Drew shook his head. He couldn't believe what Aldora had just confided. "What about my father? He loved my mother."
"He loved drink more. His problem began long before she sought other company. I wish she had taken you when she left, but for a year before her flight, you screamed when left alone with her."
For a moment, a memory nibbled at the edge of his thoughts. "Please don't stew. Your granddaughter and I will manage. Once the banns are read tomorrow, I must return to London. There are business matters to attend, servants to hire and a vote to make Prinny Regent for the King."
"That poor old man. We will have grieved for him long before he finds rest." She walked to the door. "Goodnight, my boy. I'm sorry I forced this marriage on you."
"There was no force, only expediency." He brushed her cheek with a kiss. "The wedding plans are yours. I'm sure your friends and the neighbors will expect a grand celebration. Make what purchases you must. I'll handle the bills on my return."
* * * *
Hours later, Aldora remained awake. The curtains surrounding the huge four poster bed were parted enough to allow moonlight to cast shadows in her cave. Why was Drew afraid to reach for love? Had he learned his fear from her?
She pulled the covers close and thought of the lonely nights spent in this massive bed. Edgar had only joined her on rare occasions. After Alice's birth, he'd shunned this room and had moved to the suite Drew now used. The fault had been hers. She had turned from Edgar too many times. A tear trickled down her cheek. 'Twas too late for regrets.
Bertha's rumbling snores accompanied Aldora's sighs. Sleep remained inches from her grasp. Some deep problem troubled Drew but she couldn't help if he refused to confide in her.
Would Nicola find a tunnel through the thick walls he'd built over the years? Her granddaughter might be the one to alleviate the sorrows of his childhood. Aldora had tried, but her love for the child he'd been and the man he'd become was not enough.
She closed her eyes. At dinner, the air between Drew and Nicola had been as heavy as before a summer storm. His eyes had glowed with desire, but desire wasn't love. He needed love. She could do nothing for the pair except pray.
* * * *
On Sunday morning, Nicola shepherded her sisters down the stairs. The skirts of her bottle green silk morning dress rustled with each step. She reached to straighten the bow adorning Margaret's braids. Drew lounged in the doorway leading to the Great Hall. Her grandmother sat on the lone chair across from the staircase.
The Dowager rose. "You look lovely, my dears. Our friends and neighbors have been waiting to meet you. Many of them knew your mother."
Nicola glanced at the Earl. He held the Dowager's cloak. "We'll be late if we continue to dally," he said.
Nicola helped Margaret with her cloak. She shook her head. A smudge of dirt marked the pale yellow silk dress. Trust Margaret to attract dirt the way the chumbaka stone drew bits of iron.
In the carriage, Nicola kept a firm grip on Margaret's hand in hopes of keeping the child calm. Elizabeth sat with her hands folded in her lap and her gaze on her younger sister.
The Dowager spoke of the people they might chance to meet. "The vicar has a daughter of your age and one of Elizabeth's. His sons fall on either side of Margaret. There are a number of young people among the other local families. When this cold weather ends, we will arrange an outing. Perhaps a picnic by the lake or an expedition to the standing stones. How wonderful it will be to hear young voices about the place."
Nicola stared at the hem of her gown. Would the stern and disapproving Earl allow laughter into the house? She feared he would banish not only the sound of joy, but every word that was not in agreement with his wishes.
The carriage halted near a massive yew. Margaret tugged on Nicola's hand. "Nica, look. Beside the tree next to the church. A lady wearing a white nightgown."
Nicola saw nothing. "Are you sure?"
"She's seen our ghost," the Dowager said.
Nicola frowned and turned to look at the church built of the same stone as the manor house. The Earl took the Dowager's arm. They led the way down the aisle between the wooden benches to the canopied southern pew.
Nicola sat between her sisters on the rear bench. She had learned this was the only way to insure peace. The Earl and the Dowager sat in front. As though their arrival was a signal for the service to begin, the choir filed in followed by the gray-haired vicar.
Elizabeth leaned closer. "Since there's no pianoforte at the house, do you suppose I could come and play the organ?"
"I'll ask. Now be still for people are staring."
Nicola's thoughts drifted from the service to the teachings of the wise men she'd met in India. The sound of her name startled her. The banns, she thought. 'Tis once and twice more before they'll be cried. Then I will be trapped. My life will belong to the cold man seated in front of me.
Her attempt to find him this morning had failed. Why didn't he understand that responsibility for the house would be hers? She hadn't asked for servants and funds because she expected guests for the wedding. His anger troubled her. Perhaps she would never understand him, but if they wed, they needed to speak to each other. He seldom looked at her and when he did, she saw only distrust.
She sighed. He would never be like Siva. He would never follow the rules of the Kama Sutra, taking care to see she received pleasure in the marriage bed.
He won't suit. Our needs are too different. I must speak to him of this. Unless we find trust, there will be no joy in our marriage. With all her heart, she wanted the closeness her parents had shared.
The vicar pronounced the benediction. The Earl bolted from the pew and headed down the aisle. The Dowager reached for Elizabeth's hand. Their progress was like poured honey on a winter's day. The Dowager paused beside nearly every row of benches. Nicola heard so many names she knew she would never remember any. A half dozen invitations were extended. The Dowager accepted several. Before they reached the doors, Nicola understood Margaret's need to run free.
When she reached the carriage and found the Earl's horse gone, she frowned. Jem helped the Dowager and then Nicola up the steps. She closed her eyes. The Earl avoided her, but he couldn't hide forever.
The moment the carriage halted in front of the house. Nicola gathered her skirts and ran up the steps. "Miss, your cloak," Greene said. She avoided the butler's offer to take her wrap and strode across the great hall and into the narrow corridor behind. She opened the door of the Earl's study.
"My lord." She waited for an answer. "My lord, we must speak." Her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room. No fire had been laid. The room was empty.
Her grandmother appeared. "My child, is there a problem?"
"The Earl. I had some things to say to him."
"He has gone to London. He must find a governess and take his seat in the House of Lords."
"I've always taught my sisters."
The Dowager patted her hand. "You will have a husband and little time for the schoolroom. Come and eat luncheon with your sisters. Then I must inspect your wardrobe to see if there is a suitable gown for your wedding."
Nicola shook her head. "In the trunks from India is cloth for my wedding dress and for my sister's gowns when their day comes. Mama purchased the silk not long before she died."
Tears filled the Dowager's eyes. Nicola put her arms around her. "How like Alice. I'm so glad you will have a memory of her on your wedding day."
"Tomorrow we'll open our trunks and show you the treasures we brought."
In the small dining room, Nicola took her place and stared at the Earl's empty chair. Why had he left? Though her grandmother mentioned business, Nicola knew the trip was because he had little tolerance for her company.
Chapter 5
Drew slowed his gray gelding to a walk. Denmere lay miles behind. By now, Aldora would have informed Miss Gordon of his reason for leaving. Business. He held firmly to that explanation for his hasty departure. Work horses, farm machinery, li
vestock, mounts for the Gordon sisters, a valet for himself, a maid for his betrothed, and a governess for his wards. Until he reached an inn for the night, the listing of his intentions kept him from thinking about her.
She filled his dreams. Imagined scenes both tender and erotic jerked him from sleep a dozen times. At dawn, he woke aroused and aching. She'd come to him. Her lips had covered his flesh with feather kisses. Her breasts had brushed his chest. He groaned. He hadn't dreamed this way since those days when he'd first entered manhood and lost his virginity to a tavern wench.
He grabbed his clothes and dressed. In London, he would find relief for the desire his betrothed had stirred.
A pale sun shone through lead gray clouds. The day was as gloomy as his thoughts. He prayed the storm would wait until his journey ended.
On the outskirts of town, he stopped at a tavern for a meal. Talk centered on the Prince of Wales and the bill soon to be introduced in Parliament to name him as Regent to the ailing King. Though Drew had little interest in politics and wasn't one of the Prince's circle of friends, he understood the frustration of waiting for someone to die. Each time a treasure had been removed from the townhouse or the manor, he'd wished Edgar Barlow in his grave. The end had come too late to save much, but the coming marriage would allow the estates to be restored.
He groaned. His betrothed's face flashed into his thoughts. His muscles tensed. Blood pooled in his groin. Before returning to Denmere, he had to rid himself of this lust. Otherwise, she had the power to play him for a fool. Her seductive laughter, the chests from India and the trunks of gowns from London had shown him more about her true nature than weeks spent in her company would. Like his mother. Nicola Gordon seemed greedy for luxuries.
He finished a large portion of savory fish pie along with a mug of bitter ale. Feeling replete, he rode through the streets of London to Cairnton's townhouse. Wells, the Cairnton butler stared down his straight nose. Drew knew the disapproval was for his disheveled state.
"Tristan in?" Drew asked.
"In the library, my lord. Captain Ramsey's with him."
Drew dropped his saddlebags on the black marble floor. "Have these taken to my usual room."
"Shall I have a bath drawn and your evening clothes laid out?"
Drew swallowed a yawn. Last night's fitful sleep and the long journey had exhausted him. "Let me speak to Cairnton and Ramsey to see what they plan for the evening." He strode down the hall and entered the library. "Niall, good to see you. When did you arrive?"
"Yesterday."
Tristan ran his fingers through his pale blonde hair. "What brings you back to town? I thought you left to escort your bride and her sisters to Denmere."
Drew slouched on one of the four armchairs set in a semi-circle around the fireplace. "I did, but had to return to take care of business." He noticed the cane beside Niall's chair. "What happened?"
"One of Boney's soldiers sent a ball through my calf. Since my commander had dispatches for the War Office, I was elected courier. Not much good in battle with a bum leg. Tell me about this leg-shackle business. Thought you'd sworn off women along with life's other pleasures."
Drew shrugged. "Money. What other reason is there for marriage?"
Tristan laughed. "Lust. Love."
"Are you foxed?" Drew asked. "I found an heiress. What else was there to do?"
Niall leaned forward. In the light from the fire, his hair seemed the color of the flames. "Could try the tables. You have the devil's own luck."
"Luck can turn."
Niall nodded. "How true. Had my share of off days when knowledge of the odds and counting cards had no effect."
Tristan reached for the decanter on the table beside his chair. "A glass?"
"Half. Raw weather for traveling."
Niall shifted his foot on the hassock. "Tell us about your bride."
Drew paused. What to say? He knew so little except what Mr. Grey had told him and the seductiveness he'd discovered when he'd kissed her. "In looks, she's the picture of the Dowager as a young woman, though her eyes are Denmere blue."
A smile played at the corner of Tristan's mouth. "Then she's no merchant's chit being passed off as a Barlow. This has all the elements of a romance, though you should be wealthy as well as titled and she some poor well-bred lass."
Drew laughed. "Should you ever find yourself adrift on the River Tick, you can turn scribbler."
"Where's the chit from?" Niall asked. "With Gordon as a surname, Scotland's my guess."
"India."
"You don't say." Niall accepted a glass from Tristan. "Nearly took service there before Boney reared his head. Must talk to her about the place. She tell you much?"
"We've had little time for chatter. She's been settling her sisters and becoming acquainted with her grandmother."
"Have you set a date?" Tristan asked.
"The last Sunday of this month."
"I'll be there as your witness." Tristan stretched his long legs toward the fire.
"And I'll come as well," Niall said. "I'm home until mid-March. Will you open the town house and have the wedding here?"
"The Dowager wishes a country wedding. She hasn't been to town since her husband died."
"No disgrace to her," Niall said. "Man was a fool to challenge at his age."
"When do we leave?" Tristan asked. "Town is thin of company these days."
Drew shrugged. "A week, maybe two. Depends on my business. Must hire a governess. My wards are still in the schoolroom."
"Are your wards charming girls?" Tristan asked.
Drew grimaced. "The older is vain and flirtatious. The younger a hoyden." He related the story of the trip to Denmere, ending with Devonley's downfall.
"That young fool thinks to become a rake, but he lacks style." Tristan rose and smoothed his black superfine trousers. "Shame his older brother vanished in the American wilderness. Boy needs someone to take him in hand."
Niall chuckled. "Can't wait to meet these young ladies. Perhaps Tristan and I can travel ahead of you."
"Tristan needs to be here to sit on the vote for the Regency."
"Why? 'Twill be done soon or late. I would think you would want to become better acquainted with your future wife." Tristan walked to the door.
"Time enough for that once the words have been said." Drew covered a yawn with his hand.
"Niall and I are for dinner at White's and then on to Eugenie's. Join us?"
Drew shook his head. "Made the trip in record time. I might fall asleep in my soup."
"Then we'll see you tomorrow."
Niall leaned on the cane and moved to the door. "Congratulations on your heiress. Better you than me."
* * * *
Tristan stood beside the carriage and waited for Niall to settle on the seat. "What do you think of Drew's coming marriage?"
"That he doesn't want the chit and does what he must to save Denmere."
"I think you have the wrong of it. I saw something in his eyes I can't decipher." Tristan settled across from his friend. "There should be more to marriage than money."
"What? Turning romantic on us? One marries for heirs, money or position. 'Tis the way of life. Thank heavens I can escape the parson's mousetrap. Uncle's in prime health. Cousins flourish. Still, I'd do as Denmere if there were a need for blunt."
"I feel sorry for the chit. Her foreign birth. Her father being in trade."
"Denmere's an earl. The chit is granddaughter of one as well. Do you think he'll shun her?"
Tristan shook his head. "Just fence her with his rules of proper behavior."
Niall chuckled. "Wonder why he tolerates us?"
"Friendship is as hard to explain as love."
"You have love on the brain." Niall leaned back.
"About Denmere's bride. I say we make her a toast."
"Good thought. Not much I can do. Draft Fenwick, unless his name is bad ton."
"A marquis. Hardly. We'll begin our project when we arrive at Denmere."
> * * * *
Nicola sat at the Earl's desk and completed a list of what needed to be done to make the manor house livable. The elderly butler stopped just inside the door. "Yes."
"Should you be in here, Miss? Not meaning disrespect, but this is his lordship's private room."
"And the only desk in the house unless you count the ones in the attic. Do you know where the Earl stored our furniture and trunks from India?"
"They are in an empty room in the west wing, Miss."
Nicola rose. "Then let me get Jem and Sarad. Oh, Mr. Greene, do you know of someone in the village who could act as housekeeper? We have much to do before the Earl returns."
"Mrs. Bowen was head upstairs maid before the old Earl died and forced us to cut staff. Her husband died fighting in Spain. She could use the work. Has three young children. She'll know who in the village needs employment the most."
"Thank you, Mr. Greene."
By early afternoon, the furniture, rugs and barrels from India cluttered the Great Hall. Nicola sat on one of the trunks and surveyed the mess. "I find a house on one level like our home in Calcutta much easier to organize."
Sarad grinned. "No compound but one belonging to a maharajah could contain all these rooms on a single level."
Nicola nodded. "We must begin cleaning but I don't know where to begin. Upstairs, downstairs, belowstairs."
Jem stood with his hands on his hips. "Ye be a bossing one. Best not show these ways to the Earl."
"He isn't here so I must see to things."
"Who's to pay? The Earl don't hold with wasting money on the house."
Nicola pursed her lips. "I've no love for debt either. I have some money I can use. Do you know of a carpenter with a knack for repairing furniture?"
"Ralph Cummins in the village be such a one. How be ye traveling there?"
"Sarad and I will take the pony cart."
"I be taking ye, Miss. The Earl won't want ye going about alone."
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