“Never mind where I have been,” she said, more sharply than she had intended. Softening her tone, she added, “I am home now and that is all that matters.”
“So are we,” Temperance pointed out.
“Yes, but I am the eldest, which means I get to ask the questions and you have to answer them.”
Making a face, Temperance set her tea down with a clatter. “That isn’t fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” Delilah put in. “What?” she asked when both Temperance and Lynette stared at her. “What did I say?”
“Nothing, sweetling.” Wrapping her arm around Delilah’s shoulders, Lynette held her tight for a moment as she fought back the sudden glimmer of tears in her eyes. This was why she needed to marry Nathaniel. Not for herself, not because she loved him or he loved her, but because of her sisters. Because for darling, sweet, innocent Delilah, life should have been fair. But due to circumstances not of her own making it wasn’t.
Something which Lynette intended to change very soon.
Turning her head to the side, she dashed discreetly at the corners of her eyes. “I have something to tell both of you. Something very important.”
“Is it about Nathaniel Blackbourne?” Delilah asked.
“How did you know that?”
Temperance rolled her eyes. “That is where you have been, isn’t it? At his townhouse?”
“Yes.” Sitting up straighter in her chair, Lynette took a deep breath. “It is.”
“I knew it,” her sister said triumphantly. “Did I not say I say that’s where she was, Delilah?”
“Where else would she be?” Delilah asked, not looking very impressed by Temperance’s detective skills. “He’s the one who saved her from being trampled, after all. And he sent that maid here to look after us.”
Lynette had completely forgotten about the maid. “Is she still here?”
“No, we sent her away last night after dinner. What? We thought you would be coming home. Besides, we can look after ourselves.”
“Is that why you are huddled before the fire in nothing more than your unmentionables?” Lynette asked dryly.
Scowling, Temperance inched away from the brick hearth but remained sitting on the floor. Picking up her tea, she held it in both hands as she took another sip before glancing at Lynette across the curved porcelain rim.
“We were on our way home when it started raining. We got a bit turned around, that’s all.”
“And then Tempy nearly got run over by a carriage, just like you!” Delilah said, nearly causing Lynette to drop her tea.
Gaping at Temperance, she cried, “You did what?”
“It was nothing,” Temperance said with a wayward flick of her wrist. “I was merely trying to get his attention but the buffoon didn’t see me.”
Delilah giggled. “She landed right in the mud! It was rather amusing.”
“It was not.”
“Was too.”
“Was–”
“Girls!” Lynette said sharply. “This is not the time for petty arguments. Temperance, are you all right?”
“I am perfectly fine. If Mr. Jacobson had been looking where he was going-”
“Who is Mr. Jacobson?” Lynette asked.
“The man who almost ran Tempy over.” Pale hair tumbled across Delilah’s brow as her head canted to the side. “Haven’t you been listening?”
As her head began to pound, Lynette pinched the sides of her temple between her thumb and pointer finger and closed her eyes. “I have had a very trying morning. Will one of you please tell me what happened, who Mr. Jacobson is, and how you got home?”
“It is not much of a story, really,” said Temperance. “I think our time would be much better served discussing what happened between you and-”
“Tell me anyways,” Lynette cut in.
“Yes but-”
“Now, Temperance.”
“Oh, very well,” her sister grumbled. “Delilah and I went for a walk to stretch our legs and were caught in the rain, as we said, and we saw a carriage-”
“I saw it first, remember?” Delilah interrupted.
“Does it really matter who saw it first?”
Delilah thought about it for a moment. “I think so. After all, if I hadn’t seen it you wouldn’t even have a story to tell.”
“Fine,” Temperance snapped. “Delilah saw a carriage and I tried to wave it down but the driver Mr. Jacobson, blind fool that he is, did not see me. I jumped to the side and slipped in a bit of mud and-”
Delilah snorted. “It was more than a bit. Lynette, you should have seen her! Floundering about in the muck as if she were a-”
“Don’t you dare say it,” Temperance threatened.
“-pig!” Delilah finished gleefully.
“Delilah dear, please refrain from calling your sister animal names,” Lynette said even as a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. After her tense encounter with Nathaniel, it felt good to relax in the company of her sisters, even if she knew the respite was only a temporary one. Between packing up the house and preparing for her wedding, the next few days promised to be a whirlwind of nonstop activity.
She only hoped she was up to the task.
“Do you want to tell Lynette what happened or shall I?” Temperance asked with a glare.
“Go ahead, but you need to tell it accurately,” said Delilah.
“Maybe I could if you stopped interrupting me! As I was trying to say before I was so rudely interrupted and insulted-”
“I did not insult you!” Delilah protested.
“You called me a pig!”
“Yes, but pigs are such delightful creatures. They’re friendly and highly intelligent and-”
“I quit,” Temperance decided as she sprang to her feet.
Disguising her laughter with the back of her hand, Lynette motioned for Temperance to sit back down. “You know your sister does not mean any harm. It is simply the way she is. She cannot help it any more than you can help your short temper.”
Huffing out a breath, Temperance reluctantly resumed her seat beside the hearth and brought her knees up to her chin. “Fine. But if she says one more word…”
“She won’t,” Lynette promised. Glancing down at Delilah, she absently patted the top of her head as one might a beloved cat. “Will you, dear?” Shaking her head from side to side, Delilah obediently held her tongue. “There, you see? Now you may continue. I believe you were at the part where the blind Mr. Jacobson nearly ran you over after you stepped in front of his carriage.”
“I was only trying to get his attention,” Temperance muttered.
“That certainly is one way to do it.”
“After I fell down, Mr. Jacobson pulled his carriage off the side and offered to take us home-”
“Surely you did not go with him!” Lynette gasped in disbelief.
“Of course we did. It was raining, remember?”
“But he was a stranger! And you were without a chaperone.” As her headache returned with full force, Lynette looked up at the ceiling. Patience, she told herself. You must have patience. Counting to three, she lowered her chin. “I understand the circumstances under which you found yourselves were very dire, but if you ever find yourself in a similar situation pleasure try to remember that young ladies should never accept rides from strangers.”
“I can promise you I will never get in a stranger’s carriage ever again. Especially not one belonging to Mr. Jacobson! Why, you should have seen it. Junk everywhere! There were trunks and old mirrors and bolts of fabric and - what else, Delilah?”
Delilah peeked up at Lynette. “Can I speak now?” she whispered.
“Yes, dear, go right ahead.”
“The duck!” Delilah said eagerly. “Do not forget the duck. Oh, you should have seen it!”
“I imagine it was quite lovely,” Lynette said with another pat. Did Nathaniel have water fowl at his country estate? If not, she would immediately see about getting some as well as a horse for Temp
erance whose equestrian skills were unmatched.
As she thought of all the things her sisters would soon have, some of her anxiety at being more or less forced to marry a man she hardly knew began to lessen. Soon any worries in regards to money and debts and leaky roofs would be a thing of the past and she could apply her energy where it was needed most: her sisters.
Their latest adventure - honestly, what had they been thinking?! - was only one more glaring example of why they needed more attention. Attention she hadn’t been able to provide them. Once she and Nathaniel were married, however, everything would change. She’d be able to look after them as a proper older sister should. She would get them caught up in their studies, both academic and social. She would finally have the time she needed to teach Delilah how to do a proper cross-stitch and Temperance how to curtsy without looking belligerent. For the first time since her parent’s death, she would be able to take a very deep breath...and let it out without fear of her entire world collapsing.
“Why was this Mr. Jacobson’s carriage filled with so many different things?” she asked curiously.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Eyebrows raising ever-so-slightly at the sour tone in Temperance’s voice, Lynette wondered if there was more to the story than either one of her sisters was letting on. “But he did bring you directly here, did he not?”
“Nearly right to the doorstep,” Delilah said with a vigorous nod. “And I made sure to thank him, but Tempy didn’t say a single word, did you Tempy?”
“Thank the likes of him?” Temperance scoffed. “Surely not.”
“Was he forward with you?” asked Lynette as a sliver of alarm raced through her. As a general rule Temperance was always rather short with the opposite gender, but she’d never shown such an open dislike before. “Did he say anything that could be deemed as inappropriate? Because if he did-”
“Tempy called him wretched,” Delilah said, her eyes sparkling. “And Mr. Jacobson said she was acting like a spoiled bitch!”
“Language,” Lynette admonished with an automatic wag of her finger.
“I was only repeating what Mr. Jacobson said.”
“You can do so without using any foul words.”
“Fine.” Delilah crossed her arms. “Mr. Jacobson said Temperance was acting like a spoiled...peagoose.”
“Is that true?” Lynette asked as her gaze flicked over the top of Delilah’s fair head and settled on Temperance. “Did he really call you a spoiled bi - er, that is to say, peagoose?”
“He most certainly did! He was awful. Just awful. And an American to boot! Not surprising, I suppose, given his uncouth behavior.”
Mr. Jacobson was an American? How...interesting. Even more interesting, however, was Temperance’s reaction to him. Lynette would have to get more details, but for now she thought it best if they put the matter to rest before her hot-headed sister worked herself into even more of a tither than she already had. “All is well that ends well,” she said diplomatically. “Although in the future I should like you to remember that you are not to leave the house without a proper chaperone.”
“And who is your chaperone?” Temperance asked shrewdly.
She has got me there, Lynette admitted. As usual, Temperance was far too smart for her own good. Why oh why couldn’t she have been blessed with docile, biddable sisters who did as they were told and never questioned her authority?
“Dinner is in two hours,” she said, purposefully ignoring Temperance’s question. “I will prepare it so both of you can take a hot bath and change into fresh clothes. Leave the water, if you would. I am going to bathe after dinner.”
Before they’d fallen on hard times, Lynette would have never dreamed of climbing into water twice used, but now there was little other choice. Without a household staff to help them, heating and carrying buckets of water up the stairs one at a time became a time consuming – not to mention physically exhausting – chore.
“What are we going to have?” Delilah asked.
“Potato and stew.” Ignoring her sister’s groans, Lynette leaned down and pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks. “Off with you now.”
Delilah scampered up, but paused halfway across the parlor. “Wait,” she said, her brow creasing. “Wasn’t there something you were going to tell us?”
Only that I am now engaged to be married to someone you have never met and we shall have a new home by the end of the month and your entire lives will be irrevocably changed.
“At dinner,” she said with a strained smile. “I will tell you everything at dinner.”
Nathaniel’s hands burrowed into the deep pockets of his trousers as he waited in the foyer of his parent’s townhouse. Although nearly twice the size of his own, it seemed small in comparison due to his mother’s lavish taste in furnishings. Long, heavy draperies hung from every window and oversized chandeliers dripped from every ceiling, giving each room a closed-in effect that he’d secretly loathed as a child. Tables and bookshelves crammed with every imaginable vase, bowl, and trinket lined the walls and various rugs – often two or three to a room – covered every inch of the hardwood floor. To remain standing in place while a dozen eyes peered at him out of old family portraits hanging three deep on the walls was no small task, but he managed to do it, albeit with a tight-lipped grimace.
When his mother finally descended the curving staircase he breathed a silent sigh of relief and went to her side, assisting her down the last few steps before he pressed his mouth to the back of her hand.
“Mother,” he said quietly.
“Nathaniel!” Rebecca Blackbourne’s eyes, the same bright green as her son’s, lit up with delight as she grabbed both his hands and squeezed tight. “Let me look at you.”
She always acted, Nathaniel thought with some amusement, as though they’d been parted for months instead of two weeks. Since he knew it was her way, he stood patiently while she fussed over the length of his hair and the tiny scratch on the side of his chin he’d given himself while shaving.
“Well?” he drawled when she finally sat back on her heels. “Do I meet your approval?”
“Your hair is far too long,” she said with a sniff. “And your valet needs to be more careful when he is attending you.”
“I like my hair as it is and I prefer to shave myself.”
“Well then you need to be more careful.” She lovingly cupped his jaw and brushed her thumb across his cheek. “I do not want to see this handsome face marred in any way.”
Nathaniel grinned. “I think it makes me look a bit roguish, don’t you?”
“Roguish,” Rebecca scoffed. “Roguish. Why, I’ve never heard of such a thing. Come along dear, you are just in time. Annabel is about to start her recital on the pianoforte.”
“Annabel is doing a recital?” One eyebrow shot up. His younger sister by five years, Annabel was notoriously tone-deaf. “You never mentioned anything about a recital.”
“Because I knew you wouldn’t come if I told you about it,” Rebecca said cheerfully. “Your sister is going to be so very happy to see you. And your father as well.” Slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow, she patted his hand as they strolled through the parlor and into the adjoining music room.
His father, Nathaniel quickly noted, looked about as enthused about the recital as he felt which was to say not very enthused at all. Sitting in the middle of the room with a glass of scotch in one hand and an unlit cigar in the other, he nodded at his eldest son when his wife was looking at him and quickly rolled his eyes when she was not.
“Father,” said Nathaniel, extending his right hand.
“Son,” Harold Blackbourne, Earl of Townsend, replied gruffly, setting his cigar aside so they could shake. “You look well.”
“As do you.” It was true. Despite his advancing years – he would be sixty-five this spring – and his crown of white hair, Nathaniel’s father still exuded a sense of strength and power. He was a man Nathaniel looked up to, although their rela
tionship had not been without its strife, the most recent source of discontent being Nathaniel’s refusal to settle down and marry.
Since he’d graduated from Eton his parents had been on him day and night to find a suitable wife and produce an heir. ‘It is your duty as the future earl of Townsend’ his father had spouted until he was blue in the face. ‘I want you to fall in love and be happy’ his mother had said, all the while blinking back tears.
He’d come today to allay their fears and announce his engagement. A difficult enough task in and of itself, as he knew that Miss Lynette Swan was not the sort of woman they’d envisioned him marrying. For one thing, she had a scandal attached to her name. For another, as the daughter of a baron she was quite low on the peerage scale, something Nathaniel cared for not a whit but he knew his parents would make note of.
He didn’t need their approval, of course. He was a man more than fully grown, capable of making his own decisions. But it would be nice to have it, if for no other reason than he knew they’d already suffered enough.
“Nathan, is that you?” Head popping around the side of the pianoforte, Annabel smiled hugely at the sight of her brother. “It is! I cannot believe you came.” Considerably shorter than Nathaniel and Adam, Annabel made up for her lack of stature with a bright, bubbly personality that never failed to light up the room. “I have been practicing all week. Wait until you hear!”
“I am sure it will be…interesting,” Nathaniel said dryly as he took a seat beside his father.
“How did you get dragged into this?” Harold asked in a lowered voice.
Nathaniel shrugged. “Purely by coincidence, I can assure you. I’ve come to give you and Mother some news.”
“News?” the earl said with interest. “What news?”
“I have recently become–”
With a clang and a plunk Annabel chose that precise moment to begin her recital. Countenance knitted in earnest concentration, she struggled through Johann Schobert’s Menuetto before clumsily segueing into Beethoven’s Ode to Joy. Every so often a wrong note caused Nathaniel to wince, but when it was all over he clapped the loudest.
For the Love of Lynette Page 11
