Amanda Scott (41 page)

Gwenyth laughed. Then another thought struck her, knitting her brow with perplexity. “But if Jared’s father, who is the youngest son, is plump in the pockets, then Lyford must have inherited money from his father too, did he not?”

“Not,” replied her ladyship. “James never had a feather to fly with. Scapegrace, that’s what he was. Charming fellow—I liked him best of them all, except Cadogan, of course,” she added loyally, “but James didn’t leave Marcus anything but a run-down manor house. Henry sold it at once, I believe, to pay for Marcus’s schooling.”

“So he was completely dependent upon his uncle’s generosity,” Gwenyth felt a tug of sympathy for the earl.

“Oh, Henry looked after him well enough. Were you thinking him the poor relation, always serving and being ill-used?” She chuckled. “I daresay he was ill-used more than once at Winchester, where Henry sent him to school, for they tell me boys generally are, but he got his education. Oxford too. And Henry saw to it the lad traveled. India, Barbados, even the Continent, or the safer portions of it, in any event.”

“Goodness. Then perhaps that is why I have never met Mr. Hawtrey before, for surely if his papa sent Lyford abroad, he did as much for his own son.”

“Oh, no, for I daresay Henry found Marcus useful, you know, and Jared had no interest then in traveling or, for that matter, in his father’s affairs. Not that Henry didn’t try. Put the lad in charge of the Bristol end some time ago, if I remember right, and now, of course, he’s supposed to be doing it all. I doubt he does more now than before, though, only enough to keep Lyford from noticing and calling him to account. Jared’s attitude toward that sort of thing is as starched-up as the dowager’s.”

“What sort of thing?”

Lady Cadogan lowered her voice. “Henry owns ships, a vast number of them. In point of fact, he is in trade, my dear, and we mustn’t speak of it, for Almeria don’t like the connection. Well,” she added fairly, “no one would. ’Tis as well Lyford’s out of it now. Of course, while he was no more than Marcus Hawtrey, a man of no title or expectations, working for his uncle was a way for him to make an adequate living, but he don’t talk about it now either, which is perfectly understandable.”

“Yes,” Gwenyth agreed. “I don’t suppose he would if he wishes to be received. And that explains better than anything else, I daresay, why I have never met Mr. Hawtrey in town. Even if he ignores the connection, it would quickly be discovered if he were to attempt to push his way into the higher circles.”

“Yes, and although Jared despises the source, and the work, he don’t despise the income, and Henry won’t begrudge it to him, for he understands as well as anyone could. Lives in India himself, you know. But while he don’t object to his son’s living like a gentleman on the profits, his nephew was a different matter. At one point, I believe Marcus hoped for a military career, but Henry refused to purchase his colors. Said it was best for him to learn to make his own way, not to depend on others to look after him.” She grimaced. “Marcus learned his lessons well, I must say. He’s determined to increase his estate and to make this place support itself again, whatever it takes.”

“Well, one cannot blame him for that, ma’am.”

“You won’t say that after you’ve heard Almeria expound on the subject,” Lady Cadogan retorted tartly. Then her expression and tone changed to polite cordiality as she said, “Good morning, Miss Beckley. I trust you slept well.”

Gwenyth turned to see Pamela poised upon the threshold, her eyes sparkling, her lips parted in a breathless smile. “Oh, yes, thank you, ma’am.” Her gaze swept the room, coming to rest upon the covered dishes on the sideboard. “Oh, good, I was afraid everyone here would rise early. I have heard that persons living in the country often do so. How very pleasant that you do not.”

“In point of fact, we generally do,” Lady Cadogan told her. “However, Gwenyth and Mr. Hawtrey went for an early ride.” She paused, looking at Gwenyth. “I declare, my dear, I do trust you took a groom with you. It won’t serve, you know, to be out riding with only Mr. Hawtrey to accompany you.”

“Well, we didn’t take a groom,” Gwenyth confessed, twinkling, “but we did take the earl. I daresay no one would cavil at my having two gentleman escorts.”

“No, if Marcus went along, that’s all to the good.”

“Who is Mr. Hawtrey?” Pamela asked, helping herself from the selection of dishes on the sideboard.

Gwenyth explained, while Lady Cadogan turned her attention back to her letter.

Pamela sat down across from Gwenyth. “Is he handsome?”

“Why, I suppose he is,” Gwenyth replied, smiling. “He is of medium height and slender, with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and a pleasant countenance.”

“Sky-blue eyes? I fancy gentlemen with sky-blue eyes, like your brother Tallyn has.”

“Well, you’d best not fancy this gentleman,” Gwenyth told her. “Lyford has already said the connection will not answer.”

Pamela raised her eyebrows. “Has he? But then, I do not think Marcus will have everything all his own way, do you?”

Remembering the way the earl had looked at her the night before and again that morning, Gwenyth wasn’t so sure. He was clearly a man accustomed to having things his own way. She could handle him, of course, but Pamela didn’t have three London Seasons to her credit. And as her guardian, Lyford had a great deal to say about what Pamela would or would not do.

Her reflections were interrupted by the countess, who made her appearance before Pamela had finished eating. Upon being informed of Mr. Hawtrey’s arrival, Lady Lyford expressed herself well-pleased. “For you said that young Davy and his friend will arrive soon too, Wynnefreda, did you not? We must plan a dinner party, I believe. Will they arrive by the end of next week, do you think? Saturday is always a good night for a party. We must make a list of eligible gentlemen to invite. Some young ones too, girls, if you like,” she added as an obvious afterthought.

“Almeria, you are still in mourning for another month,” Lady Cadogan reminded her.

“That’s true,” Pamela said, turning sympathetically to the countess. “A dinner party would be delightful, ma’am, but we would not wish you to compromise your principles merely for our pleasure. While you remain in mourning, I suppose it would not be at all the proper thing.”

“Fiddle faddle,” retorted Lady Lyford, looking down her nose. “At my age, young woman, a body don’t have time to waste on such fustian. In point of fact, I’ve waited longer than I ought to have done, for if you think my late departed husband would have mourned my passing for longer than a fortnight, you much mistake the matter. He would have consoled himself with another woman at once, for he was a thoroughly selfish man; whereas, I have mourned him, more or less, for eleven months, so no one can blame me if I decide to be sensible now.”

Lady Cadogan said quietly, “Marcus might well have something to say about dinner parties, Almeria.”

“Then I shall show him his error,” the countess said tartly, “for I am still mistress in this house. That idiotish man would have me live within my income, which any fool can tell him cannot be done. ’Tis no more than a simple fact of life that anyone who would live properly must live above his income.”

“Goodness, ma’am,” Pamela said, staring at her, “I should think that always to live beyond one’s income would be most uncomfortable.”

“Fiddle faddle. I certainly cannot live on the pittance my late husband left me. I daresay he left it only because he overlooked it or didn’t live long enough to spend it himself. But the fact remains that since Marcus stupidly forbids my punting on tick, as dearest Jared would call it, he gives me no choice in the matter.”

Pamela said, “No choice but what, ma’am?”

“I must find a suitable husband as quickly as may be,” the countess informed her flatly.

“But …” Pamela glanced at the others. “I know Lady Cadogan said you were looking for a husband, ma’am, but I simply could not credit it. Why, at your advanced age …” A look of outrage from the countess made her blink, but then she went on with a determined air, “Well, you are not precisely in the first blush of … that is to say …” She looked at the others again, discomfited at last by the heavy silence.

“How very fortunate you are, my dear,” Lady Lyford said icily, “to have been born an only child and the last of your family. Since you lack sense, ’tis well you enjoy that condition most likely to enhance a lady’s reputation and prospects.”

“You are probably right, Countess,” Jared said from the doorway, where he stood with Lyford on the point of entering the room, “but a trifle outspoken, don’t you agree? Miss Beckley will think you are out of charity with her, and surely you do not wish to distress so pretty a child.” He crossed the room in long strides then and bent to kiss his grandmother’s forehead.

She put her hand to his cheek. “Dear boy, how delightful to have you back with us so soon.”

Lady Cadogan, watching this affecting display, said, “I thought you had gone a-visiting, Jared.”

He gestured toward Lyford, who still stood in the doorway, his warm gaze resting upon Gwenyth. “Marcus is going out later,” he said, “and he suggested I accompany him then. Perhaps”—he smiled at Pamela—“Miss Beckley and Lady Gwenyth would care to accompany us, to see some Berkshire countryside?”

“Perhaps,” Lyford said dryly, watching Gwenyth steadily enough now to make her wonder if she had a spot forming, “you might introduce yourself properly, coz, before issuing your invitations to my ward.”

Jared shrugged, laughter lighting his eyes. “I daresay she has heard of me by now and knows precisely who I am. Oh, very well,” he added when his grandmother made a gesture of amused protest, “I am Jared Hawtrey, at your service, Miss Beckley, and I shall be honored if you will ride with us this afternoon. Marcus will have his mind on the improvements he must make to the land, of course, but I can promise my head will be full of compliments for your riding, your lovely appearance, your—”

“Enough,” declared the countess. “You will turn the chit’s head without paying her so much as one proper compliment. And just when I have given her a well-deserved set-down, too.”

Pamela blushed. “Oh, ma’am, but—”

“You need not apologize,” Lady Lyford told her with an imperious gesture. “You spoke thoughtlessly, but you are young. I do not begrudge my brothers and sisters their existence, of course, for to do so would be uncharitable, but one cannot deny that my lot at present would be far more comfortable had I been privileged to be born a great heiress like yourself. Your lot too, dear boy,” she added, speaking kindly to Jared, “for I promise that I should have been most generous to you in my will. And to Marcus too, of course,” she went on with a speculative look in that direction, “though he don’t deserve my generosity in the face of his present nipcheese behavior. Still, I daresay he would be more open-handed now if he thought he stood to gain by it in the future.”

Lyford regarded her with a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Content yourself, madam, with the knowledge that greater wealth in your purse would dispose of the necessity for you to beg another penny from mine.”

“Humph,” snorted the countess. “Just as one might expect. Cheeseparing, that’s what you are, Marcus, and no mistake about it. Common, nipfarthing notions, that’s what you’ve got.”

Lady Cadogan chuckled. “Careful, Almeria, unless you want to stand all the nonsense for your dinner party yourself.”

“What dinner party?” Lyford looked from one older woman to the other.

“I say,” Jared said at the same time, “what an excellent notion that is! We’ve not entertained here in a twelvemonth.”

Lady Cadogan regarded him sternly. “There is good and sufficient reason for that, young man.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon, ma’am, but you needn’t take a fellow up so,” Jared said, regarding her anxiously. “I meant no harm. Surely my grandfather would be the last to begrudge one a dinner party, and the poor countess is moped to death. What about it, Marcus? You won’t deny the ladies a treat, I’ll wager.”

Lady Cadogan shifted her gaze to the earl, but he ignored the ironic look in her eyes, as well as the hopeful one in three other pairs of eyes, and kept his gaze fixed upon Gwenyth. “What think you, ma’am? Should we set all the tabbies a-twitter?”

“Birds twitter, my lord,” Gwenyth replied, smiling at him.

“Ah, so they do, which don’t necessarily mean the tabbies won’t, however. Nevertheless,” he went on with a nod to his grandmother, “I daresay I can indulge you, madam, if you will be so good as to avoid outrunning my purse.”

“Fat chance of that, or of your letting her,” Jared said scornfully. “You could be a deal more generous if you would but open those pockets of yours. At least a dinner party will show the folks hereabouts that we ain’t paupers, after all.”

“That is scarcely my intent,” Lyford said.

The countess sniffed. “No need to tell us that, young man, but ’tis an excellent notion, nonetheless. One must keep up appearances. Who one is is well enough, but living well is essential if one does not wish to offend one’s neighbors. We have a position to maintain, after all. People expect us to live a certain way, and it is unthinkable that we should let others see how things really are with us.”

“You tell him, Countess.”

“Yes, coz,” Lyford said with a grim look at Jared, “well enough for you to foster such notions, being the sort yourself who ignores his duties out of a false sense of worth, borrows to pay off his debts, and orders more coats when he cannot pay his tailor. I’ll thank you not to encourage her.”

Jared shrugged. “Spoke out of turn. Bad habit, that. But you’ll allow the party despite my faults?”

“I have said that I will.”

“Then that is that.” Clearly desiring a change of subject, he turned brightly to Gwenyth. “Will you ladies join us for our outing this afternoon?”

She saw that Lyford’s attention had again returned to her, and she felt warmth creeping into her cheeks, but she said evenly enough, “I would enjoy another ride, thank you.”

The earl smiled at her. “At two, then. You coming along now, Jared? There are matters we ought to discuss.”