Marjorie Farrell (22 page)

“How are you intending to travel? Have you asked Jeremy for the coach?”

“I haven’t even told Miranda or Jeremy yet. That is the letter I want you to carry back for me. And of course I wouldn’t dream of using the earl’s coach.”

“Why not? You are his mother-in-law, after all.”

“Why, so I am,” Nora exclaimed, momentarily distracted by the thought. “Oh, dear, I never pictured myself as anyone’s mother-in-law.”

Sam couldn’t help but be amused by her consternation. “Well, you don’t seem like one to me either. But back to my question. Do you wish to borrow my chaise instead? With whom are you traveling? Joanna? Didn’t she just return from a long trip?”

“I am going alone. And thank you for your offer, but I am going by public conveyance.”

“Are you mad! You can’t go alone by coach! Let me drive you, then, and we will hire an abigail.”

“I do not see what gives you the right to question my arrangements, Lord Acland,” Nora replied coolly.

“I am your…”

“My what? We are not really related by marriage, you know, though you are Jeremy’s godfather. It would be most inappropriate for us to travel together. And I am quite capable of traveling by myself. It is the way I came to Hampstead.”

“I hoped I was your friend,” Sam replied with almost superhuman control, since he was ready to throttle her. “I made my offer as one.”

“I do consider you one, my lord,” Nora said in a warmer tone. “And I thank you. But I have been making my own decisions for a number of years and am very used to acting independently.”

“Too damned used to it, I think,” replied Sam, irritated beyond endurance. “You must do everything yourself and you will not let anyone in behind that wall of self-sufficiency, will you?”

“I do not know what you mean,” Nora said, rising from the table. She could feel her legs shaking from the shock of Sam’s attack. “If you are a friend, then you should appreciate that quality in me, not condemn it. But perhaps you prefer women to be more like the countess, always leaning on someone.”

“It would do you good to do a little leaning, Mrs. Dillon.”

“I think we have both said enough, Lord Acland.” Nora was horrified she had said so much. “You will, I hope, be kind enough to give my letter to Miranda.” Nora walked out of the kitchen, clearly dismissing him. He followed, furious at himself for losing control, and at her. They stood in polite silence at the door, and Nora handed him the envelope.

“Nora, I don’t know what came over me… I hold you in the greatest esteem. I am grateful for your friendship…indeed, I had hoped…”

“Yes, my lord, you had hoped what?” She was standing straight, her shoulders back, with that air of self-sufficiency.

There it is again, that wall, Sam thought despairingly. And in almost the same instant: I won’t let her hide behind it again.

“I had hoped that your feelings were beginning to go beyond friendship. But I can see you are quite happy to live in your romantic memories of your saintly husband, Lieutenant Dillon. Well, I wish you well, my dear. A ghost is, after all, cold comfort in bed. Good afternoon, and may your tryst with the past keep you warm for the next few years.”

Nora was speechless. She watched Sam walk down the path, mount, and ride away without a backward glance. She felt like she was seeing him for the last time and for the first. Although she had felt attracted to him, she had imagined it all one-sided. The idea that he might feel more than friendship had not occurred to her. No, to be truthful, it had, but in denying her own feelings, she had denied the possibility of his. His parting words finally penetrated, and she shut the door and began to laugh quite hysterically at his mistaken notion that she was still mourning her saintly husband. If he only knew! Her laugh turned to tears, for if he had known, his interest in her would have died. She wiped her eyes and immediately got herself busy. Finishing her packing kept her from dwelling on what Sam’s feeling might mean to her.

* * * *

The next morning she was up by four and prepared a light breakfast by candlelight. The cottage looked different so early in the morning. She looked around as though it were a stranger’s dwelling, although it had been home for many years. She would be returning, of course, but somehow she felt she was saying good-bye to it.

She wrapped her cloak around her, and picking up her valise, stepped out onto the front porch. She locked the front door and walked down the road without a backward glance. Very quietly she approached Joanna’s door, leaving the key under her mat as they had agreed the day before. And then she was truly off, free, and on her way to meet the northbound coach.

Sam had not gotten back to London until late the previous day. He had no engagements that evening and had originally planned to spend a few quiet hours reading, but after his scene with Nora, he found himself pacing the carpet, unable to concentrate on even the most frivolous read. He knew Miranda and Jeremy were attending the Sefton ball, and was intending to deliver Nora’s note in the morning. Impulsively he decided to walk to Grosvenor Square on the off-chance Simon and Judith were home. If they were, he might just ask Simon’s advice, and if not, well, at least he would have walked off some of his restlessness.

Cranston looked at him calmly, as though there were nothing untoward about his arriving at a time when most London couples would be dressing for the evening’s rout, and ushered him into the library. No, his grace was not going out, and yes, he would announce his lordship’s arrival.

Sam was there only a few minutes when he heard Simon’s steps in the hall. The duke stopped and said, “Sam? Cranston told me you were waiting?”

“I fear I have disturbed you,” Sam said, smiling to himself at the duke’s rather disheveled appearance. His hair was pulled into elf-locks and his cravat was half-untied.

“Not at all. Why do you think so?”

“Well, you look a little
en déshabillé
,
if I may say so.”

Simon ran his hand over his head. “Oho, my daughter has been at me again. We were just putting Sophy to bed and I tend to get a bit rumpled,” Simon said, sheepishly straightening his cravat, a Mathematical gone wrong.

“Perhaps this is not a good time for a visit? Are you and Judith planning to go out?”

“As a matter of fact, no. We are both rather fatigued and decided to stay home this evening.”

“Then I should go. I am disturbing you both.”

“No, no, Sam. I admit I am not wishing to make a late night of it, but while Judith reads to Sophy, we can have a drink.”

“If you are sure?”

“Yes. Something must have brought you out, after all.”

Sam sank down into a chair and groaned. “Yes. Something did.”

“What can I do?”

“Well, you can listen and tell me all the kinds of fool I have been, for one thing. I think I am in love, and isn’t that ridiculous for a bachelor of thirty-nine?”

“Who is it who has captured your heart after all these years?”

“Nora Dillon.”

Simon raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

“You don’t seem surprised,” continued Sam.

“Nora is one of the most appealing women I have met in a long time. If it weren’t for Judith, I might have developed a
tendre
for her myself,” Simon teased.

“Well, up until today I have been trying to establish a comfortable friendship. I have been in the habit of dropping in on her once in a while, taking tea, going for a walk on the Heath. I think she likes me well enough, but I feel a certain air, one that reminds me of young debutantes who are frightened by any physical contact. Since she is not an untouched maiden, I can only surmise that she has kept that part of herself safe, out of loyalty to Dillon.”

“Hmmmmm. Perhaps,” said Simon as noncommittally as possible.

“You are usually very perceptive about these things, Simon. What do you think?”

“I think that while your conjecture might be true, her standoffishness may merely be the way she has kept herself safe these many years. After all, she is alone and unprotected by family or position.”

“Well, that may be true, but today when I arrived, I found her packing for a visit home.”

“Home?” Simon did not have to pretend surprise. He wondered what had brought Nora to this decision.

“She has not been there for many years, and wishes to revisit the countryside of her childhood, or so she says. For myself, I think Miranda’s marriage has brought back memories of her own romance and that she returns out of some reawakened feeling for this Dillon, her ‘sainted husband’ as I believe I called him today. I felt so jealous of this attachment that I lost control and accused her of living in her romantic memories.”

Simon could hear the pain in Sam’s voice, but could not help being secretly amused at his misconceptions. For whatever reason Nora was making this journey, it was certainly not to revisit happier times. Since he knew Nora’s story in confidence, he was not free to set Sam’s mind at rest. Indeed, he was not sure what the viscount’s reaction would be. But he could, at least, make some general reassurances.

“You hardly made a formal declaration of your feelings, Sam, and I don’t think today will ruin the friendship you already have,” Simon said. “I don’t believe she is attached to Dillon’s memory. Nora’s journey will give you both the time you need to forget today’s contretemps.”

“If she is not attached to her husband, then why do you suppose she has never remarried, Simon?”

“She has hardly been living in a situation which would expose her to many eligible suitors. And she strikes me as a rather independent woman. Maybe she never met anyone who made her want to give up her independence.”

“She is too damned independent, if you ask me,” replied Sam, all his frustration and anger resurfacing. “I have never met any woman who so elicits my desire to help her and who so frustrates that desire. She has been on her own for so long that she only knows how to do for herself.”

“She is very different from your usual panic
,
isn’t she?” said Simon, thinking of Sam’s old history with Lavinia, and his latest, very feminine widow.

“Don’t remind me. I have been quite content for years to enjoy the comfort of a mistress’s attentions, have always been able to keep things light, and never thought to fall head over heels ever again.”

“Nora Dillon is not the sort of woman a man can take lightly, I agree.”

“She won’t even take advantage of Jeremy’s position and borrow the coach. Or my chaise. She intends to travel all that distance by public conveyance. You should have seen her valise. It looks like it hasn’t been used in twenty years.”

“How long does she intend to be away?”

“I don’t know. She did say she will return for the holidays. She would have to, or stay in Northumberland all winter.”

“It occurs to me this must be a difficult time for Nora. Miranda must be very caught up in her new life. And to go from what must have been a very quiet and cozy existence to being the mother-in-law of an earl and the parent of a countess…”

“I had hoped my…friendship would compensate for her loss,” Sam replied.

“Oh, I am sure your friendship makes a difference. Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing whether you have a chance of getting her to accept more than friendship. You will have to hope this visit to her old home will bring a change to her state of mind.”

“I suppose you are right. There is nothing I can do but wait. And I do have a letter to Miranda to deliver. Perhaps her mother has told her more.”

* * * *

Miranda was very much surprised by her mother’s brief note, which explained no more than did Nora’s conversation with the viscount.

“She has already gone?”

“Yes. She has left this note for you. I assume it explains her reasons.”

Miranda opened the folded pages slowly. The outside was blank, and inside Nora had written only a few lines of explanation. She wished her daughter well for the next few weeks and informed her that it seemed time for her, at last, to return home and see if there was anything still there for her. Miranda knew that there was quite possibly an unforgiving marquess still alive in Moorview. She herself, once she had told Jeremy of her background, had put the story behind her, as she had assumed her mother had. Her new life was so full and exciting, she could not imagine what effect her leaving had had on her mother’s life. Why would her mother want to visit Northumberland, which could only hold painful memories?

“She does say she will return for the holidays,” Miranda said, lifting her eyes from the note. “And wishes me well. But she does not offer any explanation for this trip. It seems rather sudden to me. How is she traveling?”

“By stage,” replied Sam.

“Why didn’t she ask me for the coach?” Miranda exclaimed. “Can we send it around?”

“It is too late, I’m afraid. I offered my chaise, but she seemed determined to go by public conveyance.”

Miranda was torn by affection and amusement at her mother, and anxiety and anger at this precipitate, unexplained behavior.

“What shall I tell Lavinia and Jeremy? There were a few dinners and other entertainments to which Mother was invited.”

“Make her excuses and tell them it seemed very important to her to return home. They know, after all, that she is from the north, although she has spoken very little about family.” Sam’s voice rose questioningly.

“There is no family left…although perhaps my grandfather is alive,” murmured Miranda, not wanting to sound completely ignorant, but unable to say more.

“I have often wondered if your mother perhaps married your father against her family’s wishes. Would it be a breach of that sort she wishes to mend?”

“Perhaps. My mother has not spoken much to me of those early days.” At least, that was true, thought Miranda.

“We shall all be curious to hear the story when she returns,” Sam said as he took his leave. “I would not be too concerned,” he added reassuringly. “Your mother is nothing if not capable of taking care of herself!”