“Oh, my!” She stared at the wood that had been etched with the marks of the cat’s claws. “Do give him something, Lorenzo.”
With a chuckle, he held a piece of game out to the black and white cat. Kitty accepted the offering with delicate disdain as if he were offended that he had to go through this ploy to get what was so rightfully his.
“The poor thing must be hungry,” she said as Kitty swallowed the piece with barely a single chew.
“’Tis all an act, m’lady,” the man said. “He gets fed thrice a day when the maids each come to work. He eats those meals as fast as he can and hunts out back until someone comes in and orders somethin’ from the kitchen. Then he comes to beg, don’t you, lad?”
The cat gave him a yellow glower and turned his head back to Lorenzo. A hint of a feline smile suggested that another offering would be most welcome.
“He seems quite at home here,” Lorenzo said as he gave another piece of meat to Kitty. “Whose cat is he?”
“The cat’s yers, m’lord, unless you decide to sell the tavern. Then he goes to the new owner. Old Kitty’s part of the lease here.” Trenton turned away, then paused. “Once yer bowls be empty, you’ll be wantin’ not to stay sittin’ here. Kitty gets impatient with folks who sit at his table and don’t have any food for him.” He chuckled as he walked back to the tap.
Valeria took a bite and saw the cat watching her. She chewed it quickly and swallowed. “That cat could prove to be unnerving, Lorenzo.”
“He just knows what he wants and is doing what is necessary to get it.” He cleared his throat as he set his spoon on the table. “This may not be the best time to broach this subject, Valeria, but Tilden Oates sent a message to me this morning.”
“Did he?” She lowered her own spoon to the table and ignored the cat which made a warning growl deep in its throat.
“He asked if he might call upon you.”
“It is something I shall think about. Mayhap after David’s party, I can give it some proper consideration.”
His eyes widened. “But, Valeria, I already sent him a message saying that he was welcome to.”
“You sent him that message without conferring with me?”
“I saw no reason to.”
She pushed back her chair and came to her feet. “You saw no reason to confer with me about whom I might consider as a future husband?”
“Valeria,” he said, setting himself on his feet, “anyone who saw you and Oates together at his house would have assumed you would have welcomed him to give you a look-in at Moorsea Manor. You were laughing together and obviously very taken with one another.”
“But how could you agree to this without telling me first?” Tears blurred his face in front of her, but she would not let them fall. She was not a child. She would not weep like a child, and she would not be treated like a child. “I know you cannot wait to rid yourself of me, Lorenzo, but I—” Her voice broke.
As she whirled to go out the door, she discovered every eye in the taproom was, once again, focused on her. She looked back at Lorenzo, who was wearing an astonished expression. If he thought so little of her that he handled her future like this, then he was not the man she had believed he was.
She would not be so foolish again.
Twelve
“Women!”
Hearing a laugh behind him, Lorenzo looked over his shoulder. He had not seen Earl. The man walked so quietly, it was almost as if he was not there until he stood right in front of a person.
“You sound exasperated, my lord.” Earl walked past him and set another armful of logs by the hearth. Cool air from the back stairwell followed him. “At all of them or at a particular one?”
“Not all of them. Some are not so irritating.”
“Which one?”
“Do you know Miss Mary Oates?”
“Sir Tilden’s sister?” Earl squatted as he brushed ashes back under the fire. “A fine lady, who has more wit than her brother, if you want my opinion.”
“Your opinion agrees with mine, Earl.”
“Sir Tilden is not such a bad chap. The problem is that no one likes him as much as he likes himself.”
“Valeria seemed quite taken with him.”
“Did she now?” Earl set himself on his feet with no sign that his years were slowing him down. “I collect that you do not see Sir Tilden as a proper mate for your ward.”
“Quite the contrary. He seemed taken with her right from the beginning, but, when I told her that I had agreed to allow Oates to …” Lorenzo dropped into the chair and glowered at the hearth. “Women!”
Earl chuckled. “They do cause problems for a man. I recall my father—”
“Your father!” He looked at the old man. “I wished to ask you about that.”
“What of my father, my lord?” A smile teased the corners of his mouth.
Lorenzo guessed Earl knew what he was about to ask, but he was in too deep now to halt. “I saw a painting of my uncle and his father at the tavern in Winlock-on-Sea.”
“I’ve seen it as well.” He wiped his hands on his breeches and picked up the candle he never seemed to be without. “And, yes, ’tis true. The older earl was my father, though it’s been many, many years since I last saw him.”
Coming to his feet, Lorenzo held out his hand to the old man. “Then you are—”
He shook his head and stepped back. “I’m just old Earl. Nothing else now. Don’t try to make something of what doesn’t really matter any longer.”
“But you should not be laying the fires if your father was my grandfather.”
“I like what I’m doing now.” He smiled. “It’s fitting that I’m here now doing this. Don’t fret about me, my lord. You have enough to worry about with Lady Fanning and the lad.”
Lorenzo grimaced and nodded as Earl took his leave. It was true. How could he have guessed that Valeria would be upset when he had done only what he had thought she would have wanted?
Going to his dressing room door, he opened it. He yelped as water splashed over him. A bucket crashed to the floor, splattering everything nearby. He shook his hands, then his head. Blast! That water was cold. The lad had gone too far this time. A purloined boot or a jumble of papers that left him hours of work to put them in proper order had been bad enough, but this was unconscionable.
“My lord! What did you do to yourself?”
He scowled at Kirby who was coming into the room. Had the man taken a knock in the cradle? He had not done anything to himself. That blasted bratchet had done this.
“Send for Lady Fanning!” he ordered.
“Now?”
Lorenzo was about to reply, but caught a glimpse of himself in the glass. His clothes were lathered to him, revealing more than was proper. “Tell her I will speak with her in ten minutes.”
“She will wish to know about what.”
He raised his hands and spouted a curse as more water dripped off his sleeves. “Tell her that I have suffered my last indignity at the hands of her nephew. It is time we put a stop to this one way or another.”
By the time a knock sounded on his door, Lorenzo was decent once more. He did not turn from tying his cravat as he called for Valeria to enter.
“What is wrong?” she asked when she opened the door.
“What makes you think anything is wrong?”
“You do. You are frowning into the glass like a judge at a felon, and your voice nearly pierced through the door’s wood to lash me.”
He gestured toward the wet clothes. “I believe I have cause to be distressed.”
“Wet clothes? I shall have Mrs. Ditwiller speak to whichever maid delivered them here instead of the laundry yard.”
“They were delivered here quite dry, Valeria. In fact, I was wearing them only a few minutes ago before I encountered this thanks to your nephew.” He poked at the bucket with his toe.
Her face grew pale. “You don’t mean that David …”
“Exactly.”
“This is
outrageous!” She picked up one sleeve of his coat, then dropped it as water dribbled down her fingers.
“Exactly.”
“This cannot go on.”
“Exactly.” This was going so much better than he had expected.
“You should never have let it get to this point.”
“Exac- What did you say?”
Valeria faced him and folded her arms in front of her. “You cannot let this continue. Allowing this to go on is teaching the boy all the wrong lessons.”
“Me? You think I’m allowing this? I have sent him to his room more times than I wish to count after explaining to him the error of his ways. What more do you expect me to do?”
She laughed, but he heard pain in the sound. “You are so confused. You treat me like a child.”
“Valeria—”
“Yet you treat David as an adult, Lorenzo. You cannot do that and think that he will respond as one. He is still not nine years old.”
“I thought he would appreciate the guidance of an older man.”
She laughed. “Did you?”
He wanted to fire back a sharp retort, but found he had none. Yes, his uncle, Lord Wulfric, had treated him with the same firm hand as his cousins, but always with a sense of humor. His mother had been the gentle voice of discipline, explaining why what he had done was wrong … just as Valeria did with David.
“Surely you do not suggest that I give him a thrashing,” he gasped.
“Of course not!” Her voice softened to a whisper. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
“If I haven’t thus far, I believe you can accept that I do not see that as a viable way to persuade him to behave as he should.”
“But he is behaving as he should.”
“Pardon me?”
Valeria sat on a chair that was not dotted with water. Looking up at him, she said, “He is behaving like an angry, frightened child. For the past few nights, he has wept in his sleep. I have not woken him up, because I hope the night horrors that plague him will disappear before he wakes in the morning. So far that has worked.”
“What is he frightened of?” Lorenzo shook his head. “You can’t be suggesting he is frightened of me?”
“No, of course not. He is angry at you, but he is frightened of being bustled off to another home without so much as his say so.”
“He is a child.”
“A child who has lost his father and his home.”
“He still has you.”
She sighed and looked at the hearth where the fire Earl had rekindled was burning merrily. “Lorenzo, I never spent more than an afternoon with my nephew before he came to live with me.”
“I thought—” He sat facing her, then grimaced as he realized this chair had been splattered. Not bothering to move because that might be more embarrassing than remaining here, he added, “I had thought you two were well known to each other. You seem to understand him so well, and he has such affection for you.”
“Because I’m his only connection with what was.”
“And he’s yours.”
She bit her lip as she lowered her gaze to her hands in her lap. She looked so desolate that he reached across the space between them and tipped her face up.
“Valeria,” he murmured as he gazed into her incredible violet eyes, “let me know what I can do to ease this burden for you and the boy.”
“He needs a friend, Lorenzo.”
“I thought you were going to solve that problem by giving him a rout and inviting all the children in the parish.”
“Since I spoke to you of that this morning, I have been informed by the servants here that the parish is as big as the whole of the moors.”
“You are exaggerating. It is much smaller than the complete expanse of Exmoor.”
Rising, she said, “The parish is spread out enough that the children would have a long ride to Moorsea Manor. As you have made it clear that you do not wish for me to arrange for a party that lasts longer than an afternoon, the children cannot stay as overnight guests here. Therefore, it is quite impossible to have such a party for David.”
“I never meant to cause you to put a halt to the boy’s party.”
She shook her head. “That is not what’s important now. What’s important is that you and David learn to live together for as long as we’re at Moorsea Manor.”
“About Oates and—”
“Lorenzo, David is the only thing that concerns me now.”
She was plying him with out-and-outers, he knew, because she again looked back at the hearth. She never would meet his eyes when she was being less than completely honest.
Pulling on a dry coat, he asked, “Where is the boy now?”
“He went riding with Gil. You know they wander all over the moors every afternoon.”
He did not want to own that he had had no idea where the two went, because he had been simply grateful that they were not creating trouble in the manor house. Picking up his hat, he said, “I believe I shall go and have a talk with the boy.”
“Don’t distress him more.”
“I have no intention of doing that.” He ran his hand along the ruined wool of his drenched coat. “I intend to insist on an end to these gammocks before more is destroyed than a coat. If that bucket had landed on old Earl’s head, for example, he could have been greatly hurt.”
Again her face became wan. “Lorenzo, don’t forget that David is just a little boy.”
He put out his hand. He had meant to clasp her shoulder, but somehow his fingers curved along her cheek. The silken warmth of her skin sent a blistering flame through him. Tilting her face toward him, he watched, his breath caught in his chest, as her eyes closed. In anticipation or in resignation? Hastily he stepped away. He must be all about in his head to be acting so.
“Do not worry, Valeria,” he said, his voice gruff with the emotions he was trying to suppress. “I shall deal with David in a way that will meet your approval.”
As he walked to the door, she said, “Lorenzo, I believe that—”
“Trust me on this.”
His hand froze as he reached for the door when he thought he heard her say, “I wish I could.” He looked back, but she pushed past him and crossed the hall to her rooms.
Her door closed so softly that he heard the bolt slide into place.
Lorenzo left the house, had his horse saddled, asked a few questions of the stableboy, and then rode in the direction David and Gil had been heading when they left Moorsea Manor an hour before. He doubted if he would find them quickly amid the expanse of the moors, and he was right, but the rough ride where he had to watch the path ahead of him carefully kept him from thinking of Valeria and her peculiar ways.
An hour later, he still had not seen a sign of where the boys might be. He sat on the low stone wall and stared out at the channel. It must be presaging a storm because it was throwing itself against the headland as if the waves intended to try to sweep the beach back into the sea.
Somehow, before Valeria bashed herself as futilely against his unchanging opinions, he was going to have to find a way to explain to her why he thought it was best that she marry someone like Sir Tilden Oates. Then she could enjoy her exciting life in London. He had been awed by how easily she flitted from one conversation to the next at Oates Hall, always finding a welcome and never saying the wrong thing to anyone. Each person she had spoken to seemed delighted that she had sought him or her out. After that evening, he could understand why she pined at Moorsea Manor for the entertainments that had once been commonplace for her.
The very entertainments he despised.
Mayhap he should simply be honest with her, explaining how he preferred the quiet company of a few friends where conversations could continue for hours, rather than moments, where one could speak of matters more important than what color the haut monde at Almacks had chosen last week, where he could be comfortable to speak his mind instead of knowing he would make a faux pas if he were to open his mouth. Being shy was someth
ing Valeria could not comprehend, but it was a facet of himself that he lived with daily.
A shout rippled from the glen above. He stood and, shading his eyes so he could look toward the bright sky, realized at least one of the boys was kneeling by the wall not more than a quarter mile away. Mounting, he rode to where David was digging by the wall. A deep hole had been cut out of the earth, and Gil, a sheepish grin on his face, carried a bucket—the twin of the one that had doused Lorenzo—filled with dirt, and was dumping it over the stone wall.
“What have you there, David?” Lorenzo asked, noting that Gil seemed quick to find something to occupy him on the other side of the wall. He would speak with the footman later. Now he must find a way to ease the tensions between him and Valeria’s nephew.
For a moment, he feared the boy would remain intractable and would not reply, but David leapt to his feet and called, “Come and see this!”
“What?”
“This!”
Lorenzo smiled as he dismounted and walked over to the wall. He never had heard such animation in David’s voice. Mayhap the lad had found something other than pranks to fill his time.
“I got directions to this spot from Aunt Valeria,” David said, staring down at his hands, “and she was right. There was another old thing buried in the dirt along this wall.”
“Old thing?” Lorenzo squatted beside the boy who dropped back to his knees.
“This.”
He was amazed again when David dropped something onto his hand, and it did not slither or have three pair of legs. The item was not much bigger than the button on the front of his coat, but was caked with earth. He chipped some of the dirt away and ran his fingers over the raised figure on the small circle. “I believe you have found an old coin.”
David frowned. “I thought it was something good.”
“It is.”
“What’s so good about an old coin?”
Lorenzo tilted it toward the boy. “A truly old coin, David. I would guess, like the vase your Aunt Valeria brought to the manor, this is Roman.”
“From Italy?”
“Mayhap, or mayhap it was minted here in England. Either way, it was most likely brought here over 1500 years ago.”
The Convenient Arrangement Page 15
