Grenville 02 - Lord John's Dilemma (8 page)

I am returning to London, where I shall remain through the Little Season. You may correspond with me at Manchester House.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Faithfully,

Robert Southeby, Lord Manchester.

Delia sniffed at the word
faithfully.
The only thing Lord Manchester was faithful to was the gaming table. She would rather remain a governess the rest of her days than marry such a man as he. It was her money he wanted. Oh, and an heir.

It was rumored he went through mistresses almost as fast as he went through money. She would
not
be tied to such a man. As her legal guardian, her uncle had the power to withhold funds from her until her marriage, but she had managed to elude his grasp.

If only I can hold on to this position.

Things went smoothly until Saturday, when a message received that morning threw Miss Lindsay into a storm of tears and Lady Lindsay into a terrifying mood. She stalked the house, finding fault with everyone.

“Whatever is the matter, Mama?” asked Mariah when she had been sent to change her frock for the third time.

“Lord John is indisposed. He will not be taking Marianne to the fête in his curricle after all. She is most distressed.”

Delia, who sat in the corner of the morning room mending a petticoat, was vastly surprised by this news. Her first concern, however, was not for Marianne, but for Major Lambeth. It must be a fearful indisposition indeed for him to have broken his engagement that day. Was it a recurrence of the problem with his arm? Or had he perhaps fallen from Odysseus while riding? Frustration gnawed at her. She wished there was some way of finding out what was amiss.

She was very glad when the Lindsays finally left in their fine carriage for the fête. A day to spend completely at her own disposal was rare, indeed.

Delia debated the idea of writing to Permelia, but decided that could be done any evening. It was another fine day, and she itched to get out her watercolors.

It took two trips, but she managed to get the schoolroom easel and her paint box out onto the terrace. Then she left them and went in search of a new view. Walking south, she soon forgot her purpose in the novelty of taking a walk completely on her own. She wandered through a pasture, climbed over a stile into a small wood, and came out into a field of wild yellow daisies. The cheerful flowers, together with her unaccustomed freedom, touched her fancy and she forgot herself completely, waltzing through the field, humming a popular tune.

Delia’s heart soared. Growing dizzy, she fell to the ground on her back, laughing. She studied the sky. In bygone days, she and her brother had done this—twirling until they were dizzy and then calling out the names of the pictures they saw in the clouds. She had not felt such unrestrained joy since his death. For months, there had been nothing but black despair. She had only pulled herself out of it when dealing with her uncle’s machinations made action a necessity.

Delia heard footsteps. Sitting up, she put her hand to her hair, which had fallen out of its coil on top of her head. Before she could even stand, a shadow loomed over her.

“Would you like a partner for your waltz?” asked Major Lambeth.

She said the first thing that came into her head. “I thought you were indisposed. I had been imagining all sorts of awful things!”

Grimacing, he sat down on the ground next to her, plucked a daisy, and began denuding it of petals. “I was not fit for Miss Lindsay’s company this morning.”

Delia frowned and plucked a daisy of her own. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “You suffer from melancholia, do you not?”

His head came up and he looked at her with raised brows. “However did you know that?”

“The timbre of your voice. The sadness in your eyes. My father suffered from it.”

What was she thinking of, speaking out so frankly?

He smiled at her. “Seeing you dancing in a field of daisies has sent it scurrying away for the moment.”

Vastly heartened by this response, she smiled back. “I am glad. Thank you for not taking offense at my impertinence. ”

An awkward silence descended.

“It was downright mean of the Lindsays not to take you to the fête,” he said.

“Perhaps. But I am nigh delirious with happiness at having a day on my own.”

“Hence the dance.”

“Yes. I am meant to be water coloring, but I came looking for a view. Did I stray onto your estate?”

“It does not signify,” he said. “If you feel like walking a bit more, I can show you our most famous view.”

She stood. “I should like that very much.”

They began to walk through the field, continuing south.

Noting the loveliness on all sides of her, she could not bear to think of him struggling with such dark thoughts on such a glorious day. “If you do not mind my asking, have you always suffered from melancholia, or is it to do with the war?”

“I was a very sunny-natured child,” he said. “I am hoping that living in these pastoral surroundings without the din of guns will restore me to myself.”

“I hope so, too,” she said.

He drew her hand through his arm as they walked, watching out for places that might cause her to stumble. “I must go up to London for a few days, however.”

“You have business there?”

“In a manner of speaking.” He paused. “I think I should like to tell you about it. Some other officers in my unit and I are founding a charitable institution to provide decent housing for the foot soldiers in our regiment.”

“That is a marvelous idea,” Delia said, grinning. “That should help alleviate some of your melancholy, do you not think so?”

“I sincerely hope it will.”

They had climbed a small rise and as they reached the top, Delia saw an enchanting valley laid out before her like a quilt with patches of land sown with different crops. Through the whole scene ran a river. In the distance grew a thick wood.

“This is your family estate?” Delia asked.

“Yes. When I get back from London, I shall commence my new calling—estate manager.”

“But that is splendid!” she said.

“You think so?” he asked, chuckling.

“I do! It is the very thing to soothe your spirits.” She looked into his smiling eyes and the soft expression there nearly took her breath away.

She licked her lips. “Does Miss Lindsay know that you intend to settle in the country?”

He looked away from her and back at the valley. “I am hoping I can change her mind about living in London. Do you think I will be successful?”

It was difficult to switch topics from those that had brought them close to those that must divide them. She said, “From what I understand, you are her hero. She has been in love with you since she was twelve years old. I imagine she will be amenable to whatever you like.”

“I hope that will be the case,” he said.

Delia studied his profile. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Forgive me,” she said. “This has been a very unconventional conversation. I blame it on the daisies and the fine weather.”

“God bless the daisies,” he said, turning to look at her again. This time, his face was sober and she feared lest he was descending back into his black mood. He put a hand up to her chin, tilting her face upward with his fingers. For a moment, they looked at one another, and she felt the weight of words unspoken. Though she had no idea what those words might be, they seemed to hang in the air.

He dropped his hand. “We should get back,” he said and started down the hill. Her heart thumped like a bass drum.

What was that all about?

Once they reached the daisy field, he said, “I know I can rely on your discretion. You will not mention to the Lindsays that you have seen me?”

“Of course I will not.” She could not resist plucking a daisy and weaving it through the first buttonhole on his jacket. “I pray you will soon be restored to good spirits.”

He lifted his hat. “Thank you, Miss Haverley. Enjoy your day.” Then he was gone.

What imp had gotten into her? She had been very forward about his melancholia. And about Miss Lindsay! Not to mention the daisy in his buttonhole.

But he had been forthcoming. Until he had shut her out. No doubt he thought her the worst-mannered chit he had ever met.

But there had been that moment. If she had not known it to be impossible, Delia thought he might have been on the point of kissing her!

{ 9 }

I
almost kissed the woman! And what possessed me to tell her about my project?

John castigated himself all the way back to the manor. She was a very appealing little thing. Fancy her knowing he suffered from melancholia! He could not believe she had been bold enough to mention it. On reflection, the entire conversation had taken place as though they had known each other intimately for years.

Feeling unusually frustrated, he picked up a stick, stripping the bark from it as he walked.

I wish I had kissed her!

Despite her somewhat forward nature, he was certain she was respectable. He expected to hear from Tompkins any day about her family in Kent.

As though he had wished it, there was a letter waiting for him when he returned.

Dear Lambeth,

I was happy and rather surprised to receive your letter. Yes, I do remember the plan we discussed regarding the foot soldiers in the Regiment. I would be most happy to meet you in London on the twentieth of this month to discuss it.

Jolly good news about your new position as estate agent for your brother. I think that should suit you down to the ground. My own estate is due some major repairs. Don’t know where the money is to come from.

I am not acquainted with any family called Haverley in Kent. I look forward to hearing more about this mystery upon seeing you in London.

Yours Sincerely,

Lawrence Tompkins

Hmm. No Haverley family in Kent? He puzzled over the information. He was reluctant to think badly of the governess, but this information was troubling. John had no doubt the woman was of gentle birth. She rode to hounds, her brother had been an officer on the Peninsula, and she was well-spoken. But Tompkins would know of all such families in Kent. He had lived there all his life.

Miss Haverley had proved that day to be exceptionally open in her speech. Why would she lie about her origins? Why would she hire herself out as a governess when she had a fortune in jewels, if Leticia were to be believed?

Felicity had fitted out the bedroom next to his as a private sitting room, where he now retired to read the rest of his correspondence. Another of his friends, Lieutenant Stowell, wrote that he would also be able to meet them in London. So, that was settled.

Thanks in part to the interval with Miss Haverley, his melancholia had cleared a bit. The next project to hand was to begin going through the accounts for the Grenville estate. As he opened the first ledger, his sister entered the room. She had not accompanied the others to the fête.

“Good morning, Anabella,” he said, rising from his desk and trying not to show his irritation. His sister did not have his sympathy in her situation. Her husband was a very decent chap.

“I understand you are traveling to London next week.”

“I am.”

“Will you be calling on Alan?”

“I thought we might have dinner at the club as long as I am there. I have not seen him since my last leave.”

Anabella twisted the purple ribbons which descended from the bow tied beneath the bosom of her lavender gown. “I suppose I must tell you why I am here without him.”

“Felicity says you have left him.”

Her dark eyes registered pain. “Yes. It became impossible for me to stay. He has another woman, and I will not put up with it.”

John’s mind reeled at this information. Had he done Anabella an injustice? “Alan? Another woman? I do not believe it for a moment, Anabella. Even if he did not love you, he is simply
not
the type.”

Anabella’s eyes filled with tears. “Sybil has seen them together. And my other friend Anne, also. Though
she
is not precisely my friend.”

“And where did this sighting occur?” he asked.

“In Harley Street.” His sister sniffed into her handkerchief.

“You mean, where he has his practice?”

“Yes. They were scurrying along, and she was attached to his arm. According to Sybil, she was very animated. Anne remarked—she is a great gossip—that the woman was exceptionally beautiful, but not a member of the
ton.
Neither of them recognized her.
”

“Hmm.” John cast about for an innocent explanation, but one did not come to mind. Of course, most women of the
ton
would turn a blind eye to such a situation, but not his sister. He did not blame her, truth be known. And her tears upset him. “I am very surprised, Anabella. Should you like me to investigate?”

“That would be very good of you, John. I do not imagine Alan himself will bring up the subject.”

“No, I do not imagine he will. Unless there is an innocent explanation, that is.”

She seated herself, wiped her eyes, and forced a smile. John resumed the chair behind his desk.

“Now, I should like you to tell me about Miss Lindsay. Why did you not take her to the fête this morning?”

The question caused him to frown fiercely. “I was not feeling the thing, Anabella. I would rather not discuss it.”

“But you have a
tendre
for her? You wish to marry her?”

He turned his head and made a pretense of examining his quill. The idea of having tender feelings for Marianne Lindsay had never come into play. “I do not know whether my feelings could be called a
tendre,
but I like her well enough. I have been considering marriage to her since my last leave. I would like to start a family here in the country.”

“Why Miss Lindsay, if you have no special feelings for her?”

“Not everyone wants to marry a second son with no income,” he remarked. “And I should like to be close to Alex and Felicity. Do you have thoughts on the subject?”

“Well, she has always had a schoolgirl crush on you, John.” Anabella smiled at him. “Perhaps that is a good enough foundation to begin a marriage. Although I must say, I’ve never like Lady Lindsay above half.”