Kitabı oku: «The Bride Trilogy», sayfa 3
Four
The following day, Royal sat in his study, his elbows on the desktop, his head propped in his hands. A stack of estate ledgers lay open in front of him. His eyes burned from the hours he had spent reviewing the pages.
During the first nine months after his father’s death, he had spent most of his time learning about Bransford Castle and its surrounding lands. Aside from the estate’s own farm production, there were dozens of tenants on the vast acreage. Royal had met with each family individually to discuss what improvements might be made to help production, benefiting them and increasing their profits, a percentage of which belong to the estate.
During his years in Barbados, he had studied books on agriculture and used that knowledge to help make Sugar Reef the successful plantation it was today.
Since his return to England, he had been exploring the most modern methodology, trying to find the best way to stop the declining income stream from the agricultural production and instead turn a profit.
One of the ideas he had implemented was the construction of a brewery on lands in the nearby village of Swansdowne. He intended to brew very high-quality ale, which, he was convinced, was the most profitable use of the Bransford barley crop. As he had done with the sugar produced at Sugar Reef, he intended to market Swansdowne Ale as the finest in England. He also intended to increase the estate’s sheep herds and perhaps put in a woolen mill. All of that took money, of course, of which—at least until he married—he had little.
Royal released a breath, the notion of money returning his thoughts once more to the ledgers on the desk in front of him. In the last thirty days, he had begun to study the accounts that reflected former Bransford holdings, including several mills and a coal mine, properties his father had sold in order to raise money.
He had also studied the investments his father had made over the last several years.
At first the amount the late duke had invested had been small, the losses of little consequence. About three years ago his father’s health had begun to decline, though, at the duke’s insistence, Royal had never really known how severely. In an effort to recover the money, larger, even more poorly chosen investments were made and the losses began to mount.
Good money followed bad, and the duke began to sell his unentailed holdings in order to pay off his debts. Even the house itself was not safe from ransacking, as evidenced by the sale of the priceless paintings and statues missing from the castle, and the estate’s run-down condition.
Royal raked a hand through his hair, dislodging several heavy, slightly wavy strands. He looked up at the sound of a familiar rap on the door. The panel swung wide and Sheridan Knowles stood in the opening. Never one to stand on formality, he strolled into the study.
“I see, as usual, your nose is buried in those damnable ledgers. I suppose I am interrupting.”
“Yes, but since I am not particularly happy with what I am finding in the pages, you may as well sit down.”
Sherry walked forward with his usual casual ease, pausing for a moment at the sideboard to pour himself a brandy. “Shall I pour one for you?”
Royal shook his head. “I’ve too much yet to do.”
Sheridan studied the rich golden-brown liquid in his glass, just a little darker than his hair. “I just stopped by to tell you the patrols have been organized. My men will start tonight, cover the area around Bransford and Wellesley, and also the road between here and Swansdowne.”
“Well done.”
Sheridan sauntered behind the desk and looked over Royal’s shoulder at the big leather volumes lying open on top, some of the writing on the older pages beginning to fade. “So what are you finding that you do not like?”
Royal sighed. “I am seeing thousands of pounds draining away as if they were sand poured down a rat hole. For the last few years, my father made one bad investment after another. It is a difficult thing to say, but after he first took ill three years ago, I don’t believe his mind was ever quite the same.”
“A lot of rich men make poor investments.”
“True enough, but up until that time, my father wasn’t one of them.” He turned several pages, glanced down at the writing in one of the columns. “See here, for example, money that quite literally went up in smoke. Last year, my father invested in a cotton mill near Bolton. Six months later, the mill caught fire and burned to the ground. Apparently, the company had no insurance.”
Sheridan shook his head. “Certainly a thing like that wouldn’t have happened to the shrewd, formidable man your father used to be.”
“No, indeed. I’ve hired an investigator, Sherry. A man named Chase Morgan. Perhaps it’s a waste of time and money, but I want him to look into the companies in which my father invested. I want to find out which men wound up with the late Duke of Bransford’s fortune.”
Sherry sipped his drink, pondering the notion. “It couldn’t hurt, I don’t suppose. And you never know, you might discover something interesting.”
Royal shoved back his chair and came to his feet. “The money is gone. There isn’t much I can do about it now. Still …”
“Still … it never hurts to find out what happened in the past. As they say, it is often the key to the future.”
Sheridan walked over to warm his hands at the fire and Royal followed. “So where are you headed from here?” he asked.
“Back to Wellesley, I imagine. Though I rode over mostly to escape the house.”
“I am feeling a bit closed in, myself.” Royal clamped a hand on his friend’s wide shoulder. “How about some company?”
“I daresay, I’d like that. I take it your Miss Caulfield hasn’t arrived.”
“I’m sure she is still in London, waiting out the storm.”
Sherry set his brandy glass down on the sideboard and the men walked into the hall. As they did, the door at the opposite end leading to the kitchen downstairs swung open and Lily Moran stepped into the passage. Her russet velvet skirt was covered with white streaks of flour, and as she approached, her mind clearly elsewhere, Royal glimpsed a spot of flour on her nose. He grinned at the charming sight she made.
Her light eyes widened at the sight of the two men. “Your Grace,” she said, her hands shooting up to smooth a loose strand of pale blond hair. “Oh, dear, I must look a fright.”
“You look …” Lovely, he wanted to say but didn’t. “Only a bit worse for wear.” He smiled and turned to introduce Sherry. “This is my good friend, Sheridan Knowles, Viscount Wellesley. “Sheridan, may I present my houseguest, Miss Lily Moran.”
Sherry’s green eyes ran over her, taking in the gleaming hair, feminine features and lush, full lips. His gaze lowered to the curve of her breasts and the tiny waist beneath, and Royal felt an unexpected surge of jealousy.
“A pleasure, Miss Moran.”
“It is good to meet you, my lord.” Nervously, she brushed at her sleeve, also dusted with flour. “I hope you’ll excuse my appearance. There was an incident in the kitchen—” She glanced up, her gaze shooting toward Royal as if she’d said something wrong and was worried he would scold the servants. “Nothing untoward, Your Grace, just an overturned flour tin—but somehow I managed to wind up in the middle of it.”
Royal found himself smiling. “Just be careful you don’t get too near the oven. You might turn into a loaf of bread.”
Her laugher, like crystal prisms in the afternoon breeze, was so sweet his chest contracted.
“I shall heed your advice, Your Grace.”
Sherry gave her a long, assessing look. “Should you wind up toast, I would like nothing better than to eat you up, my dear. You’re even prettier than Royal said, Miss Moran.”
Lily blushed and Royal wanted to throw a punch at Sherry.
“I really should go up and make myself presentable. If you gentlemen will excuse me …”
“Of course.” Sheridan made a modest bow.
“I shall see you at supper,” Royal said, though seeing Lily Moran was the last thing he should be wanting.
Lily slipped by them and continued down the hall, her velvet skirts swaying enticingly. Turning, she started up the stairs.
“You were right. The girl is quite lovely.” Sheridan’s gaze followed Lily’s slender figure, his eyes remaining on the staircase even after she disappeared. Royal wanted to grab him by his starched cravat and shake him till his teeth rattled.
Sheridan smiled. “Then again, as I said, perhaps the cousin will be even more luscious.” He grinned, exposing a pair of crooked bottom teeth that should have detracted from his appearance but did not. “Then you can leave Miss Moran to me.”
Royal said nothing, but his jaw clenched so hard it hurt. He had no claim on Lily Moran and never would. If Sheridan wanted her—to hell with Sherry, he thought for no explicable reason, and started for the door.
“I thought we were going for a ride,” he said darkly, pausing in the entry to allow Greaves to drape his cloak round his shoulders.
Sheridan still gazed up the stairs. “Of a sudden, I would rather stay here.”
Royal ground his jaw, jerked open the door and strode out into the falling snow. Behind him, he heard Sheridan chuckle then the sound of his boots coming down the wide stone stairs.
The following day at the end of an afternoon ride to check on one of his tenants, Royal returned to the house, his stomach pleasantly filled with the mutton stew and tankard of ale he had enjoyed at the Boar and Thistle Tavern in the village. Handing his cloak to Greaves, he looked up at the sound of a commotion going on in the corridor upstairs. Recognizing the sweetly feminine voice of his houseguest, he climbed the staircase and headed down the hall to find Lily, a pair of footmen and two chambermaids rearranging the furniture in one of the bedrooms.
She looked up at his appearance and a hint of color washed into her cheeks. Her silvery hair was tied back with a kerchief and she wore an apron over her dress. Still, she looked beautiful.
“I—I hope you don’t mind, Your Grace. I moved my things into one of the other bedrooms. I thought Jocelyn should have the one that was meant to be hers.”
He didn’t say that he liked having Lily in the room adjoining his, where he could imagine her lying on the big bed in nothing but a soft white cotton nightgown, embroidered, perhaps, with tiny roses. He didn’t say that last night he had imagined unbuttoning the row of pearl buttons at her throat and nibbling his way down to her breasts.
Instead he said, “As you wish.”
“Also … your housekeeper, Mrs. McBride, suggested a very nice room for Mrs. Caulfield that also overlooks the garden. If you don’t mind… I’d … um … like to exchange a few pieces of furniture with those from one of the other bedrooms.”
Meaning the furniture in the room was worn or in need of repair. He knew Mrs. McBride had done her best, but until the house was refurbished, it would never exhibit the grandeur of the place he had lived in as a boy.
“As I said, you are free to make whatever changes you wish.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” She returned to her task, ordering the servants about and pitching in herself to help with whatever needed to be done. It was clear she took her duties seriously, but Royal thought it a little unfair that the Caulfields should treat her more like an employee than a member of the family.
One of the footmen reappeared, carrying an ornate writing desk Lily had procured from a room on the opposite side of the hall. She directed the man where to place it in the room, then, realizing Royal still stood in the corridor watching her activities, a nervous smile appeared.
“Mrs. Caulfield will enjoy the desk,” she explained. “She likes to keep in touch with her friends.”
“It’s a beautiful piece of furniture. I’m a little amazed it’s still here.”
She seemed surprised he would allude to his poor financial straits. “Yes … from the looks of it, a good deal of the original furnishings are missing.”
“After my father fell ill, his finances took a turn for the worse. It was his greatest wish to see the house brought back to its earlier magnificence.”
“Jocelyn seems eager to help in that regard.”
“That would certainly please my father, God rest his soul.”
“Would it also please you?”
His lips edged up. “I love this place. It bothers me to see it in such disrepair.”
She glanced down the long corridor, the paint yellowed and the wallpaper peeling in places, the rugs faded and worn. “It must have been beautiful. I’m sure it will be again.” The smile she gave him was warm and hopeful and his body flushed with heat.
Dammit to hell, an attraction to his soon-to-be fiancée’s cousin was not at all what he wanted.
“Let me know if there is anything else you need,” he said a bit more harshly than he intended. Leaving her to complete what other tasks she had planned, he made his way down the hall to change out of his riding clothes.
The afternoon was slipping away. Soon he would be joining his aunt for supper. Tonight for the first time since her accident, Lily would be joining them.
Royal swore softly as he stepped into his suite and firmly closed the door.
Five
She didn’t want to go. Lily considered pleading a headache, as she had done for the past two nights, but she simply couldn’t ignore her host and hostess any longer. Still, the notion of sitting through a meal with the duke made her stomach quiver. Every time she was around him, she felt nervous and flushed and not quite certain what to say.
It was ridiculous. He was only a man, after all, not the golden-haired angel she had imagined when she had been lying there in the snow.
He was handsome, yes. But beauty was only skin deep. At the balls and soirees she’d attended with Jo, she had met dozens of handsome men. It had never bothered her before.
Lily didn’t understand it. As a child, she had been shy, but in the years she had lived with her uncle, she had learned to overcome it. Living in Jocelyn’s shadow for so long seemed to have brought its return.
Still, she usually did quite well in the presence of the opposite sex. Perhaps it was knowing this particular male belonged to her cousin.
As the little maid, Penny, helped her fasten the buttons at the back of her aqua silk gown, she wondered when Jo would arrive and hoped it would be soon. The sooner the duke met his stunning future bride, the sooner this ridiculous attraction Lily grudgingly admitted to feeling would be over.
One could hardly be attracted to a man who looked through her as if she were not there, and she knew from experience, once Jocelyn arrived, that is exactly what the handsome Duke of Bransford would do.
“Gor, ye look lovely, miss.”
Lily smiled at the dark-haired girl. “Thank you, Penny.” She turned in front of the cheval glass, pleased at the changes she had fashioned in Jo’s cast-off dinner gown. She had removed the extra ruffles around the hem and across the bodice, leaving only a single flounce of aqua satin across the bosom, which she adorned with a spray of tiny seed pearls.
The gown looked brand new, which it practically was, since Jo rarely wore a dress more than once and was happy to hand them off to Lily to change in any way she pleased.
She moved to the dresser, lifted the lid on the small rosewood box she had brought with her and removed a lovely peach-colored agate cameo hanging from a black velvet ribbon. It wasn’t an expensive piece of jewelry, but it was one of her favorites, a gift from the Caulfields on her eighteenth birthday.
She held it out to Penny, then turned her back. “Could you tie it for me, please?”
“Of course, miss.”
Penny set the cameo at the base of her throat and tied the ribbon round her neck. With her pale hair pulled away from her face and pinned in a cluster of curls at her shoulder, she felt ready to face the duke and his aunt across the supper table.
Taking a breath for courage, Lily swept out of the room and headed down the wide mahogany staircase. She found the duke and his aunt conversing in an antechamber that led into the elaborate formal dining room. She had hoped for a more casual evening, but with the dowager in residence, she should have known it wasn’t going to happen.
“Ah, Miss Moran,” the duke said, striding toward her. “We were afraid you’d had another brush with the kitchen maids.”
He was smiling, teasing her, but with his aunt in the room, she was embarrassed. “Nothing of the sort, I assure you.” Her cheeks burned. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
“Not a’tall,” the dowager said with a smile. “Royal was telling me about the flour incident in the kitchen. The last time I was here, I slipped and took a tumble into the bushes in the garden. They had just been watered. I came up looking like a half-drowned wren.”
Lily laughed, feeling a sweep of gratitude for the old woman’s effort to put her at ease, which seemed to work quite well. “I haven’t been below stairs lately, but should I visit in the future, I shall attempt to be more careful.”
“Accidents happen,” the duke said, smiling.
“More often to some of us than others,” the dowager added with a twinkle in her eyes, nearly the same tawny shade as her nephew’s.
“Cook has supper ready,” the duke said. “May I persuade you ladies to continue this discussion in the dining room? I find I am nearly light-headed with the need for food.”
As was she, Lily realized, and couldn’t help wondering if the man was truly that hungry or if he had guessed she had been so busy she had eaten only the cakes and cocoa she’d had for breakfast. She had a feeling it was the latter.
Drat it, she wished he would be less congenial. Surely there was something to dislike about him. But as he moved beside his aging aunt, taking great care not to walk too swiftly and provide the supportive arm she needed, as he seated her and then Lily, one on each side of him, she couldn’t think what it might be.
The first course was served, a delicious oyster soup, the creamy broth lightly seasoned with herbs and floating with lemon slices, probably grown in the estate’s conservatory.
“Have you heard from your brother Rule?” Lady Tavistock asked, taking a hearty spoonful of soup.
“He is finishing up at Oxford,” the duke replied. “He has been offered a job with an American company once he is out of school—a liaison position of some sort, I gather. If he accepts, he will be traveling there and back quite often.”
He glanced over at Lily. “It was our father’s wish that our family develop an alliance with the Americans. Rule promised to make that happen. And I think he may be excited at the prospect of seeing a different country.”
“I would love to see America, myself.”
The duke smiled. “So you crave adventure, do you?”
Lily smiled back. “Only in my head, I am afraid. Mostly, I enjoy reading books about other people’s travels.”
“As do I,” the duke agreed.
“Royal spent a good many years in the Caribbean managing the family plantation,” his aunt added. “Did a fine job of it, too.”
“I enjoyed the challenge,” he said. “I hope I am up to it here at Bransford. There is far more at home that needs to be done than there was at Sugar Reef.”
“With the right woman at your side,” his aunt said, “I am certain you will manage quite well.”
Royal looked down at his bowl of soup and Lily wondered what he was thinking.
“So you enjoy reading,” the dowager said to her.
“Very much. I read just about anything I can get my hands on.”
“There is a library full of books here at Bransford,” the duke said. “You are welcome to borrow whatever you might find interesting.”
She felt his golden gaze on her face and something warm settled low in her stomach. “Thank you.”
“What have you heard of your brother Reese?” the older woman asked, breaking the strangely intimate moment. Lily wondered if that was the dowager’s intent. Her nephew was, after all, practically engaged to another woman.
“Reese is fighting the Russians in the Crimea at the moment. Though I haven’t heard from him directly for a while. Apparently, getting letters posted is difficult, but at last word he seemed quite healthy.”
“I am glad to hear it. With your brother Reese, one never quite knows what to expect.”
Royal turned to Lily. “Reese is a major in the cavalry—a true adventurer. Still, we are all hopeful he will eventually leave the military and return to a more settled life here at home.”
They continued the meal in pleasant conversation and Lily was surprised at how comfortable she was made to feel.
Until Lady Tavistock turned the conversation to Jocelyn.
“So when do you expect the Caulfields to arrive?” the dowager asked.
“Soon, I should think. At least soon after the weather clears a bit and the roads become passable.”
“Do tell us a little about your cousin. What sort of woman is she? What are her interests?”
“Jocelyn is beautiful,” Lily said without pausing to think. “Outrageously so.” It was the first thing anyone noticed about Jo. “She has very dark hair and the most amazing eyes. They’re the color of violets, you see. I don’t believe I have ever seen anyone with eyes that exact color.”
“Go on,” the countess urged, obviously intrigued.
Lily faltered a moment, trying to describe a woman who was completely indescribable. “Jocelyn loves parties. She is extremely outgoing. She enjoys dressing in the height of fashion and she looks marvelous in whatever she chooses to wear.” She glanced up. “Oh, and she’s a very proficient rider. Her father made certain of that.”
“Well, that is good news,” the dowager said with a smile, “since Royal has a great love of horses.”
But Jo didn’t particularly like animals, just the thrill of speed and the feeling of mastery over a beast much larger than she.
The dowager looked over at her nephew. “I daresay, if Miss Caulfield enjoys parties, then perhaps we should have one here at Bransford. A small soiree, perhaps? A bit of music and dancing, just a few of our neighbors and some of our friends. What do you say, Royal?”
He took a sip of his wine, set the crystal goblet back down on the table. The house was no longer the showcase it once was, but Lily thought it could be made quite presentable.
“If you and Miss Moran are up to the challenge, I think it would be fine.”
“Well, what do you think, Miss Moran?”
“I would be more than pleased to help.”
“Marvelous. We’ll begin making plans on the morrow.” The old woman delicately sipped her wine, the goblet shaking in her frail hand. “Anything more you can tell us about your cousin?”
Lily dredged up a smile. “To be honest, Jocelyn is not easy to describe. She is a very unique person. You will understand once you meet her.”
Lily couldn’t help wondering how that meeting would go. She wasn’t concerned with the duke, who wouldn’t be able to see past Jo’s alluring exterior. It was Lady Tavistock she wondered about. The old woman seemed extremely intelligent and keenly perceptive. Lily tried to imagine what the dowager would think about the woman meant to wed a nephew who seemed to hold a very special place in her heart.
A warm sun brightened the landscape, melting the last of the snow. Eager for a ride, Royal strode down a corridor near the back of the house on his way to the
stables, passing several little-used drawing rooms along the way.
Rounding a corner, in a portion of the hall whose rooms faced the garden, he noticed the door of the Daffodil Room, one of the smaller drawing rooms, stood open.
He paused in the doorway, saw that a low fire burned in the hearth. His eyes widened as he recognized the woman perched on the yellow damask sofa. Sunlight streamed in through the windows, turning her hair a silvery gold.
Royal’s gaze took in her surroundings. Swatches of fabric in a variety of colors and textures were strewn over the backs of the chairs. The table next to one of them was littered with yarn, streamers of ribbon, bows, feathers and imitation fruit.
Though he made no sound, Lily’s head came up as if she sensed his presence. Her gaze snared his and he felt the familiar stirring of heat. This time it settled low in his groin and his sex stirred to life. The air seemed to thicken and warm between them until his shaft rode hard against his belly. Royal was glad he was wearing his riding coat to hide his unwanted desire.
A door closed down the hall, breaking the moment, and Lily jolted to her feet. “Your Grace … I—I hope you don’t mind … Mrs. McBride said it would be all right if I used this room for my sewing. She said it was rare anyone ever came in here.”
“It isn’t a problem. You are welcome to use the room for as long as you wish.” He glanced at the array of items that seemed in no way connected to any given purpose. “But if I may ask—what exactly is it you are sewing?”
She held up the item in her lap. “Hats, Your Grace. I fashion ladies’ bonnets.” She retrieved a finished product off the table in front of her, a bonnet of mauve silk with a wide brim surrounded by dyed feathers and velvet bows. The hat should have looked gaudy, but it did not.
“I think you must be very good at making hats, Miss Moran.”
She smiled and it felt as if something pulled loose inside him.
“I believe I am, Your Grace. Not to be immodest, but I sell a very good number. Usually I have trouble finding time to fill all my orders.”
“Good for you.”
“I suppose making hats isn’t exactly the thing, but I hope one day to open my own millinery shop.”
“I think if you want your own shop, you will have it. I believe you could have whatever it is you want, Miss Lily Moran.”
She stared at him and something flickered in her sea-green eyes, then it was gone.
“I hope you are right. I can hardly live with the Caulfields forever. Once you and Jocelyn are married, I shall wish to go out on my own.”
He didn’t offer a place for her there. If he did, sooner or later, he would give in to the powerful temptation she posed. Lily deserved more than a brief seduction and so did the woman he intended to wed.
“Most women think to marry,” he said softly. “They want a husband and children.”
“I want that, too … someday.” She grinned, giving him a saucy look that made him want to kiss her. “But not until I have my shop!”
Royal laughed and so did she. He cleared his throat. “I suppose I should leave so that you can get back to your work.”
She looked down at the bonnet in her hand. “I suppose you should.”
“Have a good afternoon, Miss Moran.”
“You, as well, Your Grace.” Her eyes held his a moment longer, then she jerked her gaze away and sat back down on the sofa. Royal watched the delicate hands, the slender, feminine fingers working the needle through the fabric, and clamped down on an image of those elegant hands skimming over his naked body.
Turning away, he strode to the door of the drawing room without looking back. Silently he prayed God would see that the woman he meant to marry arrived at the castle very soon.
