Laura Matthews (8 page)

“And how could he possibly prove to you that it wasn’t? You’re quite wrong, Lord Alvescot. I’ve known Paul for five years, and he’s an exceptionally honorable man.”

“I’d like to respect your judgment, Mrs. Damery, and to accept it without question.” His gaze moved over the assembled members of her household, coolly taking in a smirking Edward and a stiff, self-righteous Captain Lawrence before he returned his gaze to her. “But I can’t. I have a duty as co-trustee to take an unprejudiced look at the situation.”

“But you
are
prejudiced,” she insisted,
“against
Paul Burford.”

“I wouldn’t say that. My curiosity is aroused by the large expenses and by what you’ve told me of his predicament. You have to admit that your friendship may have blinded you to the real circumstances.”

“I wouldn’t admit anything of the sort,” she snapped.

“Then you’re . . .”

“A fool,” she finished for him when he stopped himself. “Yes, you’ve mentioned that before.”

“That was inexcusable of me. All I meant at the time was that you appeared rather foolhardy to have taken on so many guests.” As though he couldn’t restrain himself, he added. “And such unpalatable ones.”

“The only thing we disagree on there is the matter of obligation, Lord Alvescot. It isn’t a case of sensibility.” Vanessa turned her gaze to where Louisa stood chatting with Paul Burford. “I want you to promise me you won’t take any action about Paul without first discussing it with me. No, more than that. I want you to make some effort not to convey your suspicions to him.”

“I’m hardly likely to do that.”

Vanessa frowned at him. “You don’t understand, Lord Alvescot. Your natural demeanor is suspicious. I’m sure you’ll excuse my forthrightness, since you are apparently a frank person yourself, but you would have to make a concerted effort to look other than chillingly distrustful of your fellow man.”

His eyes widened, but if he had intended a retort, it was forestalled by the announcement of lunch. In the general exodus, Vanessa was separated from him by hungry guests and he found himself seated, as he had the previous evening, at the opposite end of the table. Vanessa, calmly smiling, put Paul Burford on her right.

* * * *

Every one of them is crazy, Alvescot decided as he ate his meal in haughty silence. He had thought Vanessa Damery at least had some regard for his consequence. No one had ever told him before that he appeared “chillingly distrustful” of everyone, and he didn’t believe it for a minute. These plebeians simply did not comprehend the reserve with which a peer of the realm was obliged to disport himself.

Would she have him act like the other “gentlemen” in her household? Smugly complacent like Edward Curtiss, or insufferably priggish like Captain Lawrence? Or perhaps inanely self-absorbed like the perpetual suitor, William Oldcastle? The poor woman had lost touch with civilized society. Probably she didn’t even remember Frederick’s elegant bearing, his distinguished manners, surrounded as she was with such boors. Obviously, she couldn’t recognize a real gentleman when she encountered one!

Which led him to wonder how her poor son—and his godson!—was going to grow up to be one. He had no models on which to pattern himself, with the dubious exception of Paul Burford. Alvescot was not immune to that young man’s easy charm, but he was well-prepared to resist it. He’d met charming rascals before, and he’d met men whose values were flexible when their resources were limited. If he was suspicious, he told himself righteously, it was with good cause. And he was not willing to see Frederick’s son emulate a man who might turn out to be a scoundrel, no matter what Paul Burford’s surface appearance might be to the contrary.

Alvescot remembered, suddenly, that he had promised little John he would watch him ride today, and that he would go to visit the canal with him tomorrow. For a moment he thought of putting the lad off, since he intended to pursue his investigations of the estate management with vigor, but one glance at Vanessa Damery convinced him otherwise. She would consider it callous behavior, no doubt, being the devoted mother she was. Women with children got their priorities confused. It was a wonder she’d noticed the deterioration of the estate at all!

The luncheon was criticized, as usual, by Mabel Curtiss, but Alvescot found it perfectly adequate, though he didn’t pay much attention to what he ate. Mabel made it clear to him that he had a treat in store that evening, because she had herself prepared the menu. One would have thought she was preparing the meal itself, from the way she gloated. He did no more than offer her a civil nod and a few distracted and unintelligible words, so caught up was he in brooding about Frederick’s son.

Was it his duty to take some part in the boy’s upbringing? Surely John was too young to need much more than physical care at this point. Later, perhaps, he would have the boy to visit him for a few weeks each year, over a school holiday or during the long vacation. And it would probably be best for him to introduce the lad to London when the time came. Nothing was worse than a woman’s thinking she could undertake that task, or for a young man to attempt it with other empty-headed school friends. No, that was his responsibility; Frederick would have wished it.

Because he wasn’t sure Vanessa Damery would go along with his mental schemes, he found himself devising arguments to persuade her. They were reasonable arguments, with which no rational woman could possibly find fault, but he found that in his mind, she did. And he plotted ways in which to convince her, dialogues in which they occasionally crossed swords, with him always prevailing, of course, by saying something like,
“You
may be an attractive woman, and you’re not without intelligence, but you have no concept of the intricacies of society, my dear Cousin Vanessa.” He wasn’t sure how he had become that familiar with her, but she was always won over in the end.

“Was there something further you required, Lord Alvescot?” Vanessa asked from the doorway.

Alvescot looked up from his distracted study of the salt cellar to find that he alone remained at the table. No one else was in the room at all, except his hostess, who stood with amused eyes and a wide grin waiting for him to come out of his trance. He rose swiftly to his feet, very nearly knocking over his chair, and muttered, “I was considering some rather serious matters, madame.”

“I’m sure you were, and I wouldn’t have interrupted you except that Paul didn’t know whether to go to the estate office or wait for you. I sent him on, but I thought you might wish to join him soon.”

“Well, yes,” Alvescot agreed, feeling rather foolish. Why the devil was she always catching him at some disadvantage? His long-legged stride had already brought him abreast of her and he scowled at the mischief in her eyes. “There is, of course, the matter of your son. I promised to watch him ride today. Perhaps you could suggest the most convenient time. I shouldn’t like to disappoint the lad.”

Now her face softened to a warm smile. “I’m so glad you remembered. Why don’t I have Lucy bring him to the stables about four-thirty? Then you’d have time to spend a few minutes with him before changing for dinner.”

“That sounds an eminently sensible arrangement,” he said stiffly, stepping past her to open the door. But before he actually twisted the handle another thought worked its way into his sluggish brain. “Ah, there is the ride to the canal tomorrow. Did he mention that to you?”

“Yes.”

“And are you agreeable?”

“Certainly, but I should just mention that he may not actually know how to get you there. His sense of direction is not well developed as yet.”

Alvescot cleared his throat. “Would you care to accompany us in that case, Mrs. Damery? I’m sure you’re familiar with the location.”

“I thought perhaps you might be yourself, Lord Alvescot.” When he shook his head, she said, “Then you’ll need a guide. I’d be happy to come.”

“Thank you. John seemed to wish to take a picnic basket with us.”

“Yes, he asked if he might.”

The earl nodded his approval. “Shall we leave at noon then? Or should you be here to have your meal with your . . . guests?”

Vanessa made a gesture of reckless abandon. “Let them fend for themselves this once,” she said with a teasing laugh. “Noon it is.”

Chapter Six

The afternoon was warm, but not hot as expected, and Alvescot rode over the estate with Paul Burford quite comfortably. He made some effort to appear interested rather than suspicious as Burford explained the changes that were being made—the new cottages for the laborers, the changed rotation of crops, the attempts to breed a better stock even as they expanded.

Evidences of the deterioration were still observable and Burford explained that he planned to take several years to entirely complete the task, so that capital expenditures wouldn’t absorb all the new income. There was nothing wrong with his plans, Alvescot admitted to himself, but they weren’t necessarily the whole story. Cutsdean could conceivably have absorbed all the expenditures claimed for it . . . or it might not have. It was almost impossible to tell without a thorough inspection of the books and some side investigations into suppliers in the neighborhood. Alvescot was also highly interested in seeing just how Burford’s own estate was being revitalized.

“Are you making the same type of improvements at your home?” he asked casually.

Paul studied him for a moment, a wry twist to his lips. “Some of them. Whatever I can afford. There’s been no new building as yet, but I’ve seen to repairs. My concentration has been on the crops and the livestock. When they produce enough income, I’ll see to upgrading the structures.”

“I’d be interested in seeing it one day.”

“Whenever you wish,” Paul agreed, turning his horse back toward the Hall. “I live there, of course, and you could come over any morning before I leave for Cutsdean.”

His willingness to show Alvescot his property did not necessarily reassure the earl. There would be no way of telling when improvements had been made, or how much they cost, but Alvescot stubbornly believed that he would be able to tell from the man’s behavior whether the innovations were made at Mrs. Damery’s expense. No denying, certainly, that Burford had been progressing nicely at Cutsdean. His grasp of the latest methods was excellent, his plans for the estate prudent and thorough. In light of the friendship between Burford and Mrs. Damery, Alvescot wondered if he had any more personal plans. Like marriage. To her.

This thought would not necessarily have entered Alvescot’s head except for one thing: Burford reminded him somewhat of Frederick. Not in his looks, but in his personality. There was the same openness and good nature, a similar enthusiasm, though here Frederick’s recklessness was tamed down to a more manageable level.

That recklessness in his cousin was the one thing that Alvescot had always dreaded. The impulsiveness that came from high spirits had also led him into scrapes as a boy and a young man. But it was such an appealing quality. Even more appealing, Alvescot decided, when tempered just enough by prudence to keep it in check.

Burford reeked vitality, virility, an easy charm. Despite the position he filled at Cutsdean and the consequent snubbing from the members of the household, he was a gentleman, with polished manners and evident intelligence. Alvescot thought he could quite easily detest the man.

His silence didn’t affect the estate manager in the least. Burford continued to explain his plans, to discuss the surrounding countryside and the village, to speak of Mrs. Damery’s comprehension of an overall project for Cutsdean.

“She’s quite remarkably adept at understanding the benefits and disadvantages of every change, of taking a long-range view of the estate,” Paul said. “Before Frederick’s death she didn’t have a thing to do with the farming and confessed that she knew absolutely nothing about it. I gather her parents thought such matters unsuitable or unnecessary for so young a girl when she lived at home. But she wrote her father for advice when she began to see the necessity to end the disintegration here.”

Alvescot pressed his lips together in a tight line and said nothing. She had tried first for his assistance, and it had not been forthcoming.

“On her own she made a few mistakes, in the hiring of the first two estate managers. Who can blame her? It wasn’t that they weren’t reasonably competent men, but they were content to maintain the status quo, and she wanted something more for Cutsdean. I admit I angled for the job myself.” Paul grinned at the earl’s unyielding face, almost as though he could read Alvescot’s thoughts.

“Why?”

“Any number of reasons. I needed the income. Vanessa needed the expertise I could bring. It was convenient. As you can see, I’m not a particularly modest man. I’ve spent years familiarizing myself with these matters, corresponding with men who’ve made progress in the field, visiting estates where innovations were taking place. And Cutsdean offered a larger scope than Buckland.” Paul frowned slightly at nothing in particular. “I’m experimenting, with someone else’s resources. But they aren’t risky experiments. They’ve been proved successful, and all they take is the proper equipment and planning. I intend to apply the most successful of them to Buckland.”

“I see.” They had reached the stables and Alvescot could see Vanessa coming across the lawn with her two children and the nursemaid. For her benefit he smiled at Burford and extended his hand. “Thank you for the tour. You seem to be making remarkable progress here.”

Paul accepted his hand with a look of surprise. Possibly he hadn’t gotten the impression that Alvescot wholeheartedly approved of anything he’d done, but he, too, had seen Vanessa coming toward them. “Just let me know if you have any further questions.” With a final nod, he swung his horse away, waved to Vanessa and the children, and rode off toward the West Gate.

The group approaching Alvescot was in high spirits, with John running ahead and Catherine tumbling along on the grass. Vanessa wore a peach-colored walking dress with a triple fall of lace at the throat and a white striped lutestring spencer. She swung a leghorn hat with a wide brim in her hand, laughing as she spoke with the nursemaid. Alvescot was slightly disappointed she hadn’t worn her habit, but she had probably already had her daily ride, and the dress was certainly flattering to her tall, slender form.