Anne Barbour (8 page)

And yet, he mused, she had accomplished a miracle with his ward. Look at the chit, bending demurely over her dinner as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He supposed he could count on this pleasant state of affairs only until Miss Blayne took her leave on the morrow. He shuddered inwardly, almost dreading his guests
’
departure.

On the other hand ... A thought struck him, so abruptly that he almost spilled his wine into his lap. No, he thought a moment later, the whole idea was preposterous. And yet... He glanced pensively across the table.

“Miss Blayne, do allow me to pour you a little more of this excellent Chambertin,” he said silkily.

Chapter Six

After dinner, the earl, declining to remain in a solitary state with the port decanter, accompanied the ladies to the music room, where Chloe entertained at the pianoforte. Though not technically skilled, she played with a great deal of expression and the applause she engendered was quite genuine.

Afterward, Thorne’s offer of a guided tour of the manor was accepted by Hester and Miss Larkin with alacrity. Chloe trailed the group with a pretty show of enthusiasm.

“As you have probably already surmised,” said the earl, “the original house was built in the time of Queen Elizabeth. The owner at that time was Henry Trent, the fourth Baron Trent. The earldom came several generations later, and in the meantime the house expanded into rather a jumble of styles.” He pointed to a Restoration staircase ascending from a Jacobean corridor. “We Trents have never been known for our taste in building, as we place comfort and space above fashion.”

As though to emphasize his point, he led his guests through chamber after vast chamber interspersed with breezy corridors and passageways. At last, he turned into the grand gallery, which stretched all across the front of the house. Like the other rooms, it was elegantly furnished, and was lined with family portraits.

“Here we have Henry himself,” said Thorne, pointing to a stout gentleman in doublet and hose posed beside his favorite steed. “We have been given to understand that he was quite a favorite of the Queen. And, over here, behold Roderick, his son and heir. Poor Roderick evidently did not possess his father’s charm of manner, for he fared poorly during the reign of James I, barely escaping with his head.

“The family fortunes, however, were repaired by his son, another Henry, who married well. Here is a portrait of him with his spouse. One gathers she must have been possessed of a very large fortune indeed.”

Gazing at Lady Trent, a tall, formidable female with pinched features and a spare figure, Hester smothered a giggle.

Thorne went on to point out others of his progenitors, leading from Tudor reigns to those of Stuart to Hanover. As they reached the end of the gallery, he pointed to a large portrait featuring a distinguished-looking gentleman, a blindingly beautiful woman and a small, dark-haired boy.

“And now”—Thorne gestured—”we come to the current flowering of the family tree. My mother and father and my own humble self, aged about nine years, as I recall.”

Hester studied the portrait. Thorne’s father was undoubtedly a handsome man, but there was something rather forbidding about his features. His mother was obviously a diamond of the first water, possessed of golden hair, enormous blue eyes, and a smile that seemed to reach out beyond the paint and varnish of the picture to catch the beholder in its dazzling magic.

“What an extraordinarily lovely woman,” she said. She glanced from the portrait to Thorne and back again.

“Yes, she was,” replied Thorne, “and yes, I most resemble my father.” Hester wondered at the odd glint in his eyes as he gazed at the picture, and almost as an aside he murmured, “I did inherit some characteristics from her.” He turned as though to move on, and Chloe and Miss Larkin prepared to follow him, but Hester remained staring at the portrait.

“You are an only child,” she stated in some puzzlement.

“Yes,” replied Thorne again, his tone unpromising.

“I’m sorry—that was a rather personal remark. It’s just that it is unusual that the son of so prominent a family should have no siblings.”

“As I understand it, my father would have liked a large family, but apparently Mother Nature refused to cooperate.”

Thorne uttered the words lightly, but Hester sensed that the smile that accompanied them was forced. He turned once again, and this time he put his hand under Hester’s elbow to steer her firmly from the gallery. She cast one last backward glance at the threesome, and was left, not with the image of two people blessed with looks and riches, but of the small, rather lonely figure of the little boy who stood stiffly between them.

The group returned to the emerald salon, where they found the tea table awaiting them. For the remainder of the evening, conversation was light and inconsequential. Chloe made it a point to comment on the upcoming dinner party with the Werys, and Thorne registered an appropriate gratification at his ward’s newly acquired acquiescence. As they said their good nights a little while later, Hester was surprised by the oddly speculative expression on the earl’s face as he bent over her hand.

Later, as she sank gratefully into her bed and nestled under a silken comforter, she reflected that not since she had left her family home had she spent the night in such luxury. Not that Wisseton Priory, large and comfortable though it was, could provide the sybaritic comfort of Bythorne Park.

Indeed, she mused sleepily, in the coming months, given the current state of her finances, even the creature comforts of Rosemere Cottage might suffer a decline. She snuggled farther under the comforter. If only the cloud of the mortgage payment did not loom over her, life would be sweet.

The next morning, after an ample breakfast the entire party set out for Overcross, for the earl wished to travel directly to London after depositing the ladies of Rosemere Cottage back at their home. He was unusually silent during the drive, but Chloe filled the void with questions to Hester on her feminist exploits.

When they arrived home, Hester expected that after saying all that was proper the earl would wish to be on his way. Instead, he accepted with alacrity Miss Larkin’s invitation for him and his niece to fortify themselves against the trip with a cup of tea and perhaps a plate of scones. He had no more availed himself of a gulp or two of this beverage when he turned to Hester and said somewhat nervously, “I wonder if I might speak to you in private, Miss Blayne.”

AH three ladies present stared at him in surprise.

“Uncle Thorne-—” Chloe began, her curiosity evident, but Thorne lifted his hand in a gesture of negation.

“Why—of course, my lord.” Rising, Hester led the earl to a small study tucked into the back of the house. She seated herself in a small cane-covered chair and gestured Thorne to another. He remained standing, however, and after a moment began to pace the meager length of the room. It was some moments before he spoke, during which Hester sat with hands folded, displaying only a waiting courtesy. Inwardly, her mind churned with questions. What in the world could the man wish to see her about? What could he want that Larkie and Chloe were not permitted to hear? Was he about to upbraid her for her unseemly sentiments, spoken before his ward? Well, if that were the case, she certainly—

“Miss Blayne.”

Hester started.

“Miss Blayne,” he said again, and Hester realized with some astonishment that he was apprehensive.

“I want to express my appreciation for your coming to my rescue—with Chloe,” he continued after a moment. “You have a gift for dealing with volatile young women— at least this particular volatile young woman.”

Hester smiled. “Well, I used to be one myself,” she said. “It is no wonder that I possess some facility in dealing with Chloe, for she reminds me very much of myself at her age.”

“Really?” asked Thorne, and Hester knew a moment’s irritation at the earl’s apparent difficulty in picturing her as a young woman. “At any rate,” he continued in some haste, “I have never known her to be so amenable, and frankly, I would give a great deal for this state of affairs to continue. I am prepared, in fact, to give a great deal toward that end.”

Hester stared at him blankly.

“Miss Blayne, my household has been at sixes and sevens ever since Chloe’s entrance into my life. I have lived a bachelor existence for some years and am wholly unused to dealing with young females. Until Chloe came to me, I lived in lodgings in Jermyn Street, with only Williams, my valet, to attend me. My Aunt Lavinia served as chatelaine at the Park, and I saw her only infrequently. She was kind enough to move to London when I opened up the town house on Chloe’s arrival, and she has done her best to be a mother to Chloe, but the fact is—Well, my aunt has no more idea of how to deal with Chloe than I do, with what results you have seen. She is an efficient housekeeper, but not a disciplinarian.”

A small flicker of apprehension began to squirm inside Hester.

“I sympathize with your plight, my lord,” she said firmly, “but I do not see what it has to do with me.”

Thorne’s mobile brows quirked and he drew a deep breath. “I can see that you have become precisely aware of what it has to do with you. Miss Blayne, I need your help. Chloe needs your help, and you have surmised correctly. I am asking you to move into my household as a companion to my ward. Now wait,” he added hastily. He flung himself into the chair next to her and grasped both of her hands in his as she prepared to rise abruptly. “Please hear me out. I do not expect you to devote your life to her, nor would your stay be of long duration. I just need to keep her from flying from the house every time I suggest something for her own betterment. As soon as her betrothal to John Wery becomes official, I’m sure she will settle down, and—

“Lord Bythorne,” interrupted Hester, “I think you have taken leave of your senses. Even if I were willing to interrupt my own schedule, which I am not, the fact that I have managed to deflect Chloe from her starts on two occasions does not mean that I have the means—or the inclination— to bend her to your will.”

“I told you, I have no desire to—bend Chloe to my will. Or, at least—well, yes, I do, but it is only for her own good. Tell me. Miss Blayne, you have remained single”—Hester stiffened ominously and Thorne hurried on—”through your own choice, I am sure, but do you have no regrets? Do you ever wish for a home and family?”

“I have a home, Lord Bythorne,” replied Hester frigidly. “And as for family, Larkie is all I could ever want.” She shifted uncomfortably, for she knew she was not being quite truthful. While she had no desire for a husband, she felt the lack of children in her life as a permanent, aching empty spot.

“But do you think Chloe is fit for the same course?” continued the earl. “While she seems almost rabidly fervent in her espousal of your cause, I sense that she has not your— strength of purpose. She has been sheltered all her life and once my protection is withdrawn, which it must inevitably be, she will fare ill as an unmarried female.”

Hester nodded unwillingly. She had come to the same conclusion regarding Chloe. While she wanted no part of forcing the girl into an unwanted marriage, she could see no other viable course for her. Damn and blast a system that refused to educate women properly so that they could develop skills with which to support themselves!

“Be that as it may, my lord—

“I am willing to pay generously for your services, of course. What I propose is that you come to live with us for three months or until Chloe accepts John Wery’s offer of marriage—whichever comes first—in return for which I will pay you five hundred pounds.”

“Five hundr . . .” Hester’s voice trailed into an awed gasp. Good Lord, she could pay the mortgage off altogether with that kind of money. She could repair the roof, reglaze the windows, build a new potting shed, and still have handfuls left for a new stove and Larkie’s new spectacles. But, of course, the whole idea was unthinkable.

“My lord, the whole idea is unthinkable,” she said firmly. The earl did not, as she expected, simply bow and return to the parlor. He remained silent and seated, gazing at her expectantly. She continued haltingly, trying for the right words to convince him of the madness of his plan.

“What would your aunt think to have a stranger foisted on her? No, two strangers, for I certainly would not go without Larkie. In addition, I am in the middle of a project that is of great importance to me. I realize you believe my writings to be nothing more than the frivolous scribblings of a demented spinster, but they mean a great deal to me. Nothing less than survival, to put it bluntly. I am working on a deadline, and I could not possibly leave my work for that long. Also,” she continued breathlessly, aware she was beginning to babble, “I have a circle of friends with whom I meet frequently. I would be loath to forgo their companionship for such a long period of time. Last but not least, what in the world would your friends and family say if you were to install a writer of inflammatory pamphlets into your home?”

“I would not dream,” said Thorne smoothly, “of asking you to give up your writing while you are in my home. I believe my hospitality could stretch to a quiet room, a desk, and paper and ink. You would certainly not be expected to stick to Chloe like a plaster. My aunt and her maid accompany her on most of her jaunts. Thus, you would have plenty of time to devote to your own pursuits. I take it your friends live, for the most part, in London? I certainly have no objection to their visiting you in my home.” Thorne breathed a silent prayer that he would not be opening his doors to squads of wild-eyed fanatics and unbathed intellectuals. “In fact, I should think that a sojourn in the metropolis might be enjoyable for you. Think of the lectures—the libraries—”

“Yes, yes, that is quite true,” interposed Hester impatiently, “but you must see, my lord, that the whole scheme is utterly insupportable.”

“Why?”

“I just told you why,” she snapped.

“But, I believe I addressed all your concerns—except for those regarding my family and friends. Aunt Lavinia, I am sure, will fall on your neck, sobbing with gratitude when you show up to take responsibility for Chloe’s behavior. As for the rest of my family, I am not in the habit of consulting them regarding my decisions.”