“Oh, dear. I thought he might be nice.” Jannah sighed.
“Nice!” Eden snorted. “He’s the image of Lord Hartford.”
Though he had been her stepfather for ten years, he had never encouraged a more informal address. Even when she was on her knees before him performing the most intimate of acts, he insisted she call him by his title. Relished it, in fact. Reveled in his perverse power over her.
Jannah giggled. “He is Lord Hartford, Edie. He must be handsome, then. Our step-papa was.”
Eden’s skin crawled in response. Though he’d threatened to, Lord Hartford hadn’t bothered with Jannah much. He’d been far too occupied seeing to Eden’s subservience. “They won’t stay long. We’ll have the Hall back to ourselves before winter comes.”
Jannah’s brows knit. “They?”
“There’s his aunt. I told you she was coming.”
“Oh, yes. Is she an old dragon?”
“Oh, no. Quite the opposite. Very young and very pretty. Too young to be a grown man’s aunt.” Eden had an astonishing thought. “Perhaps she’s really his mistress.”
“Scandalous! Please let her visit me. It may be my only chance to meet a fallen woman,” pleaded Jannah.
One stands before you. Eden shook her head . “I’m not sure you’re up to company, love. I believe your fever’s returned.”
“I’m always too hot or too cold. If we wait for me to be just right, I’ll be dead.”
“Hush! Don’t say such nonsense,” Eden said, bringing the patchwork quilt to her sister’s chin.
Jannah pulled it down again. “You must face facts, you know. I have. There isn’t much time, and I can’t see the world or her people if I’m forever stuck in this room.”
“Oh, Jannah.”
“And don’t tell me I’m so brave. I’m not. What I am is bored. All I do is sleep and read books I’ve read too many times already. Please bring this anti-aunt to me. Is she very wicked?”
“You are far too eager to encounter wickedness, miss. She seemed very nice. When I fainted—”
Jannah sat up a little straighter. “What? You never faint.”
“I think Mattie must have laced me too tightly,” Eden lied. “I’ve grown a bit stouter since I wore this gown for Mama’s funeral.” That, at least, was true. In the past few weeks, since her stepfather’s death, she had begun to taste her food again. Mrs. Burrell had noticed and each meal was piled high with Eden’s childhood favorites. “Anyway, Mrs. Cheverly—Juliet—took charge. And she drinks brandy, too.”
“Oh!” Jannah clapped her hands. “She is wicked! Please brush my hair and bring her up.”
“Right now?”
“This instant! I haven’t coughed once. Please, please, Eden.”
Eden tidied her sister’s hair with a silver-backed brush. It was as lustrous as a mink’s pelt, longer and darker than Eden’s own ordinary brown strands. Jannah was the image of their mother, a discomforting fact her stepfather reminded Eden of every time he felt the need to coerce her to do his bidding. If Eden didn’t cooperate, he’d move on to the prettier, younger sister. “Shall I put it up so you look like a proper young lady?”
“Don’t bother. I’m sick of being proper! Please fetch me Mama’s bed jacket. I shall look comme il faut.”
Eden left her sister fussing with the lace ruffles and stepped down the landing into the guest wing. She had put the baron’s aunt in the second-best room, its walls covered in French blue wallpaper and the bed draped with matching toile curtains. The new Lord Hartford was next door. Eden hoped he didn’t mind that he wasn’t given the master suite, but her stepfather’s personal effects were still scattered throughout the room. In the weeks since his death, Eden had simply been unable to bring herself to go through them, once she’d burned the pictures. The book, however, was still nowhere to be found. She took a deep breath and knocked on Mrs. Cheverly’s door.
“Come.”
Juliet was seated at the rosewood desk, sheets of her own personalized vellum spilled from their stack. Suzette had helped her change already from her ruby red magnificence into a shimmering gold silk dress. Topaz drops dangled from her ears and encircled her slender throat. She planned to dress for dinner, too, although the routine at Hartford Hall left much to be desired. But while she was here, she would not abandon those poor girls to the poverty of their upbringing. Surely a little gaiety, even in the face of death—or perhaps because of it—was necessary.
Mindful of her pledge to soften Miss Emery up, she managed a welcoming smile. “Do sit down, Miss Emery. Eden. May I call you Eden?”
“You may call me anything you would like.”
Well, it was barely a concession, but Juliet decided not to take umbrage and waved a white hand over her correspondence.
“I’m writing to my boys. They’re at school together, but they fuss if they have to share one letter. So I am required to write to each one of them individually. I mustn’t repeat myself, either, because they compare letters. It’s most vexing. I shall tell Sebastian all about our trip and Raphael all about his new cousins.”
“I do not mean to impose on you, Mrs. Cheverly—”
“Juliet, dear. Please.”
“Juliet, then.” Eden gave a slight smile, transforming her face significantly.
Juliet realized with a start that this was the first smile she had seen on the young woman’s face since their arrival. She rather wished Eden would do it more often. Hart wouldn’t call her an old boot if he could see her now.
“My sister would very much like to meet you. We don’t receive visitors often, so this is an exciting event for her. But—” Eden twisted her long fingers together.
Juliet laid her pen on the tray. It was so obvious Eden needed comforting, but she had seen the girl’s aversion to physical contact when Hart had touched her. “You don’t want her to get too excited. I understand. Is she very badly off?”
Eden nodded. “Our mother died just a year ago, and now Lord Hartford. Even though his funeral was very quiet, it’s all been too much for Jannah. Her condition is worse by the day. And she knows it.”
“Then I shall be a dull old aunt. If I must.”
Eden’s lips twitched at Juliet’s jest. “Oh, no. It is precisely because you are so young and vibrant that Jannah wants to see you. She must find my company dreadfully flat.”
“I imagine you want what’s best for her, and that means saying no often, does it not?”
Eden blushed, bringing welcome color to her cheeks. “You are very wise for being so young.”
And now an actual compliment. Perhaps Eden was not so impossible after all. She studied the girl for a moment. Some judicious plucking of those fierce straight eyebrows and a smile or two might make Miss Emery a taking thing. Her figure, what Juliet could see of it under that ghastly black dress, was more than a bit too slender, but that could be improved upon. Eden’s hair was healthy and shiny, although it was pulled back into an unbecoming knot. Juliet, though she loved her boys quite desperately, had always wanted a girl to fuss over. Miss Emery might be a little long in the tooth to play dress-up, but Juliet could envision a project that might keep her occupied in this isolated house.
“I’m delighted to make your sister’s acquaintance. It’s been an age since I’ve had the pleasure of the company of young ladies. Tell me what you do for amusement here in the country.”
“I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. We are very dull here compared to what you’re used to in London. The village is not much, as you know. The gentry neighbors are miles and miles away, and my stepfather was not fond of them in any case. He kept us very much to himself. When Mama was up to it, we attended church, of course—Mama always insisted upon that although she found the new vicar’s sermons quite lacking in comparison to my father’s. Baron Hartford was much preoccupied with his business affairs. And his library and art.”
As soon as she said the last two things, Eden wished she could call the words back. Juliet Cheverly didn’t l
ook like she ever missed a trick, like a bright yellow bird that spied each passing bug and butterfly. Eden hoped the woman would not inquire too closely about her stepfather’s interests. The baron’s leather portfolio had contained lascivious renditions of Eden, some of the dismissed maids and, shockingly, her own mother, which Eden had destroyed. What remained in the library was a scandalous and valuable assortment of naughty prints and books, which some gentlemen might find titillating. Ivor certainly had. Eden wondered what the new baron would do with them.
“Are there no young people in the neighborhood?” Juliet asked.
“No. We are rather remotely situated here. And as I said, Lord Hartford—my stepfather—was not sociable. My sister is not only my sibling but my dearest friend.”
“Take me to her then. Wait. I have a gift for her. Well, gifts for you both.” Juliet opened a drawer and removed a misshapen parcel tied with twine. “These are the very latest from Hatchards. I trust you are both romantically inclined?”
Juliet’s smile was so joyous Eden did not have the heart to tell her she would rather poke out an eye than read a ridiculous romance. She knew perfectly well there were no heroes or happy endings in this world. But Jannah would welcome them as she’d read her old books so often the pages fell from the spines.
“You could not have chosen better for my sister,” she said with perfect sincerity. “Jannah will adore them and you.”
They found Jannah propped up by plumped pillows, her face shining.
“What a pretty child you are!” exclaimed Juliet.
It was true. Eden thought that despite her pallor, Jannah looked as fetching in a confection of rose pink lace and ribbons as her mother ever did.
“Oh, Mrs. Cheverly, I’m scarcely a child. Were I not plagued by this indisposition, I should likely be making my come-out soon and catch myself a marquess!”
“Ah, a girl with ambition, I see. But why not a duke?” Juliet teased. “I was one such young miss myself, but then Mr. Cheverly chanced by and all thought of being Lady So-and-So flew right out of my head. A title is lovely, of course, but the man more important. Don’t you agree, Eden?”
“I am scarcely in a position to judge. The only titled gentleman of my acquaintance was my stepfather.”
“Well, he was not a candidate for marriage, was he? When you come to London with me—”
Eden was not one bit pleased with Juliet’s interference. The very last thing Jannah needed was an exhausting trip. She glowered under her famously bushy brows, a silent warning to Juliet and her runaway tongue.
Jannah clapped her hands. “London! Oh, how marvelous! Do say we can go, Eden. I should so like to see the sights I’ve read about.”
“I don’t think it’s wise, love. The trip alone would tire you out terribly.”
“Perhaps I misspoke. I’m sure your sister knows what’s best.” Juliet rushed on. “Hart says I am an incorrigible matchmaker. Pay me no mind. I’ll save my exertions for my boys when they’re a bit older. And my nephew, of course. It’s high time he wed. A gentleman needs the guidance of a good woman. Why, Mr. Cheverly hardly knew how to dress before he met me.”
Eden and Jannah were then treated to a treatise on the eminent Mr. Cheverly for the next quarter of an hour. By then, even Juliet noticed she was losing her audience. Jannah had suppressed a few yawns and Eden could not stop fidgeting with the ribbon rosette on her cuff. Finally excusing herself to go finish her letters, Juliet left the sisters alone.
Jannah gave Eden a cheeky grin. “Well! Not so very wicked then. But she’s very beautiful.”
“She’s very meddlesome. No doubt her husband died just to escape her endless chatter.”
“Eden! It’s not like you to be mean. It’s obvious she still mourns him. I wonder why she doesn’t see it’s she herself who needs a husband.” Jannah plucked at the lace at her neck. “But perhaps you should go back to London with her.”
“I’ll not leave you alone. I have no wish for a husband, either, so there’s absolutely no point in falling into Mrs. Cheverly’s matchmaking clutches.”
“Why are you so opposed to marriage? I can understand you rejecting Mr. Oliver. You’d die of boredom and all his brats. But there might be a nice man for you somewhere if you’d but look. You haven’t been spoiled for choice here.”
“Mr. Oliver was really looking for a governess rather than a wife. I don’t believe he even cared when Lord Hartford forbade it. Anyway, my place is with you,” Eden said with firmness that brooked no further questioning.
Jannah sighed, and a cough escaped.
“There, that’s enough conversation for you today, sweet. Shall I read to you awhile?”
“Please. One of the new books.”
“Very well. Perhaps some poetry. That shouldn’t take so long and you may rest.” Eden found a beautiful slim leather volume and began to cut the pages. Before she had finished, Jannah had drifted off to sleep. Eden decided she’d better tackle the talkative Mrs. Cheverly before the woman said or did anything else to upset her sister.
Hart had concluded his interview with the bailiff, John Pinckney. All in all, the operation of Hartford Hall and its environs was very sound. The solicitor in town had provided Hart with a list of his uncle’s investments as well and introduced him to his uncle’s young man of affairs, Mr. Calvert, before he left for Cumbria. For the first time that he could remember, Hart felt perfectly safe. Safe from war, niggling debt, and, just at present, his aunt Juliet, who was closeted upstairs with the other females in the household.
Hart leaned back in the library chair, taking in the almost oppressive masculine atmosphere of the room. His uncle had been a most indifferent correspondent. The breach with Hart’s father had leached on over to Hart himself, and Hart felt that if the Hall had not been entailed, he might not presently be sitting pretty in this house, all of his financial burdens eased. His army career had not lent itself to material gain or even much glory. True, he’d been a popular officer and had done his duty. He’d served with some distinction but had done everything in his power to erase the last decade’s horror from his mind. It was a vast relief now to know he had his own home and comfortable income. Half pay and economization were now a thing of the past, far sooner than he’d ever expected.
His uncle had not been so very old, after all. He might have married again had he lived. It was surprising given his predilections that he had married a vicar’s widow in the first place. And been saddled with three children. But Lady Hartford’s beauty must have been legendary, if the portrait of her over the mantel was any indication, although the beauty certainly had not been passed to her eldest daughter.
Juliet had been most informative during their private dinner together last night. True to her word, Miss Emery had not joined them. But Juliet had been full of details of meeting both sisters, and of the frosty dressing-down she’d received from Eden after she somewhat imprudently invited the girls to London.
“London! Surely the youngest one isn’t up to such a journey,” Hart had replied, tucking into a saddle of lamb roasted to perfection.
“Your carriage is extremely comfortable. We could make frequent stops.”
“Out of the question.” And that was that. Hart refused to be confined with both sisters and his aunt. He’d go mad or murderous.
He supposed, though, he ought to meet Jannah and see for himself the state of her health. If she suffered from consumption, there was no hope, but he knew there were other lung ailments that responded to certain treatment. A warm climate, for example, far from the damp cold of the fells. Even her sister looked like she could benefit from a holiday to put some real roses on her cheeks and flesh on her bones.
Pushing himself away from the desk, he rose and looked out the mullioned window. The steep snow-topped crags of the Pen-nines hemmed in his boundary. His uncle’s property—his property now—was beautiful yet bleak at this time of the year. The leaves had fallen and the cold had settled into the bones of the house, no matter how ma
ny roaring fires were blazing in the hearths.
What had kept his uncle here instead of the snug town house in Mayfair? Surely whatever the old scandal was was old news. But Hartford Hall would not hold Hart long. He and Juliet had better return to civilization before true winter set in and they were trapped in snowdrifts.
Hart’s father had claimed Ivor was even more wicked than he himself was. Hart did not care to discover that particular truth, as Charles Hartford had been wicked enough for ten men. The army had been Hart’s family for so long now he had nearly forgotten the disgrace of being Charles Hartford’s son. The one good thing his father had done was to purchase him a commission in the army. Bonaparte had been a great equalizer. No one cared that Charles Hartford lay drunk in a gutter after a night of whoring while his son Stuart Hartford led a victorious charge.
Tempting Eden Page 5
