Loving Lieutenant Lancaster

by Sarah M. Eden

  Arabella stepped away from the mirror and toward the door. “Will Charlie be joining us?”

  “I believe he will be.” Mater’s gaze fell on Arabella’s necklace. “You’ve added new beads to the one my husband left for you.”

  Arabella set her hand over the adornment. “You knew about his gift to me?”

  Mater smiled gently. “My dear Arabella, his fondness for you was not a secret. Neither was he the only one who cared for you.”

  “The boys did enjoy having me join in their battle reenactments.” Those had been happy times. “The earl was always very kind to me. I wondered what it would be like if—Had I been—” She had never spoken aloud her wish to be part of his family. She found she couldn’t now. “He was always kind when he saw me, but he never sought me out. He never . . . I have always been very easily forgotten.”

  “My husband visited your uncle’s home many times.” Mater sat on the edge of Arabella’s bed and folded her hands on her lap.

  “He visited my uncle,” Arabella clarified.

  “Do you know why?”

  She had never been made privy to his reasons. “Estate business?”

  “Your uncle’s estate held no sway over any of my husband’s holdings, neither would my husband have responded to a summons from your uncle.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. What influence could Uncle have possibly had that would have brought the late earl to Hampton House? She sat beside Mater. “He came quite often though.”

  “He was attempting to negotiate something of great importance but also of a tremendously sensitive nature.” Mater set her hand on Arabella’s. “He was trying to arrange for you to come live with us.”

  Every thought fled. Her heart seized painfully. She had begged the earl to let her live with his family at Lampton Park. But he had told her no.

  “We made every attempt to convince your uncle to legally grant us guardianship. He was willing, provided we paid regular sums of money to him, the amount of which he increased every time we discussed the arrangements. Though we were not unwilling, we knew perfectly well that he would continue to demand more and more, knowing that he stood in a position to make you unhappy and that your happiness mattered to us.”

  “Blackmail,” Arabella whispered.

  “Essentially.” Mater shook her head, her eyes unfocused. “He would never have stopped. Lucas very much feared that if we were to pay the ransom your uncle demanded, it would only be a matter of time before that information was bandied about the neighborhood. Those rumors would have shadowed you all your life. He could not bear the thought of causing you such misery.”

  Mater turned her gaze on Arabella once more. “He never stopped trying though. He did manage to arrange it by convincing your new aunt that should you be attached to Lampton Park, you would be granted a London Season and she would benefit from that social standing. Your aunt, in turn, would prevent your uncle from demeaning you and your presence at Lampton Park, as that would interfere with the benefit she would receive from your situation.”

  “I was to come live with you?”

  Mater nodded. “Lucas bought that necklace as a ‘welcome home’ present to give to you on the day you were to come to our home.”

  Arabella wrapped her fingers around her beads. She tried to swallow, but her throat had grown too thick. “But I never came to live with you.”

  “No, you didn’t.” Mater’s voice lost most of its volume.

  “Why not?”

  Mater blinked a few quick times in succession. Redness touched the rims of her eyes. “He died.” She took a breath and pressed on. “The law does not truly permit a lady guardianship of anyone, not even her own children. My husband had arranged for trustees who would not interfere with my efforts to raise our sons should he be taken from us unexpectedly. That foresight proved almost prophetic. He had no ability, however, to make arrangements for me to be appointed your guardian, despite his agreement with your uncle. My husband’s passing put a permanent end to our hopes for you. I could not bring you to the Park, though I wanted to.”

  “You did?”

  Mater sighed. “It breaks my heart that you are unsure of that.”

  “I never knew.” She had never been told any of this.

  “We did not wish to raise hopes in you that would be dashed should our efforts fail. And after Lucas’s passing, I couldn’t bear to tell you what had almost been. I could hardly think of it myself.”

  She had come so close to her dreams. So very close.

  “I should have attempted to bring you home long before now. I believe your aunt and uncle would have parted with you, but there was no explanation for it that would prevent the neighborhood from speculating. Then Philip married, and I prepared to remove to the dower house.”

  “And the neighborhood could be made to believe that you wished for a lady’s companion.”

  Mater nodded. “I ought to have explained it to you. I tried more than once. But discussing those last months of Lucas’s life is still difficult. The words simply would not come.”

  “Did—Did he love me?”

  “Oh, Arabella.” Mater squeezed her hand. “He loved you so very much. He thought of you as his own child. If he were still here—” Emotion cut off her words. “He likely would be disappointed in me that I left you to wonder about his feelings for so long.”

  “And in me for doubting him in the first place.” Tears started in her eyes. “He showed me such love, yet I didn’t allow myself to believe it.”

  Mater smiled, the expression a little sad but also a little wistful. “Were he here, he would take the two of us in his arms, tell us he loved us, and insist we trust the depth of his regard. And then he would do everything in his power to make certain we believed him.”

  Oh, how she had loved him.

  “He would be heartbroken to think you spent so many years feeling forgotten,” Mater said. “He would never want you to feel anything less than cherished.”

  “Do you think he would have liked Linus?”

  Mater raised an eyebrow. “He is ‘Linus’ now, is he?”

  Heat filled Arabella’s face. “Mr. Lancaster.”

  Mater laughed. “You might as well call him Linus. I know full well how the two of you feel about each other. I’ve known for ages.”

  She couldn’t hold back a pleased smile. “We’ve only known for a few hours.”

  “You’ve known,” Mater said. “You simply hadn’t admitted it yet.”

  Heavens, that was true. “He gave me the new beads.”

  Mater nodded. “I suspected as much.”

  Arabella slid one jade bead along the chain. “I think the earl would approve of him.”

  “If my Lucas could see your Linus’s tenderness for you, he would more than approve of him; he would love him.”

  Arabella closed her eyes, memories of the earl filling her thoughts. “I wish he were here.”

  “So do I,” Mater said. “I wish it every day. Every single day. But I see him in his sons. I see him in you.”

  That pulled Arabella’s gaze to Mater once more. The fondness she saw there soothed so many of a lifetime’s uncertainties.

  “To know that the influence of my beloved Lucas is still being felt comforts me beyond words. He lives on, and he has not been forgotten.”

  “And he never will be,” Arabella said. She put her arms around Mater and received a tight embrace in return. Years of loneliness were fading away.

  She was loved.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Linus needed to make the better acquaintance of a few more of his neighbors. The Nappers were pleasant enough company, but having them as guests yet again left much to be desired. Mr. and Mrs. Napper clearly had hopes of both him and Charlie taking an interest in their daughters. Charlie was too young for a serious attachment. And Linus’s a
ffections were fully focused elsewhere. Perhaps he needed to make that a little clearer.

  “What shall we do for entertainment this evening?” the dowager asked when they’d all gathered in the drawing room. “Loo or whist, perhaps?”

  Linus had been working on a surprise for Arabella. Now was the perfect opportunity. “I had hoped we might have some music.”

  “Excellent,” Mrs. Napper said.

  “I would very much enjoy hearing your lyre again.” The eldest Miss Napper had spoken to him more about his music than any other topic. He hadn’t intended to pique her interest; he had something else in mind entirely.

  “I had hoped,” he said, “that Miss Hampton would favor us.”

  Her eyes pulled wide. He likely should have warned her.

  “Miss Hampton plays the lyre?” Mrs. Napper asked.

  Linus shook his head. “She plays the pianoforte, and I understand she is quite talented.”

  He turned fully to Arabella. “Would you be willing?” He held his hand out to her.

  She allowed him to help her to her feet. Under her breath, she said, “Your pianoforte is not playable. This will end in humiliation.”

  He tucked her arm through his and walked her to the instrument. “I would never ask you to embarrass yourself,” he whispered.

  She sat on the stool. Her fingers hesitated over the keys.

  “Trust me,” he said.

  Arabella squared her shoulders and set her hands in position. She did, indeed, trust him. The realization touched him deeply; he knew full well how difficult that was for her.

  She began to play. After only a few notes, though, she stopped. With amazement in her voice, she said, “You’ve had the pianoforte tuned.”

  “Today during your walk,” he said.

  Rather than the excitement he’d expected, he saw concern in her expression. “But you don’t play.”

  “I don’t.”

  “And no one who lives here does.”

  He smiled gently. “It will bring you pleasure. That makes the effort more than worth it.”

  She absentmindedly touched her fingers to the beads on her necklace—his beads. “Thank you.”

  He nodded. “Please play. I’ve wanted to hear you ever since the dowager told me of your talent the night she introduced us.”

  “I do like to play.”

  “Then I will not keep you.” He offered a small bow, then took a seat at the front of the group, where he could watch and hear.

  She took up a tune. Her playing was every bit as pleasurable as the dowager had said it was. More wonderful even than that, she clearly enjoyed playing the music. They shared that. Perhaps they could learn a few duets for his lyre and her pianoforte. How easily he could imagine it.

  Mr. Napper sat near enough to quietly comment to him. “She plays well.”

  “More than merely ‘well,’” Linus said. “Lovely. Beautiful.”

  “The music or the musician?” That was certainly pointed. Still, it was an opportunity for offering clarity.

  “Both,” he said, holding Mr. Napper’s gaze.

  His neighbor made a gesture of understanding. “I had begun to suspect the wind blew that way.”

  “And I’ve begun to suspect some in your family believed it might blow another direction entirely.” He hoped the frank observation did not give offense. Rumors had caused him and Arabella trouble before. He would not risk it happening again. “I trust any misconceptions there can be easily cleared up.”

  Mr. Napper gave a single nod, one devoid of malice. It seemed he, at least, hadn’t pinned too many hopes on Linus.

  Arabella continued to play. Linus could fully listen once more. Her music was lovely. And watching her was a joy.

  He hoped his offering—an instrument she could play—brought her some happiness while she was here. More than that, he hoped her time in his home, in his life, brought her peace and joy and the assurance she was loved. There was no other word for what he felt. Love.

  Her song ended. She rose and, with a bit of a blush on her cheeks, curtsied as her audience applauded. Linus moved to escort her to a seat, but Dr. Scorseby arrived at her side first.

  “Yours is an impressive talent.” Dr. Scorseby placed himself directly between Linus and Arabella, something that likely wasn’t accidental. There was no mistaking the message. Scorseby was well aware that Linus was courting Arabella, and he didn’t mean to abandon his own efforts. “I feel quite privileged to have heard your performance,” the doctor said to her. “I hope you mean to favor the neighborhood with a performance once we’ve returned to Nottinghamshire.”

  Scorseby might have held Arabella’s attention at the moment, but she was wearing Linus’s beads. She had stood in his embrace the previous afternoon. That was reason enough to believe his suit was not being rejected or brushed aside in favor of someone else’s.

  “Dr. Scorseby,” the dowager spoke loud enough to prevent the physician from continuing his commentary. “Forgive me for depriving you of your partner, but I need Miss Hampton to fetch my shawl for me.”

  The doctor graciously stepped aside. Arabella left quickly. Linus had not been granted even a moment of her time. Perhaps she would sit by him when she returned.

  The second of the Nappers’ daughters took her place at the pianoforte. She played well, but Linus found his interested waning.

  “Psst,” someone whispered behind him.

  He looked back. Charlie motioned him over. Curious, he moved to the sofa where Charlie sat, his splinted legs stretched out in front of him.

  “What are you waiting for?” Charlie whispered. “This is your chance.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Arabella.”

  What was Charlie pushing at? “She went to fetch your mother’s shawl.”

  “Mater has her shawl.”

  Suddenly it all made sense. “The dowager created a ruse.”

  “She created an opportunity.”

  “Thank her for me.”

  Linus slipped slowly from the room, not drawing attention to his departure. He took the stairs two at a time. Arabella stood a few feet from the top of the staircase. She watched him approach, brows pulled low. She looked uneasy.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked.

  “You tuned the pianoforte,” she said, “but you don’t play.”

  “I don’t play, but you do.”

  “You tuned it for me?” She stepped closer, narrowing the distance between them.

  “Exclusively for you.” He moved closer as well.

  “Because you like music?” She closed the gap between them, standing so near he could hear every breath she took.

  “Because I like you.” He slipped an arm around her waist, his hand splayed against her back. “I like you very much, indeed.”

  She set her open palms on his chest. Her eyes met his. “I like you very much as well.”

  “Do you?” A smile tugged at his lips.

  She raised herself up on her toes and pressed the briefest, lightest of kisses to his cheek. “I very much do.”

  He pulled her more fully into his embrace, but she stepped back, slipping away.

  “Arabella,” he called after her.

  She paused halfway down the stairs and looked back up at him.

  “May I join you on your walk tomorrow?”

  She smiled. “Of course.”

  “And the day after that?” He descended to the step she stood on.

  “Of course.”

  He moved one step lower, putting him nearly eye-to-eye with her. “And the day after that?”

  “Of course.” She gently touched his cheek.

  “You’ll find I’m a bit wind-bitten, my dear,” he said. “Years at sea take a toll.”

  “Do you know what I thought the
first time I saw you in the Lampton Park entryway?”

  He pretended to ponder it. “You likely thought, ‘Who is that old man?’”

  She tipped her head, her blue eyes bright with amusement. “I thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”

  “Beautiful?”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “I know it is not quite the right word, but it was the first one that came to mind. Certainly not wind-bitten.”

  He wrapped his arms around her. “Do you know what I first thought?”

  “‘Who is that mouse in the corner?’”

  He breathed in the scent of her, cherishing the moment. “I thought of how much I wanted to meet you, how intrigued I was by you.”

  “A woman hiding in the shadows?”

  “You tugged at me in ways I could not begin to explain.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I was embarrassingly nervous every time I spoke to you.”

  “I am glad you spoke to me anyway.”

  “So am I,” he said.

  With a small sigh, she stepped back, out of his arms and down the stairs. She looked back at him once more before disappearing down the corridor below.

  Linus slowly followed in her wake. He’d held her. She’d leaned into his embrace. He had every reason to hope that while she was in Shropshire, he would find a way to prove himself worthy of her affection.

  He reached the corridor below. Arabella had already stepped inside the drawing room. Dr. Scorseby stood not far away, watching him.

  Linus squared his shoulders. He’d faced down foes before. This one, however, didn’t look as though he meant to scuffle.

  Scorseby eyed him for a drawn-out moment, then taking a breath, he nodded. He walked down the corridor, not into the drawing room but toward the entryway. He looked back at Linus. “Be good to her.”

  “I have every intention of being far more than merely ‘good.’”

  Scorseby held his gaze firmly. “See to it that you are.” He slipped from the house.

  Linus made his way into the drawing room. His eyes found Arabella on the instant. She smiled at him from her place beside the dowager. His heart warmed at the sight of her.

  Oh, yes. He meant to be far more than “good” to her; he intended to do everything in his power to be worthy of her love.