Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

by Julia Justiss

  ‘I would like to see more of London and society before I am pressed to bring some suitor up to snuff.’

  ‘Of course you do, and you will. The tragedies of the last few years have made you too serious; I mean to plunge you into such a whirlwind of frivolous activity that you forget your cares and become the carefree young girl I remember. There’ll be no shortage of offers when the time comes, and I have little doubt Lord Trowbridge’s will be among the first. I’ve known him since he was in short coats, and I’ve never seen him make such a dead-set at anyone. You must have impressed him indeed!’

  ‘Or the size of my dowry did,’ Amanda replied drily.

  Lady Parnell waved a dismissive hand. ‘Naturally Trowbridge is interested in your dowry; a young man intent on a career in government must entertain, and, praise God, it will be years before he inherits. But you must not belittle the attractions of your person and lineage. So, what do you think of Trowbridge?’

  Amanda shrugged. ‘How could any girl not be flattered by the attentions of such a well-born, well-spoken and handsome young man? I’m quite happy to get to know him better. In many respects, he seems almost ideal.’

  Except you feel no automatic pull to him, nor does he spark in you the immediate physical response Greville Anders does.

  ‘I think so, too,’ Lady Parnell was saying. ‘Society boasts many attractive gentlemen, some with forms more attractive than their prospects. In addition to his handsome face, Trowbridge has an excellent future and a sterling character that makes him admired by all of society. Marry him and you will achieve your mama’s fondest hopes!’

  ‘Believe me, I have no intention of throwing away my dowry or my person on some unsuitable gentleman, simply because I’ve conceived a sudden violent passion for a handsome face.’ She ignored the acerbic voice reminding her how close, during her indiscretion in the Neville Tour, she’d come to doing just that.

  She’d be more circumspect in future. Starting with Lord Trowbridge. Although observing the proprieties would be easier with the earl’s son, for whom she felt none of the fluttery excitement and stirring of the pulses Greville Anders’s nearness inspired in her.

  ‘’Tis nearly time to dress for dinner. Come to my sitting room when you’re ready, and I’ll tell you about everyone you will meet at the rout.’

  Watching her hostess walk out, Amanda’s thoughts returned to the clever, amusing and flatteringly attentive Lord Trowbridge. She was…interested, but despite his handsome face, easy charm and undeniable eligibility, she’d not felt for him anything like the instantaneous pull of attraction she’d had to Greville Anders upon meeting him for the first time weeks ago.

  A pull that had only strengthened with time.

  But her knowledge of what happened between men and maids was so limited. Aside from the rogue at the Exeter assembly, Greville was the only man she’d ever kissed. Perhaps passion didn’t always ignite immediately. Perhaps desire could grow with acquaintance, too.

  As attentive as Trowbridge promised to be, she should have ample opportunity to discover the truth of that theory. In the meantime, she would look forward to all the other delights promised by the Season—and push away the lingering image of Greville Anders’s smile.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In the early evening two weeks later, Greville glanced at the mantel clock in the estate office, then gathered up several ledgers and headed for Lord Bronning’s sitting room. As the master of Ashton Grove recovered, it had become their custom before dinner each night for Greville to appraise his host about the various estate matters to which he’d attended that day.

  Ever since Lord Bronning’s attack, he’d been up with the sun, off to the farms after a simple breakfast, riding the land until dark, and after meeting with his host and breaking briefly for dinner, toiling in the estate office until after midnight. Scrubbing a hand over his face as he walked, Greville stretched his back to ease muscles strained from days spent in the saddle, followed by long evenings bent over the estate books.

  Once again, he reflected with rueful amusement over the irony that at Ashton Grove, where he was technically a guest, he worked longer and harder tending the estate then when he’d been the hired manager of Blenhem Hill.

  No time now to lounge at his ease, indulging in rich food and willing doxies.

  One would think there’d not be enough time to indulge in daydreams of a sweet maiden whose innocent passion had been more arousing than the practised wiles of all those experienced seductresses. But somehow, despite the frantic busyness of his day, there was. A now-familiar pang pulsed through him.

  Dragging his thoughts back before they turned, like a lodestone seeking north, once again in Amanda’s direction, Greville forced himself to concentrate on the summary he was to present to Lord Bronning.

  To his relief and that of the entire household, Bronning’s health had been steadily improving, though as yet both his physician and the vigilant Althea had forbidden him to leave the house. But as his strength returned, Greville knew his host would soon be pressing to reclaim responsibility for the day-to-day management of the land he so dearly loved.

  After knocking at Bronning’s door, Greville entered and was delighted to see his host writing at his desk, rather than reclining on the couch.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ he said. ‘How good to see you up!’

  ‘Good to be up again,’ Bronning replied. ‘Even better to finally be feeling more like my old self. Won’t you share glass of port with me?

  ‘With pleasure,’ Greville said, going to the sideboard to pour them each a glass.

  ‘Now, tell me about the Smith farm. I’d been hoping the drainage we completed last autumn would permit turning over the ground earlier this spring.’

  ‘Then you’ll be happy to hear Mr Smith has just finished the initial ploughing.’

  For the next half-hour, Greville answered questions and provided details about the condition of the fields, cattle and small industries that made up the mosaic of income-generating activities that kept Ashton Grove running profitably.

  He’d about finished his account when a knock sounded at the door, followed by the entry of Althea Holton.

  ‘You’re not tiring Uncle James, I hope, Mr Anders,’ she said. ‘He’s already been sitting up longer today than the doctor recommended.’

  ‘Have to build my strength…if I am to dine at table with you tomorrow,’ Bronning said, giving his niece a challenging glance.

  Althea shook a finger at him. ‘We’ll see about that later. Time now to return to your couch for dinner.’

  ‘No, Missy, you’ll not scold me to it. I’ve eaten my last meal reclining like a Roman. I’ll not insist—yet—on the dining room, but henceforth I shall take my dinner sitting up like a proper Englishman.’

  For several seconds, the two glared a challenge at each other. Finally, Althea looked away, sighing. ‘Very well, I suppose you can remain at your desk tonight. Sands will bring our dinner trays shortly. Would you like to join us for dinner?’

  Since Lord Bronning’s attack, Greville been taking his tray in the estate office…and during the long silent moments while he finished off his meal, he’d struggled to keep his lonely mind from dwelling on memories of the golden-haired lass whose departure had wounded him more deeply than he’d ever imagined.

  Oh, he’d expected the first few days or even week would be brutal. But in his previous dire experience, after his time waiting in the hulk and the early days on the ship, his spirits had slowly risen from the edge of despair as he adjusted to the rigours of shipboard life, then came to know and eventually to master his unfamiliar environment.

  In this instance, the pain hadn’t lessened one whit. Quite the contrary; sometimes he thought it grew daily more acute. At least Althea’s amusingly frank remarks and his host’s congenial presence would keep him from lapsing once again into melancholy.

  ‘Yes, I’d be pleased to join you.’ Almost as he spoke, Sands and a footman appeared with the suppe
r trays, his own included. After pouring everyone a glass of wine, Greville settled on the sofa beside Althea. ‘Does your task go well, Mr Anders?’ Althea asked.

  ‘After working at Blenhem Hill, I had some experience at reviewing ledgers. But the income there was based primarily on fields planted in corn; Ashton Grove has a much greater range of activities. I would be rather useless indeed had your uncle not guided me and answered my many questions.’

  ‘Guided, yes, but you’ve been learning quickly, Mr Anders,’ Lord Bronning said. ‘You have a definite aptitude for the work.’

  ‘Thank you, my lord,’ Greville said, gratified by his host’s praise. Somewhat to his own amazement, Greville Anders of the expensively tailored coats and intricate cravats now wore simple country garb, got sheep dip on his trousers and good rich loam between his fingers—and enjoyed it. What an amazing transformation that represented!

  ‘You certainly spend enough time about the business,’ Althea said. ‘I hardly ever see you! Off at dawn, not back until dinner. You’re even worse than Uncle James,’ she said, with an affectionate squeeze of her uncle’s hand.

  ‘Having nowhere near his experience, everything takes me longer to accomplish,’ Greville replied.

  ‘With cousin George off in Exeter studying with Father Bricknell to ready himself to return to university—how I wish Amanda could have remained here long enough to witness that—I’ve been virtually abandoned!’ Althea said with a mock-tragic air.

  It seemed the violent confrontation in town and the shock of his father’s attack had inspired George Neville to reform his dissolute habits, Greville thought, glad for Bronning’s sake that a time at sea at hard labour hadn’t been required to clarify his heir’s thinking.

  ‘I apologise, my dear,’ his host was saying. ‘Your old uncle hasn’t been a very entertaining companion. But I grow better day by day. Soon I shall be going about again with you by my side, freeing our guest to once again be our guest.’

  ‘Assisting you has been a pleasure,’ Greville said with perfect truth.

  ‘I shall never be able to thank you enough,’ Bronning said. ‘Indeed, I don’t know what Ashton Grove would have done, had you not been at hand! But what of your future, sir? Have you established yet what you mean to do, once the matter of your naval service is sorted out?’

  ‘I shall seek a new position. Though it’s hardly a fashionable view among our class, I’ve found I don’t like a life of idleness. After my recent experience at sea, I was leaning towards a post in the Admiralty, which my former captain promised to help me obtain. There’s much good work to be done there, working for a cause greater than oneself. However, with your wisdom and enthusiasm to inspire me, I discovered that I very much enjoying assisting as manager here. There’s something profoundly…satisfying to watch fields go from rough weedy patches to rich ploughed earth to rising tender shoots, and know I had a hand in that transformation.’

  ‘Exactly so!’ Bronning nodded. ‘It’s why I’ve remained so involved at Ashton, resisting for years my friends’ and family’s urging that I hire a full-time manager to oversee the everyday work of the estate. I’m always driven to experiment with better techniques to manage fields and crops, or to explore new ventures to make the estate more profitable.’

  ‘You’ve succeeded brilliantly. Miss Neville told me you are viewed as a model by other landowners; after the last few weeks working for you, I can readily understand why. But…’ he hesitated, not wishing to insult his host or insinuate he was angling for the position, ‘I’ve seen first-hand what an exhausting job it is. Perhaps, while you rest and recover, you might consider that it is now time to step back and take a less active role.’

  ‘Hire that full-time manager, you mean?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I’ve been urging, Mr Anders!’ Althea cried. ‘And not just to ease Uncle James’s burdens. Though we all trust it will be many years before George takes over for him, when he does, he will need an experienced manager to assist him.’

  ‘Much as I hate to admit it, that would be the wisest course,’ Bronning said, surprising Greville. ‘I probably should start searching for a good man to take over some of the responsibilities. The right man,’ he emphasised, giving Greville a significant look.

  Was Bronning thinking of him for the post? A flash of excitement ran through him. It would be a challenge to have permanent charge of so large and complex an operation as Ashton Grove… But as he considered it further, the excitement faded.

  He would be considered by society as merely an employee of Amanda’s father, beneath socialising with the daughter of house. Even worse, he would be here to see her come home, glowing with the success of her first Season, perhaps affianced. And later, when she returned as a bride, then a young wife, bringing her children on a visit to their grandfather.

  At those images, his heart contracted with a pain so intense he almost gasped aloud. As challenging and interesting as the work was at Ashton, he could not bear to remain here and witness such moments, aching for a woman he’d deliberately sent out of his life.

  Paradoxically, as much as his heart recoiled from standing by silently, watching her share her life and her bed with another man, he was equally torn by the thought of leaving Ashton, where the hills and hallways reverberated with the echo of her voice, her laughter.

  Where he could ride nearly every day past the track leading to the Neville Tour, halt in the shadow of the tower, smell her perfume on the wind and hear again her ragged, panting breaths as he pleasured her…

  As, soon, some other man would. No, better by far to leave here and take that government position, or enquire with cousin Nicky about finding some other property to manage.

  ‘Ashton is so well known an estate, I’m sure you’ll have no shortage of qualified applicants,’ he said, tacitly answering Bronning’s unspoken question.

  ‘Well, we must wish you luck with whatever enterprise you undertake,’ Bronning said, the eager light in his eyes fading. ‘I shall always be grateful for your assistance, and rest assured, you will find a warm welcome whenever you visit Ashton Grove.’

  ‘You honour me, sir,’ he replied. Much as he hated to disappoint his host—and tempting as it would be to take up the challenge of running Ashton Grove—as soon as he was certain Lord Bronning was beyond danger of a relapse, he meant to visit London. He’d press Nicky about the progress of his release from naval service and consult with him and the Admiralty about what came next.

  London…where Amanda was. Immediately, unbidden, a wave of longing to see her again swept through him. Should he call on her there, bring her news from home, see if she was finding London as exciting and fulfilling as she’d always hoped? A heated excitement flared within his chilled heart at the prospect.

  ‘Well, Uncle, I see you’ve managed to finish your meal without collapsing into the soup,’ Althea’s tart tone interrupted his thoughts. ‘No lingering over brandy, though! It’s time for you to retire.’

  ‘See what I must endure, Mr Anders? She scolds like a fish-wife and is as persistent as my old nanny,’ Bronning grumbled, but with a twinkle in his eye. Nor did he demur as she called his valet to help him to his chamber.

  ‘I suppose you’ll be returning to your books,’ Althea said a touch wistfully as they walked out.

  ‘As you’ll return to yours in the library?’

  ‘Not if I can persuade you to a game of cards first. You’ve been working so hard, I think you deserve part of an evening to rest…and entertain me,’ she added with a grin.

  It had been many nights since he’d allowed himself any diversion. It wouldn’t hurt, this once, to put off for a while his nightly wrestling with the ledgers and his seemingly incurable longing for Amanda Neville. ‘Very well.’

  ‘Excellent,’ she exclaimed. ‘How about piquet?’ At his nod, she said, ‘Let’s retire to the library. I’ll have Sands light the candles.’

  Once they had settled there, cards dealt and lead determined, Greville said, ‘
You deserve a reward for all your hard work, too. Everything has continued so smoothly, I’ve scarcely noticed a change of mistress.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, pinking with pleasure. ‘Managing a household is so much more complex and complicated than I’d ever imagined! There’s so much to know, from how to properly clean lamps to seating guests at a dinner to getting stains out of linen. Amanda worked much harder than I ever gave her credit for. I’m sorry now I was so…resentful of her last summer.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s put it all in the past.’

  ‘No doubt. She has so many more exciting things to occupy her now, I imagine she’s forgotten all about Ashton. I really don’t expect to see her again until she becomes betrothed, or maybe after she marries, when she returns to introduce her new husband to the neighbours. Lady Parnell will make sure that whoever she weds is a man of great influence and power. Except for occasional visits, I imagine they’ll reside in London or Windsor. It’s the life she’s always wanted, and no lady could be better suited or more deserving of it.’

  Althea was only repeating what he’d already told himself, but hearing it none the less revived the pain, always simmering just beneath the surface of consciousness. Amanda was in London, striving to turn all her girlhood aspirations into reality—why should she spare a thought for those she had left behind?

  If she recalled him at all, probably it was only with a sense of gratitude that he’d been gentlemanly enough to conceal their indiscretion and protect her plans.

  A flicker of anger stirred. Why did he continue to torture himself over the lady, however wonderful she was? They might as well exist on separate planets, she in her sphere, he in his, both determined to become master of their respective realms. He’d wished her joy before she left and meant it.