stubborn fools, both of them. So how did Lord Montcalm try to obtain obedience?”

  “He canceled Max’s allowance to force him home.”

  “So winning Redrock offered him a reprieve.” Despite his success, she could not condone gaming as a solution to financial problems.

  Rockhurst must have heard her disapproval, for he held up a placating hand. “Not really. Acquiring Redrock was an accident. He was actually looking for a steward’s position.”

  “Why?”

  “He wanted to experiment with his agricultural theories. He has followed Coke’s successes closely and believes that even greater triumphs are possible.”

  “So why not work with his father’s steward? He must know that no one of sense would hire a lord’s heir. Even if he is competent, he could be called away without warning to assume his father’s position.”

  “He tried. It was his request to run Montcalm’s smallest estate that led to the latest argument. Montcalm feared he would use the place for illicit purposes.”

  “Can you blame him?” she asked bitterly, gesturing toward the manor that sheltered so many courtesans.

  “He does not usually engage in such parties,” he swore. “Nor do Terrence and I.”

  “So he needs Redrock because he has nowhere else to go?” she asked, returning to the original subject.

  “Without an allowance, he cannot remain in London – Montcalm always kept him too short to save anything. So his choices are to live here or return home.”

  “Which means he will stay whether I want him to or not.” She glowered, though the idea was not as infuriating as it ought to be. At least Rockhurst had confirmed that Merimont really did intend to restore Redrock.

  “For a time. Montcalm always rescinds his worst edicts in the end. I remember the summer he ordered Max to stay on the property – he meant the Abbey grounds, but Max took him literally. He stayed on Montcalm’s property – taking Montcalm’s coach from one estate to the next, alighting only in villages owned by his father, consorting only with employees and dependents, including several se—” He snapped his mouth closed.

  “You needn’t censor your tongue, sir. I can hardly claim ignorance after the last few days. I presume he entertained himself with all manner of serving girls from estate villages.”

  “I should not be disclosing such information,” he said stiffly. “Montcalm sent a messenger after us, rescinding the order, but since Max wanted to know how much ground he could cover before he had to break the ban, it took two months for the fellow to catch up with us.”

  They reached the edge of the woods, bringing the village into view. And just as well. She did not want to be charmed by Merimont’s escapades. “I will leave you here, my lord. I can hardly explain your escort.”

  “What will you say about Max?”

  “As little as possible. Admitting that we share the house can only create trouble. I will have to claim that I moved Mother into the dower house. Two rooms are still habitable, though the roof leaks badly. People will accept a temporary move.” At least she hoped so. Anyone who had actually seen the dower house would look askance at such a claim.

  But Rockhurst merely nodded. “I will wait for you.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “I disagree. Unless I escort you back, Dornbras may accost you again.”

  She could think of no argument that might deter him. Nor did she want to. Leaving him in the forest, she headed for the village.

  The encounter with Mr. Winters went better than she had expected. He kept his curiosity under control as he measured out the willow bark and other herbs she needed, but could not ignore the topic entirely.

  “I hear the estate changed hands.”

  “Lord Merimont now owns it, thank heavens. Watts tells me he plans to restore it to full prosperity. All of us will benefit.”

  He grunted agreement, but his eyes gleamed. “Does he have guests?”

  She nodded. “Who can blame him for celebrating his good fortune? And unlike Lord Millhouse, he is not bothering the rest of us. He hadn’t expected to find the manor occupied, of course, but given the size of the party, it seemed reasonable to allow him use of it for a week or so.”

  “Some think you will leave Devonshire.”

  She shook her head. “A new owner does not affect our lease.”

  There was much more, but she escaped without actually lying, though she left the impression that she had moved out of the house. Rockhurst awaited her in the woods.

  “Max mentioned that Ashburton deliberately destroyed Redrock,” he said when she rejoined him. “Forgive me for asking a personal question, but I cannot help but wonder what his reason was.”

  “He hates my mother – and me, by extension.”

  “Why?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. The question was impertinent, but his face seemed genuinely puzzled. She felt compelled to answer, in part because he’d answered her questions.

  “It started with his brother,” she said, sighing.

  “Your father?”

  She nodded. “Uncle Edward idolized Arnold, emulating him whenever possible. He was away on his Grand Tour when Arnold met Mother and wed her. So he blamed us for Arnold’s death.”

  “Why?”

  “Who knows? He has never explained his reasoning. He also blames us because Grandfather recalled him from his Grand Tour and forced him to wed. His wife is not the easiest person to live with.”

  “Has he never changed?”

  “That would require admitting he’d been wrong. Grandfather finally gave up making him see reason and set up our lease.”

  “Ah. Ashburton couldn’t evict you, but he managed to make life as miserable as possible.”

  “Exactly. But now that the estate is too derelict for him to inflict further damage, he’s passed the job to someone else.”

  “Max will treat you better,” he vowed. “He has long aided the weak against the strong. He’s even been known to rescue birds from marauding cats.”

  “I doubt he would want that fact bandied about society,” she said with a chuckle.

  “Assuredly not. Or the puppies he pulled from the river while we were at Oxford. He managed to keep them hidden in his rooms for nearly a week before they escaped. Unfortunately, they invaded the bagwig’s office, chewing papers, leaving calling cards where they were most likely to be stepped on, and smashing a decanter of French brandy.”

  She laughed. “How many pups?”

  “Four, and quite fond of tug-of-war, particular with a pair of new boots.”

  She smothered another laugh with one hand as they paused at the edge of the wood. No one was out, so they headed for the terrace. She was turning to thank Lord Rockhurst for his escort when the library door opened.

  “Where have you been?” demanded Merimont.

  “That is hardly your concern, my lord,” she said coldly, feeling her cheeks heat when she realized the impropriety of discussing him with his friend. “A better question is what you are doing in my rooms – again.”

  * * * *

  Max inhaled deepl
y, shocked at his own reaction. There was no reason to shout at Miss Ashburton.

  He had awakened an hour ago. When he’d returned last night after a frustrating day of being the odd man in a group of couples, he’d been relieved to find no sign of notes. Only this morning did it occur to him that a crisis might have prevented her from writing one. So he had come to check on her patients – merely as a duty, he had assured himself; Missy was his guest. But Miss Ashburton had been gone. Rose claimed that she had left hours ago to fetch some herbs from the village.

  Memories of the last time she had ventured out had stabbed fear into his soul. Dornbras did not accept defeat easily. A quick search of the house had increased his concern. Reggie was snoring loudly enough to wake the dead, but not a sound escaped Dornbras’s room.

  Then he’d found Blake’s room empty. New images had surfaced – Blake finding Dornbras gone and following him to prevent any mischief; Dornbras escaping Blake’s scrutiny long enough to force himself on Miss Ashburton; Blake arriving to discover Miss Ashburton’s beaten body.

  But nothing had prepared him for the sight of Blake and Miss Ashburton sauntering across the grounds, laughing as if they hadn’t a care in the world. Finding her all right made him furious. And the guilt staining her face made it worse.

  “You should know better than to venture out,” he said, glaring.

  “Missy is feverish. I had to visit the apothecary.”

  “So you risked running into Dornbras instead of asking me to send someone?”

  “I was adequately protected,” she snapped, nodding toward Blake. “And how can one of your servants to run my errands without informing the entire world that we are sharing a roof?”

  “She’s right,” drawled Blake.

  “You stay out of this.” He glared at his best friend.

  “If that’s what you want.” He stepped forward, murmuring, “Don’t be an ass, Max,” as he passed. Then he gripped Miss Ashburton’s hand. “It has been a pleasure, my dear.”

  She smiled warmly. “Thank you for the escort, my lord.”

  Bestowing a smile on her, he left them standing on the terrace.

  She waited until Blake was gone, then stepped into the library, removing both her bonnet and her smile.

  “When did you invite him along?” he demanded, drawing the draperies.

  “He invited himself, though I am grateful. I had forgotten that the villagers would know about your guests.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Surely you are aware of how gossip spreads in the country, my lord. The identities of your companions are difficult to hide. If you truly wish to stay at Redrock, you need to cultivate a more conventional image.”

  “Gossiping behind my back,” he grumbled.

  “Putting an acceptable face on despicable conduct,” she countered.

  He snorted.

  “What is wrong with you this morning?” she demanded sharply. “It is not your concern where I go or what I do. Yet here you are, in a place you swore would be mine alone, snapping at me like a furious terrier because I was not where you wanted me to be. You’re as bad as your father. You aren’t satisfied unless everyone is under your watchful eye.”

  “That wasn’t—” The look in her eye stopped him, for she was not in a mood to listen. And she had a point. His fury was illogical. He couldn’t blame her for responding in kind.

  He walked to the front window, peered at a distant copse of trees, then returned. “It is not that I was upset over you going about your business, but I have no idea where Dornbras is, so finding you missing was a shock.”

  “You feared I’d fallen foul of him?”

  He nodded.

  The irritation drained from her face. “I’ve seen no sign of him. I met Lord Rockhurst in the woods, but he’d seen no one either.”

  He would check on Dornbras later. “So what did you tell the local gossips?”

  “I only spoke with the apothecary, though he has the fastest tongue in town.”

  “A rattle?”

  “Worse. Everything that goes in his ears comes out his mouth. So I pointed out that your party was not as disruptive as Millhouse’s and posed no threat to the village maidens, then extolled your plans for rebuilding the estate.”

  “Does he know you remain here?”

  “I stepped around that point, while implying that I did not. He expects you to take possession of the dower house when your friends leave.”

  “You said it was a ruin.” But he knew she was right. One of them would have to move, and she had a lease for the manor.

  “It is, though you can fix it easily enough. If you wish to remain at Redrock, you must have your own residence.”

  “Something else to deal with,” he said on a long sigh. “We will drive out to Brent Tor this afternoon. Tomorrow, I will cite limited space and a mountain of work, then send the others to Dartmoor while I remain behind to deal with an emergency. Everyone will be gone by the next day.”

  She nodded, absently rearranging a pile of books. “So why were you looking for me?”

  “How are your mother and Missy?”

  “Not well. Both are suffering fever, though Missy shows no signs of delirium. Mother is worse again.” Fear flickered in her eyes, but she suppressed it.

  “I am sorry. Is there any way I can help?”

  “Not while your guests remain. You are spending too much time in this wing already.”

  “I had only intended to ask about your patients, Miss Ashburton,” he snapped. “But Rose claimed that you had left hours ago. Given what happened the last time you ventured forth, I was concerned about your safety.”

  “Rose’s sense of time is distorted.” She shrugged. “I was gone little more than an hour. Must I serve notice next time I have errands, or are you willing to accept that I’ve run this household long enough to make my own decisions?”

  “I overreacted.”

  The admission triggered a brilliant smile. “Perhaps there is hope for you yet,” she said, turning toward the hallway. “I must look in on Mother. Which way will you leave?”

  “The same way I entered.”

  He mounted the twisting stairs just behind her, then had to endure her swaying bottom directly before his eyes all the way up. He should not find her this delectable.

  Chapter Ten

  Max locked the door to Miss Ashburton’s hallway, then paced his room. He should not have lost his temper. What was wrong with him lately? It felt as if a stranger had crawled into his skin – betting money he didn’t have, organizing this party, becoming so wrapped up in stubborn arrogance that he couldn’t think straight, insisting that Miss Ashburton behave as he wanted.

  Dear God. Another trait that mirrored his father. His hands gripped his head lest it explode. Had Montcalm won after all, tricking him into adopting his worst traits?

  “No!” he vowed as his feet picked up speed. This wasn’t the same thing at all. He’d demanded that Miss Ashburton obey only to protect her. It was a temporary measure made necessary because he had placed her in danger. Once Dornbras left, she could do whatever she wanted.

  He was not turning into his father.

  He reviewed all the ways he was different – genuine concern for the helpless, personally handling his responsibilities, eagerly trying new ideas, wanting to help his dependents. None of that was true of Montcalm. The marquess cared only for himself, placing the operation of his estates in the hands of others, then withdrawing into a brooding silence broken only by periodic exhortations to his son.

  Max relaxed. He was not like that. When problems arose, he faced them head-on. So maybe he was a little stubborn, and maybe he was a little irritated when people who ought to know better did something stupid. He could fix that. All he had to do was think twice before opening his mouth.

  He stopped at the window, again looking over the empty drive. He would be better off deciding how to end this party. He had promised to make the announcement tomorrow, but so far he
had not come up with reasons that sounded legitimate. Yes, the house was small, but they were now reduced to seven people spread over six bedchambers – hardly inconvenient.

  He did have work that he needed to do, but it was no more pressing than it had been last week, and it could easily be postponed until later. The food was simple, yet it was both tasty and filling. And while the service was primitive, it was tolerable for a little longer. So what could he say that would allay Dornbras’s suspicions?

  Every time he thought of Dornbras, he cringed. The man was a more poisonous snake than the one that had infested Eden, particularly since his ultimate goal was no longer clear. In retrospect, acceptance into society’s ballrooms and drawing rooms seemed an inadequate reason to court favor. Dornbras’s own family could have provided such entry. Had they quietly disowned him?

  He shook his head, for word would have leaked out. London’s gossips were too good at unearthing every last scrap of scandal. And Dornbras must have known that no one person could counter his drawbacks forever. Even Brummell lacked the power to keep Dornbras acceptable once people discovered his true nature. So why had he been cultivating the Montcalm heir?

  It was an unanswerable question that he wished he’d never asked. It couldn’t be for money; Dornbras had plenty, while Maxwell Longford did not. Power also seemed odd. And they had never argued, so revenge was unlikely. Perhaps Miss Ashburton could think of a reason. She saw a great deal more than most people.

  But recalling Miss Ashburton diverted his thoughts. She was the most infuriating female he’d ever encountered – and the most startling. He never knew what to expect. She was accommodating when she ought to be angry, curious to a fault, upset by suggestions that were perfectly reasonable, and as stubborn as the most intransigent mule. Yet she had flashes of perspicacity that astounded him.

  She was also creeping into his dreams, damn her witch’s eyes and the red hair he could barely keep from touching. And that bosom…

  His heart sped up until it was pounding uncomfortably in his chest. He should have taken advantage of his trip to Exeter to rid himself of lust, which would have made these meetings with Miss Ashburton easier. She was not suitable for dalliance. He must find some way to banish her from his head before he did something stupid.