Scandal's Promise

by Gibson, Pamela

  “The staff. No one else. Most live on-site, but I cannot control who gossips, Aunt.”

  “Were there no other ladies?”

  “No titled ladies, but Mrs. Evans, the housekeeper, moved to a bedchamber near mine for the duration of my stay.”

  Aunt Lily sighed. “And I assume everyone was aware it was for propriety’s sake. I trust your judgment, but servants do gossip.”

  “They do, although how would they know what went on in another corridor? Last night the boy stayed in his father’s room, and that, too, was well known. We had quite a scare with him. Let me take a hot bath, and I’ll come right back down and tell you all about it.”

  “Was it the storm? Was the child frightened? I daresay, the windows rattled with the force of it.”

  “Worse. But I need a change of clothes. This is the second day I’ve worn these garments, and they are soiled as well as wrinkled. I feel like I’ve been in the saddle for a day, rather than an hour.”

  Aunt Lily walked over, and in less than a second, warm arms enveloped Emily in a quick hug. “I’m glad you made it home safely. Bathe and rest. I, too, have news, but it can wait.”

  Emily headed for her room where Alice was waiting. “We were worried, milady. Did they treat you well?”

  “Cardmore Hall is vast and may have a meager staff, but I was well tended.”

  “And his lordship is ever so handsome, isn’t he?” She grinned.

  Emily used her sternest voice. “He is a friend with a young boy to care for. I spent most of my time with the child. You know how fond I am of children.”

  She bowed her head. “Of course, milady. I hope I did not speak out of turn.”

  The tub arrived, and after a blessed hot soak, Emily donned a simple day dress and looked for her aunt. They sat in front of the fireplace with cups of tea and a plate of fresh biscuits, and Emily told her aunt everything that had transpired. Almost everything. Her personal experiences were not a topic for conversation, even though her aunt was a broad-minded creature who had created a scandal of her own when she married a cit.

  “So he hasn’t a clue as to who the perpetrator was.”

  “Not one. He has ideas. I even suggested some he hadn’t considered. As for hard evidence, nothing.”

  “It pains me to think of what the poor child must have endured. He remembered nothing, then? Just being carried while wrapped in a blanket.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Does he look like Cardmore? Is he bright and playful? Tell me all about him.”

  He is not my child.

  Cardmore’s words echoed in her brain. But that was his secret to share, if it was even true. “He looks more like his mother. Caroline was a comely woman who had many suitors. To be honest, I’m surprised she ended up with Andrew. Others were more handsome and better titled.”

  “But none were as rich as Andrew, were they?”

  “I suppose not. But I believe there was a duke dangling after her.”

  Who was not chosen. Which might lend credence to Andrew’s story. If Caroline was with child, she would have had to marry in haste. Most of the ton had heard about the old earl’s obsession with religion. He would have insisted on an immediate marriage. Someone else would have wanted banns read and maybe a lengthy engagement.

  Her astonishment must have shown on her face because her aunt stared at her. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing. Something has occurred to me I had not thought about before.”

  “What is it?

  “Nothing important.” She finished her tea and poured another cup. “Now, did you not say you had news as well?”

  “I do. This afternoon I received a note from your mother. Your father is well enough to travel. Isn’t it exciting? They will not be here in time for St. Nicholas Day but will come instead the week before Christmas. They’ve invited the Earl and Countess of Longley to break their trip to their country estate by spending a night or two here. We shall have to make haste in decorating the hall.”

  Emily sighed with relief. She had purchased gloves for Mama and had finished making a neck scarf for Papa, but Aunt Lily’s gift was a mere thought in her head. She wanted to design a dressing gown with a piece of fine muslin she’d purchased in London. She even had a few furbelows to adorn it with. But would there be time? December the sixth was a few days away, but if they were coming after St. Nicholas Day, the traditional day for exchanging gifts, that meant they might open family gifts on Christmas Day instead.

  She would still have time to purchase another toy for George. She recalled a hobbyhorse she’d seen in the village, one similar to the toy Miranda’s son had, only larger. George would love it until she could persuade Cardmore to buy him a pony. The child was old enough to be taught to ride. Even if the weather was not always fine, there would be many days of passable weather, and while not unheard of, they did not get much snow in the Cotswolds.

  Even though summer had been wet and dreary, and fall had not been much better.

  Good Lord, an entire month of holiday activities was upon them. They must gather greenery for the house and comb the forest for a yule log. There would be a grand feast and, on January the sixth, boxes for the servants. She must make a list so nothing was forgotten, and if she was careful, she might be able to include George in some of the activities.

  She went to her room to find paper and quill. While having her parents about would cause her a few problems and limit her ability to visit George, it was wonderful to see Aunt Lily so excited. Perhaps Mama would host a dinner for the neighbors with charades and dancing.

  Andrew was a neighbor. Surely, she would not leave him out, especially since he most likely wouldn’t come.

  If Ralston was visiting, Mama would want him in attendance. The earl was a highly eligible bachelor with an old title. It would be the height of bad manners to invite Andrew’s guest and not the host.

  Why do you want him to come? Did you not tell him your time had passed?

  But she’d already decided they could renew their friendship, a friendship of long standing. As neither had a jealous spouse, it would be nice to have a companion, with Aunt Lily acting as chaperone of course. They could take George on picnics and teach him to fish in the lake. It would almost seem like they were a family.

  You’re not thinking clearly again. George will never be yours.

  She threw down the quill. Why did Andrew have to marry Caroline and spoil everything? How pathetic it would be if she took him back now after being jilted, even though she had been the one who had officially called off the betrothal. Not that it mattered to the gossips. Everyone knew Andrew had compromised Caroline.

  She picked up the quill and dipped it in the inkpot. Plentiful greens grew in the forest, and she’d seen a few holly bushes during her walks. She had enough red satin ribbons to tie on the greens, and they could plan an elaborate dinner. Papa would expect venison instead of goose.

  Emily loved the holidays. The Grange always looked festive, and cook outdid herself for the feast. If her parents wanted an entertainment for the neighbors, she could help Mama with the invitations. She quickly set down her ideas on paper.

  With the tasks listed to Emily’s satisfaction, she allowed a smile to form on her lips. She would be delighted seeing her cousin and was thrilled she had finally made her acquaintance. She would immediately order the nursery cleaned and aired, even if used for only two nights. James, Longley’s son, would stay there, and Phoebe, his ward, would as well even though she was quite a grown-up young lady for a girl of twelve years. Miranda had mentioned she had an interest in music.

  She curtailed her excitement by napping before dinner and then shared her plans with Aunt Lily.

  “Are you sure you want Cardmore here?”

  “I think it’s time to forgive, don’t you?
It’s been seven years, and though it’s still hard for me to trust him after being hurt so badly, I think I am generous enough to set aside old hurts for the sake of harmony.”

  Aunt Lily tilted her head and softened her eyes. “You are a wonder, my dear. I’m not sure I could be as generous. But it’s not like you’re trying to get him to propose again, are you?”

  She let her held breath out slowly. “Of course not.”

  She followed her aunt into the dining room, a secret smile on her lips.

  Chapter 26

  Andrew opened the post, looking for a letter from Bronwyn. He’d invited the family for Christmas, hoping to show they could all be in charity again. Hers was the first letter after two invoices. He read it through twice and threw it on the desk. They were going to spend the holiday with her husband’s family. Surely he remembered they traveled to York every year.

  He did know and was chagrined at how her answer hurt, even though her response wasn’t a surprise. As this was his first year back, now that Boney was locked up tight, he thought she might deem to break tradition and spend it with him at their ancestral home. Or perhaps invite him to join their party. But no, he must stay here in this overgrown mausoleum and spend Christmas without family.

  You have George. He’s family. And you can invite Ralston.

  He sighed and admonished himself for his lack of sensitivity. Of course having George would make a difference, and truth be told, he grew fonder of the boy each day. He’d proven to be quite talkative once his shyness wore off, and Andrew had learned a great deal about his treatment by the Woodleys. For one, it was Caroline’s mother who had seen to all the child’s needs. Second, the boy knew his letters and numbers and had begun to learn to read. But when his grandmother died, his tutor was dismissed, and he was told by his nurse he was going to live with his papa.

  Having a child in the house during the holidays meant he needed to see about decorations. Father had called the trappings of Christmas pagan and had forbidden them. Gifts had not been given either, after Mama died. But all would change this year. Perhaps Emily would help him.

  His entire body warmed at the thought of her grace and her smile and her instant acceptance of the boy. Her astute observations stung when they bordered on criticism, but her presence brought warmth to his home. She smelled of fresh air and sunlight, a clean smell with a hint of orange blossoms. Even members of his staff perked up when she was near. If only she could see he was trying to change, to shake off the past and take up his duties as a proper earl, to become respectable. For her.

  Not for yourself?

  At times he hated himself, hated the pain in his shoulder and head and toes and everywhere else in his body, hated the laudanum keeping him sane. Others took the drug with no ill effects. Christ, they sold it for use by children. Why then was the pain a burning ember when he missed a dose and a fire throughout his body when he tried to leave it? It was like a demon possessed him with sharp claws that dug into his brain, creating heat and agony until he wanted to curl into a ball and die, knowing he’d kill to get another dose.

  He shuddered and returned to dealing with his letters. Deep breaths calmed him when he became agitated. Only a twinge bothered his shoulder at the moment. He needed to finish, to concentrate on his post. Send a disappointed, but cordial, response to Bronwyn. Think about which of the rooms to decorate.

  Think about the child.

  A tutor. Yes. George should be ready for formal instruction.

  “First, see about a tutor.” He spoke out loud and then scratched out his reminder on a piece of paper. Next, “When Ralston arrives, bring the pony here.” Where melancholy had darkened his mood only seconds ago, now excitement bubbled inside him. If only he could get rid of this horrible pain that seemed to get worse each day, despite the amount of medicine he took. He was now using more than one bottle a day and was often fuzzy-headed. Granted there were moments of bliss, but they were short-lived because the pain came back more quickly.

  He’d consult Ralston again. The man showed disdain for his use of the drug and was disappointed when the doctor found nothing wrong. Maybe he’d located another physician for him to consult. He could also use his friend’s brain to help him discover who had kidnapped George and why.

  Anger stirred in his gut, but he tamped it down and continued to deal with his letter pile. At the bottom of the stack was another strange note. He opened it and stared in disbelief.

  Your sins must be punished.

  Bollocks. Who was this madman, and what had he done to him?

  He set aside the offending note and ran up the stairs. George was back in the nursery. Perhaps he should post a footman outside his door. He slowed and gathered his dignity as he entered the room. George was bent over a table with drawing paper and a charcoal. He sauntered over and looked down. “What are you drawing?”

  “It’s you, Papa.” He held up the paper with a figure resembling a person. A circle was in the background with pointed ears and a tail.

  “And what’s this?”

  “It’s Juniper, the cat.”

  He took the paper from the boy and held it up. “A good likeness of us both.”

  The boy beamed with pleasure.

  “The lad likes to draw, your lordship.” Mrs. Townsend came into sight with a handful of laundered clothes. “Perhaps he could take a lesson with Mrs. Whittington.”

  “Would you like lessons?” he asked the boy.

  “Could I? I would like them ever so much.”

  “Perhaps after Christmas. For now we must find a tutor for your regular lessons.”

  “Not Mr. Sedley.” The boy seemed to shrink into himself. “He was mean.”

  “Who?”

  “He was my tutor, sir. He’d strike me if I didn’t do my lessons.”

  “No, someone else. And George, a tutor may scold you in this house, but he will not touch you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Papa.” His bright blue eyes stared up at him in awe.

  “Carry on.” He turned and strode out of the room, his fists clenched. At least the boy was safe for now. But he must deal with the threat.

  He had his horse saddled and asked his stablemaster if he’d seen Drake.

  “He said he was going to the old cottage near the pond to see about the roof.”

  Andrew set off, happy the roads were drier with this second day of sunshine. He’d meant to ride out over the entire property, to become more familiar with the tenants, and to view areas where Drake wanted to make improvements. His spirits soared outdoors in sunlight. The dreariness of the house weighed him down, its gloom like a hovering cloud that darkened even the brightest corners.

  The entail included other properties. Perhaps Cardmore Hall should be closed along with its memories. Even Bronwyn refused to come back, and Susanna, living in Edinburgh, would probably never cross its threshold again.

  He dismounted and tied his stallion to a post. Drake’s horse grazed in a nearby paddock.

  He stood in front of the door. “Drake. Are you inside?” No one answered. He stepped carefully around the building, avoiding debris, and noted where the roof sank inward. This looked like greater damage than anticipated. He’d have to draw more funds from his bank.

  Andrew returned to the front and stepped inside, careful to stay near the outer edges. If the roof was unsafe, more could fall. The blackened grate indicated recent use, and a pot hanging over it had something inside. Not caring to peer too closely, he skirted the room until he came to what must be a bedchamber. Here the roof was intact. Rags were thrown in the corner, resembling a makeshift bed. But as he drew closer, he gasped in dismay.

  His steward was sprawled on the floor, and blood seeped from a gash on his head. Andrew dropped to his knees, wishing he had something to revive him. Men did not carry reticules with smelling sa
lts. Andrew moved him carefully. The steward groaned and reached up to touch his head.

  “It’s Cardmore. Open your eyes.”

  Drake blinked a few times and drew his hand in front of his face. Blood covered it.

  “Here, I’ll help you sit up.” Andrew reached behind and carefully drew him to a sitting position. He unwound his cravat and pressed it to Drake’s wound. “What happened?”

  “I came in to assess the damage, and the next thing I know someone hit me from behind. I heard nothing, but it’s obvious someone’s been living here. The rain may have caused him to move.”

  “Can you rise? I’ll get behind you.”

  Andrew put his hands around Drake’s waist and helped him to his feet. The wound wasn’t bleeding much now, and he and the steward moved outside. “Can you ride? I’ll fetch your horse, and we can ride together. If you feel dizzy, please say so.”

  “No, milord. My head has a few devils racing in there, but I can manage.”

  They rode their horses slowly back to the Hall. Andrew helped Drake dismount. Leading him into the kitchen, he left him in a chair with cook hovering. “Patch up his head first, then give him one of your healing tisanes. Even minor head wounds bleed profusely, but the cut isn’t deep.”

  The cook nodded and headed for the stillroom.

  Andrew looked again at his steward’s cut. “You didn’t see anyone.”

  “I bent over the pile of rags to see if anything was underneath. I found straw and a blanket folded on one side. Curious, I picked up the blanket to see if anything else was there when someone hit me. Didn’t hear him come in, but I did see something.”

  “What?”

  “I caught a glimpse of an expensive pair of Wellingtons as I toppled over, just before the world went black.”