“I’ll count the days until we meet again, Eleanor.”
He spun around and was gone before she thought of replying.
Chapter Two
Hugh rode his bay mare up to Town, reflecting on his awkward visit with Eleanor. She was far lovelier than he’d remembered. Odd, that, because memories usually magnified the pleasure of a thing. But in this case, the reality far surpassed the memory. Her hair had darkened to a light brown, with blond streaks threading through it.
He’d had to use all the self-control he could summon not to slide one of those wispy strands through his fingers. And her lovely hazel eyes, more green than brown today, were a perfect complement to her hair. When Eleanor first spoke, asking if he wasn’t a bit overdressed, the cadence and lilt of her voice had nearly felled him. And her mouth. Sweet perfection. How he longed to taste it once again.
Yet he could detect no answering pleasure in her. She’d barely smiled. Not that he’d given her any reason to smile. But everything about her seemed to say, “Don’t come near me.” Avoiding anything personal, she’d concentrated on telling him about her work. She had invited him to sit, but it was merely a gesture of politeness, so obvious that he’d refused. Why was she being aloof with him?
Hugh could think of two reasons. First, she might be embarrassed, even ashamed, of the fact that she’d surrendered her virginity to him in the stables. But given her manner that night, he couldn’t accept that. If anything, she had been the seducer, not him.
Possibly she was angry with him for not communicating with her while he’d been away. But he’d had no means of doing so. Her father would have confiscated any letter he might have written to her. In retrospect, Hugh might have asked Adam to smuggle a missive to her, but he wouldn’t have wanted to involve his brother.
There was a third reason. Considering he’d been back at least three weeks, he should have called on her before now. He’d been afraid of his reception, and with good reason, as it turned out. Clearly, she needed time to feel at ease with him again. It had been more than two years, after all. He would pursue her, but gradually, and he’d have to command all the self-discipline he could muster to hold to that. To wait until she once again warmed to him.
There was one thing about Eleanor that worried him. Her eyes held traces of sadness, and her expression seemed strained. He didn’t think it was due to his unexpected presence. By God, he’d find out why she was unhappy, and he’d fix it.
Hugh reached Southwark late in the afternoon. He stabled his horse there and took a wherry across the Thames to the City, where both the solicitor and the architect maintained offices. The meeting with his father’s solicitor, Stewart McBride, was brief and perfunctory. Hugh had first met the man years ago, and he was now quite up in years. His hair had faded to gray and he was slightly stooped, but he sprang to his feet like a young man when Hugh entered.
“Sir Hugh,” McBride said. “Good to see you. Please, be seated.” He hadn’t lost his Scottish accent, even after all the years he’d lived in London. Hugh loved the burr and the curious Scottish phrases that sometimes crept into the man’s conversation. Like “keep the heid” when he was urging calm, and “Ah dinnae ken,” when McBride was puzzled about something.
He sat, and the solicitor informed him that he’d followed Hugh’s instructions, paying off various creditors with what money had remained in his father’s estate. He summoned his clerk, who handed him a paper. After a quick glance, he passed it to Hugh. “This is what remains of the debts.”
After a cursory scan, Hugh said, “I don’t see Broxton’s name on here.” Benjamin Grey had been deeply in debt to Sir William, Eleanor’s father. It was the one obligation Hugh wanted to settle without further delay.
Mr. McBride shifted in his chair, his bushy gray eyebrows knitted together. A young man entered pushing a tea trolley, and McBride waited until the refreshments were laid out before responding. He spoke while pouring. “Your brother came to see me shortly after your father’s death. He was most keen to pay off the debt to Sir William. I told him what was owed, and he sent me a bank draft to cover it. I didn’t think you would object.”
Indeed. Yet Hugh did object. He was the heir; his father’s debts were his responsibility, not Adam’s. He’d sort it out with his brother later. After drinking tea and partaking of sandwiches and apple tarts, Hugh shook hands with Mr. McBride, thanked him, and left.
A short walk later, he’d reached the offices of John Ridley, Architect, located in an unprepossessing redbrick building. Ridley was expecting him. They went over the plans for the new house one more time. Hugh was keen to pin the man down as to a starting date for construction, but as usual, Ridley managed to dodge a firm commitment. “Depends,” he said, with his usual brevity.
“So you’ve said. My patience is wearing thin.”
“The contractor I hired is finishing a job in Kent. You can’t predict with any certainty when that will be completed. Then there’s all the materials. The stone must be brought in from Sussex.”
“There’s no reason to delay that,” Hugh said. “I’ve laborers there every day. Hell, I’m there nearly every day.”
Ridley said, a hint of irritation in his voice, “This business works on its own schedule. You know that. But I’ll set things in motion, with shipments of stone and other materials and supplies.” He consulted a paper on which, Hugh could see, every line was filled, and even the margins were annotated. “The workers you’ve got demolishing the place. Any of ’em got experience building?”
Hugh nodded. “Some do, not all. I’ve a good feel for who can be kept on.”
“Excellent. And the rubble will need to be hauled away to make room for everything else.”
“Already doing that. We cart it away every few days.” Hugh paused, not wanting to aggravate the man further. He liked Ridley, and they had a friendly relationship so far. “Could you at least give me an approximate date?”
Ridley inhaled a deep breath and released it, puffing out his cheeks. “Let’s say one month from today. But don’t hold me to it,” he said wryly.
Patience, man. “My thanks,” Hugh said.
…
In the late afternoon, Eleanor walked toward the Broxton home on the footpath, Bobby scampering along at her heels. She had been in an ill humor ever since Hugh’s visit. And her mood would not improve during an evening spent with her parents.
After Hugh left, she had tromped back inside and resumed her work, first cutting out a cloth pattern for a walking dress she’d designed for a local customer, and later working on sketches for new gowns. At least she’d made some progress there, poring over the latest issues of Ackermann’s Repository and La Belle Assemblée. Her father had given her subscriptions for both journals as a gift. Even though he didn’t approve of what she was doing, he often helped her in small ways that actually made a great deal of difference. She frequently found designs in one of the magazines and adapted them until they became originals. EB Creations. That was what she called her business, and she took an inordinate amount of pride in it. Even though the work was more daunting than she’d ever imagined.
Throughout the remainder of the day, thoughts of Hugh had disturbed her concentration. Damn the man for looking so devilishly handsome. It wasn’t just his appearance, though. It was his bearing, too, far more assured than she remembered. Hugh had always carried the stigma of being raised by Benjamin Grey. In the past, her own father had referred to the man as the Libertine of Longmere, and he wasn’t the only one who had. Many people in the neighborhood had put Hugh in the same category, quite unjustly. Although Eleanor had to admit, she knew nothing of that side of his life. When she had first met him at the house party, three years ago now, he was darkly good looking, obviously intelligent, but somewhat hesitant in his manner, especially approaching her. As though she might have turned him away. Even the night of the fateful Haslemere assembly, he’d been unsure of himself. He’d left after her father had stared him down, and she’d had to go af
ter him.
No longer. This morning, he’d exuded confidence and…for lack of a better word, boldness. From his expression, she gathered he’d found her entertaining, in the way a child might regard a new toy. Something that ignited a spark of amusement, but quickly flickered out.
Oh, Eleanor, you’re reading way too much into such a brief encounter.
Calling to Bobby, she picked up her pace. She had to bathe and dress before dinner, and she hadn’t left much time for it.
Eleanor wondered what Hugh would do if he knew the truth. If he knew that while he’d furthered the British cause in North America, she had given birth to his child, a daughter named Lili.
…
Hugh arrived at Deborah’s townhouse, where Adam and his family also resided, around seven o’clock. The home had belonged to his father, but, as McBride had informed Hugh, he’d left it to his estranged wife in his will. Deborah had lived in it for years, ever since she’d parted from her husband, taking Adam with her and leaving Hugh behind. He’d never been able to forgive either of them.
A few years ago, before Hugh had left for North America, Adam and Cass had married. Hugh thought his brother had been a lucky devil after his wartime service to meet up with her again and persuade her to marry him. It wasn’t Cass with whom he had any quarrel.
The butler announced him, but before the words were even out, Adam, Cass, and a rambunctious infant hurried into the entryway to greet him. The child slid to a stop when he reached Hugh, staring up at him and looking puzzled. Hugh immediately stooped down so that his size didn’t intimidate the boy. “You must be Christopher,” he said.
The child’s eyes, the same deep blue as Adam’s, fixed on Hugh’s face, but after a moment, he turned, shoved his fingers into his mouth, and looked for the reassuring presence of his parents. Adam dipped down and scooped him up, holding out his other hand to Hugh.
“We call him Kit.” Adam’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Welcome home, Hugh. It’s good to see you.”
A part of Hugh wanted to express the same sentiment, but the words stuck in his throat. So he simply shook his brother’s hand and nodded. Cass broke the awkwardness by kissing Hugh’s cheek and then inspecting him.
“You look wonderful, Hugh. North America agreed with you.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t go that far. I’m glad to be home.”
“Why are we standing here?” Cass said. “Let’s go to the drawing room.”
“Is anyone else joining us?” Hugh asked as they climbed the marble staircase.
“Not tonight,” Adam said. “Deborah and Freddie are visiting one of his daughters.”
Hugh was relieved that he wouldn’t have to see his mother. Even though he’d attended a house party at her home in Surrey a few years ago, when he’d first met Eleanor, he hadn’t spoken to her in any meaningful way before or since. Or during, for that matter. She’d cut him out of her life when she’d left him with his father, and he didn’t see any point in the pretense of a relationship.
Adam poured brandies for himself and Hugh and sherry for Cass. To Hugh’s dismay, his brother raised his glass in a toast. “To Hugh and his safe return.”
“To Hugh,” Cass said. “We are so happy to see you again.”
Hugh smiled, but before he could take one swallow, Adam lifted his glass again. “And to your knighthood. You’ll have to give us the particulars.”
Christ, that was the last thing he wanted to discuss. “It was nothing,” he said. “Completely undeserved.”
“Come now, brother, knighthoods aren’t passed out for nothing.”
Hugh demurred. “I’ll tell you about it another time. Let’s not spoil the evening with talk of war.”
“Fair enough.”
“Now,” Hugh said, “I’d like to become better acquainted with my nephew. Would he let me hold him?”
Said nephew was currently sitting on the floor, playing with a key ring, inspecting each key, and every so often, gleefully shaking the ring so that the keys clanked together. Each time that happened, he looked up at them and smiled. He looked positively angelic.
“Never mind holding him,” Hugh said. He lowered himself to the floor before Kit, stretching out and propping his head up with one elbow, and waited to see what the child would do. In short order, he was edging closer to Hugh, who held very still. “Ah, see, I’m not such an ogre, am I?” Hugh asked. In a trice, Kit was crawling all over him. Hugh flipped onto his back and set Kit on his thighs, bouncing him up and down, until the boy was laughing out loud.
“All right, I believe that’s enough excitement for now,” Cass said. “Your trousers will be ruined!”
“Your mama says we must cease our fun, Kit,” Hugh said, grasping the little boy in his arms and rising. A nursemaid was standing in the doorway. She, Adam, and Cass were all three smiling as though something very funny had just happened.
“What?” Hugh asked. “Have I done something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Cass said, collecting Kit from Hugh’s arms and passing him to his nurse. “Not at all.”
“Have you seen Eleanor yet?” Cass asked during the soup course.
Although the question seemed innocent enough, Hugh sensed more than a polite interest. And it presupposed that he would see her at all. He was quite sure both his brother and sister-in-law were aware that, nearly three years ago, around the time of their own courtship, Hugh had been interested in Eleanor. He’d have to tread carefully, be noncommittal. The last thing he wanted was Cass quizzing Eleanor about him.
“Just this morning. She has a puppy. He was poking around my building site, and I carried him home before he got hurt.”
“You went to the Broxtons’?”
Hugh swallowed a final sip of the excellent turtle soup before answering. “No. She’s a dressmaker now. Did you know?”
“I’m one of her clients,” Cass said. “Her work is beautiful.”
“I don’t doubt it.” Conversation ceased while the next course, poached fish, was served. “She and two girls ply their needles in a small cottage, which is where I returned the pup. It must be exhausting work.”
Cass looked nonplussed. “Foolish of me, but I hadn’t thought about that aspect. I’ve been recommending her to other ladies who’ve admired my frocks.” She paused a moment, as though gathering her thoughts. “Eleanor seems quite set on increasing her business.”
Hugh knew he probably shouldn’t ask, but the words were out before he could reconsider. “Do you know why?”
“To get out from under her father’s thumb, of course,” Cass replied.
“We don’t know that, Cassie,” Adam admonished. Setting his wineglass down, he said, “Sir William is very circumspect when it comes to his daughter. Never speaks of her unless I ask him a direct question. His answers don’t reveal much of anything, and he changes the subject before I can follow up.”
“Eleanor’s situation seems highly irregular to me,” Hugh said, “but then, it’s none of my concern. The sauce on this fish is delicious, by the way. What is the herb? Fennel?”
Bidding Hugh good night, Cass left the brothers alone with their port. “I must check on Kit. Lovely to see you, Hugh.”
As soon as she’d gone, Hugh said, “Remember when I told you you’d be a damned lunatic if you didn’t marry Cass?”
Adam chuckled. “I think it was ‘bloody lunatic.’ How right you were. We couldn’t be happier. I highly recommend marriage—to the right woman, of course.”
“Naturally. Maybe someday.”
“How are things coming at Longmere?”
Hugh smirked, knowing how Adam hated the place. “Our boyhood home is no more. One of the reasons I came up to Town was to see the architect and finalize everything, but I can’t pin him down on a starting date. He’s a wily bastard, says they don’t keep a normal schedule, unlike the rest of the world. I got him to agree to a month from now, but he asked me not to hold him to it.”
“You’ll be living in the cottage for
a while longer, then? Cigar?”
Hugh shook his head. He hated the things. He didn’t know when Adam had adopted this vile habit, or how Cass put up with it. “Looks like it.”
“How are matters proceeding with the tenants?” Adam asked.
“Slowly. I’ve been so preoccupied with demolishing the house and all that entails, I’ve had little time to visit them. Which reminds me, I need a steward. Someone to survey the property and work with the tenants. With your vast knowledge of the citizenry, can you recommend anybody?”
There was a silence while Adam lit his cheroot and puffed. “Edward Martin would be a fine steward. He’s been employed in various industries—ironworks, tanning, that kind of thing. But husbandry is his passion. You’ll find him at his parents’ tavern in Haslemere. He’s helping out there while he’s between jobs.”
Hugh nodded. “I’ll pay him a visit.”
After a pause, Adam said, “You’ve come into some money, brother.”
“Yes.” Hugh’s finances were none of Adam’s business. He felt no need to elaborate.
Adam eyed him cynically. “Felicitations. May I ask how this good fortune came to pass?”
Hugh sighed. Not that he owed his brother, or anybody else, an explanation, but he supposed it wouldn’t do any harm to tell him.
“Have you ever heard of the North West Company?”
“Can’t say I have, no. Something you came across in North America?”
Hugh nodded. “You must have heard of the Hudson’s Bay Company?”
“Everybody’s heard of them. Biggest fur trader on the continent.”
“That’s right. The North West Company is their chief competitor. A friend of mine—a Scot in his cups most of the time—gave me a tip. I took advantage of it.”
Adam chuckled. “I never pegged you for a genius at speculation.”
A Lady's Deception Page 3
