“If the repairs are done, then it could be let out. Or used as a summer home. We have lovely warm summers here in our corner of the country. And a beautiful valley that blankets with flowers in the late spring.”
They’d reached the top of the hill, and the groundskeeper’s cottage came into view. Her mother rose from working in the ground as they approached.
“This is my mother, Margaret Burke, Baroness Kenswick,” Vivian said to the gentleman, realizing she hadn’t asked his name. “And I apologize, but I never inquired your name?”
He tied the reins of his horse onto a a tree branch. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. I am Luke Macalister.”
Vivian’s brows pinched together as the surname resonated with her. “I’ve met a Lady Norah Macalister in London.” She had a fleeting memory of meeting Norah during her one disastrous Season in London. A black hole in her memory she did not want to think about.
“Ah, you’ve met my sister then,” he said with a bright smile. “Challenging sprite that one.”
Lady Norah Macalister was the sister of the Duke of Bradstone, and would have Lord Luke Macalister as a brother.
“So, you are Lord Luke then,” Vivian corrected.
“Vivian!” her mother scolded, but Vivian ignored her.
“Ah, actually, no,” he replied.
“I apologize for her impertinence, my lord,” Mother said, dipping into a curtsy. “And for our state. We’d not expected you today.”
“Yes, sorry it’s taken me so long,” Lord Luke said.
Vivian’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“I was in fact Lord Luke Macalister,” he said. “And now I am the new Earl of Kenswick.”
Chapter Two
Luke watched as the flush of color drained from Miss Burke’s cheeks. He couldn’t blame her, though he’d not meant to deceive her. She’d never given him proper opportunity to introduce himself. Though Kenswick was not the first thing he wanted people to know upon meeting him. The damned title wasn’t even his, for Christ’s sake. He didn’t wear it with pride. He wasn’t going to go boasting about it.
“Yes, sorry about any misunderstandings.”
“Welcome, my lord,” Lady Kenswick said, throwing her daughter a hard look. Miss Burke dipped into a curtsy, though belatedly, and she seemed annoyed she even needed to. Luke had been in contact with the baroness since he had been titled and had promised to visit this this little corner of England, lands that bore his new title’s name.
It was his sister, the one who Miss Burke had met in London last Season, who had inspired his last-minute foray into the depths of Herefordshire. The threat of a family house party had loomed, and the order from the Prince Regent to settle down had sent Luke into hiding. Parliament would soon be in session, which would require him to appear legally for the first time as the Earl of Kenswick. Too much swirled about in his head, and so Luke had done what he did best.
He ran.
Not forever, that simply would not do, but just enough to clear his head and decide his next move.
The Prince Regent had told him his days as an agent of the Crown were over, though Luke was not willing to give up easily. The Prince Regent had laughed when Luke protested. “Find a wife! Set up your properties! Be an earl! Why would you want to return to espionage when a life of leisure awaits you? You’ve done your duty, time to hang it all up!”
Luke was not one to take ‘no’ as an acceptable answer. He’d spent the better part of ten years in service to the Crown in some fashion, and to simply stop just seemed like a waste of his talents. Despite the war being over, there would always be a threat to England.
Lady Kenswick still watched him, and Miss Burke stared as if he’d sprouted a second head. As the silence stretched on, he realized they were both waiting for him to say something. Do something. To act like an earl.
Heaven help him.
“A bath?” he asked.
Miss Burke’s brows shot to her hairline. She was lovely. Her auburn hair was a curious mixture of reds and browns, not really one or the other. Bright green eyes behind thick lashes were filled with distrust. He towered over her at his full height of over six foot, but not by the vast difference he was accustomed to. The top of her head reached his jaw.
“You mentioned I could wash?” he reminded her.
He tried not to assess what form or curves lay beneath the dowdy frock she wore, as it was none of his business and not his place.
And now he was staring at her in a rather unsettling way.
Pull yourself together, he chided himself. Just get through the rest of the day.
If Luke could convince the Prince Regent that he took the earldom seriously, and he could handle the responsibility, then maybe the Prince Regent would allow him to return to active service. He could do both, manage the earldom and be a spy. He needed a good estate manager, some sound investments, and a wife. He definitely needed a wife.
“Yes,” Vivian replied, and Luke snapped out of his musings. “Right this way, my lord.”
He cringed. He’d really prefer if she’d stop addressing him that way, but kept his mouth shut for once.
He followed her around the stone cottage, glancing through its paned windows at the simple interiors.
Miss Burke rounded on him, her eyes narrowed and hard. “Who are you really? Why are you pretending to be the earl?”
Luke chuckled at her sudden burst of ire. Of all the people he had pretended to be, the Earl of Kenswick was not one of them.
“I assure you I am in fact Kenswick.”
“My father was Kenswick,” she spat at him. “You are nothing but an impostor.”
“As much as I wish that were the case, I can only offer my word as proof.”
“You mean you don’t have any evidence of your claims?”
His lips quirked into a half smile. “Err, no. People are not likely to challenge the word of an earl.”
Miss Burke regarded him with annoyance, her arms crossed over her chest. “I am afraid, your lordship, we do not have the means to offer you a warm bath.”
“You said before—”
“I said you could clean yourself. I never said we could offer you a warm luxurious bath with bubbles and whatnot. We have a bucket and a well. My lord.”
Luke’s jaw set as he watched her, clearly very put out with him. Her anger was warranted, though not in its proper place. She likely had reason to hate him, though he wasn’t responsible for any of the things she hated him for.
“When were you awarded my father’s title?”
“You mean when was I awarded the earldom for my gallantry in fighting the treason in France? Last June. Just after Waterloo.”
“Were you there? At Waterloo?”
“I was present, but I did not fight.”
“Then what on earth was your incredible deed to be given my father’s title?”
Luke by nature was an even-keeled fellow. Silly, frequently down for a good prank, he often found the humor in life when his experience told him there was little to be had. He had even found it amusing when the Prince Regent bestowed upon him a title for something he hadn’t done. But to suggest he had done nothing at all? Infuriating.
“Miss Burke, you seem to be under the impression that I somehow slipped in and stole your father’s title right out from under his nose.”
“Well, did you not?”
“Has your father not been dead some years?” he asked, rather indelicately.
Miss Burke’s gaze was guarded. “He has.”
“And are there any brothers, cousins, or distant male relations that might have stepped up to accept the barony left suddenly vacant?”
Her green eyes hardened. “There are not.”
“Did the original patent letters for the barony stipulate a daughter might inherit when there was no son, or sons of sons, or other indirect male heir to inherit?”
Her jaw clenched. “They did not.”
“Then, upon these circumstances,
did the title not revert to the Crown, for our Prince Regent to do with as he sees fit?”
“Yes,” she acknowledged.
“Then, why are you upset with me that said ruling party chose to bestow the title on someone they felt was deserving?”
“Are you deserving? Do you even know what Kenswick is?”
Was he deserving? Probably. Likely not. “Kenswick is a new earldom recently created. It has no past.”
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine you would understand.”
Luke folded his arms across his chest, fighting the need to laugh at her indignation. She was lovely all riled up. “You think I do not understand about duty, and feeling the need to respect and honor my ancestral name with the deeds in my life, to bring distinction to my family name?”
Miss Burke opened her mouth to retort but snapped her mouth shut.
“Miss Burke, my surname is Macalister,” he reminded her. “My brother is the Duke of Bradstone. We are one of the oldest families in England, miraculously still in existence. Do you not think I take my place in all of this seriously?”
“I you don’t look like you’ve taken anything seriously a day in your life.”
That much he wished was true.
“And furthermore,” she continued, “you may respect your family history, but you have no respect for mine.”
“Why would I have respect for yours?”
“Because you have my father’s title!” she exclaimed and nearly stamped her foot. Luke’s lips twitched and her gaze burned with anger.
“Your father was Baron Kenswick. I am the Earl of Kenswick. They’re quite different.”
“You were awarded all his property! His lands, his people, his parliamentary seat, for heaven’s sake!”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“You were given Kenswick Abbey. That was his parliamentary seat.”
“That may be, but it’s not mine.”
Miss Burke blanched. “What— what do you mean?”
“My parliamentary seat, the county that I now represent in the House of Lords, is in Yorkshire. On the other side of the country.”
She opened her mouth again and shut it, like a fish gasping for a breath above the water. “Then why are you here?”
“To assess Kenswick Abbey. That much was true.”
“What do you intend to do with it?”
Luke caught more than just curiosity in her query and for the first time upon meeting her, he saw Miss Vivian Burke: born to a baron in the middle of nowhere, left to fend for herself upon his death.
Luke didn’t know much about the prior Kenswick, other than that there had been sons to inherit who unfortunately had not outlived the baron. Glancing at the groundskeeper’s cottage, he saw it for what it was— the place she lived, likely with her mother, a baroness. A daughter of a gentleman, living in the groundskeeper’s cottage. She was not old, nor silly and young like the debutantes fresh from the schoolroom. Miss Burke was young in years, but not, it seemed, in experiencing the world, or how it worked.
As a daughter, she wouldn’t have been allowed to inherit from her father, and likely the estate was entailed, as most of the old estates were. There would have been no property, no funds, nowhere for her to go.
And so, she stayed here, at the Abbey, the place she had called home until she could no longer stay even here.
“My lord?”
Luke realized he’d been staring at her for longer than was likely proper.
“Lead me to a bucket so I may manage to make myself more presentable. Then you can show me this Abbey you are so fond of, and I will inform you what I intend to do with it.”
* * *
Vivian stood a fair distance away while the earl washed in a bucket at the back of the house. It was true they didn’t have a proper wash tub since having to leave the Abbey, but she could have made more of an effort to offer him some comfort.
Begrudgingly she believed he was the earl, though she hadn’t truly doubted him. She simply didn’t want to believe it was true. If he was Kenswick, it meant her father, her brothers, they were all truly gone. All she had left in the world was her mother, and she would fight this new Kenswick tooth and nail to protect her.
A breeze kicked up the dead leaves around her, fallen the autumn before and recently uncovered by the newly melted snowfall. The ground was barely workable, and her hands were sore from digging through the dense soil. A strand of hair blew into her face, and she tucked it behind her ear, silently cursing her lack of bonnet. This new earl must think her tragically improper. She knew his sister, and the type of proper social world he came from. No doubt he was eager to see the Abbey and put this dreary corner of the country behind him.
“It’s an impressive view,” came the earl’s voice from behind her. Vivian turned away from the view of the valley below, the land that stretched to Wales, and regarded him. He’d washed the mud from his dark hair, and curls stuck up at odd angles. His jacket and waistcoat were gone, and he stood with only the borrowed shirt her mother had found in the cottage. It likely belonged to the groundskeeper who used to live there. The shirt irritatingly fit him rather well.
Was she so put out with him she wished for something as silly as an ill-fitting shirt?
Yes. She doubted he ever had to work for anything a day in his life. His easy smile and laughing lavender blue eyes bore no weight of the world. She doubted tragedy had ever touched his perfect existence.
It may have been ill tempered of her, but this man held her future in the balance of his hand. She wished he could experience a fragment of her misfortunes, some inconvenience, even if it was all ill-fitting shirt.
“Have you spent much time in Wales, my lord?” Vivian asked and looked away from him.
“No. My childhood was spent at a cliffside manor overlooking the ocean. And my time since then has afforded me a great many views. But few so lovely as this.” He took a deep breath and gazed at the view of the emerald valley.
Vivian glanced at him doubtfully. “You said you grew up in an apple orchard.”
He nodded. “It was a cliffside apple orchard along the ocean.”
Vivian wanted to roll her eyes skywards. What utter nonsense.
Turning away from the valley, she strode along the side of the cottage, returning to the front, past where her mother had resumed her planting.
Kenswick fell into step beside her. “Will that garden sustain you both?”
“It will suffice. We do not eat much, and we trade for other things we need.”
“Such as?”
“Oil for the lamps. Wool. Milk.”
Kenswick nodded. “And have you been to town for a Season?”
Vivian stopped in the middle of the lane. “Is this some sort of interrogation? These seem like rather impertinent questions, my lord.”
Kenswick smirked. “I am merely inquiring as to the needs of my tenants.”
“We are not your tenants,” she stated, though she knew it wasn’t the truth. They lived on his land but had never paid him anything for it. They were closer to squatters. No doubt he would expect them to start paying.
“And yet I feel some semblance of responsibility for you,” he admitted. “I’d hate for you to starve or freeze to death if there was something I could have done about it.”
Vivian wanted to say something smart in retort, but she clenched her jaw closed.
She turned away again and continued down the lane. “I went to London last season,” she replied evenly. “At the sponsorship of my uncle and my aunt. It was an experience I am not eager to repeat.”
“You are unmarried?”
“Hence why I am Miss Burke, my lord,” she replied, throwing him a sardonic look.
“Well, yes, I thought I might… confirm.”
“I assume you have a grand society wife waiting for you in London. I would think you eager to return to your life.”
“No wife to speak of, but I am not eager to return to London. I have a life I intend to retur
n to.”
Vivian glanced at him, curiously. What sort of life could he have that wasn’t in London? Wasn’t that where all the earls and dukes and so forth gathered to enjoy their lives of frivolity?
He caught her glance and opted to elaborate. “I travel a bit for the Foreign Office.”
That caught her attention, and she couldn’t hide the surprise that washed across her face.
Kenswick chuckled. “Assumed I was a pompous spoiled bosom crony of the Prince Regent?”
Vivian shrugged. “You’re not far off.”
“I can assure you I am pompous and spoiled, and for some reason I have the attention of the Prince Regent, but not by any doing of my own.”
They’d reached the bog at the bottom of the lane and the earl surveyed the muddy area with humor. “It must have been quite the sight to stumble upon me cursing at the muck.”
“I admit I was amused.”
“Glad to know something can amuse you.”
She turned towards him. “Have you been trying to amuse me?” The question was daring, because the inevitable why was bound to follow.
“Of course,” he said with a grin, and the strangest wave of warmth tingled through her limbs, quickly doused by: “I try and amuse everyone.”
Vivian felt her face fall and turned away.
She walked on, stepping carefully along the boundaries of the bog, through the ruts on the road to the other side. He followed her path.
“How did the road become impassable?”
“Rain. We’ve not had the ability to make the repairs needed.”
“And the Abbey is equally damaged?”
“You can see for yourself, my lord.”
“You and your mother have lived in the cottage since then?”
Vivian nodded. “My uncle offered for us to stay with them, but my mother refused. I have an aunt in London who sponsored my Season last year, but she and Mother do not get on. We are comfortable there, as much as we can be, and happy most days. Truthfully, we’d hoped you’d forgotten about us, and about the Abbey.”
The Spy’s Convenient Bride: The Macalisters, Book Five Page 2
