As You Wish (19 page)

“Much preferable to a large party.”  William leaned back to allow a servant to place soup before him.  “For instance, in a larger group, I could not quiz Miss Cantrell about her accent, as I am not seated next to her.  But here I am free to speak to anyone.  May I ask where you acquired such unique articulation, Miss Cantrell?”

“She is an American,” David said, irritated by his brother’s simpering smile.

“Truly?”  William’s gaze never left her face, as though she rather than his brother had answered.  “I have never met an American before!  Pray, tell me all about life in the States.”

She laughed, though David willed she might sneer at the stale question.

“
All
about it?  Well, let me see if I can sum up the American experience in a few words.  We speak the same language you do, only we try to pronounce every syllable very carefully.  We drink coffee instead of tea.  We’re very casual, whereas you’re more formal.  And our sense of humor isn’t so dry--nor so witty,
I
think.”

“You think us clever?”  William shot his brother an expression of exaggerated surprise.  “Do you hear that, David?  We shall have to be very amusing during dinner tonight.  We would not want to disabuse Miss Cantrell of her flattering estimation of our countrymen.”

He bristled, only too aware he had no talent for social banter.  Perhaps William had intended to point out that fact.  He tried to think of a poignant retort, but nothing came to him.  Not since the tauntings of his early schooldays had he felt so inadequate to meet a challenge.

While he sat dumb, William turned his charms on his hosts, complimenting everything from the soup to Lady Langston’s gown to a carriage Lord Langston had recently purchased.  The praise had no evident effect on his godparents, as they continued to treat him with civility but no appearance of partiality.  Perhaps sensing his lack of headway, William refocused his attention on Leah.

“Tell me, Miss Cantrell,” he asked as the servants collected soup plates, “how long will you be visiting Solebury House?”

“I really can’t say.”  She dabbed at her lips with a napkin.  “Probably as long as the marchioness will have me.”

“Then you must be enjoying yourself.”  His gaze stole toward David and flitted back to her.  “But surely you are impatient to get back to your
betrothed
?  I hope you will pardon my asking, but I could not help but notice your ring.”

As on the first occasion she had been quizzed on the subject, she looked at her hand with something like surprise.  But her ensuing reply differed greatly from before.

“Oh, this?  This isn’t an engagement ring.  Not at all.  In fact, I’ve been meaning to get rid of it.  You’re not the first one to mistake its significance, and I don’t want people thinking I’m unavailable.”

David shot a stunned look at her, while the others chuckled, William, in particular, tickled by her remark.

“Sell it,” he recommended.  “Get a few shillings for the gold, and you can buy yourself some hair ribbons.”

“Not a bad idea.  But, actually, I have another plan in mind.”  To David’s shock, she removed the ring and dropped it into the pocket of her dress.  “For now, this will do.  I may as well get used to the feeling of a bare finger.”

“Don’t bother,” Lord Langston said.  “I have a notion your finger is not likely to remain bare for long.”

David stared unseeingly at the plate of beef a servant set before him.  If his lordship’s reference to an impending betrothal related to
him
, the man would find himself quite mistaken.  Leah had not taken her ring off when
he
asked about it.  Quite to the contrary, she had told him about her American suitor and implied the ring still held meaning for her.

He peered to the side to watch her stab a fork into her dinner.  Clearly, the trinket had lost significance now that William appeared to court her!  He had known she hid many things from him, but he had never before suspected her for an adventuress.  But how else could one explain a clever young woman falling for such superficial charisma, especially when she knew very well of the viscount’s failings.

He barely touched the rest of his meal and made no attempt to compete with William in his efforts to charm the party with prattle.  Easily carrying the conversation, William held the advantage over him in that field every bit as surely as in the quest for Leah’s hand--a pursuit completely closed to David.

With no right to woo her himself, he could only pray she came to her senses regarding his brother.  He even debated pulling her aside to warn her off the posturing boor.

But if he did so, he would betray his own unworthy feelings for her.  Hopefully, when the viscount returned to Solebury House and faced disgrace, she would realize how unequal a match William would make for her.  Then she could go on to find someone else for a husband--anyone but
him
.

By the time she found that other man, David planned to be far removed from her life . . . starting his own over in America.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Leah.  Leah, love, wake up.”

The whisper penetrated her subconscious mind, and she fluttered her eyes open, squinting against a spot of light in the darkness.  The light floated--a lantern, she realized, held by David at the door of the carriage.  Had he just called her “love,” or had she dreamed it?  Her drowsiness started to clear, and she remembered he’d behaved miserably toward her all day.  She must have dreamed the endearment.

“We are here,” he said, his tone tender.

She pushed up into a sitting position, kneading a kink in the back of her neck.  His mood must have improved while she’d slept.  He certainly hadn’t shown her much tenderness earlier.  Even when they stopped to eat lunch and dinner, he’d barely spoken to her.

“Come into the house with me, Leah.”  He held out his free hand.  “You will be far more comfortable in your chamber.”

“We’re at Solebury House?”  She stood up, bumping her head on the roof of the carriage.  “Ow!  What time is it?”

“Nearly midnight.”  He took her arm and helped her down onto the drive.  “A footman has already taken your portmanteau upstairs.  Allow me to escort you inside.”

“I slept a long time.”  A cool breeze blew her hair across her face but helped to clear her mind.  As the short walk across the gravel revived her, she remembered how his moodiness had ruined what could have been an enjoyable trip.  She turned to him and frowned.  “If I’d had a more pleasant companion, I might have traveled on the box and managed to stay awake.”

He didn’t defend himself, guiding her up the front steps in silence--and annoying even her more.

When they reached the door, she pulled her arm out of his hold and edged in front of him.  She walked inside, fully intending to stomp upstairs without a look back.

Then she saw the front hall.

He collided into her back, quickly grabbing her elbows to keep her from falling.  “Forgive me!”

She barely heard him, dizzy with disorientation.  Annoyance forgotten, she reached out for him, clenching his coat in her fists.

“Leah, are you unwell?”  He stepped up beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.  Then she felt his body stiffen, and she knew he’d seen the hall.  They both stared at the remnants of what used to be an elegant foyer.

The normally lavish corridor had been stripped of every last painting, every decorative sconce, every ornamental vase that had given the entrance grace.  Only a few empty pedestals and stands were left, along with the overhead chandelier, presumably too difficult to remove.

His arm dropped from her shoulders.  “What the devil . . .”

Down the hall, the marquess stepped out of an open door.  But instead of mirroring their shocked expressions, he smiled.  “David, Miss Cantrell, welcome back!  No need for distress, let me assure you.  We have not been burgled.  I have simply put our anti-ransacking plan into effect.”

“You what?”  David extricated himself from Leah’s clutch and  walked forward, gaping at the walls.

She still couldn’t move.  Despite Lord Solebury’s explanation, she was left with a sense of foreboding.  The hall looked too much like she remembered it from the twenty-first century.  For a moment, she’d actually thought she’d returned.

David reached his father’s side and shook his head.  “You must have been well occupied these past few days, my lord.  How many of your possessions have you placed in hiding?”

“Nearly everything of any value from the ground floor--family portraits, gilded frames, all that
chinoiserie
your late grandmother collected.”  Lord Solebury leaned back against the door frame, crossing one long leg over the other.  “The upstairs still needs to be cleared, but Phoebe already feels a great deal of relief.”

Relief?
  Leah took a step backwards, filled with quite the opposite feeling. 
They had made a mistake
.  Instinctively, she knew they had.  She sensed that the house wouldn’t recover from this plunder.  For some reason, the beautiful home would decline, eventually evolving into the shabby shell she had toured in the twenty-first century.

“What is it, Miss Cantrell?”  The marquess came to her and took her hand.  “You look as though you have seen a ghost.”

“I . . . nothing.  I just . . .”  What could she say?  That she was afraid the family had seen the last of their most treasured possessions?  She felt sure they had . . . unless she had been sent back in time to prevent the loss.  Could that be her real purpose here in the past?

“Get her a drink, David.”  Lord Solebury grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into his study.  Looking over his shoulder at his son, he added, “You will find a bottle of sherry in the cabinet by the clock.”

He led her to a large, leatherbound armchair, easing her down onto the cushions.

David rushed to her side and held a glass to her lips.  “Do you need smelling salts, Leah?  Shall I burn feathers?”

She shook her head, taking the glass from him.  As she sipped the sweet liqueur, she wondered whether to tell them what she feared.  Maybe with a word of warning, they could prevent some catastrophe about to happen.  But no, David would only take her intuition for another symptom of her “problem,” and his father would probably think she was hysterical.

“She must be weakened from travel,” Lord Solebury said above her head.  “Are you certain you are not faint, dear?”

“I’ll be fine in a minute.”  She took another gulp of the saccharin drink, probing her mind for answers.  What would happen to the family’s valuables?  She knew Napoleon’s troops would never reach them.  Would Lord William somehow get hold of the treasures and squander them, like he did with his quarterly allowance?  If so, could she possibly stop him?

“Shall I fetch a maid for you, Leah?” David asked, stooping beside the chair.  “I can call for Molly.”

“No.  Really.”  At the moment, Molly’s fussing would only make things worse.  “I’m all right.”

“I shouldn’t have pressed for making our journey in one day.”  His eyes gleamed with worry.  “You did so well on the way to London that I forgot your inclination for carriage sickness.”

“My wha--?”  She stopped, remembering the story she’d first told the family about her arrival at the spring.  Apparently, David chose to believe that fiction over the truth.  “I don’t have motion sickness.”

“There must be something I can do for you.”  He glanced around the room, fixing on the back wall, where a row of windows offered a view of the garden.  “How about some fresh air?”

Before she could answer, he had thrown open one of the windows.  A breeze swept inside, tinged with the fragrance of roses.  The scent reminded her of the late-night walk when he’d spoken French to her.

The urge to get outside overwhelmed her.

“I think fresh air might be just the thing for me.”  She braced herself on the arms of the chair, pushing herself up to stand.  “Why don’t we go for a walk?”

“Are you certain you ought to get up, Miss Cantrell?” the marquess asked, slipping a hand under her elbow.  “Perhaps you should rest awhile longer.”

“I need to get outside.”  The more she thought, the more she wanted out of the house.  The barren interior upset her.  “I love the grounds here at night.”

David studied her face for a moment, his expression unreadable.  He nodded.

“Son--” Lord Solebury started.

“No cautions are needed.”  David put his arm around her waist, his touch light--reserved.  “I shan’t take her farther than the rose garden.”

She didn’t really need his support, but she leaned into him, calmed by the solid warmth of his body.  She hoped once they got outside, he would agree to walk farther.

“Very well.”  The marquess rushed ahead and opened the study door wider for them.  “But don’t be long.  The night air may not be good for Miss Cantrell.  Moreover, I have something important I want to discuss with you.”

“William has agreed to come home,” David said, leading Leah past his father into the hall.  “You can expect him as soon as tomorrow, I should think.”

“Indeed?”  Lord Solebury sounded surprised.  He moved ahead of them again and unlocked the front door.  “I must say I am impressed with your efforts.  But I have another matter I want to discuss with you in private as soon as possible--news I hope will please you.”

David stopped at the door and gave him a long look but didn’t ask about his news.  “We shan’t be long.  I am certain Miss Cantrell will wish to retire shortly.”

She wondered if he really thought she would or only said so to try to plant the idea in her head.  The thought of being holed up in her room, probably not able to sleep after that long nap, didn’t appeal to her one bit.  But she kept her thoughts to herself.  Maybe once she had David walking, she could coax him into staying out.  The garden had several stone and wooden benches where they could stop and enjoy the evening . . . if only he didn’t slip back into one of his moods.

He led her onto the portico and down the steps, hesitating at the bottom to give her a worried look.  By this time, she didn’t feel as anxious as she had, but she paused to gulp in the breeze.