How to Wed an Earl (9 page)

“Well, if you plan to be that way about it — ”

“I do.”

“Suit yourself.” She looked around the village square before grinning up at him as an idea took hold. “I just remembered there were some other things we needed to get at the grocer’s.”

He laughed, startling passersby and drawing attention to them. “You are not going to make me regret my offer, nymph.”

“Hah!” she challenged. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

She had to admit that as great as it was to be in charge of the household, it was nice to have someone share the burden of the responsibility. It was if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders. It had been a long time since she was able to walk into a shop without worrying about how much deeper in debt they would be by the time she walked out of there.

She enjoyed showing him around the village, pointing out the places she and Mari played as children and the tarn where the twins learned to fish. She thought he would find their childhood haunts too rustic, but he even pointed out a spot in the tarn where he thought the twins might have caught bigger fish. He was being very accommodating, and he deserved more than the wary stares the villagers had been giving him since they started their promenade.

Another neighbor passed them by in the village green without pausing to talk, and Penelope had had enough. “Mr. and Mrs. Neville, how nice to see you this fine afternoon!” she called out just as the elderly couple edged away.

Mrs. Neville halted in her tracks and faced Penelope with a nervous smile. “Good afternoon, Miss Maitland. I almost didn’t see you there. How is your family?” The orange plumes in the lady’s bonnet wobbled as she gave her husband a pointed look. “Orson, weren’t you telling me how we needed to go home to make sure everything is in readiness for your cousin’s visit?”

Mr. Neville looked confused. “My cousin isn’t visiting until next month.” He turned to Penelope. “You must tell Dr. Walker the tonic he prescribed for my cough worked wonders. And who is this fine young man with you, Miss Maitland?”

She gave her neighbor a grateful smile and handled the introductions. She’d always liked the henpecked Mr. Neville more than his wife. Lucas and Penelope promised to be at the county fair later in the week, and as the older couple walked away, she noticed Mrs. Neville whispering to her husband while giving the earl a furtive glance. One quick look at Lucas and she knew he saw it, too.

“Mrs. Neville is a rumormonger,” she stated. “Now that she has seen us, it will only be a matter of time before the creditors are reassured. They might even decide to extend the time they’ve given us to pay yet again.”

Lucas’s features could have been carved in stone. “I would wager it’s not the only gossip she is spreading,” he muttered under his breath.

“Well, it would help if you smiled at people once in a while,” she suggested.

Lucas turned to her so suddenly she would have surely been knocked over had he not reached out to steady her.

She saw the frown on his face and mimicked it. “See? Would anyone want to be introduced to me if I were looking at them like this?” She frowned harder.

“Are you teasing me, nymph?”

She nodded. “You have to relax a little. For heaven’s sake, you are in the Lake District. One would think that would be enough to put a smile on your face.”

Humor glinted in his dark eyes. “I have never ‘wandered lonely as a cloud.’”

The reference to Wordsworth gave her pause. A walk in the Lakes had famously inspired that poem. Penelope had known Lucas was well read, but until that moment, she would never have thought he was the kind of man to quote romantic poetry.

“Ah,” she said softly, “Therein lies the difference between us. For ‘my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils.’”

He chuckled. “What would fill my heart with pleasure is a respectful wife.”

She had to laugh at that one. “You’re getting impatient, aren’t you? Why don’t you escort me home so I can arrange to have your bedchamber readied? You should be able to move in first thing tomorrow.”

“Will you be waiting in the bedchamber to welcome me?”

Her eyes widened at his boldness, unsure of what to say. Should she reprimand him? He probably wanted her to do so. Was that why he said it? Would that be flirting?

His gaze dropped to her lips for a few seconds before he looked away after shaking his head, as if to clear it.

Flustered, Penelope retreated behind the veil of humor. “You’ve made me wait for you for two decades, Lucas. I don’t think you’re in any position to demand where I do the waiting.”

He chuckled. “Very well, nymph, let me take you home.”

They walked in companionable silence, greeting villagers who passed them by. Neither of them commented on the subtle change in their relationship as Lucas possessively held her hand, caressing her palm with his gloved finger.

When they reached Highfield Manor, he kissed her hand lingeringly before striding away. She silently watched him leave, pressing the hand he’d kissed to her cheek.

Penelope faced her family’s creditors three days after Lucas moved into Highfield Manor. She had been at the barn feeding Nelson and the chickens when Gertie appeared to tell her the news.

“They want to see ye, miss,” Gertie said, wringing her apron. “I put them in the library, since Lord Ravenstone now uses yer father’s study for his business during the day.” Gertie leaned closer. “I hope ye don’t mind, Miss Penelope, but I gave them some of the jam tartlets Miss Mari brought over for ye to taste this morning.”

The first thing she felt was outrage that the creditors were enjoying Mari’s jam tartlets before she’d had a chance to do so herself, and then panic set in. “What did they look like, Gertie?”

The question clearly perplexed the maidservant. Her wrinkled face scrunched up until Penelope could barely see her eyes. “They looked same as always. Both of them wearing fancy clothes. Mr. Stickford is still fat, and Mr. Henson still has brown hair — ”

“I meant,” she interrupted, careful not to tread on the clucking hens around her feet as she took her own apron off and started walking to the house. “Did they look happy or serious or — ”

“Oh,” Gertie’s face cleared as she followed Penelope back to the house. “Well, as to that … they looked impatient.”

Penelope halted in her tracks. “Impatient?”

“Aye,” Gertie averred. “I was jest tryin’ to delay them, so they could talk to the lord earl himself, what with his lordship out somewhere with Master Colin, but they di’n’t appreciate my story about the gourd that grew into a rude and amusing shape.”

Penelope almost laughed. “Oh, Gertie. You’re a treasure.”

“Aye, I’m a treasure all right. But I doubt anyone other than yerself would hire a clumsy old lady like me. If we lose this house, I’ve nowhere to go, miss. I don’t have any family or nothin’.”

“We are not going to lose Highfield Manor,” she declared as they reached the house, although her usually strong nerves were, indeed, rattled by the creditors’ appearance. “How do I look?”

Gertie scrutinized her features for a long minute. “Same as always, I would say. Still short, with brown hair and — ”

“Never mind,” she said, reaching for the library door. “Wish me luck.”

“Oh, I do, Miss Penelope. I do.”

Mr. Stickford and Mr. Henson rose from the settee as she walked into the library.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said with as much poise as she could muster. “I trust you enjoyed the jam tartlets? My good friend made those especially for me.”

“Miss Maitland,” Mr. Stickford murmured. “You seem to be doing well.”

“Does that surprise you?” she asked while she took a seat on the wingback chair by the fire. Mr. Stickford was not so bad, really; it was Mr. Henson who made her nervous.

“To be truthful, it does,” Mr. Stickford replied as he sat back down on the settee with Mr. Henson.

“What Mr. Stickford is trying to say, Miss Maitland, is that we’ve heard Raving Ravenstone is in the village.” Mr. Henson gave her a direct stare. “Surely you know your fiancé has a, shall we say, unsavory reputation?”

She stiffened. “No one is to call my fiancé that horrid name in my presence. Is that understood, Mr. Henson?”

Mr. Henson’s brows rose, making him look like a startled rat. “We are only trying to make sure our bargain is still in place. Now that the earl is here, we are assuming your family no longer needs an extension.”

Her stomach reeled with dread. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, Miss Maitland, we have been extremely patient thus far, and our patience is at an end.”

“Well, this is unexpected.”

“No doubt,” Mr. Henson agreed. “But then so is the fact that we are dealing with you instead of your stepfather or your fiancé. Surely this is a man’s business, and I’ve had enough of your delaying payment.” Mr. Henson sneered at her. “Does Lord Ravenstone even know about the dire situation your family is in?”

She bristled. “Of course he does. He’s my fiancé.”

“Then why isn’t he here to talk to us?”

“He isn’t here,” she replied, her voice crisp as a dawn breeze, “because this is a matter for my family to settle. Since my stepfather and mother are away, I am acting in their stead.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to deal with me, whether you like it or not, Mr. Henson.”

Mr. Henson gave her a look of distaste. “Such atrocious manners. No wonder your uncle threw you out of Maitland Hall.”

She let that insult pass. “Is there any way we could talk of an extension? I promise you we’ll be able to come up with the money.”

Mr. Henson’s greedy eyes gleamed. “There is one way I can give you an extension.” He gave her a scathing look. “There’s nothing you can offer I would want, but your pretty little sister might be able to sway me.”

“You will stay away from my sister, Mr. Henson.”

Mr. Henson blinked. “I fail to see why you are being so missish. My proposal is no different from the Smithfield bargain you have with Ravenstone.” The sly smile on his gaunt features transformed his face from that of a startled rat to a disgusting lizard. “It’s definitely a far better deal than what your little Sarah will have if you don’t pay up. She’ll end up selling her services on the streets before the year ends.”

“Get out,” Penelope said quietly. She had known Mr. Henson was reprehensible but until now, she didn’t actually think he was a monster. She recalled that Mr. Henson was rumored to have exotic appetites, and it had landed him on the dueling field more than once. Since he was alive and well, sitting in her library, she could only assume he’d gotten away with his sins. How could Grandfather have stomached dealing with this man?

“Out?” Mr. Henson was incredulous. “This is to be my house soon. There is no way your family can make the payment on time.”

“Your house?” she asked. “Aren’t you forgetting Mr. Stickford?”

“He owed me money, and I’ve agreed to take his share of the profits from your grandfather’s loan as payment.”

Penelope stood. “It is not your house yet, Mr. Henson. Now, leave. You can come back when you feel more polite.”

Mr. Henson slapped his hat on his head. “I’m leaving. But I will be back in two days, and I expect payment then.” He walked out of the room. Mr. Stickford gave her a helpless look before silently following.

As soon as the door closed behind them, she collapsed on the wingback chair. Her mind reeled as she tried to come up with solutions and delaying tactics, but none seemed to be forthcoming.

Her little scheme hadn’t worked. She had let everyone down, and they were on the verge of being homeless. Her family, Gertie and the rest of the servants, Nelson and the animals in the barn — all of them trusted her, and she had failed them.

Her gaze fell on the suit of armor adorning a corner in the library.

She had to find Lucas.

• • •

A shot rang out through the valley, agitating the birds pecking peacefully on the ground.

“Nice shot, Ravenstone!” Colin remarked with an admiring smile.

Lucas lowered his pistol. “I aim to please,” he quipped. “It’s your turn. Remember what I told you: use the bump at the end of the barrel as a guide to the target.”

At Colin’s nod, he continued with his instructions. “Now, lift the pistol until the target is sitting on top of the bump.”

As the lad lifted the pistol, he added, “Slow and steady, Colin. I don’t want you accidentally blowing your head off.” He watched Colin adjust his aim. Lucas had been tutoring Penelope’s brother in the library for most of the three days since he moved into Highfield Manor. Today, however, the lad seemed as frustrated as Lucas was of being indoors, so he decided to take Colin outside for some target practice.

“It’s really kind of you to teach me how to shoot. When the boys in the village find out, maybe they’ll let me join their hunting parties.”

He glanced at the boy. “It was nothing. You’re the man of the house while your father is at work, so you have to know how to protect your women.”

“I would much rather spend time outside the house,” Colin muttered. “Polly and Sarah are good fun, but all my friends are at school.” He shrugged. “Someday, I’ll be able to go back.”

Lucas had been only a year older than Colin when Father had killed himself and he’d had to stop going to school to take over the estate. It had taken a few years before he was able to go to university. He realized Colin must be as lonely as Lucas had been at that age, with tons of responsibility and no one to talk to. Colin needed to learn to be a man, and no one was there to show him how.

In the beginning, Lucas thought of tutoring the boy as merely a way to pass the time while he rusticated in the country, but it had soon become clear his future brother-in-law had a sharp mind.

It was a shame Colin had to quit school
, Lucas thought as he began reloading his pistol.

Once he and Penelope were married, he’d make certain the boy got the proper education he deserved. He told himself it was only practical to make sure his future wife’s family was educated decently. They were to be associated with his family, after all. It was, therefore, imperative they have a status of living that was beyond reproach. But it was impossible to remain unmoved when every day Lucas saw how the family pulled together to make ends meet.