The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance (25 page)

Having made up his mind — and worried that Verity would be digging up the dead next — Lucas was already halfway out the door when Lorena leaped up, waving the list. “And Mary Dougal! Mature, quiet, and very lovely …”

“I will consider them all, of course,” Lucas said, making his bow, although he privately thought Elizabeth to be a simpering ninny and Mary Dougal to be a pinchpenny prude. Verity was a bright child. She needed a disciplined woman up to the challenge of taming her. And a patient one to ease them into their new domestic routines.

“I told you not to climb the trees!” he roared, after departing the vicarage. He crossed the cemetery in long strides to where his sister stared upwards in dismay. He could see the bright blue of his daughter’s gown several limbs from the ground. “Come down from there at once, you little monkey.”

He nearly had failure of the heart when Verity’s small foot slipped and missed the branch below her. Without a second’s thought, he swung up on the lowest limb, heedless of his best trousers, caught Verity by the waist, and lowered her to Maria.

“I have three of my own, Lucas,” his sister called back. “I cannot do this much longer. You should hire a circus trainer.”

“I am amazed you did not hire her out to a zoo before this,” he said in exasperation as the child took off running before he could climb down. “Does she never speak?”

Maria shrugged and followed Verity across the church lawn at a slower pace. “She can talk if she must. Mostly, she does what she wants rather than ask, because she knows she’ll be told no. I have three young boys. It’s all I can do to keep up with them. I hate to burden you, Lucas, but now that you’re home safe and sound, she’s your responsibility.”

“I agree. And someday I hope to repay you if possible. You have been a saint, and I don’t know what we would have done without you.” He caught up with Verity when she stopped to pet a shaggy mutt. She was no longer a toddler for Lucas to heave over his shoulder and carry off as he had the few times he’d been home when she’d been younger. He’d missed almost her entire childhood.

“Your safe return is payment enough,” Maria promised. “If you never go to war again and can provide a home for Verity, that will ensure our happiness.”

Lucas thought of his sister’s request as he knocked at Squire Briggs’ door the next afternoon. Now that Napoleon had been routed, he would not be going to war again, but that meant he had no other purpose.

Lucas’ father had died before he could attend Oxford or obtain any type of training. Other than the cottage and the lot it sat on, he had no lands of his own. The only trade he knew was soldiering. It was a problem he must solve after he found a mother for Verity.

Before setting off on this visit to the Squire, he’d left his daughter with Maria, had his hair properly barbered, and had his old cutaway coat with the broad lapels brushed and pressed. And still he squirmed like a raw lad on the brink of courtship.

He had been far too young to have encountered Squire Briggs regularly before he’d left for war, so he didn’t know the man well. The unfamiliarity of civilian life threw him off balance, forcing him to recall that he had earned his major’s stripes and fought battles far worse than the encounter ahead.

A maid led Lucas inside to a fusty parlour in dire need of a lady’s care. He frowned over that. Even if Lady Briggs had been deceased for some years, should not Miss Briggs have directed the servants in cleaning? Or at least replaced the cat-tattered pillows?

Cat hair was everywhere. He declined the maid’s offer of a seat.

Lucas liked to do his own reconnaissance and had made several enquiries before setting out on this call. From all reports, Squire Briggs was a hearty man who loved his horses and his hounds. His lands were fertile and well tended, and his tenants spoke well of him. Lack of funds or servants did not explain this lack of order.

The tenants had spoken well of the Squire’s daughter, as well, but with a certain degree of caution. Lucas trusted that was out of respect, but Lorena’s warning rang in his memory.

He heard the Squire roaring at a rambunctious hound somewhere deeper inside the house and smiled to himself, thinking taming a dog was very much like taming Verity. He’d nearly broken his neck falling over her this morning when she’d darted out from under a table on her hands and knees.

“Sumner!” the Squire boomed as he entered the parlour. “Good to see you home, lad! Major now, ain’t ye? Made the town proud, you did. Shame your father is no longer about to brag on you.” He pounded Lucas on the back and gestured towards the door. “C’mon back to m’study. We’ll have a bit of brandy and celebrate your return.”

Brandy was an excellent idea. Lucas thought he needed fortifying before he explained his presence. He was starting to think he should have sought out Harriet first, but he’d forgotten the protocol, if he’d ever known it. How did one woo a lady without going through her parent? He was no dab hand at courtship.

Outside, several hounds gave voice at once, and a woman shouted sharp commands.

The Squire ignored the commotion, reaching for a decanter on a dusty tray. Cat hair seemed less prevalent here, Lucas noticed. An ancient basset lay sprawled and snoring in front of the empty grate.

“You’re a military man. What do you know of hounds and hunting?” the Squire enquired, handing Lucas a glass.

“A great deal, as it happens, sir. I’ve spent the better part of these last years on horseback, chasing enemies wilier than foxes.”

Outside, the dogs howled louder, and a screech resembling a brawl between penned pigs and enraged hawks ensued. The woman’s shouts escalated.

Lucas had begun to wonder if he shouldn’t investigate, when Briggs threw open a sash of his double study window and shouted, “Harriet, get them damned hounds back in the pen where they belong and shoot the peacocks!”

Lucas blinked. Things had changed mightily if one shouted at young ladies these days and ordered them to perform a stable hand’s duty.

In coming here, he’d had some vision of a benevolent, ladylike Harriet gliding into the room carrying a tea tray and somehow divining why he’d called. After all, Lorena had said he was an eligible catch, and the Squire’s daughter was the most eligible female around. The purpose of his call should be obvious.

Perhaps he should have listened a little more closely to Lorena.

A childish shriek raised the hair on the back of his neck. Lucas dashed to the other window and threw open the second sash.

“Dash it all, Harry, I told you to get them hounds back in the barn!” the Squire was shouting in frustration while Lucas scanned the grounds for some sight of the origin of the childish scream. “We’ve got a guest! You need to get back in here.”

A pair of peahens and a cock flapped around three baying beagles, who were racing around the base of an oak as if they’d treed a squirrel.

Surrounded by the circling hounds and birds, a slender female in honey-coloured riding habit, with the skirt scandalously rucked up to reveal her tall boots, and her jacket missing, smacked the snout of the nearest dog. Lucas couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the animals crouched down and wagged their tails in anticipation of some treat.

The wildly colourful birds scattered to alight on various bits of shrubbery.

The young lady turned her uncovered head upwards to study the tree’s branches, and Lucas’ gut lurched. His gaze followed hers.

The child he had thought he’d left securely at his sister’s house was instead perched on the lowest limb of the oak, swinging her toes and watching the dogs, probably with interest, if he knew his daughter. The earlier scream had been for effect. Verity was fearless.

“Verity Augusta, get down from there this instant!” Lucas roared, heedless of the Squire’s startled reaction.

“That your young one?” Briggs asked. “What the devil is she doing in my tree?”

“As if I know what goes through her mind,” Lucas muttered, pulling his head back in the window. “I’d best prise her down and take her home.”

“Harry can do it.” Briggs stuck his head back out the window again and roared, “Harriet, bring the girl inside to her papa.”

The half-dressed lady sent her father what appeared to Lucas to be a look of exasperation, before crouching down to scratch the hounds and sending them scampering towards the kennel.

Verity, on the other hand, climbed to her feet and appeared to be considering the next highest branch.

Lucas didn’t think shouting at the females had put a dent in their behaviour.

If he’d had an undisciplined soldier who disobeyed him like that … He’d already confined Verity to quarters without result, and he couldn’t court-martial her. And he’d never resort to whipping. How did one command loyalty and obedience from a female?

As if in answer to his guest’s unspoken question, the Squire poured their brandies, handed Lucas one and said, “Never understand women. Contrary lot, don’t know what’s good for them. Don’t suppose you’ve come to take Harry off my hands, have you? Good girl, but damned if I can make her see sense.”

Lucas took a healthy swallow of his drink. Did he need
two
contrary females on his hands? He thought not, but he was a man who required information before making a life-altering decision. Discipline could be instilled in anyone, eventually.

This wife-getting business was more difficult than he’d anticipated.

“After all these years, I can’t say that I know Miss Briggs well,” Lucas replied circumspectly. “It would be a pleasure to become reacquainted.”

Briggs snorted again and leaned back in his chair. “I offered a handsome dowry, told everyone that she will inherit all I own someday, and she still garnered only two offers in London. And she turned those down. Take her off my hands, and you’ll be the son I never had.”

Studying the lady’s attire, Lucas suffered an uneasy notion that
Harriet
wanted to be the son her father never had.

Harriet Briggs tilted her head back to admire the small girl straddling the oak branch above her head. “The dogs didn’t frighten you, did they?” she enquired with interest.

The child shook her mop of orange curls vigorously. “I like trees.”

“And is there some reason you like this particular tree?”

The child didn’t answer, but Harriet had a strong suspicion the reason stood in her father’s study window. Tall, broad-shouldered and wearing his bottle-green swallowtail coat as if it were a military uniform, the gentleman had arrived only shortly before the child. Both had walked, so they could not live too far away.

Harriet had seen the child in church on Sundays with Maria Smith and her brood of boys. She’d been told the girl was the boys’ cousin, but Harriet and Maria were a decade apart in age and never close, so she didn’t know more than gossip.

As far as Harriet knew, though, Maria’s only sibling was Lucas Sumner. She tried to find a resemblance to Lucas in the child’s oval face, but it had been too many years since she’d seen her childhood idol. She was long past the age of believing in human deities anyway. Children developed foolish fantasies, and she was firmly grounded in reality these days.

Blifil, the lame kitten, suddenly tumbled from the boxwoods, chasing after Partridge, her tame squirrel. The squirrel dashed up her skirt and into the tree, much to the child’s startlement. Harriet prayed the girl didn’t fall before she got her down.

“Do you have a name?” Harriet asked, ignoring her father’s bellows from the window. Really, he ought to know by now that she wouldn’t shout back like a field hand.

“My name is Verity. You’re Miss Harriet, aren’t you?” the child asked, proving she was observant for her age.

“I am. If you climb down from there, we can have tea and biscuits. Do you like kittens?” She swept Blifil from the ground before he could follow the squirrel.

“My papa will make me go home if I climb down. He told my Aunt Maria he needs a wife to take care of me, and I want to see who he picks.”

She stopped there, as if that said everything. Which it did, Harriet supposed, fighting a shiver of expectation and annoyance. Lucas had always been smart. He would seek out the wealthiest available woman in the neighbourhood before looking at the less eligible or the more beautiful. She was simply surprised he wasn’t looking in London instead of Chipping Bedton.

She supposed she would have to watch the last of her childhood illusions crumble. Major Sumner had to be able to see her from the window, so she was probably missing the show already. Would he bluntly express dismay at her unseemly attire and ragged manners? Or bite back his thoughts and just tighten his lips in disapproval over a mature young lady who displayed such inappropriate behaviour? She had little entertainment any more, so perhaps she could drum some up at the Major’s expense.

“I’ll tell your papa you’re my guest so he can’t send you home,” she told the child. “I’m a bit peckish and would like a sandwich with my tea, I believe. Do you think I might help you down?”

The child considered the suggestion, then finally nodded. “I climb like a monkey, my papa says.” Before Harriet was prepared, Verity caught the branch she sat on and swung her feet loose.

Dropping the kitten, Harriet tried not to gasp in terror as the girl trustingly fell into her arms. Harriet had watched her creatures perform dangerous acrobatics, but she’d never endured the terror of a human child risking death in such a manner. Major Sumner had his hands full with this one.

Staggering slightly as she lowered the child’s chunky body to firm land, Harriet suffered a brief glimpse of what it must be like to love and care for a precious, fragile life. It was difficult enough tending to a wounded pet. She didn’t think she could tolerate seeing a child hurt.

Really, she had nothing to worry about. She need only meet Lucas, let him see how utterly unsuitable she was, and go about her merry way. Her father and the tenants and the animals needed her. She had a very full life without an annoying man providing obstacles, objecting to everything she did or wanted. It was not as if she
needed
a man for anything. And she already had one yelling impossible orders all day long. She certainly didn’t require another. Taking a deep breath to settle her racing pulse, she swung Verity’s hand and was smiling when she entered the study where the men waited. Her confidence faltered a little at sight of the tall, immaculately dressed gentleman nearly filling the furniture-stuffed room.