Valentine (19 page)

“That just goes to show how little you know,” she said scornfully. “My grandfather knew every one of his tenants and all their families—”

“I am not your grandfather,” he interrupted. “Trust comes from respect and the knowledge that the lord of the manor has their best interests at heart, even if they don’t always agree with his methods. It’s not necessary to joke and gossip with every milkmaid and stable hand in the district. And I tell you, now, Theo, you are going to have to curb your free and easy ways once we’re married. It’s not appropriate for the Countess of Stoneridge to behave as you do.”

“How would you know what’s appropriate?” she demanded with icy scorn. “If my grandfather didn’t consider it inappropriate, what makes you think you might know better? You’ve no experience of running an estate. My grandfather always said the Gilbraith estate was another Lilliput. You can’t learn
to manage tenants if you don’t have them, my lord. I suggest you leave well alone what you don’t understand.”

She was only vaguely aware that her tongue had run away with her. Criticism of her grandfather on top of the insults to loyal Belmont people were not to be borne, and she’d jumped to the defense with blind passion.

But her angry, contemptuous words fell into a dreadful silence. The earl’s fingers tightened around the reins, his knuckles whitening, but he said not a word until they reached the stableyard, Zeus now wearied and docile, his injured back bleeding sluggishly.

Stoneridge sprang to the ground and bellowed for the head groom. The man ran across, quailing at the earl’s naked fury. His expression, when he saw the damage to Zeus, was so outraged that no one could believe he bore any responsibility for the wounds. The earl issued rapid-fire orders for the treatment of his horse and the retrieval of the saddles; then he swung back to Theo.

She had not yet dismounted and was still foolishly considering that she’d had the last word, when he came to the mare’s head, his hand on the bridle.

“Dismount,” he commanded in a low voice.

Theo looked down into his face and realized with a shock that she had never seen such a blazingly angry countenance. The scar on his forehead stood out, a white ridged line; a muscle twitched in his cheek, and there was a white shade around the chiseled mouth. He looked quite capable of murder. Her insulting words and the derisory tone now replayed with dismaying accuracy in her head.

“I will tell you just once more,” he said as softly. “Dismount
now.
Or this stableyard is going to witness a spectacle that will live in memory for years to come.”

Theo swallowed and swung herself off Dulcie. Her feet had no sooner touched the cobbles than the cold silver knob of the earl’s riding crop jabbed into the small of her back, and she was thrust toward the exit of the yard. She had no choice
but to obey the pressure if she was not to draw unwelcome attention to this forced march toward the house.

She tried to believe that she’d been justified in her attack, but she knew she’d chosen the most insolent and unforgivable words. Her cursed tongue had taken the high road again, she recognized dismally, and Sylvester Gilbraith was not a man to turn the other cheek to an insufferable insult.

They turned onto the gravel sweep before the house. A post chaise was drawn up before the front steps, and suddenly the cold jab of the riding crop left her back. Sylvester stopped on the driveway and took a deep breath.

Without volition Theo looked inquiringly over hex shoulder, sensing the current of tension in him, something that had nothing to do with his anger with her.

“HI have to see to you later,” he said almost absently. “It looks as if my mother and sister have arrived.”

Theo felt a surge of relief at the reprieve. With any luck so much would be happening in the next few hours that his anger would at least be blunted.

Sylvester walked swiftly toward the chaise, leaving Theo to follow. He’d been dreading this arrival. His mother was a difficult woman at best, an overbearing witch at worst; his sister, a middle-aged and embittered spinster, bullied unmercifully by Lady Gilbraith. What either of them would make of his bride-to-be, he couldn’t imagine. He sensed that Lady Belmont had a vein of steel in her that would make her more than a match for his mother, but the next few days were going to be uncomfortable if not downright hideous.

Lady Gilbraith was descending from the chaise as her son arrived. “Ah, Sylvester, there you are.” She took his proffered hand as she stepped onto the gravel. “I could wish you’d had the courtesy to come for us. The roads are lawless.”

“You have six outriders, ma’am,” he said, raising her hand to his lips. “Much more useful than one son.”

“Oh, Mama, don’t forget your sal volatile,” a high voice
exclaimed as a bonneted head appeared in the door of the chaise. “And your reticule.”

“Mary, I bid you welcome.” He extended a hand to help a round lady in an alpaca cloak. “I trust the journey wasn’t toe arduous.”

“Oh, the inn where we stayed last night was dreadful,’ Mary said. “The sheets were damp, and I’m sure Mama will have the ague.”

“I was under the impression that Mama always travels with her own sheets,” her brother said.

“That’s true, of course, but it was most dreadfully draughty. The windows didn’t fit properly, and I’m certain the mattress was damp.” She dabbed at a reddened nose with her handkerchief.

Since Sylvester knew that his sister was afflicted with a permanently red and dripping nose, he made no comment, turning instead to look for Theo, who was standing at a little distance, hands clasped in front of her, a tentative smile on her face.

A picture of conciliation, he thought, half-amused despite his very real anger.

“Theo, let me make you known to my mother,” he said, beckoning her forward, keeping his voice deliberately cool, his mouth unsmiling.

Not promising, Theo thought, coming forward. Maybe if she charmed his mother and sister, he’d be inclined to forget her earlier offense.

“Lady Gilbraith.” She bowed, and extended her hand, smiling. “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Lady Gilbraith ignored the hand, raised her lorgnette, and examined her. “Goodness me, what a brown creature you are,” she declared. “It’s most unfashionable. I’m surprised your mother should allow you to run around in the sun and ruin your complexion in that fashion.”

She was not going to like her mother-in-law! And that, Theo reflected, was the understatement of the year. But she
would demonstrate to Sylvester that she could behave with impeccable courtesy, despite provocation.

“I have a dark complexion, ma’am,” she said. “I take after my father. My sisters are much fairer.”

She glanced up at Sylvester and saw a glimmer of relief in his eyes. “Theo, this is my sister, Mary.”

Mary sniffed and shook hands. “Theo? What a strange name. You must mean Thea, surely.”

“No,” Theo said. “I have always been called Theo. It was my father’s name for me.”

“How very strange.” Another sniff accompanied the comment. “Mama, we should go inside. The air feels very damp.”

Lady Gilbraith surveyed the gracious Elizabethan facade with a critically proprietorial air that sorely tested Theo’s resolution. “Quite a handsome house, I suppose. But these half-timbered buildings can be abysmally cramped inside.”

“I don’t believe you will find Stoneridge Manor cramped, ma’am,” Theo said stiffly. “It’s generally considered to be a most spacious example of Elizabethan architecture.”

“We shall see,” her future mother-in-law stated in a tone that indicated she didn’t believe a word of it. “Gilbraith House is a most elegant gentleman’s residence. I trust my son will not find his inheritance lacking in any of the amenities.” She sailed toward the steps, her daughter at her heels.

Theo stared in disbelief at Sylvester, who met her gaze with a rueful smile. “All right, gypsy,” he said. “You’ve earned yourself a suspended sentence dependent on continued good behavior.”

Theo ignored this. “Why didn’t you warn me?” she demanded.

“Warn you that my mother is a witch?” His eyebrows lifted in ironic question mark. “Be realistic, Theo.” He drew her hand through his arm. “Come, let us go in and do what we can to support your mother. It’s not for long. You can curb your tongue for two days.”

There was a distinct “or else” lurking behind the last
Statement, but threats or not, Theo decided she owed him the effort to endure his mother’s incivilities with a good grace. She certainly owed it to her own mother.

However, she could strike a bargain as well as the next man. “I can curb my tongue if you can curb yours, sir.”

She looked up at him, her head on one side, a challenging spark in her eyes. “Promise me you won’t accuse anyone in the stables until I’ve had a chance to talk with them.”

Sylvester’s lips tightened, but he remembered the revulsion on the head groom’s face. The standards and conditions in the stables would be set by him. Maybe Theo had a point. She certainly knew these people as he didn’t.

“Very well. But if you let your tongue run away with you in my mother’s company, Theo, you will pay in full measure for that outrageous display of incivility. Is it understood?”

Theo grimaced at this uncompromising tone but then reflected she’d won both a reprieve and a vital victory. She shrugged. “Crystal clear, my lord.”

“
S
YLVESTER, YOU MUST
change the furnishings in this sahn without delay; they’re positively shabby.”
Theo lifted an imaginary lorgnette and frowned, her mouth pursing, as she delivered this uncannily accurate mimicry of Lady Gilbraith amid delighted whoops of laughter from her sisters.

“Theo, you mustn’t,” Emily protested halfheartedly when she’d stopped laughing.

“But you sound just like her,” Clarissa said. “And you have that exact manner with the nose.” She tried an imitation, and Theo flung herself onto a cheerful chintz sofa, clapping vigorously.

“Would someone help me wrap these rabbit skeletons?” Rosie asked from the schoolroom table, where she was hard at work packing up her museum, listening with half an ear to her sisters’ irreverent conversation. They were frequent visitors to the schoolroom, particularly when they wished to be undisturbed by other members of the household.

“Here, I’ll help you.” Clarissa came readily to the table. “Although I really don’t care for skeletons.”

“But they’re beautiful,” Rosie said, carefully aligning a spine.

“It’s Mama I feel sorry for,” Emily said. “Lady Gilbraith’s done nothing but complain since she arrived. The bedchamber was too drafty, the bathwater wasn’t hot enough, the servants are too slow.”

“She’s insufferable,” Theo stated, fierceness replacing the laughter in her eyes. “She behaves as if she owns the place. Anyone would think
we
were the usurpers. I don’t know how much longer I can continue to hold my tongue.”

“You are being remarkably forbearing,” Clarissa observed, delicately wrapping a thighbone in tissue paper. “Even when she told you that you don’t make the best of yourself and you need the guiding hand of a fashionable woman.”

“At least she didn’t say that in front of Mama,” Emily said, joining the two at the table. “But I really expected you to fly off the handle, Theo.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. There’s a sword of Damocles hanging over my head,” Theo said crossly.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Damocles had a sword suspended over his head by a hair at a banquet so he didn’t dare eat anything in case he disturbed it,” Rosie explained earnestly.

“Yes, I know the story. I want to know what Theo particularly means by it,” Clarissa said, looking inquiringly across at Theo, who had jumped off the sofa and was pacing restlessly around the sunny schoolroom. “Who’s holding it over your head?”

Theo sighed. She should have known better than to have started this. “Stoneridge, if you must know. But there has to be a statute of limitations, and when it’s up, that old bat isn’t going to know what’s hit her!”

“Theo!”
Emily protested, but with a chuckle.

“A statute of limitations on what?” Clarissa persisted.

Theo sighed. “We were at outs, and I said something he
didn’t like, so I’m paying for it by being impeccably polite to his mother in the face of unbearable provocation.”

“Oh.” Clarissa looked as if she’d like more details, but to Theo’s relief Emily diverted the subject.

“Perhaps you won’t see too much of her after you’re married.”

“My only comfort is that Stoneridge thinks she’s a witch too,” Theo said.

“He gave his sister such a set-down yesterday,” Clarissa remarked. “Did you notice … when she was moaning about ringing and ringing for morning chocolate? He said it wasn’t fair on the staff to be expected to provide chocolate ten minutes before nuncheon, and if she woke up at a decent hour and bestirred herself a little, she’d be a lot less invalid-ish.”

Theo grinned. “Yes, I enjoyed that. But he doesn’t give his mother set-downs, and I’d dearly like to oblige.”

“I could put one of my white mice in her bed,” Rosie offered. “She was horrid to me yesterday. She said I was too young to be in the drawing room, particularly with dirty nails. I didn’t think they were dirty … but they might have been,” she added. “I’d been digging for worms.”