Laura Matthews (7 page)

Alvescot hastened to his feet and held her chair for her, murmuring, “I’m sure that would be best, Mrs. Damery.”

If he weren’t trying so hard to be impartial, Vanessa thought, I’d be annoyed with his underlying assumption that I’m out of my mind. She remembered how he’d behaved when she and Frederick were married—polite but withdrawn. Aloof. That was what she’d thought him at the time, but Frederick had insisted that it wasn’t so. What was it he’d said? Something about Alvescot being reserved but not haughty.

Well, perhaps not with his friends, Vanessa decided, but a stranger could certainly get that impression. She had yet to see him smile anything other than a polite curving of his lips. And, apologies aside, he wasn’t precisely accommodating in his attitude toward her, which she assumed might well be his attitude toward the whole female sex. Not that he appeared taken with the menfolk at Cutsdean, either. He seemed, over all, to have decided that everyone residing there was lacking in intelligence and/or good breeding. Of course, with the modest exception of herself and her children, she wasn’t sure she didn’t agree with him, but she would never be so uncivil as to show it.

But he was not uncivil as they walked to the estate office, located in a building not far from the main structure, which had alternately gone through stages of being a barn, a chapel, and a gothic ruin, if local tradition was to be believed. Alvescot reminisced about its use when he was a boy.

“At the time, no one occupied it. My uncle occasionally spoke of tearing it down, but Frederick always begged him not to because to us it was the perfect spot for a rainy afternoon. Sometimes it was a ship and we were sailors battling the elements; sometimes it was a haunted house and we were searching for the secret of the ghosts who walked there. I think it may have been used as a trysting place by the servants because we found some unnerving items of apparel occasionally.” For the first time his eyes really lit with amusement, and he grinned at her. “That sort of thing always fascinated us as boys.”

“I can imagine,” she murmured, not quite meeting his gaze, but pressing her lips together to keep them from twitching. “They use the Orangery now.”

He might have been tempted to ask her how she knew, but they were at Paul Burford’s office and she tapped lightly on the door. They were bid by a deep male voice to enter and Alvescot opened the door, allowing her to precede him into a large room with a gallery at one end supported by fluted columns. On one side of the room were traceried, stained-glass windows, but the rest of the glazing was perfectly standard. A young man rose from behind a commodious desk and approached them with a warm smile.

“Lord Alvescot, this is Paul Burford.” Vanessa watched as the two men quickly sized each other up, with Alvescot still impassive but offering his hand. She hadn’t realized before how much difference there was in their ages. Alvescot had a good six years on the other man and was a complete contrast in every way. Burford had a shock of blond hair and merry blue eyes, standing only an inch taller than Vanessa, while Alvescot rose substantially above both of them. The earl’s build was more substantial, too, with his broad shoulders and muscular thighs. Burford had the kind of wiry physique one expected in a smaller, active man, but Vanessa was inclined to believe that Alvescot, for all his height, was probably superbly athletic as well.

Vanessa turned to the earl to say, “I’ll leave the two of you together, unless there’s anything further you need of me. Paul understands that you’re co-trustee and have the responsibility of looking into every facet of the estate’s management and expenses. Why don’t you both join us for luncheon today?”

When the two men agreed, and showed no inclination to ask anything further of her, Vanessa left them, walking quickly back to the house, where she headed directly for the children’s floor.

Chapter Five

The nursemaid, Lucy, already had the two children in the big schoolroom. Not that either of them were old enough for much in the way of lessons, but the room served just as well as a play area, where their toys could be stored in the cupboards and brought out as needed. For a long time John’s favorite had been the toy soldiers, but Vanessa had slowly introduced pieces for a replica of a village and farm, with storefronts and tiny animals, a carriage and farm equipment. The soldiers were still available, though he played with them less frequently now. But Vanessa wasn’t surprised, somehow, to find him lining up his troops that morning.

John turned to greet her with a solemn face. “That man, Alvy-something, said Papa was a very brave man.”

“Yes, he was,” Vanessa agreed. “I didn’t know you’d spoken with Lord Alvescot, John. He’s your godfather, and your father’s cousin.”

“I know. He told me.” The little boy accidentally knocked over one of the soldiers on horseback and quickly set it right again. “I’m going to show him how I ride today, and tomorrow I’m going to take him to see the canal where it goes into the tunnel.”

Vanessa wanted to caution him that Lord Alvescot would be busy that day with Paul Burford, since she didn’t want her son to be disappointed, but she allowed herself to be distracted by Catherine, who came tumbling toward her with a windmill pull toy. The toy clattered across the floor as Catherine laughed and ran in her own bouncing fashion, tumbling into Vanessa’s waiting arms.

“How’s my big girl?” Vanessa asked. “Did you meet Lord Alvescot, too?” She really didn’t expect a coherent answer from the child, but her eyes traveled over Catherine’s head to where Lucy was setting their breakfast dishes on a tray.

“He was in the garden yesterday afternoon,” Lucy explained. “We all met him, so’s to speak. Then John took him to see the pony.”

“Did he like Rollo, John?”

“Oh, yes. He thought Rollo was famous! We’re going to take a basket of food with us when we go to the canal.” He looked momentarily uncertain. “If that’s all right.”

“Of course.” What was this? Vanessa wondered with amusement. John asking permission? Surely that was something new. But she shrugged off the possible implications, and there was no further discussion of the earl as she sat and played with the children for the next hour.

During that time two messages were brought to her by the servants: that Mabel wished to see her and that Edward hoped she would ride with him. The intrusion on her time with the children was exasperating, since both of them knew her habit of spending a while on the nursery floor after breakfast. She instructed the footman to tell Mabel she would see her later and to tell Edward that she had no idea when she would be riding that day. When she was perfectly ready, she left the children in Lucy’s care and went to face the demands of the rest of her household.

It was menus that concerned Mabel, of course. Vanessa reluctantly agreed to speak with Cook about the one Mabel had handed her the previous day, mentally chopping it in half to serve for two evening meals rather than one. When she was returning from this errand, Edward waylaid her in the hall.

“Ah, you look charming this morning, Vanessa. Have you been with the children?”

“Yes, Edward, as I am every morning.”

He ignored her impatient tone and smiled broadly. “They need a man about the place, my dear. Someone for them to look up to.”

Vanessa had difficulty restraining a sarcastic retort, and said nothing.

Deciding it was not the time to press the matter, Edward changed the subject. “Shall we ride now? The weather’s perfect and later it may be too hot.”

“I have a great deal to do this morning. Edward. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m afraid.”

“You should make the time for yourself, my dear lady. Surely nothing is so urgent it can’t wait for an hour or two.”

His expectant face with its engaging grin only served to set up her back. Could he possibly, after all this time, believe his company gave her the least bit of pleasure? The man had a hide as thick as a door! She wished he’d take his flirtatious blue eyes and his curly blond hair and disappear from her life. Fortunately, the housekeeper bustled into the hall as they spoke and Vanessa turned to her. “Mrs. Howden, I need to discuss several matters with you. Excuse me, Edward.”

The flash of irritation in his eyes did not escape her as she joined the older woman, but it merely served to reinforce her opinion of his hypocrisy. His great show of affection for her was no more than a ploy to marry her for his advantage. And what money he thought he could get his hands on, she hardly knew. Her jointure was more than sufficient for her needs, but would hardly keep him in style. There was no possibility of his not understanding the trust set up for her son and daughter, so wherein did he think the great bonanza lay? It was just one more of those unanswerable questions Vanessa was constantly forced to set aside as she went about her daily duties, one of the puzzles she occasionally lay awake at night, lonely, considering until she fell into an exhausted sleep.

Even the children could hardly make up for the lack of congenial adult company at Cutsdean. Vanessa couldn’t spend the whole day with them, considering the demands of so large a household, and she had to constantly prevent her husband’s relations from interfering with the children’s rearing: Mrs. Damery with her acid comments on their indulgence, the captain’s military commands, Mabel’s syrupy cooing at them, Edward’s two-faced attention. Really, it was more than enough to deal with.

And now there was Alvescot as well. Did he realize he’d made a promise to little John which the boy expected him to keep? Adults who weren’t familiar with children frequently didn’t understand how literally their words were taken and Vanessa felt sure Alvescot wasn’t familiar with children. Still, she had no intention of broaching the matter to him when the family gathered for luncheon. His frankness of the previous day had been slightly unnerving for her, despite her attempts to laugh it off.

Vanessa wasn’t comfortable categorizing him with the eccentrics in her household, and consequently could not take his presence with the same indifference. Alvescot had, after all, a great deal of power over her situation, and that of her son and daughter, a power they shared equally under the terms of Frederick’s will, but a power nonetheless.

With some expectation that the earl and Paul Burford would have come to a complete understanding of each other during the morning hours, Vanessa was disturbed when they joined the party in the Saloon looking as wary of each other as they had when she introduced them earlier. Not that she had expected them to arrive with mutually glowing reports of their interaction, or slapping one another on the back, but she had hoped for more than the silent neutrality between them.

Paul Burford was an outgoing young man, full of enthusiasm, and Vanessa had been sure he would charm the earl in a matter of minutes. But Alvescot appeared thoroughly unmoved by the morning’s experience, standing slightly apart from the others and observing them with a carefully schooled countenance.

Vanessa seldom invited Burford to join them for a meal because her husband’s relations, though poverty-stricken themselves for the most part, looked on the estate manager as beneath their notice. The fact that he was as well-born as any of them did not, to their minds, make up for his having lowered himself to the status of an employee. Edward especially, she had noted, was insufferable to him, rather than taking a hint from Burford’s sensible course of action. Ordinarily, Vanessa would have gone to speak with him, but there was the earl to accommodate today as well, and she cast a speaking glance at Louisa, who, rather surprisingly, drifted over to where Burford stood alone.

Relieved, Vanessa approached Alvescot. “Did you spend the entire morning in the estate office, Lord Alvescot, or have you had an opportunity to ride about the estate?”

“There wasn’t time for an inspection if we were going to join the rest of you for luncheon, Mrs. Damery. We would merely have had to cut short to be back here in time.”

Determined not to be intimidated by his veiled criticism, she nodded. “True. Well, no doubt you’ll have ample opportunity this afternoon to see anything you wish. Has Paul explained his innovations to you?”

Alvescot remained impassive, saying dryly, “Most of them, I daresay. If he’s to be believed, the estate was in deplorable condition when he took over. I wouldn’t have thought a place could deteriorate so badly in a year.’’

“We’re not talking about a year.” Vanessa kept her tone as level as possible, not allowing him to bait her. “You should be as aware as anyone, Lord Alvescot, that Frederick hadn’t spent much time on the estate for five years before his death. His estate manager was older and had grown lazy. I pensioned him off almost two years ago, though he hadn’t actually reached an age where it should have been necessary.”

His hazel eyes studied her enigmatically. “That must have been difficult for you.”

“It was,” she admitted, not meeting his gaze. “He’d been here for a long time, much longer than I. But it had to be done.”

“Yes. Sensibility has no part in the running of an estate. I’m glad you recognize that, Mrs. Damery.”

There was an underlying warning in his words and she glanced up at him sharply. “You’re still convinced that Paul is a sentimental choice?” she asked, incredulous. “Haven’t you been paying attention to him? Every project is thoroughly thought out, every expense documented. How can you be so skeptical?”

“It’s not difficult, Mrs. Damery. I’ve seen all the tricks for hiding illegitimate expenses among the real ones, all the finagling that goes into padding worthwhile projects with unnecessary extras, all the possibilities for bribes in the placing of orders and contracts.”

“Paul isn’t like that.”

Alvescot shrugged. “You may be right.” His voice held no conviction and Vanessa could feel a cold frustration building in her when he continued. “But you have to consider the possibilities, Mrs. Damery. He’s a young man without resources of his own, attempting to build up his estate. You told me so yourself. It would be so easy to divert a little money to it here and there, you know. An account book cannot prove to me that the seed which was purchased was actually sown at Cutsdean. It could just as easily have been planted elsewhere.”