Ashton was one of the few who knew Rob’s history. His brows rose. “What an unexpected gift. What about her mother?”
“Bryony died two years ago and our daughter, Bree, had been living with her ghastly grandfather.” Rob’s jaw set. “Now she’s here with me, and here she’ll stay. Not all potential wives would be happy about that.”
“Any woman you’d want as a wife will accept your daughter. What is she like?”
“Beautiful and fearless and eager to learn.” Rob smiled. “Like her mother.”
“My congratulations on the new member of your family.” Changing the subject, Ashton continued, “Several weeks ago, I attended Wyndham’s wedding. You know that he has emerged safely from France? He appears to be in very decent shape for a man who spent ten years in a French dungeon.”
“I knew he was back.” Rob had met Wyndham the same night he’d discovered that Cassie viewed their relationship very differently from the way he did. He’d wanted to kill Wyndham, the golden charmer to whom everything had come so easily.
Now Rob realized that the pain had faded. Cassie had been right: she and Rob were too much alike. “His wife, Cassie, was one of Kirkland’s people. Wyndham is a lucky man.”
“He is indeed.” Ashton’s voice was so neutral that Rob couldn’t decide if he knew about Rob’s relationship to Cassie or not. “The new Lady Wyndham is a ravishing redhead with a deep inner serenity. They . . . heal each other, I think.”
And both of them had needed healing. Ten years in prison must have matured Wyndham, maybe even made him good enough for Cassie.
For as long as Rob had known her, she’d dyed her hair drab brown. Now, finally, she was free to be herself. Live long and happily, Cassie. You deserve it.
Thinking of her made him recognize that Cassie was the past, albeit one of the best parts of his past. What mattered now was the future.
“Much as I love Ralston Abbey, I envy Kellington’s sea views.” Mariah was perched on a padded window seat in the morning room. In theory, she was writing letters, but she spent more time gazing out to sea. Sarah didn’t mind; she enjoyed having her sister in the same room. They still had years of separation to catch up on.
“The sea isn’t so pleasant in winter with a gale blowing in from the Atlantic,” Lady Kellington said acidly as she set tiny stitches into the canvas stretched over her tambour frame. The frame was set by another window so she’d have strong enough light for her embroidery. “The wind will freeze your bones.”
“On a lovely spring day like this, it’s hard to remember winter’s fury,” Sarah said. Not that she’d ever forget the storm that had driven them into the rocks below Kellington Castle. That seemed like another world, though.
She’d had two blissful days since Mariah and Adam had arrived. Rob and Adam were off doing manly things around the estate while she was enjoying an afternoon of female companionship in the morning room.
“Bugger!” Bree muttered over her embroidery hoop.
“Language, girl!” Lady Kellington barked. “What is the problem?”
“I’m sorry, Lady K.,” Bree said meekly. “I don’t know how to do this stitch.”
“Bring it over and I’ll show you,” the countess ordered.
Sarah hid a smile as she applied herself to her mending. One of the many similarities she and Mariah shared was a lack of enthusiasm for needlework, though both were competent. However, Lady Kellington turned out to be a master of needlework skills, and in a twist that Sarah could never have predicted, she was now teaching Bree.
The dowager countess had emerged from her lair the day before. Clearly she approved of having a duke and duchess as guests, and the presence of the Ashtons might be raising her opinion of Rob.
She’d had no use for Bree at first, but if she wanted to sit with the other females, she needed to be civil since Sarah had invited Bree to join her and Mariah. Sarah suspected that Rob had insisted his grandmother be polite to his daughter.
By the end of the afternoon, an odd bond began to form between Lady Kellington and her bastard great-granddaughter. Bree had asked if she could do some embroidery since she’d learned basic needlework skills from her mother and enjoyed doing it. Lady Kellington had pulled a canvas from her basket and ordered Bree to work.
Sketched on the fabric was a floral design for a pillow. The girl stretched the canvas over a wooden hoop and started to embroider. Her swiftness and skill earned Lady Kellington’s grudging respect. Soon they were selecting silk thread colors together.
Sarah suspected that Lady Kellington had been lonely as well as grieving for her son and grandson. Having a great-granddaughter who was polite, if occasionally profane, was cheering her up.
“There’s a carriage arriving!” Mariah said excitedly. “I think it’s the parents come to see that you’re all right! And of course Mama wants to hold Richard.”
Sarah put her mending aside and joined Mariah at the window while Bree rose and looked out Lady Kellington’s window. Only the countess ignored the visitors.
“Yes, that’s Uncle Peter’s carriage. Mama is getting out, and now our father. Oh, look!” Sarah began to bounce. “It’s Uncle Peter himself! I haven’t seen him in so long!” She hopped from the window seat and headed for the door of the morning room, closely followed by Mariah.
“Acting like a pack of urchins,” Lady Kellington grumbled. “Bree, stay here and get on with your needlework.”
Bree hesitated, then obeyed, so only Sarah and Mariah scampered to the front hall to meet the visitors. After hugs and greetings all around, Mariah escorted the guests to the drawing room for refreshments while Sarah lingered to talk to the butler. “Do we have enough rooms made up, Hector?”
“We will by the time your family has finished with their refreshments,” he assured her. “I’ll tell the cook we’re having more guests.”
“Thank you. A good thing this house has so many bedrooms!” She discussed the arrangements with Hector in more detail, thinking it was odd how she’d slipped into acting as the lady of the house. When Sarah was gone, would such duties fall to Lady Kellington? She’d suggest to Rob that he hire a housekeeper to work with Hector.
They were about to leave the front hall when the knocker sounded smartly. “The house is becoming quite busy,” Hector murmured as he crossed to open the front door.
The door opened to a sturdy man with a weathered face and a wooden peg leg. “I’m here to see Carmichael,” he said in a cockney accent. “Him what is the new earl.”
Hector said in freezing tones, “What is your business with his lordship?”
Taking an educated guess, Sarah approached the man and said warmly, “Surely you must be Mr. Harvey, whose position defies easy classification?”
He cracked a smile. “Right you are, miss. Jeremiah Harvey. Are you the young lady he chased to Ireland for?”
“I am.” She offered her hand. “Sarah Clarke-Townsend, generally known as Sarah. Rob is off looking at fields or something of that nature, but he’ll be back by the end of the afternoon. May I offer you refreshment?”
He shook her hand gravely. “Nay, I had a pint and a pie at the local pub. I brought some of Rob’s—his lordship’s—clothing from London. If you point me toward his room, I’ll take his traps up.”
Sarah said to the bemused Hector, “Lord Kellington has told me about Mr. Harvey.” Turning back to the newcomer, she added, “He’ll be very glad you’re here. Hector, will you escort Mr. Harvey up to his lordship’s rooms?”
“I can use some help with the baggage,” Harvey added.
Hector bowed stiffly. “As you wish.”
As Harvey headed outside again, Sarah whispered to the butler, “Isn’t life more interesting now?”
Harvey said dourly, “You say that as if interesting is a good thing.”
Laughing, she headed off to join her family. Interesting was indeed a good thing.
Chapter 27
Rob was hiding in his father’s dismal little study calcul
ating costs when Sarah ran him down the next afternoon. She sailed into the room with her shining smile. “I thought you might be lurking here. Feeling overwhelmed by my relations?”
The sight of her made Rob’s muscles start to unknot. “A bit. Individually they’re all pleasant, but collectively”—he shook his head—“I’m starting to feel rather hunted.”
“Soon we’ll all be gone and you’ll be able to relax again.” Sarah folded gracefully into a chair on the opposite side of the desk. “If you’re going to use this place as a retreat, it could use some redecorating.”
“If I make it attractive, more people will come,” he said with irrefutable logic as he feasted his eyes on Sarah. She’d always looked lovely, even in scruffy boy’s garments. Now that her own wardrobe had arrived from Ralston Abbey so she was wearing clothing that fit, she looked even better.
“You’re probably right,” she agreed. “The library is thoroughly infested with guests. That’s the drawback of turning it into your office. Perhaps you need two libraries, one for you and one for everyone else.”
He smiled at Sarah’s whimsy. They’d not been alone together since the sky had filled with falling relatives, and he missed talking to her. “I’ve already been interrogated about my intentions toward you by Ashton, your father, and your uncle.”
“Good heavens,” she said blankly. “Why would they do that?”
“There is the small matter of you and me traveling across Ireland unchaperoned,” he pointed out.
She frowned. “That seems so long ago that I forget how scandalous it could be considered. Did any of my relatives tell you we had to marry to save my reputation?”
“On the contrary, they all seem rather relieved to hear that I had no intentions and was in no position to consider marriage to anyone,” he said dryly.
“My mother and sister have been asking indirect questions about you and us. As if there was an us. Such foolishness.” She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “One reason I hunted you down was to see if you have more information about the estate’s financial status. You and Adam and my uncle have been having such long discussions.”
“They’ve both been very helpful. Your father has had less experience as a landowner, but he made a couple of good suggestions also.” Rob drew a quill pen through his fingers. Steel pens lasted longer but cost more. Lately, he found himself thinking about the cost of everything. He didn’t like the idea of living like that forever. “I still don’t have firm information, though. It’s only been four days since I wrote the Kellington lawyer. I expect I’ll hear from him soon.”
“I hope so. The uncertainty must be maddening. But it will pass.” She looked apologetic. “The main reason I’m here is that your grandmother has ordered me to produce you for predinner drinks in the salon, and when she gives orders, I obey.”
Rob frowned. “Is she being rude to you?”
“Only her natural rudeness,” she assured him. “I’m growing rather fond of her. Did you know she’s teaching Bree advanced embroidery techniques?”
He blinked. Bree? His grandmother? “I’m having trouble envisioning this. Are we talking about Bree, my pony mad daughter? When she and I talk, it’s mostly about horses. Or has some other Bree moved into the house while I was busy elsewhere?”
Sarah laughed. “There’s only one Bree. She’s hungry for all these new experiences. Riding, needlework, new friends, the conversation of older women. She absorbs it all. She rather reminds me of what I was like at that age.”
“I’m glad she’s settling in well.” He sighed. “Apart from the riding lessons, I haven’t spent much time with her. I need to do better.”
“Bree is well looked after,” Sarah said. “Speaking of which, earlier this afternoon I took her to the vicarage to meet the vicar, Mr. Holt, and his family. They’re schooling their own three young children, and they’re willing to include Bree for a modest fee. They’re pleasant people and Bree liked them. Do you want to proceed with that?”
“Yes, and thank you! It sounds like just what she needs.” He straightened the papers he’d been working on and got to his feet. “So. Predinner drinks in the salon. Do I look sufficiently respectable?”
“It’s your house, you can wear bearskin and feathers if you like,” she said with a chuckle. “But yes, you look suitably lordly. Like me, you’ve benefited by having your own clothing delivered so you needn’t wear garments foraged from the attics.”
She flattered him; he was dressed like a doctor or lawyer, not a lord. But since he didn’t possess a lordly wardrobe, his dark blue coat and buff trousers would have to do.
As he moved around the desk, she said quietly, “This is something of a going away party. Tomorrow, all your uninvited guests, including me, will be leaving.”
He felt as if she’d punched him in the midriff. She was leaving tomorrow? So soon? He’d known she must go, but somehow, he hadn’t thought of all his intense consultations about the state of the estate as subtracting time from being with her. It was suddenly hard to breathe. “Which of your homes will you go to? Your sister, your parents, or your uncle?”
“My sister,” she said immediately. “The Ashton houses are so large that I don’t feel underfoot, and this way I get to spend more time with my adorable little nephew. I intend to be a model aunt.” Her tone was light, but a little wistful.
She should be having babies of her own, but he couldn’t bear to let his thoughts run in that direction. “I’m sure Mariah will be glad of your company as well. You two are thick as thieves.”
“We have years of conversation to catch up on.” She shrugged. “Quite apart from the pleasures of gossiping with my sister, there’s a gentleman near Ralston Abbey who has shown signs of interest in me. Now that I’ve had my fill of adventuring, I intend to take a closer look at him. Mariah assures me that he’s wealthy, witty, and kind as well as quite passably good looking.”
Once more he had breathing problems. Was she tormenting him deliberately? No, they’d both accepted that they had no future together. Having discussed his marital prospects, there was no reason for her not to mention her own. “I’m sure your protective male relatives will make certain that he’s a suitable mate.”
“They’re allowed opinions, but the decision will be mine.” She stood. “We’d best get to the salon before your grandmother sends a hunting pack after us.”
He opened the door for her. “After you, princess.”
She did a brief, elegant curtsy. “Thank you, my lord. By the way, I’ve wondered. Did you know that Sarah means princess in Hebrew?”
“No. It just seems to suit you.” He drew her into his arms for a hug. Not a kiss; that would be too dangerous. But he needed to feel the warmth of her body against him one last time. Soft and female and so very dear. “I’m going to miss you,” he said softly.
“I’ll miss you, too, Rob. It was a grand adventure, wasn’t it?” She pulled away, her usually expressive face unreadable.
A grand adventure that was over. Silently he escorted her out into the hall and they headed across the sprawling house while a drumbeat in his head said, She’s leaving, she’s leaving, she’s leaving.
The shortest route to the salon was through the vast front hall. As they entered, he surveyed the walls and wondered if he really needed so many stuffed animal heads.
The knocker sounded. Since there was no servant in sight, Rob opened the door himself. Standing on the front steps was a very fashionable young man about town.
The man stepped inside, his gaze lingering appreciatively on Sarah before returning to Rob. He produced a card with a flourish. “I’m here to see Lord Kellington.”
“Why?” Rob looked at the card. The Honorable Frederick Loveton.
Loveton looked offended. “My business is with his lordship, so take him the card, my man.”
“I’m Kellington, and not your man,” Rob said dryly. “I have no recollection of ever doing business with you.”
Loveton gave a quick, sta
rtled glance at Rob’s unfashionable attire. “So sorry, my lord! I knew your brother, poor fellow. Which is what brings me here.” He produced several folded papers from his pocket. “These need to be settled.”
“Gambling chits for . . . ye gods, almost ten thousand pounds?” Rob said after a quick scan of the papers.
“Nine thousand seven hundred pounds, to be precise.” Studying Rob’s expression warily, Loveton said, “I’m willing to offer a discount since you’ve just inherited and must be still sorting matters out. Perhaps ten percent? Say, a nice round nine thousand quid?”
Rob was not in a good mood, so he didn’t bother with subtlety. He ripped the papers in half, then again, and handed the ragged quarters back to Loveton. “You’ve wasted your trip from London, Loveton. But at least Somerset is pleasant in the spring.”
“But, but . . . it’s a debt of honor!” Loveton sputtered.
“Nothing to do with my honor,” Rob said, feeling more cheerful.
“I shall see that every gentleman in London hears of your churlish behavior,” his visitor growled. “There won’t be a club in town that will allow you into the card room.”
“Feel free to tell the tale. With luck, that will mean that other cardsharps with my brother’s vowels won’t bother me,” Rob replied. “Since you must have horses chilling outside, I suggest you leave.”
Loveton’s lips thinned as he shoved the torn gambling chits into his pocket. “You, sir, are no gentleman!” he spat out before slamming the door behind him.
Rob turned to find Sarah helpless with laughter. “That was splendid!” she gasped. “His face when you tore them up . . . !”
His brows arched. “You don’t mind that I have no honor?”
“You’ve got honor of the kind that matters,” she retorted. “Your brother doesn’t seem to have had any of that.”
“I’ll try to repay tradesmen’s debts,” Rob said, “but I’ll be damned if I waste what money I can scrape up paying Edmund’s gambling debts.” He offered his arm again. “The predinner drinks had better include brandy.”
Mary Jo Putney Page 20
