An Earl Like No Other (14 page)

“You, sir, are too presumptuous by half! I am
not
your son, nor have I encouraged you in any way to address me as such. But this is not the first time you have had the unmitigated gall to advise me on matters in which my own father would never have presumed to meddle. I will thank you not to overreach so again.”

Mortimer's face turned a fiery red, but Jeremy did not allow him to speak. “I would not intentionally hurt a woman in any way, but I am
not
responsible for your daughter's feelings—nor yours either. Now, if you will excuse me.” Ignoring the sheer rage of the older man, Jeremy turned back to the punch bowl for Aunt Elinor's drink.

He struggled to hide his fury, but he should have known his aunt would sense any change in his demeanor.

“What is wrong, Jeremy?”

He sat in the empty chair next to her. “Nothing serious. I just had an unpleasant conversation with Sir Eldridge Mortimer.”

“Oh.” There was a wealth of understanding in that single syllable. “Then you are aware of the rumors he is fomenting.”

“I have an idea of them.” Jeremy did not elaborate.

He was glad when the Midsummer Ball was over for another year.

W
hen the Kenrick party returned to the Hall, the ladies immediately excused themselves, Lady Elinor to her chamber accompanied by her maid, and Mrs. Arthur to her new bedchamber in the nursery wing. Jeremy, Robert, and Captain Clemson settled in the smaller family drawing room for a nightcap. All three men had loosened their neck cloths as they sprawled on the most comfortable chairs. A low fire in the fireplace and soft light from a lamp lent a warm glow to the room.

“I enjoyed this day even more than I expected to,” Robert announced, accepting the brandy Jeremy offered him, “even if I did lose that bet on the squire's black. I'd quite forgot what fun we had when we were growing up!”

“Country fairs are often as enjoyable as a grand state holiday in London,” Clemson said. “Especially if the local females are both fair and friendly.”

“Speaking of female pulchritude,” Robert said with a raised eyebrow and a grin directed at his brother, “what is the story with you and the Mortimer chit, Jeremy?”

“There is no story,” Jeremy said.

Robert elevated the inquisitive brow even higher. “Uh-huh. Well, she and her father seem to have a different view. She said something about one day welcoming me to Kenrick Hall. And her father hinted at the possibility of an ‘interesting announcement.' So—have you made an offer or not?”

“I have not.”

“I thought you would surely have mentioned it if you had,” Robert said.

“She is a fine-looking woman—very fair indeed,” Clemson observed.

“Yes, she is,” Jeremy conceded, “but my acquaintance with her is somewhat limited. There was an arrangement between her and Charles.”

“Really? I never heard of it,” Robert said. “It never made it to the papers. Even in the Peninsula, we got the papers. Sometimes weeks late, but we got them. And read them to tatters.”

“It hadn't reached that stage yet,” Jeremy said.

“So she transfers her affections from Charles to you just like that?” Robert snapped his fingers and laughed.

“Sounds biblical—medieval, at least,” Clemson commented.

Jeremy sipped his brandy, then said slowly, “I'm not sure that affections actually fit into the picture. Suffice it to say, there are other considerations.”

“Are you thinking of offering for her?” Robert's tone showed only curiosity.

“I did not say that,” Jeremy said. He ran his hand through his hair. “Let's just say the situation is . . . uh . . . complicated.”

“Well,” Clemson said, stifling a yawn, “I think I'll leave you two to sort out the matter of Cupid's arrows and all. I need to get an early start in the morning. Still a three-day journey to the Highlands.”

Jeremy and Robert bade him good night, then settled back in their chairs. There was a long silence.

Finally, Robert said, “How complicated?”

Jeremy hesitated. How could he satisfy Robert's curiosity without burdening his younger brother with his own problems? “Sir Eldridge and Father were negotiating marriage settlements when Charles and Edgar drowned.”

Robert frowned. “Charles was not involved in the negotiating?”

“I gather he was agreeable to whatever they decided.”

“Probably didn't care. He had his London ladybird safely tucked away.”

Jeremy looked at Robert questioningly.

“Ton gossip spreads far and wide. But I actually met her once. Pretty. An opera dancer.”

“I see,” Jeremy said slowly, still wondering how much to tell his brother.

Robert sat up straight. “I think I see, too.” Jeremy glanced at him, but did not respond. “Back to you, big brother. Are you engaged in marriage settlements? Or do I overstep?”

“No. And no. After all, you
are
the heir.”

Robert snorted. “Temporarily—until you produce a real one.”

Jeremy waved a dismissive hand. “For however long, you are it. So . . . you have a right to know how things stand.” With these words and a myriad of thoughts and emotions behind them, Jeremy made his decision. He explained the circumstances surrounding the Chilton family's precarious hold on the earldom.

“Good God, Jer. I knew the situation had deteriorated, but I had no idea it was so bad.” Robert shook his head. “And Mortimer holds
all
the debt?”

“He does now. Bought it all up even before those unfortunate deaths in our family.”

“Bought his knighthood as well, according to local gossip.” When Jeremy cocked his head at this, Robert grinned and added, “You thought all those rides Clemson and I have taken were just for sport, eh? I have been reacquainting myself with my boyhood home. And the people.”

“Have you now?”

“Yes. And I must say it does look better than it did the last time I saw it.”

“Even without a steward, eh?”

“I heard about that too. You are well rid of that one. Stevens was lazy as sin. I never did understand why Father kept him on—except as a drinking crony.”

“That was about it,” Jeremy said.

“Kenrick is a lot to handle without a steward. How are you doing?”

“The truth?”

Robert nodded.

Jeremy swept his hand through his hair again; his tone was bleak. “I'm in over my head. I had to let Stevens go, but I'm finding it very difficult to manage on my own. It's a vast change from the fur trade in North America! The mill and the mine, not to mention thousands of acres of farm and grazing land. And did you know there was a brewery?
That
came as a surprise to me.”

“A brewery? I never knew of it.”

“A brewery. Apparently it came to Father as part of
my
mother's dowry.”

“Is it profitable?”

“Not very. Like everything else, it has been sadly neglected. But I think it could be. Phillips thinks so too. I have him discreetly looking into the matter of a new steward—though I can hardly offer the sort of salary a truly competent man could command. So, for the time being, I muddle through.” It sounded hopeless to his own ears now that the words were hanging in the air between them.

“Has Phillips come up with anyone?”

“Not yet. He did suggest that someone might be willing to accept a more modest salary for a share in possible annual profits.”

“That's an interesting concept,” Robert said.

“I thought so too, but so far, no takers. Not a one.”

Robert looked thoughtful as he lifted his glass and drained the last of his brandy. Jeremy found the ensuing silence pleasantly comfortable. It had been a long time since he had shared simple companionship with a friend. That this friend was a favorite relative was an added boon.

Finally, Robert said, “Would you mind if I had a look at your books tomorrow?”

Jeremy was surprised. “To what end?”

“Well, you know I'm looking for gainful employment . . .” Robert's response trailed off.

“You think to become a steward?”

“The Kenrick steward, perhaps—if you are amenable.”

“But—a steward?”

Robert emitted a rueful chuckle. “We younger sons have to make our way somehow. Army life has not the attraction it once had.”

Jeremy sat in stunned silence. This was a turn that had simply never occurred to him. “Hmm. Steward? Are you sure?”

“Look, Jeremy. It is precisely what I've been doing for the last five years and more: logistics and procurement. I even have a letter of commendation from the Duke of Wellington himself.”

Jeremy stood and set his glass on a nearby table. “If you are serious, it is certainly something we can discuss. God knows, I would welcome you with open arms, but I cannot urge you to board what may well be a sinking ship.”

Robert too, rose and gave his brother a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Let's see how much water she's taking on before we abandon ship.”

 

For a long while Jeremy lay in the huge four-poster bed of the master bedchamber, staring at the canopy above him. The brocade did not seem so faded in the faint light from the fireplace. He marveled at the changes life had thrown at him since Phillips's man, Logan, had caught up with him in an Arapaho camp. He had traded the casual freedom of the American frontier for the faded opulence of old England. Sometimes he wondered if he had made the right decision—but, then, there had never been much choice in the matter, had there? One did not abrogate responsibilities to people who had served Kenrick earls for three centuries! Still, his efforts might be for naught. Moreover, he was not convinced the transition had been good for Cassie. Her life too, had changed profoundly. To what extent had he sacrificed his daughter on the altar of familial duty?

He sighed and at last slept better than he had in months, though his last conscious thought was a vision of Mrs. Arthur laughing up at Robert as they danced at the Midsummer Ball. Was she the reason his brother thought of staying on at Kenrick?

 

Lord Kenrick's housekeeper was not enjoying the same peaceful slumber as her employer. Kate had looked in on her son before retiring to her own chamber. Ned had kicked off his bedcovers; she drew them back over him and kissed his sleep-warm cheek. Impulsively, she went down the hall to repeat the process with Lady Cassandra. She was well aware of what she was doing: postponing a clear view of this day and the evening.

Despite her earlier reservations about attending the midsummer festivities, she had thoroughly enjoyed them. She readily admitted that the highlight of the ball—indeed, of the day—had been her dance with Lord Kenrick. She savored every nuance of that waltz—from the spicy scent of his shaving soap to the warm humor in his blue eyes. Even through the fabric of their gloves, she had felt the warmth of his touch, relished the closeness. She could not ignore the sheer chemistry between them, even as she cautioned herself repeatedly against it. Had he been a good husband? What kind of wife had he chosen? All anyone seemed to know of her was that she was part Indian. But what kind of woman had she been? And just why should any of that matter to his housekeeper?

She shook her head yet again. “All right, Cinderella, you've had your ball. Now come back to earth and be sensible.” Nothing—nothing—must jeopardize her position at Kenrick Hall.

She turned her thoughts to other aspects of the evening. She had, of course, enjoyed dancing with Robert and sharing a bit of refreshment with him. It was nice to be able to drop all pretense with at least one person who knew the real Kate. Nor had she minded sitting on the sidelines with Lady Elinor. She recalled snippets of conversation she had overheard there. The vicar's wife had been filling Lady Elinor in on neighbors attending the ball.

“As is usually the case,” Mrs. Packwood had said, “there are three or four people here I simply do not know. Two gentlemen and a married couple who are staying at the inn. I believe the couple are seeking a property to rent. One of the other gentlemen, a Mr. Hoskins, spent an hour with my husband yesterday. Just wanted to familiarize himself with the community, he said. Nice man.”

Mrs. Packwood prattled on, describing for Lady Elinor the ladies' dresses and commenting on the behavior of people they both knew. The vicar's wife was not inclined to be suspicious of anyone, but Kate had felt her entire being freeze at these words. A stranger asking questions? She could not quell a frisson of fear and tried surreptitiously to see who it was that Mrs. Packwood was talking about, but she was herself too much of a stranger to be able to tell. In any event, guests of the inn were customarily included, were they not? Perhaps she was just borrowing trouble.

All the next day, though Kate knew Lord Kenrick and Robert had seen Clemson on his way to the Highlands, she saw little of the Chilton brothers. They were sequestered in the library until late afternoon. A footman who delivered fortifying pots of tea reported they were “studyin' the books with lots o' notes and columns of figgers.”

The next morning, Lord Kenrick called in his butler and the housekeeper to announce that he and his brother would be away for a few days inspecting various properties and enterprises. He gave them the particulars of his itinerary in case of an emergency, and then they were off. To Kate, Kenrick Hall suddenly seemed empty, despite a staff of dozens of people.

While she assiduously discouraged servants' gossip about their employer, Kate knew there was a good deal of speculation and apprehension among the staff about the financial state of the earldom. After all, what would happen to
them
were there to be a turnover at the top? She suspected the servants had a far better understanding of the matter than his lordship might wish them to have. They had no details, of course, but they “knew” that “that upstart cit, Mortimer” held something over his lordship's head, probably having to do with the previous earl's profligate ways.

Kate was human enough to worry privately about how these matters might affect her and her son. However, there was nothing she could do, was there? Wait and see. But uncertainty was unnerving. She understood all too well the feelings of other staff members. And she recognized an added dimension to her own uncertainty: this chemistry or undercurrent of attraction between her and her employer. She engaged privately in an ongoing argument with herself.

Your feelings are entirely improper!

One does not control
feelings
easily
.

Where do you expect such feelings to take you?

Nowhere.

Oh, really?

They can go nowhere. Once he knows the truth—and he will eventually—his disgust will surely spell finis to what might have been.

So treasure what you have while you have it.

No. I need to put this foolishness out of mind and concentrate on Ned. The possibility of losing my son is very real.