“Much more than a few diamond necklaces, it would seem. According to my source, the dowager countess holds ownership to a small estate in London and to a vast amount of farmland adjacent to the Redfield Abbey estate.”
“I see.”
“I don’t think you do, my lord. The property the dowager countess is so willing to give over to her eldest daughter accounts for more than half of the earl’s income. His lifestyle could change considerably upon his mother’s death.”
* * * *
Uncle Sires’ manner toward May had softened considerably the next day. Though he still never smiled in her presence, his scowl was less defined.
“I am pleased you enjoyed your outing with Mr. Tumblestone yesterday,” he said to her during a brief encounter at the Pump Room that morning.
He was pleased?
Nothing involving May had ever pleased her Uncle Sires. This was truly a momentous occasion. Though May had long ceased wishing for his approval, this small crumb thrilled her.
She smiled like a dimwit as she took her turn around the Pump Room with Winnie. Everything would be perfect that morning if not for her aunt’s health. Poor, dear Aunt Winnie was feeling weak again today. She leaned heavily on May’s arm and kept her lips pressed tightly together.
Iona and Lillian joined them as they approached the glaring statue of Beau Nash located at one end of the Pump Room.
“You look absolutely bedraggled, Iona,” May gasped. Her friend’s hair was slipping from its pins and her dress was splattered with mud.
“A wild horse nearly ran her down,” Lillian explained in that whisper soft voice of hers. “Just outside the entrance, no less. Mamma suffered a fit of vapors and had to be carried home in a sedan chair, the poor dear.”
“Oh my,” May gasped. Horses could kill a person.
“The wild beast reminded me of that monster Lord Evers had purchased. He’s going to sell that horse, you know. Mamma said he would. Said his mother heard him curse the vilest words and decry how it had nearly killed me.” She batted her eyes and looked immensely pleased. “He sent me a roomful of flowers as an apology.”
A knife turned in May’s gut. “How wonderful,” she said. Her pleasure at her uncle’s approval faded away.
“It was just a simple vase full of posies,” Iona muttered.
“It was a rather large vase though. No matter, Mamma says he plans to offer for me. He is smitten. I don’t think I will give him an answer right away. I am only nineteen, after all. Perhaps I shall let him pine for a while and make him prove himself worthy of my interests.”
May didn’t think she could listen to another word.
“I’m so very happy for you,” she lied.
* * * *
“There is more,” Bannor said.
“More?” The thought of the earl’s sudden interest in marrying off his sister’s caretaker was chilling enough.
“I took the liberty of asking around about Mr. Tumblestone. He is the fellow who has—”
“Yes, yes.” Radford waved his hand. “I know bloody well who he is.”
“Did you also know that some thirty odd years ago Lady Winifred had run away with Mr. Tumblestone? They would have been secretly wed over the anvil in Scotland if the earl hadn’t intervened.”
“And now the earl is parading Tumblestone under his sister’s nose and forcing her dearest niece to marry the one man she once loved? That must be torture for Lady Winifred. How will that help him after his mother dies?” Radford resumed his pacing.
“I don’t know, but there is rumor running through the servant’s hall that Mr. Tumblestone will receive a pretty penny for agreeing to take Miss Sheffers to wife.”
* * * *
Lord Nathan Wynter bowed grandly and made a big show of greeting the women in the middle of the Pump Room. “The viscount sends his apologies. He had some pressing business come up this morning.”
Lillian glowed and latched onto his arm. “How thoughtful, Lord Nathan. He didn’t want me to worry after him so he sent you, the considerate man. I will have to scold him for neglecting me, of course. Though I think I know what business he might be attending to.” Her gaze flitted to her empty finger.
May could only watch with growing despair. To remain in Bath and be forced to feign happiness for Lillian and Radford’s nuptials would be more than she could bear. Heaven help her, she needed to escape.
And Aunt Winnie needed caretakers more able than she. Her aunt’s steps slowed until they were nearly at a stop.
Lillian, Iona, and Lord Nathan plodded forward and were drawn into a conversation with one of Lord Nathan’s acquaintances. Iona gave May a little wave before strolling on ahead.
“Let me take you home,” May said, worrying over her aunt’s flagging step. “I have had quite enough for today myself.”
“I am sure you have. Has that silly chit truly enchanted our Lord Evers?” Winnie whispered the question. For the briefest moment color flooded her aunt’s cheeks, turning them a healthy pink. She looked more animated than she had in days. “He’s more the fool than I initially suspected. What shall we do?”
May’s heart dropped down and landed in the pit of her stomach. How could she tell her aunt that there was no hope for a relationship between her and the viscount? She led Winnie from the room and into the bright sunlight. The day promised to be as warm and inviting as the last—a sharp contrast to the storm brewing in May’s heart. They walked silently down the colonnade toward Cheap Street.
“He has said we could remain in the cottage for as long as we want,” May said finally. “He said he was not interested our money.”
“Oh dear.” Winnie picked up her pace and pinched her niece’s arm. “You haven’t done anything foolish, have you May?”
May’s cheeks stung from a sudden rush of embarrassment. “No, Aunt, no. I would never.”
Winnie sighed. “Has he asked you to?”
“He says he doesn’t want me like that . . .”
“But?”
“He kissed me at the Newbury’s concert.” May felt utterly wicked. A decent lady should never confess such a thing, not even to her loving aunt.
Still, Winnie wasn’t satisfied. “And?”
“And nothing. It was naught but a simple kiss.” A simply wondrous thing that had set her body on fire.
“There is no such thing as a simple kiss between a young woman such as yourself and a man like the viscount. What shall we do?”
The bright gleam in Aunt Winnie’s gaze was identical to the look Iona would get when she was hatching a scheme. There was trouble afoot. May needed to proceed with her plans with great caution.
Uncle Sires was right. Aunt Winnie needed someone better able to care for her. Unfortunately she wouldn’t willingly leave May’s side unless she knew May wouldn’t be left alone and penniless. Marriage was the only logical solution.
By all accounts, Lord Evers would be proposing to his Lady Lillian this evening. There was no reason for May to continue to torture herself. He was never a man she could ever hope to have. Her uncle had taught her that lesson only too well. Because of her birth—because of who she was, respectable society could never accept her. She was not a worthy candidate for such a fairytale marriage.
And there was Mr. Tumblestone.
He was willing.
She would send a note around to her uncle. “Please don’t worry overmuch about me, Aunt. I am a sensible woman. Matters of the heart are problems for simpletons and fools. I am quite immune.”
“Very well.” Winnie did not sound convinced.
May would have to act before her well-meaning aunt could set a plan into motion. She would never own Radford’s heart. She didn’t need to, either. After tonight, her future would be set. There was truly no other viable option.
“I will be happy,” she said, not at all confident she spoke the truth. “I promise, Aunt, I will be happy.” Marriage to Mr. Tumblestone promised to be a great challenge to those bold assurances of happiness.
/>
* * * *
“What about Miss Sheffers? Were you unable to find anything more about her background?”
“Besides the fact that her parents recently died abroad, no.” Bannor paused and looked as if he were carefully weighing his words. “The servants are tight lipped about her. The earl can’t abide to be near her, that much was made clear. My boy thinks there is something buried in her past. Something no one is brave enough to even whisper.”
Something like her father’s gypsy heritage? Could it be true? If it were, his wild idea of marrying May just grew several degrees more impossible.
“Dig into her father’s background. Find out who he was, and who his parents were.”
“Yes, my lord.” Bannor gathered up his papers and started for the door. “Oh, my lord. Please do accept my fondest congratulations.”
“For what?”
“Your mother says you are to marry one of the Duke of Newbury’s daughters. You couldn’t pick a wife from a more respectable family.”
Chapter 14
Radford studied the two porcelain woodland sprites he’d set on the mantel, unable to decide which one to keep and which one to give to May.
One sprite had shamelessly pulled up her skirt and bared her leg as she danced, frozen in time by the hardened clay. A truly free soul. Her hair flowed about her shoulders and flowers wreathed her head. This was how he wished to see May. This was how a fairy-princess should appear. He lifted the tiny statue and turned it over in his hand. Even the dimples on the sprite’s round cheeks looked like May’s.
The second figurine appeared much more subdued by contrast. Her slender hands covered her mouth and she was turning away to cover a blush. The artist had been adept at capturing detail though. The dainty woman’s eyes were peering back, as if perversely drawn to whatever had made her shy away.
The artist could have used May as a model for this figurine. She hid from her joyous nature, only allowing precious glimpses to occasionally escape.
So which one did May deserve? The image of her shrinking away from society . . . away from love and life? Or the image of the free spirit she should no longer deny?
He could give her both.
Presenting her with even one, no matter how trivial, would be viewed inappropriate. He was a bachelor contemplating marriage to another. She was a maid rushing into a disaster he felt honor-bound to stop. The gift wouldn’t be well received. He wasn’t going to fool himself on that point.
What was wrong with giving her both figurines?
Selfishness, Radford supposed.
A strong desire to keep both for himself burned in him. He wanted the reckless elfin creature and the shy, frightened innocent fey princess. Both charmed him. And, he suspected, one couldn’t exist without the other.
Since he’d already decided to give her one, he forced himself to come to a decision. Just like the gypsy witch had suggested, May deserved her freedom. He picked up the wild, dancing woodland sprite and held it so it shined in the ray of sunlight streaming through a large window. She needed to be given the opportunity to dance and shine in full view.
Radford would give it to her and keep the memory of the other hidden away. To cherish . . .
And love.
He carefully wrapped the shy woodland figurine in a linen handkerchief and tucked it into his breast pocket so she could rest just above his heart.
He scooped up the other and jammed his beaver hat onto the crown of his head, with the intention of paying May a visit straight away. Whether she wanted to or not, he would make her accept his gift.
“There you are, Radford.” His mother sailed into the room. She wore another light gown that floated about her ankles as she crossed into the drawing room.
Lillian’s mother, the Duchess of Newbury, lagged a mere step behind. Good manners had Radford removing his hat and greeting the women politely. He dropped May’s figurine into his pocket.
“That lazy butler of yours should have brought the tea up by now. You really must have a word with him.” His mother shot a troubled glance in the duchess’ direction. “Bachelors are such helpless creatures. They really do need a strong-willed lady to take the servants well in hand.”
Never, not even in his wild youth, had Radford been careless with his servants. He was fair but stern, expecting they return as much effort and respect as he gave them. The accusation against Jeffers grated his nerves mainly because she’d criticized a butler worthy of praises.
“Mother, I will not—”
“You don’t have to do anything, my dear. We have the matter well in hand.”
“You do?” Radford picked up his hat again. He would worry about the women’s scheming later. Someone had to warn May of Mr. Tumblestone’s not so honorable reason for wanting to marry her.
It was his experience that young women in such dire conditions often acted in haste. Time was definitely of import.
“Very well. You can get along well without me then.”
“Radford!” his mother screeched. She latched onto his arm with an amazing strength. “You must be a part of this. We are planning your marriage.”
Of course they were. He gritted his teeth and tossed his hat onto a nearby chair. Why else would his mother and the duchess gather together and search him out? The new-bride shine in their eyes should have set off all sorts of warning chimes in his head. He’d seen the glow in the eyes of dozens of young besotted ladies and their beaming mothers before his injuries turned him into a creature to be pitied.
“Heaven forbid I miss such a momentous discussion. Remind me, Mother. Who, pray tell, have you decided to marry me to?”
“Radford,” his mother scolded while the duchess sucked in a deep breath and looked quite unabashedly shocked. “He’s joking, duchess. Not in good taste, mind you.”
Radford stood his ground. “Since I have yet to formally declare myself to any woman, you must understand my confusion.”
“I certainly do not understand you.” His mother shook a slender finger at him. “Your jest has gone too far. Apologize to the duchess at once.”
The duchess did appear on the verge of a fit of apoplexy. Her cheeks were turning beet red as she continued to gasp for air.
“Are you choking?” he asked, truly concerned. “Perhaps some water would help?”
“She is in need of an apology, Radford.”
“I apologize then. I am sorry to cause you such distress, your grace. Though, I certainly haven’t a clue why you should be so concerned over your youngest daughter’s prospects. She is young, beautiful, and possesses the refined qualities any gentleman would desire in a wife.”
“She is so young and impressionable,” the duchess managed to sputter between gasps.
“Are you certain you wouldn’t want me to fetch a glass of water?” Radford pressed, his concern growing. “You really must sit down.” He led her to the closest chair and helped lower her into the seat.
“She-she is in love with you, my lord,” the duchess whispered as she continued to struggle for a smooth breath. “I would hate for her innocent heart to be broken . . . shattered. She has such tender emotions.”
Lady Lillian with tender emotions? They must be well hidden. Radford rubbed his chin. A sizzling dread landed in his chest. Could he have misread the silly girl? Could he have completely overlooked her hidden depths?
Possibly . . . probably . . .
He was a bounder. His interests had been too focused on the very unsuitable May Sheffers. What a wreck he’d caused. Both ladies were in danger of having their hearts bruised, thanks to him.
Radford leaned heavily on his cane as he plodded his way to the closest window. The sun shone brightly on the fields. He glimpsed his star horse, the lively Princess, frolicking with one of his younger geldings.
His future stretched out before him in that field. But with his old life gone, nothing but disappointment waited for him out there. He was trapped in a world where he could no longer enjoy the freedom only riding a h
orse could bring him.
What kind of husband would he make any woman? No one, not even the trying Lady Lillian, who was his perfect match, deserved to suffer so.
“Are you certain of her feelings toward me?” he asked the duchess. The thought that the young lady might be in love with him was met with a great deal of alarm. “She couldn’t possibly be in love. We have only just met.”
The duchess mournfully wagged her head from side to side. “She sees only bliss and happiness. She is young yet, Evers. Your attentiveness to her has completely won her regard. I pray your rejection will not inflict irreparable harm.”
“Rejection?” Lady Evers called. “What is this nonsense about rejection?”
“I just wish to slow down. I had hoped to woo the lady without—”
“Hush, boy,” his mother said sternly. “You have created enough havoc for today.”
Radford heaved a deep sigh and crossed his arms over his chest. There was no hope for it. He’d gotten himself in deep this time. Let the women make the marriage plans. Such matters failed to hold his interest anyhow.
He set the dancing figurine he intended to give to May back on the mantel and listened with only half an ear to the two mammas prattle on. His hopes for winning Miss Sheffers’ favor had suddenly degraded into something unfathomable. The wild idea of asking her to marry him could never come to pass. There were too many people involved with his marriage plans . . . too many fragile hearts to be considered.
But what was May to him? If she was not wife material and too honorable to be considered a mistress, he would just have to settle for friendship. As a friend he would warn her. He would do everything in his limited power to stop her marriage to that old money-hungry goat, Tumblestone.
Friendship would have to be enough for him.
* * * *
“Surely you’re not suggesting men and women cannot be friends? I’ll have you know that Miss Sheffers is a most uncommon woman with a mind surpassing a goodly number of men’s.”
Wynter had only laughed, claiming that Radford, a man, could never hope to be friends with May, a most sumptuous woman.
After enduring two hours with his mother and the duchess, Radford had been more than ready to escape his home and venture out in search of May. He may have agreed to visit the Duke of Newbury and officially declare his intentions that evening, but he had not agreed to forget his desire to help a friend in need.
The Sweet and Spicy Regency Collection Page 13
