Hart frowned. “That won’t do. People will say I’m a cheese-paring ogre for turning a young woman out to fend for herself. You are family. I’m responsible for your welfare.”
Eden sat stiff with pride on the sofa. “I am not so young, my lord. Two and twenty. And you are hardly any relation at all. Thank goodness,” she added softly.
Not softly enough. Juliet gasped. She was prevented from defending Hart, as she surely looked prepared to do, by the appearance of Charlotte and the brandy. Juliet glared at Eden in disapproval. “Hart, I believe we all deserve some spirits. Do the honors, if you please.”
Hart rose, tamping back his own irritation. He had been prepared in good faith to do right by his uncle’s stepchildren, although there was no compelling legal reason to do so. The man had thought little enough of them, not even providing a modest portion upon which they could live. Perhaps Miss Emery had been equally ungrateful toward his uncle, prompting him to teach her a very valuable lesson in humility by leaving her destitute. It did not seem fair, however, to include the ailing Jannah in any sort of retribution.
“Cousin Eden,” he began, in a voice known to strike fear in the hardiest of his troops, “surely you must know my uncle left you penniless. Whether it was an oversight or a deliberate snub, I have no idea. But I shall not stand aside while you ruin yourself as you choose a life of ignominious servitude rather than my protection. I forbid you from seeking employment.”
Eden’s face leached of what little color it still had. Her inept attempts at beauty once again stood stark upon her cheeks. She gazed at the baron, astonished. “You f-forbid me, sir?” she managed.
“I do. If you care so little for yourself, think of my reputation. I had hoped that you and my aunt might deal together. If you are seeking to be a companion, you need look no further. She would not make you her drudge or drive you mad with demands. And if you’re bound to be a governess, I wish you well dealing with my young cousins. They’ll cure you in a heartbeat!”
“Hart, you’re too unkind. Raphael and Sebastian are lovely boys, Miss Emery. And you would be more than welcome in my home.”
Hart glanced at his aunt. Juliet was probably now not so sure she wanted this grim, prim miss anywhere in her bailiwick. Then Eden stood, a mottled flush on her parchment white face.
“I thank you for your concern, my lord, Mrs. Cheverly, but I assure you it is misplaced. And while I am fl-flattered by your offer, I have already secured a position in London, a very nice position, to be held for me until I am able to undertake it, should I choose to accept it. Until then all I ask is to be allowed to care for my sister.”
“Well, of course,” Hart began, but she rambled over his words nervously, her hands working themselves into a fever.
“We shall keep to our rooms and be of no trouble to you. You won’t even know we are here. Mrs. Burrell is an excellent cook and Mrs. Washburn, the housekeeper, will do everything in her power to make your stay here comfortable. Pl-please enjoy your tea. I must go check on Jannah.” She nearly sprinted out of the parlor and up the stairs.
“Well!” said Juliet.
“No wonder Ivor left her in the lurch. She’s the most awkward thing. Ugly as an old boot besides.” He swallowed a healthy dose of Ivor’s brandy and poured another.
“Hart! It’s not like you to be so unkind. She is not one bit ugly, although her dress is not quite de la mode. Her looks are no more above average, I grant you, but it seems she’s had a hard life. It is very primitive here. Perhaps she just doesn’t know how to get on in society. To be sociable.”
“An understatement, my dear aunt. She’s just plain rude.”
“You certainly are not used to a woman who does not fall at your feet. For all your aloofness, you are very much in demand by the fairer set.” Juliet laughed. “Let me amend that. She did fall at your feet, but apparently it was not because of your male beauty, my lord Hartford.”
“She loathes me. I could see it in her eyes. I told her she could stay,” Hart grumbled. “It’s not as if I have any intention of taking over here. She can continue to run things as she pleases.”
“She’s done a remarkable job, you must admit. The house seems in good order, even to my high standards. Perhaps she’s overwrought about this visit, about making a good impression.”
“Well, she’s failed on that score.” Hart took a deep swallow.
“Tsk, tsk. It’s not like you to be so ungenerous. There’s the worry over her sister, too. Let’s give her time to adjust to our presence. I’ll make inroads, I’m sure. And you have estate business to occupy you. In a week or two we’ll be back in London and you can get on with your life. And find a wife.” Juliet looked amused by her own poetry.
It certainly would not be Eden Emery, thought Hart, remembering his conversation with Des. He was not in such self-denial that he wished to embroil himself in a marriage of total inconvenience.
Juliet chattered on as Hart consumed a fair amount of the contents of the tea tray. He wanted to make his own good impression on the staff—they had certainly made one on him with the substantial spread. Stuffed to the gills, he was anxious to stretch his legs after being cooped up in the carriage.
And escape his aunt’s incessant marital advice.
When she paused from her benevolent diatribe to nibble on a biscuit, he excused himself to take a walk outside. A bit of fresh air and quiet—that’s what he needed. One of the old dogs lifted his head from his slumber and decided to amble after him in decidedly arthritic fashion.
Hart was a man of property now, a country gentleman, he thought with some amusement. He even owned half-dead hunting dogs, one of which was wheezing loyally behind him. Each leaf of copper ivy climbing up the house belonged to him, each brick, each dark glass pane of window, each blade of browning grass. He noted the flower-beds along the path had been ruthlessly pruned and mulched. Hart knew nothing about gardening, but expected Eden Emery had a hand in readying the garden for the winter. One frosty stare of hers could wilt the hardiest flower. She looked as if she enjoyed chopping things down, him included.
He knew he was being uncharitable. Her guardian had died, and her sister was very ill. Her life had turned upside down, and now she and her sister were homeless save for Hart’s goodwill. Eden didn’t seem to be able to swallow pride easily, and she’d already begged on behalf of her sister.
Perhaps he should make more of an effort with her despite her prickliness. He could try to charm her—she might even be an easy conquest. She was an awkward, backward sort of girl, obviously unused to male company.
He found an opportunity to begin again with her as he rounded a corner of ragged boxwood that marked a small square garden. Eden was perched on a bench within it like a black crow. She had been viciously picking apart a leaf to its veins, no doubt imagining she was tearing Hart limb from limb, when he entered the gap in the shrubbery. If the French had been unable to kill him in ten years of war, he was not about to let some country girl succeed.
“Oh!” She stood up immediately, leaf bits dropping from her skirts. She had washed the ridiculous rouge from her cheeks and looked now like a black and white sketch. Something depressing, he thought rather cruelly. He could see his presence was still unwelcome—her dark eyes glittered with tears that she quickly blinked back.
He couldn’t help but stare. Her eyes were her best feature, so deeply gray they appeared black, and fringed with thick, straight lashes. Just now they glistened with tiny diamonds of moisture. He watched as she wiped them away with the back of an ungloved hand.
“I did not mean to disturb you,” Hart said, and meant it. Now was not the time to exercise his flirting skills. He felt like an intruder in this private garden room. Even if the house was now his, it had been Eden’s far longer. Of course she held him in aversion—he had disturbed her narrow, orderly little world. But that was the way of entailment. Since his uncle had made no provision for her, the entire situation was most irregular, and Hart was curious enough to
get to the bottom of it.
“It is I who am disturbing you.” Eden adjusted the heavy shawl she wore against the cold desolation of the garden. “I imagine you want to inspect your property. It’s only n-natural.” She looked around her, anywhere but at him. “The garden was quite lovely once. Before my mother took ill, it was her pride and joy. She was a farmer’s daughter, you know. This is not the right time of year, of course, but I’m sure you can bring it back to life. I’ve done the best I could.”
He was impressed by the number of words she had strung together, although she still wouldn’t meet his eye. Was she so shy of people that she had no social graces? She was far too old to behave like a child still in the schoolroom, uncertain and uncomfortable. How could she think to become a governess when it was clear she needed one of her own to smooth away her edges?
“Is there no gardener?”
She shook her head. “There hasn’t been for some months. Mr. Tilney retired, and your uncle did not plan to replace him until next spring. Now—it will be up to you.”
“Maybe you can recommend someone. I noticed your handiwork as I walked the grounds, and I thank you. The household seems well run inside, too. I assume that’s your doing.”
There was a flare of surprise in her eyes for a precious moment, and then she faded back to her nervous agitation. He smiled to reassure her, which only made her stumble backward into the stone bench and flush in embarrassment.
“The staff is small, but they’re very hardworking. Loyal.” Her hands twisted, and Hart suppressed the urge to get her another leaf to rip apart.
“My uncle did not spend much on his household, did he? I had a cursory look at the books with his man of business in town.”
Eden shook her head. “He was not an especially—domestic man. B-but we were cared for well enough.”
Hart doubted it. Her dyed black dress was years out of fashion, the jagged edge of the shawl mended with tiny neat stitches. With a little effort and some coin, he supposed Eden Emery could be made passably attractive. He should be grateful so little had been lavished on her. His uncle’s parsimony meant more money for him to spend in the long run. And no matter what Eden Emery said now, Hart was prepared to spend some of that money on her and her sister. She was his responsibility as much as Juliet and her boys were. At least she didn’t prattle on like Juliet—getting her to talk was like pulling teeth.
“Sit out here with me for a while.” He turned his smile upon her again. Hart’s smile was dependably dazzling. It usually had the desired effect on ladies, and had fooled an enemy or two, but he could see Eden was not going to allow herself to be at all smitten. Her lips were pressed tight, and she rubbed her hands together as she had earlier. She wore her misery like the old shawl clutched around her. He listened to her stammer on about the chill and the damp and her obligations to her sister, but she finally sat down again at the very edge of the bench.
He wasn’t sure why it was important for him to do so, but he had a few days to win her over, and he would. Starting right now in the bleak brown garden. Impulsively, he removed his greatcoat and put it around her shoulders. “There. That should keep you warm enough for now while we get to know each other a bit.” He eased down, leaving a more than proper distance between them.
“But no! That is, I’m fine,” she said, looking stricken, trying to pull the coat away. He placed a gloved hand lightly on her bare one to stop her.
“Really, Cousin Eden. Allow me to be a gentleman.”
“But you’ll be cold!”
“Nonsense. I’m a soldier. Or was until I sold out recently with my sudden good fortune. Will you believe me if I tell you despite my recent London posting, I’m still not used to being comfortable in warm dry clothing? I’m a pretty hardy fellow, accustomed to being shot at and sleeping in ditches. A little brisk weather is nothing to me.” He realized he still had her hand trapped beneath his and let it go.
She had nothing to say to the weather, the most prevalent topic of conversation in England, nor did she quiz him on his service, which was a relief. Hart was not one to revel in his supposed glory days. To break the silence, he picked up a fallen branch and tossed it into the air for the dog. Unimpressed, the animal just snorted beside the bench, keeping his great head on his paws. Even the dog was impervious to his charm offensive, Hart thought ruefully.
Just when he was beginning to think that Eden was like one of the stone statues he passed on the alley, she turned to him.
“My brother died at Waterloo.” Her voice was not much more than a whisper.
“Yes, I know. I’m very sorry.” He waited for her to say more, but she was concentrating on a silver button on his coat, twirling it between two long fingers. “I was there. We lost far too many good men.”
“Eli was just a boy.”
“One grows up rather fast in the King’s Army.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She let the button go before she worried it off. “It’s all he ever wanted to do. Join the army.”
“Sometimes we must be careful what we wish for.” Hart shifted on the damp bench, not liking the direction of the conversation. The army had been a lucky escape for him from the ignominy of being a Hartford when he was her brother’s age, but Eli had not fared so well.
Hart cleared his throat. “I shan’t be underfoot here too long, Cousin Eden, so you’ll get everything back to normal soon.”
“Nothing will ever be normal again.”
Well. She was certainly direct. And bitter. Befriending her would be a challenge. His uncle had had peculiar notions all his life. He had obviously stinted on his ward’s education and deportment in this backwater. And perhaps as a farmer’s daughter herself, the girl’s mother had not been much help either. Hart would make sure the Emery sisters wanted for nothing. Hartford Hall might be remote and a touch stark, but he meant to make it a proper home for himself eventually. By then Eden Emery would be off in London with his aunt, or perhaps married if he could find a man who was not too fussy to do the job. Someone who wanted to be glared at for the rest of his life. “I know you feel that way now. But I’ve only been here a few hours. Give me a chance to prove to you that I have no intention of interfering with your routine at Hartford Hall.”
“You say that now, but you’re a man.”
Hart couldn’t help laughing. “You make me sound like a leper. I confess to being of the male gender, and acknowledge you females might suffer a bit under the current laws of the kingdom. But surely you know a woman’s stealthy power over a man. You probably could have me eating out of the palm of your hand if you but tried.”
Eden’s mouth fell open. Perhaps he’d gone too far in his teasing. She hadn’t had the exposure of a London season to sharpen her conversational skills. But at least she was looking at him now, her dark gray eyes stormy.
“I shouldn’t like to feed anyone like that. It sounds frightfully—messy.”
“My word, Cousin Eden. I believe you’ve made a joke at my expense.”
“I believe I have,” she said, a measure of wonder in her voice.
“Let it be the first of many. I’m a worthy target. I hear tell I’m considered to be a bit of a stuffed shirt.” His men had called him Holy Hartford, and he supposed he’d gone out of his way to be good. Sometimes too good.
“A perfect gentleman.”
“I have tried. It gets tiresome, but I have my family reputation to live down. Perhaps you didn’t know, but my uncle Ivor was considered to be rather wicked before he came to live here.”
Her eyes widened and he wondered if he was being fair to the old boy. But perhaps if she knew his uncle’s true nature, her mourning might be somewhat shortened. The world really was a better place without the infamous Hartford brothers in it.
“It’s true. I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but he and my father were a pair of ne’er-do-wells. I’ve gone out of my way to reverse the family curse. I’m always kind to orphans and animals, that kind of thing.”
&nbs
p; She lurched up from the bench, his coat falling from her shoulders. “You d-don’t have to be kind to me. I’m not some—project. I’m fine. Perfectly fine. I need to get back to my sister now.” She disappeared before he could say a word to stop her or rise as any gentleman should.
“Huh.” Hart bent to scratch the old dog’s ears. “Put my foot in it again. Your mistress is a mystery, isn’t she? I’ve always loved a puzzle, and I’ve got plenty of time to solve her.”
Chapter 3
“What’s he like?” Jannah’s dark eyes were glassy, a sure sign she was feverish again. Eden put a cool hand on her sister’s forehead and bit her lip.
“Kind to orphans and animals by his own account,” Eden said dryly. “But underneath, he’s rather dr-dreadful. Forceful. Used to getting his own way, I expect, on the battlefield.” And in the bedroom. She had not missed his flirtatious smile in the garden. Stuart Hartford possessed a golden radiance that would be hard for most women to resist, but she would have no trouble guarding her heart. She didn’t have one anymore. “He ordered me about like I was one of his foot soldiers, telling me what I must and must not do. He forbid me to—” Oh, she couldn’t tell Jannah of her plans to seek a job. Her sister would know what that meant. “He told me he wouldn’t make any changes here, but I don’t believe him.”
Tempting Eden Page 4
