“Uncle Roland.” Gray started after him. “Might I have a word?” He paused and smiled at Lady Garret. “It was my pleasure, Lady Garret. I daresay we will meet again before the last nail is driven.”
“No doubt, Mr. Elliott. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She smiled what appeared to be a genuine smile. Good God, he was beginning to recognize the termagant’s smiles.
“Lady Garret.” Gray nodded, cast Win a chastising look, then hurried after his uncle.
“Electricity, how very exciting.” Mother beamed. “I must say, I can’t wait.” She inclined her head toward the younger woman in a confidential manner. “I know my son claims to be a progressive sort, but in truth he does have a tendency to be something of a stick-in-the-mud.”
“Mother!”
“Don’t take that tone with me. You know full well it’s true.” Mother sniffed. “Not that I’m not pleased that you value our heritage, but, Winfield, dear, you do need to move with the times.”
Win’s jaw tightened. “I do move with the times.”
It was obviously all Lady Garret could do to keep from laughing.
“Well, we shall see.” Mother cast him an affectionate smile that did little to take the sting out of her assessment of his character. One could certainly value tradition without being a stick-in-the-mud. “Lady Garret, I know you and Winfield have matters to discuss, but would you join me for tea before you take the train back to London? I know your mother, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve seen her.”
The younger woman hesitated, then nodded in a gracious manner. “I should like nothing better.”
“Excellent. When you are finished here then.” She glanced at her son. “Do try to be pleasant.”
“I am being pleasant!”
“My mistake then. I thought you were being rather stiff and stodgy and annoyed and just the tiniest bit outraged. I’m sure no one else noticed.” His mother traded amused glances with the younger woman and took her leave.
He turned his attention to Lady Garret. “Wasn’t I being pleasant?”
“I am sorry, my lord,” she said at precisely the same time.
“What?” He stared at her.
“I was offering you my apology.”
He narrowed his gaze. “For what?”
“I put you in an untenable position with your family even if that was not my intention.” She shook her head and sighed. “I had no idea you would be so averse to the idea of modern—”
“I am not averse to the idea of modern anything! I wish all of you would stop saying that!” he snapped, then caught himself. What was this woman doing to him? She had him ranting like a lunatic. He inhaled deeply and mustered his composure. “It is I who owe you an apology. You simply caught me off-guard, that’s all. I had never considered the idea of electricity at Fairborough Hall.”
“And are you considering it now?”
“Yes, I suppose I am.” He shook his head. “But I have any number of concerns about this.”
She nodded. “To be expected of course.”
“There is the danger of fire to consider.” Good God, did he really sound that pompous? It was a logical concern and yet his tone was decidedly, well, pompous. “I mean, we must think about safety.” Oh yes, that was better.
“I cannot guarantee nothing will go wrong in the future, but I can tell you there are strides being made almost daily to improve the safety of wiring in a house.”
“That’s something, I suppose.”
“Admittedly, there is always a great deal that will be unknown about a new endeavor.”
“Indeed there is.” It struck him that she was very much a new endeavor and there was entirely too much unknown about her. “I am not the sort of man to blindly plunge ahead into the unknown.”
“I never imagined that you were.”
“I admit, there was a time when I perhaps made decisions in a particularly hasty manner when I should have given matters greater thought. When I plunged ahead when I should have considered said plunging rationally. But I have learned any number of lessons on the foolishness of rash decisions.”
She nodded. “And a wise man learns from his mistakes.”
“One can only hope.”
Her gaze met his. He could have sworn her eyes were brown. Today they were definitely that elusive hazel color. It was the lighting in the library, no doubt. “But isn’t something new, something unknown, even something that one fears might be a tiny bit dangerous, isn’t that worth the risk? Why, one could say that is what makes life exciting.”
“One could say that.” He smiled, albeit reluctantly. “I fear I am leaning—no, I have decided—in favor of electrification. God help us all.”
She laughed. It was surprisingly delightful. “I daresay—”
He held up his hand to stop her. “If you were going to say God has more to worry about than electricity coursing through the walls of my ancestral home, I would most heartily disagree. I would hope God could spare a moment or two to keep us safe from the ravages of progress.”
“I should think God would be amenable to that, especially as electricity is one of God’s creations and man is simply harnessing it.”
“That does sound simple,” he said wryly.
“But I didn’t finish my apology. I am sorry that I pitted you against the rest of your family. It wasn’t at all fair and certainly not what I envisioned.”
She sounded sincere enough and yet . . . “I don’t believe you.”
Her eyes widened. “Why on earth not?”
“Because you strike me as the kind of woman who gets what she wants and will use whatever means necessary to achieve it. Who will not back down from a position when she believes she is right.”
Surprise shone in her eyes. “I do?”
“The very fact that you are here, representing your late husband’s firm, is a testament to that.”
“Is it?”
“Indeed it is.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “It is most unbecoming in a female.”
“Oh?” Her brow rose. “Which part? Getting what I want? Using whatever means necessary? Or refusing to retreat when I know I am right?”
“All of it!”
“And what do you think is becoming in a female?”
“A female who knows her place in the world is most becoming,” he said in a lofty manner. Even as he said the words he knew they were a mistake. But something inside him—something quite irrational and probably extremely stupid—made him want to annoy her as much as she annoyed him.
“Her place in the world?” she repeated as if she couldn’t quite believe his words.
Win had a difficult time believing them himself. Indeed, he had always preferred women with a bit of independence and intelligence to them, women who made up their own minds and forged their own paths even if that had proved his undoing on more than one occasion.
“And what would that place be?”
“At home. With her family. Not out and about espousing electricity.”
Her brows drew together. “Do forgive me, my lord, for not meeting your standards of feminine behavior.”
“You manipulated me, Lady Garret. I do not like being manipulated. I particularly dislike that you used my family to do it.”
“And for that I have apologized. I shall not do so again.”
“What? Apologize or manipulate?”
“I certainly won’t apologize again.” She turned in a dismissive manner and considered the plans spread on the desk. “Is there anything else we should discuss today?”
Ha! Obviously she thought better of continuing a debate she could not possibly win. Good. If there was a score being kept—not that there was—he would have won a point. He moved closer and studied the drawings. “I quite like the way Mr. Tempest has expanded the dressing rooms and added additional water closets and bathing rooms, even in the wings. Especially those in the family quarters.”
“Even if they are not original to the house?” she s
aid under her breath.
“Even then.”
“It did seem to make sense, while much of the building was under construction, to include and expand amenities.”
“Very clever of Mr. Tempest.” As much as he hated to admit it.
She glanced at him. “Dare I take that as a measure of satisfaction on your part?”
“You may. I confess I did not consider things like plumbing and water closets and certainly not electricity, but all in all, yes, I do find this more than acceptable.”
“Excellent.” She straightened and met his gaze firmly. “Our next step then is to hire workers, locally if possible. If you could arrange for your estate manager to meet with Mr. Clarke tomorrow, I suspect he would be most helpful in that regard.”
“Excellent idea.” He nodded. “Dare I hope Mr. Clarke’s personal difficulties have been resolved satisfactorily?”
She looked at him sharply. “You remember that?”
“I am not a cad, Lady Garret. Most would say I am both thoughtful and considerate. As well as sincere.”
She smiled as if she had doubts on that score. Obviously she was going to need some convincing.
“I can also be charming and amusing.”
“That really isn’t—”
“I never mistreat the servants or those less fortunate. I support any number of worthy charities. And I am unfailingly kind to . . . to animals and children. Why, I can bring in several children from the village who will attest to that. I usually carry sweets in my pocket to hand out when I happen upon them.”
“Oh, yes, that is good for them.”
“And dogs. I’m very fond of dogs.” He glanced around. “Even that nasty little worthless beast of my aunt’s has been known to curl up at my feet.”
“No doubt, but—”
“And should you ever meet that embarrassment to the canine world you will certainly understand why it takes the kindest of men to—”
“Lord Stillwell!”
“My apologies. There is something about that dog. . . .” He grimaced. “Neither here nor there, of course. Do go on.”
“Very well. The Mr. Clarke, Emmett Clarke, you graciously inquired after is still unavailable to oversee construction. That task will be taken up by his brother, Mr. Edwin Clarke.”
“Edwin and Emmett? Twins?”
“Not to my knowledge. They have a sister named Eloise as well.”
“Their parents were exceptionally fond of the letter E then?” He chuckled.
“I have no idea.” She looked at him as if he had grown two heads. So much for his effort at amusing conversation. “As I was saying, we have engaged this Mr. Clarke’s services in the past. He is quite knowledgeable and does an excellent job. He will be here every day during the course of the project. Is there a cottage at Fairborough or on the grounds of Millworth or perhaps something available in the village where he can reside? It would be much more convenient if he could live in the area during construction.”
Win nodded. “We can arrange something suitable.”
“Excellent. As you have agreed to the plans, work can begin next week.” She hesitated. “Oh, and I will be here as well, of course.”
Win stared. “You?”
“Yes.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Every day?”
“I should hate to see anything go wrong and it will certainly slow progress considerably if Mr. Clarke is forced to stop work to scurry into London to clarify a point. I assure you, I am well versed on Mr. Tempest’s designs.” She studied him coolly. “So yes, I would think I shall be here very nearly every day from the first day of construction until the last.”
“I see.” If she was to be here nearly every day from next week into the foreseeable future he had best try to get on better with her. Again. He forced his most charming smile. “We have not started out on the right foot, you and I.”
“Do you think so?” Her eyes widened in feigned surprise. He didn’t believe her for an instant. “I really hadn’t noticed. I thought things were going quite well.”
He studied her for a long moment. This woman was an enigma and an annoying one at that. More so now in her refusal to admit that they were barely cordial to one another.
“Obviously I was mistaken then.” Regardless of whether she admitted it or not, they had clashed from the moment she had stepped into his life. “Do not think you have won any sort of battle here today, Lady Garret.”
“Why, my lord, I would never think such a thing.” Her voice was overly sweet and her lashes fluttered in a flirtatious manner. He ignored it.
“Good. As long as we understand one another I believe we can survive the next few months.”
“I have no doubt of it.”
“Because you haven’t, you know,” he said firmly.
Confusion crossed her face. “Won a battle, you mean?”
“Exactly.”
“No, of course not.” She paused. “Unless we are engaged in a war that I was unaware of ?”
“Not to my knowledge.” Ha! There had been no outright declaration and it may not be all-out war, but there was certainly an ongoing skirmish between them, whether she wished to acknowledge it aloud or not.
“That is a relief as you don’t strike me as the kind of man used to losing. Battles or wars, that is,” she added.
“I’m not.”
“Then we do understand one another.” She cast him an unexpectedly brilliant smile and in that moment he realized he was wrong. She was far more than pretty in an ordinary way.
“Excellent.” This was much better. Satisfaction washed through him. She was at last seeing things his way.
“And you have decided upon electrification?”
“Yes, I have,” he said staunchly.
“I shall see you next week then. Good day, my lord.” She smiled, nodded and left the library. But not before he saw the distinct touch of triumph and more than a little amusement in her eyes. Her definitely brown eyes.
“Good day,” he murmured. The tiny morsel of satisfaction he had tasted a moment ago vanished with the swish of her skirts and the close of the library door.
Damnation, he hated losing a battle, a skirmish or a war—whether it was officially declared or not.
Chapter 6
“Life changes us all, doesn’t it, Lady Garret?” Lady Fairborough sipped her tea and studied the younger woman.
“My apologies.” Miranda cast her a polite smile. She had wanted to return to London as quickly as possible, but instead found herself sitting in a parlor with Lord Stillwell’s mother making small talk, although she had the oddest feeling it was anything but small. Still, it would have been rude to turn down Lady Fairborough’s request to join her for tea. It was still early in the day and Lady Fairborough might well be her strongest ally if she ultimately needed one. “I don’t quite understand exactly what you mean.”
“Really? And I would have imagined you understood far better than most of us given the way you have stepped forward to take the reins of your husband’s business. To insure the livelihood of his employees.” Lady Fairborough nodded approvingly. “I find it quite admirable. It’s so very modern of you.”
Miranda chuckled. “I suspect your son disagrees with you.”
“He often does.” A casual note sounded in her voice. “Does it matter? What my son thinks of you, that is?”
“No, but it does matter what he thinks of Garret and Tempest. My intention is to improve our reputation, not destroy it.” Although, admittedly, it was bothersome that the blasted viscount, who was well known for his exploits with women, seemed to find her more annoying than appealing. Not that she cared. “As we will probably spend a great deal of time together, I should prefer not to waste that time arguing.”
“Oh, but there is much to be said for arguing with the right man. Especially when you can make him see the error of his ways.” She smiled in a completely wicked manner and Miranda could see the family resemblance between mother and son. “Don’t you ag
ree?”
“I really couldn’t say.”
The older woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Didn’t you argue with your late husband?”
“My late husband and I were usually in agreement.” Indeed, as she looked back on her years with John she could scarcely remember fighting with him at all although surely they must have on occasion. No, life with John seemed rather perfect in hindsight.
“How very interesting,” Lady Fairborough murmured.
But then Miranda scarcely ever argued with anyone about anything. Until, of course, she had crossed paths with the annoying Lord Stillwell. She did have to admit, their clashes had left her somewhat invigorated. Not that he was the right man or anything near that.
“You must forgive Winfield, Lady Garret. He is not usually so . . . so . . .”
“Stiff and stodgy and annoyed and outraged?”
“Oh, I did say that, didn’t I?” Lady Fairborough winced.
Miranda laughed. “Indeed you did. And you called him a stick-in-the-mud as well.”
“Oh dear.” She sighed. “The problem with having sons is that eventually they become men. One day they are sweet and adorable little boys and the next day they are men with all those annoying qualities men, particularly men of responsibility, tend to have.” She met Miranda’s gaze directly. “Winfield has a great deal of responsibility.”
“Does he?”
“He does indeed.” Lady Fairborough nodded firmly. “You see the plan was always to divide the family responsibilities between Grayson and Winfield, but Grayson instead went off to make his fortune in America. After a while, it was obvious to all of us that Winfield would have to carry on alone. Lord Fairborough has made a concerted effort through the years to ease him into the duties that will one day fall entirely on his shoulders. To that end, he has completely taken over the management of the family’s properties and business investments. He takes his responsibilities quite seriously.”
“So I see.”
“He has done an excellent job of it. His father is quite proud of him. And for very nearly the first time in his life, my husband is free to do the things he enjoys. He has an outstanding collection of rare manuscripts and he can now spend a great deal of his time doing whatever it is he does with them.” She leaned forward in a confidential manner. “I suspect he does little more than engage in correspondence with other collectors, either trying to purchase something new or boasting about what he has. Although there are a few manuscripts in Latin he has been trying to translate for years.” She wrinkled her nose. “Pointless, really, as he was never good at Latin. Still, one does try to support one’s husband’s pursuits, futile though they may be.”
The Importance of Being Wicked (Millworth Manor) Page 6
