An Earl for the Shy Widow

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘Good day, my lady,’ he said when Petra halted beside him. He nodded at Jeb. ‘Your mother is baking biscuits today. You’ll find O’Cleary hanging about in the kitchen getting in her way.’

  O’Cleary had been helping move the furniture out of the barn, but at the sight of the trap he had developed a sudden need for biscuits and tea.

  Jeb grinned. ‘I’ll take this inside, shall I, my lady?’ He hauled the painting out from behind the seat.

  ‘Please do,’ she said, her expression cool.

  Ethan waited until Jeb was out of earshot. ‘All right. You win. I will not send it back again.’ There really was no point. She not only did not want him...she clearly did not want anything from him.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.

  Now she thanked him. Damn it all.

  She flicked her whip in the direction of the chair. ‘What are you doing?’

  He gestured to the growing pile of furniture on the lawn. ‘Making a bonfire.’

  She gasped, ‘You are going to burn it?’

  ‘No choice. It is full of woodworm. That pile is from the attic, but the rest of it is just as bad. I am advised that if I do not want woodworm getting into the structural beams and bringing down the house, it must be burned. It certainly cannot be sold.’

  ‘The pictures, too?’

  ‘Not the pictures themselves. Only the frames.’ He shook his head. ‘My cousin must have bought something that was infected and they have been having a feast. I really hope I am in time to save the house. I had a chap come down from London to look at it and we have to cut out a couple of diseased sections from the joists, but he says that fortunately the furniture was keeping them too busy to do much damage elsewhere, though it was only a matter of time. I hope he’s right.’

  Shock and then sympathy filled her expression. Sympathy was better than nothing. He’d take what he could get.

  She stared at the pile. ‘What a terrible waste.’

  He’d been shocked himself. ‘Fortunately, none of the items in the town house are similarly affected and the stuff here was less valuable to begin with. The items in London were collected by my cousin’s great-uncle.’

  ‘And these?’

  ‘My cousin collected what was here at Longhurst Park. He did not have as good an eye as his predecessor. Most of these are reproductions or badly made to begin with. They wouldn’t have fetched much even without the woodworm.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Honestly, the previous Earl clearly had no clue what he was doing. He simply could not help himself. Whatever he saw he had to buy. That list we found in my study was not a record of his gambling expenses, but a record of everything he bought for outrageous sums. I wish he’d had the same compulsion with regard to farm implements. Those we could have made use of.’

  ‘Do you think he suffered from some sort of mental imbalance?’

  He narrowed his gaze. Was she wondering the same about him? ‘I have no idea.’ He looked over at the pile. ‘There are one or two items I wish I could have saved, though.’

  ‘Is there no other alternative?’

  ‘There are treatments, I’m told, but nothing is guaranteed. I won’t take the risk of losing the house over sentimental rubbish.’

  She looked puzzled.

  ‘I had to get rid of the desk in the study. And the chair.’

  She gave him an oddly wry smile. ‘Sentimental rubbish indeed.’

  Damn. He’d obviously said that wrong. ‘The memories are all I need.’

  Her eyes widened.

  A hit. He forced himself not to smile.

  ‘Well, I am truly sorry things turned out so badly for the items here.’

  ‘Me, too. Right now, I’m sleeping on the floor and we still have a great many more rooms to clear.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Me and O’Cleary. Until the paintings and furniture in London are all evaluated and sold, I still don’t have any ready cash to hire the extra help I need and I refuse to go into debt over something I can easily do myself. The dealer thinks we should start seeing income from the auctions at the town house in about two to three weeks.’

  ‘I can lend you Jeb to assist, if you could use his help. He has little enough to do at Westram Cottage at the moment.’

  His first instinct was to refuse her offer the way she had refused his painting. But that would be cutting off his nose to spite his face. ‘I will accept, provided you allow me to pay his wages for the time he spends here.’

  She smiled so sweetly something in his chest clenched and the pain was suddenly so intense his knees buckled. He locked them tight.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That would be fair. You can pay him when you have sufficient funds.’

  He grinned at her. For a woman she really was quite sensible. ‘Good. Send him over in the morning, if that suits you.’

  ‘I’ll do better than that. I’ll have him set to work now.’

  ‘Even better. By the way, I should tell you I hired a bailiff. He is to start in a month’s time.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Her tone was just a little too hearty. Could it be that she did not like the idea of him replacing her help? He held that thought close to his heart. It eased the pain somewhat.

  ‘I am sure he would be delighted if you could pass on any of the information you learned over the last few weeks,’ he said, hoping for another hit with her. Which was just plain daft at this point. ‘I will, of course, try to do so, if you feel it would not be appropriate to speak with him yourself, but you understand it all so much better than I.’

  Ah. Yes, there it was. That brightening of her expression that he liked so much.

  ‘I would be delighted to assist him, if needed. But you should not be so modest. You learn quickly and I am sure you have a good grasp on what is required.’

  And so, like the picture, she neatly returned the compliment.

  Clearly his case was hopeless.

  They waited in silence for Jeb to return so Petra could give him his instructions. It wasn’t many minutes before he and O’Cleary arrived on the drive.

  ‘Jeb, His Lordship needs your help for the next few days. Mr O’Cleary will find you a place to sleep.’

  Jeb frowned. ‘I should ask Lady Marguerite first.’

  ‘No, you should not,’ Petra said firmly. ‘If she was here now, she would say the same thing. We can manage very well without you at Westram Cottage for a few days.’

  O’Cleary grinned. ‘A right welcome sight he will be, me lady. Big strapping lad like that is worth ten of me.’

  Jeb grinned at the compliment and his ears turned pink. ‘You does all right,’ he assured O’Cleary kindly. ‘I will do as you bid, my lady, but if I am needed back at the cottage, just send word by one of the lads from the Green Man.’

  ‘I promise I will.’

  Ethan looked down at her and wanted to kiss her for her kindness. He rolled his aching shoulders instead. The problem was, how could he trust these feelings he had for her when they were together? He could not.

  In his boyhood, love was a gift given and taken without rhyme nor reason. His hurt and betrayal haunted him even now. How could he trust that she would not throw his emotions back in his face as she had his marriage proposal?

  ‘Jeb’s help is very welcome, Lady Petra. Thank you for your generosity.’ Somehow his thanks sounded grudging.

  ‘What are neighbours for, if not to help?’ she said lightly.

  Inwardly he sighed. Their dealings in future would always be thus. Formal and stiff and uncomfortable.

  ‘Compton’s ploughman will come over next week,’ he said by way of changing the topic. ‘We should be able to plough all of fields we talked about before the onset of winter.’

  ‘That is excellent.’ She turned and glanced at the pile of furniture. ‘When did you plan setti
ng light to it?’

  More trivial conversation. ‘As soon as it is all out of the house, I suppose. Shouldn’t be more than a couple of days.’

  A thoughtful expression filled her face as she gazed up at him. ‘Would you mind waiting until next week? I have had an idea.’

  ‘What idea?’ Damn, he sounded suspicious.

  ‘I would sooner not say until I am sure it will work. I need to talk to Marguerite.

  ‘I suppose it can wait a few days. It can’t do any harm where it is. As long as we don’t get a lot of rain, it will just as well light in a few days from now. However, I am due at the opening of Parliament on the fourth and I have to go a few days before then for the fitting of my robe and to allow time for alterations. It is all arranged.’

  ‘Oh, then perhaps my idea will not work. I think you should be here when the fire is lit.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I am confused.’

  ‘Can you be at Longhurst Park on the fifth, the day after Parliament opens?’

  ‘If you want me here, then I will be here. It isn’t much of a journey.’

  She nodded. ‘Very well. As soon as I am sure it can be managed, I will let you know which day your presence is needed.’

  He gazed at her, puzzled. ‘You have something in mind for this pile of furniture? It cannot be sold. I will not put someone else’s property in danger.’

  Her smile warmed slightly. ‘I know you would not. No, I have an idea about the fire.’

  He glanced around. ‘It can’t do any damage here. It is far away from the house and the trees. You need not fear that.’

  ‘I would expect no less from you, Lord Longhurst.’

  Damn it, she was not going to tell him her idea. Because it might not work. And she didn’t trust him enough to know that he wouldn’t tease her, if it turned out to be without merit.

  The thought made him feel unaccountably sad. He nodded briskly. ‘Then I shall wait to hear from you before doing anything with it. But I hope we do not get a downpour before I have a chance to light it. The quicker it burns, the better.’

  She winced. ‘You are right, of course. Perhaps tarpaulins would be the answer. You must have some about somewhere.’

  He closed his eyes briefly. ‘Of course. I’ll see what we can find.’

  He handed her up into the trap and watched her drive off.

  Tarpaulins. He heaved a sigh and looked at O’Cleary.

  ‘As it happens, Yer Lordship, there be a pile of tarpaulins in the hayloft. I’m guessing they were used to cover the haystacks in inclement weather.’

  He should have known about that. He still had so much to learn. ‘Right. See if you and Jeb can cover up the damned bonfire with them after all the stuff is out of the house.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Are you sure His Lordship agrees with all this?’ Marguerite asked, looking at the list Petra was working on.

  ‘Yes. I wrote to him shortly before he left for London and he agreed to the plan.’

  ‘Well, it is very generous of him.’

  ‘Not that generous. His only outlay is two or three barrels of beer from the Green Man. Jenks is providing them at an excellent price. Everything else, the ladies from the church are providing.’

  ‘I suppose so.’ Marguerite looked doubtful.

  ‘The village needs this, Marguerite. Everyone has been at sixes and sevens since the Beckridges left. Quite a few of them still blame His Lordship for letting the gypsies stay on his land as being the reason for the departure of the Vicar. This will help establish some goodwill.’

  Marguerite nodded slowly. ‘I can see your reasoning. And free beer will go a long way to smoothing any ruffled feathers. But I can’t help asking...’ She coloured. ‘This thing between you and...’

  So that was what bothered her sister. ‘It is over. We are friends. Nothing more.’

  Sympathy filled her sister’s face. ‘Oh, my dear Petra—’

  Petra’s heart clenched. ‘No. No. You misunderstand. It is ended at my instigation. It was a fling, nothing more. I made it perfectly clear I did not wish for marriage.’

  Marguerite looked at her with an expression of wonder. ‘If you are sure?’

  ‘I am sure. We get along famously as friends, but the very idea of marrying again gives me nightmares.’ Nightmares of Harry being shot alongside her brother and Marguerite’s husband. The letter that had come from the military had been a little too graphic in that regard. Red had tried to stop her from reading it, but she had insisted. She did not want to be imagining the same thing about Ethan. Obviously, now he had the money to hire the bailiff he needed to turn the estate around there was no need for him to stay in England and he could be back to the war, exactly as he wanted.

  ‘I see.’ Marguerite cocked her head on one side. ‘It is good that you are able to be friendly with him. He seems like a very nice man.’ Yet there was still some doubt in her voice.

  ‘He is a very nice man and we are friends. That is all there is to it.’

  Marguerite recoiled a fraction. Oh, dear, she had spoken with a little too much force.

  ‘The question is,’ Petra added hastily, ‘can you put this together in time?’ She pointed at the rough picture she had drawn. The picture that had started them off on this tangent.

  Marguerite gave a rueful little shake of her head. ‘Of course I can. It will make a nice break from what I am working on.’ She tilted her head back as if easing a crick in her neck.

  Petra threw her arms around her sister’s shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thank you, thank you. I knew you would come through for us. Tell me what you need and I’ll find it for you.’ She pointed to the bag she’d brought from the church. They were clothes donated for the poor. As far as she knew, not one single person had ever taken anything from the bag in all the time she had lived in Westram.

  Marguerite rummaged through the bag and set several items on one side. A shirt. An old coat. A pair of workmen’s trousers. ‘These will be a good start.’

  ‘Wonderful. Let me know when you are finished and I’ll have Jeb take it over to Longhurst. Mr O’Cleary knows what to do with it. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to take this list to the church ladies and this advertisement to Mr Barker. He promised to make sure everyone knows about the change in venue.’

  ‘And the free beer.’

  The villagers usually had to pay for their beer at this particular annual event. Feeling extremely satisfied with her efforts, Petra grinned. ‘And the free beer.’

  * * *

  The ride down from London had been unusually pleasant. Despite the chill in the air, Ethan could only describe it as a perfect autumn day. Beneath a clear blue sky, the trees displayed their reds, yellows and browns, making the rolling countryside come alive with colour and making his travel all the more enjoyable.

  Though, to be honest, he was more interested in seeing Petra again and discovering what surprises she had in store for him this time.

  He hadn’t expected to enjoy being an earl and running an estate, but she had opened his eyes to the bounty and the beauty of the English countryside. Which was why it was a disappointment that she wanted nothing to do with him as a husband. More than a disappointment. It was a cold lump somewhere in the centre of his chest.

  He turned Jack into the driveway. The old lad picked up his pace, no doubt thinking of a manger full of hay or a bucket of corn. Ethan could only think of Petra.

  Would she be at Longhurst as she had promised?

  He hadn’t quibbled about any of the things she had requested for her village festival, as she’d called it, even though it had used up all the money from selling his commission. He still could not believe he had sold out from the army without a qualm. His regiment had been his life, yet the thought of leaving England, of leaving his estate in the hands of another now he had the means to do so,
had not sat well in his gut.

  The house came into view.

  Home at last.

  He started. When had he come to think of this place as home? He hadn’t even known he wanted one. He’d been perfectly happy moving from camp to camp across Europe. It wasn’t always comfortable, but he’d enjoyed the comradeship of his fellow officers, leavened by the occasional excitement of battle. Perhaps he was getting old?

  His heart lifted at the sight of the diminutive figure on the lawn beside the tottering heap of furniture now more than ten feet high. She lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun as she watched him ride towards her. He sighed. Maybe she was the reason he thought of this place as home.

  Except she wasn’t part of it.

  That icy weight settled on his chest once again, making him struggle to breathe.

  He dismounted the moment he came within a few feet of her. ‘Lady Petra. Here I am, as requested.’

  ‘Good day, Longhurst.’ She smiled brightly enough, but with less warmth than she used to. He ignored the hurt and beamed back.

  He liked it better when she called him Ethan. But, of course, that was all over now.

  ‘How was your first taste of the House of Lords?’ she asked, tilting her head as if she really cared about the answer.

  He forced himself not to respond like an eager schoolboy to that display of interest and reminded himself she was only being polite.

  ‘Not as bad as I thought, to be honest. I took my seat. Asked my question and met the Prince of Wales, who decided to be charming. Of course, he wanted to talk about my treasure trove of paintings. News of that sort travels fast. It appears he is going to be one of those bidding at the auction, but he was angling for a special price. I was able to make a bargain with him.’

  ‘Then I am glad it all went well.’

  She sounded happy for him and that pleased him greatly.

  ‘I see you have been busy also,’ he said, looking up at the woodpile. At the very top was one of the armchairs that had graced his study and in it was sitting the effigy of a man. He stepped back to get a better look. ‘My word, that looks lifelike. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like anyone I know.’