Anne Barbour (29 page)

“My lord,” said the young woman. “I did not know— That is, it is an honor to ...”

Miss Fairfax trailed off into an incoherent murmur and Josh knew a stab of pity. So very plain—and in addition, disfigured. No wonder she found herself forced to spend her days as companion to an old lady. An unfortunate situation, no matter how amiable the old lady might be.

On the other hand, he mused, bowing over her hand, perhaps she considered herself fortunate in securing a position that might provide her with a haven for some years to come.

Miss Fairfax, after assisting Lady Sandborne into a comfortable chair, took one nearby, abandoning the tambour frame.

Having acknowledged her presence, Lady Sand-borne apparently forgot her companion’s existence except to request, a few minutes later, that her spectacles be fetched from her bedchamber. Miss Fairfax departed silently to perform this task.

The countess turned to Josh, but before she could speak again, the door opened to admit a man and a woman. The man appeared to be about five-and-twenty and was very thin, with wispy brown hair that drifted untidily over forehead and cheeks. He smiled absently as his gaze encountered Josh. The woman who entered on the man’s arm, was a few years younger. She was slender, except for a slight swelling at her waist, and not unattractive but for her expression of discontent. She smiled not at all.

“Mary!” exclaimed Lady Sandborne. “And Arthur. You are just in time to meet your cousin.” The dowager performed the introductions gracefully, and bade the newcomers to chairs nearby. Arthur Weston, clasping Josh’s hand in a cordial if somewhat limp grip, proclaimed himself to be pleased to make the acquaintance of his newly discovered relative. His wife, on the other hand, contained her pleasure admirably.

“Good evening, Mister Weston,” she sniffed. “What a surprise to learn that you truly exist.”

“You must address him as Sandborne, Mary,” the countess said reprovingly, with an apologetic glance toward Josh.

“Yes, I suppose I must,” replied Mary, with a barely perceptible nod. “Forgive me. I’m afraid I still haven’t recovered from the shock of learning that a backwoodsman from the American frontier is now the head of our family.”

Josh stared at her.

“Philadelphia is hardly on the frontier, madame. It is a cultured city, and—”

Arthur Weston cleared his throat noisily. “Steady on, m’dear,” he said mildly. “Can’t hold that against him. It’s not his fault he was born in the back of beyond.”

Josh, stiff with affronted astonishment, bowed. “Why, thank you, Arthur.” To Mary, he responded smoothly, “Mrs. Weston, I do apologize for my being an American. I fear that life among the savages has ill prepared me for the gracious courtesy displayed by more civilized members of society, such as yourself.”

Mary did not reply, but flushed and sat down with a flounce. Lady Sandborne’s hands fluttered. “Josh arrived just a few hours ago. He is trying to become acquainted with the Court, and I was just about to offer my services as guide tomorrow morning.” She turned to Josh. ‘That is, if you are free, I know Mister Brickley is anxious to meet with you. Ah, thank you, Melody,” she said to her companion, who had just reentered the room with the spectacles.

Arthur and Mary nodded briefly in greeting. Arthur made no move to rise, and Miss Fairfax removed herself to a chair a little apart from the grouping containing her ladyship and the two gentlemen. Josh stood.

“Do sit here, Miss Fairfax. I’ll just move that chair closer.”

Before she could protest, Josh lifted the chair to a position closer to Lady Sandborne.

For the first time, Miss Fairfax looked directly at Josh, and he was surprised to note an expression of gratitude in her gaze. Once again, he was struck by the beauty of her eyes. In fact, a closer observation proved that Miss Fairfax was not so very plain, after all. If it were not for the scar she might be considered attractive. She was possessed of a small, straight nose and her generously curved mouth was sweet and well-formed. She had little pretense to beauty, but in a more becoming gown and with a hairstyle that might serve to conceal rather than emphasize the scar, there was no doubt she would show to advantage.

Josh smiled at her reassuringly and turned his attention to Mary, who was speaking querulously. “Of course—my lord. I suppose your first order of business is to survey your new domain.”

Arthur twisted to gaze at his wife in mild surprise, and Lady Sandborne gasped.

“Mary!”

The younger woman shifted uncomfortably. “I am sorry to be so abrupt, but—Cousin Joshua—you may as well be aware that I think this is all so unfair! It is Arthur who should hold the title.” She glared at Josh. “He had moved into the master’s suite, you know.”

“But, Mary,” expostulated Arthur, his spectacles sliding down his nose, “you know I never had any wish to assume the title. Dashed nuisance, I always thought it. I’m much too busy with my work to take on any additional responsibilities.”

“It would not have been necessary for you to have concerned yourself with the responsibilities,” snapped Mary, and Josh knew somehow that this conversation had taken place many times. “You have plenty of people to take care of all that for you. Anyway,” she continued, tears springing to her pale blue eyes, “we would have spent most of our time in London. Where the museums and libraries are,” she said hastily. “We would have taken our place in society, and our children--” She patted her abdomen.”--would have made splendid marriages! It is all ruined now,” she concluded pettishly. “Everything has been taken from us by this—this usurper.” She waved an angry hand at Josh, who uttered a choked sound of indignation.

“You are being foolish beyond permission, Mary.” Lady Sandborne interposed at last, her eyes sparking with anger. “The title was never Arthur’s to begin with, so your rantings about usurpation are perfectly ridiculous. You might as well blame Josh for being born, which even you must admit, is patently absurd.”

Mary said nothing more, but settled back with a grunt into her chair. What a perfectly dreadful young woman, thought Josh, appalled. Arthur apparently was undisturbed by being ousted from the position he had thought was his. It was his wife who was greedy for the status and privilege the title would confer.

It was brought to Josh with some dismay that, despite his reluctance to travel to England to spend a few weeks in this—this monument to the feudal system, he had hoped, deep within him, that his unknown relatives would attempt to make him welcome.

He shrugged and turned once more to Lady Sand-borne.

“Tell me, Aunt Helen—” he began, but at this point, Forbes entered the room to announce that dinner was served. Lady Sandborne rose to lead the way from the Blue Saloon to the dining parlor.

This chamber proved to be as large and imposing as Josh had expected. It boasted a heavily carved mantelpiece, and landscapes by fashionable artists lined the walls. The mahogany table fairly bristled with shining cutlery, bowls, fine china, and glassware. The centerpiece consisted of an enormous epergne depicting the not-altogether-appetizing subject of Hercules beheading the Hydra monster. It was flanked by several massive candelabra.

Forbes rather ostentatiously pulled out the chair at the table’s head for Josh, and Lady Sandborne took her place at his right. Mary seated herself at Josh’s left and Arthur settled in next to her. Miss Fairfax took a chair next to the countess.

A stiff silence fell on the group, broken only by the clink of cutlery and glassware as the meal was served by liveried footmen.

Melody glanced surreptitiously at Lord Sandborne from beneath her lashes. Despite the awkwardness of his situation and his modest attire, he seemed entirely in command of the situation. She wondered what was going on behind those remarkable green eyes. How strange all this must seem to him. Yet from the casual manner in which he accepted the presence of the footman ladling his soup, he might have dined in this chamber all his life.

Arthur, who had apparently not noticed the lack of conversation, spoke up at last. “Did I tell you, m’dear,” he said to Mary, “I found the most interesting reference in Gregorson today? He avers, you know that the Twentieth Legion, stationed in Chester, was responsible for most of the building of the Antonine Wall. This is arrant nonsense, of course, for there has never been any sign of their involvement there. In addition, it is widely recognized that it was the Second Augusta who were responsible for the construction of the wall. However, Gregorson points out—’

“Josh,” interrupted Lady Sandborne, a note of desperation in her tone, “you must tell us something about yourself. After all, we know almost nothing of your life in the Colonies.”

“There is not a great deal to tell, Aunt Helen,” replied Josh. “My father had remained on reasonably amicable terms with the family after he emigrated to the Colonies. In fact, he and my grandfather corresponded from time to time after his arrival there.”

“Yes,” said Lady Sandborne with a laugh. “I remember your father. A handsome devil, he was, and a simmering bundle of raw energy.”

Josh smiled. “So I’ve heard. The partnership he formed with Eli Betterman thrived, and the firm of Weston and Betterman became one of the premier mercantile establishments of the New World. At about this time, Father met Elizabeth Thorne, the daughter of a local tradesman. They were married less than a year after that. I’m told they were very happy in the short time they had together, but Father died in a carriage accident while Mother was expecting her first and only child—me.”

“How very sad,” interposed Lady Sandborne, dabbing at her eyes with a wisp of handkerchief. “Your poor mama—she almost lost you in infancy and then she, herself, died when you were less than two years old.  How fortunate for you that Mr. Betterman took you in.”

Josh smiled faintly. “Yes, Uncle Eli planned that I would take over the business when he retired. He was more than somewhat dismayed at the news that I had suddenly become the Eighth Earl of Sandborne, but it was he who encouraged me to sail to this country to take up the reins, so to speak.”

The others nodded in polite incomprehension. Glancing at Melody Fairfax, Josh found himself the recipient of a wide-eyed, fascinated stare.

“But, what were you doing living in the forest— miles away from the city?” exclaimed Lady Sand-borne. “If you had a home in Philadelphia, and a secure position there . . .”

Josh felt a sudden tension spread through him, but forced himself to relax. “For the past few years I have spent quite a bit of time traveling along the Susquehanna and Delaware rivers, trading with the Indians. We—that is Uncle Eli and I—have a fairly large interest in the fur trade.” He paused to draw a deep breath. “You see, I was betrothed for a while, but my fiancée—passed away. I—I found myself at loose ends and eventually decided to head for the woods.”

He spoke with a calm he was far from feeling. He found that he was gripping his fork with an intensity that nearly bent the utensil in half. He felt the old darkness looming over him once again—the emptiness and sense of bitterness and the crushing guilt that had pursued him for so long.

Melody, observing him, felt her own stomach clench. Dear Lord, the man was still overcome with grief for his lost love. And—yes, there was something else to be seen in the harsh planes of his face. It was not only grief that afflicted him, she realized with a start. There was something that went much deeper, she was sure of it.

He regaled the company for the rest of the meal with anecdotes from his travels. Arthur roused himself from his meditations, and even Mary seemed interested, despite herself. Miss Fairfax, seeming to forget both her shyness and her humble position in the household, pelted him with questions. Josh found himself warming to this unusual young woman as he told of life in the far reaches of the New World. At length, as the last spoonful of an excellent trifle had been disposed of, Lady Sandborne rose to lead the ladies from the dining parlor. Melody, following the dowager from the room, cast a glance back toward Lord Sandborne, only to find him gazing at her speculatively. She felt her cheeks go hot and cursed her wretched tendency to blush whenever anyone so much as took notice of her.

Not to her great surprise, the ladies had barely settled themselves in the Blue Saloon when Lord Sand-borne and his cousin appeared in the doorway. Evidently the two had made short work of their brandy and port. Melody grinned inwardly. She would like to have been a fly on the wall during that time-honored social ritual between such mismatched participants.

Lady Sandborne welcomed her nephews and gestured toward Melody.

“And now, my dear, it’s time for the treat I promised Josh. Will you favor us with a song or two?”

Without demur, Melody rose to seat herself at the harp. Here, at least, she felt completely at home, for when she sang she knew herself to be competent and in control.

Mary took a chair next to Lady Sandborne, and, glancing at Josh, commenced what appeared to be an injured diatribe against the usurper in their midst. Arthur sat near her in bemused silence, apparently devoting himself to further contemplation of the Twentieth Roman Legion. Mary did not stop talking, nor did Lady Sandborne stop interposing ineffectual rebuttals as Melody began to stroke the harp strings.

She had chosen a simple Mozart aria for her offering, and Josh fell immediately under the spell of her glorious voice, despite the sibilant wrangling taking place behind him. At length, however, he was forced to a peremptory, “Hush, please!” before the two combatants fell silent.

“Very nice, Melody,” was Lady Sandborne’s absent comment as the last notes of the song died away. “Why don’t you give us one of those Irish ballads you do so well?”

Melody lifted her hands once more to the harp, but Josh interposed. “I wonder if, instead, you would mind singing the carol you were practicing in the church—’The Holly and The Ivy.’ ”

“Oh. Yes. I will be performing that for the Christmas service. I’m afraid I do not know the harp accompaniment for that—and, I do not play the pianoforte.”

A twinge of apprehension rose inside Josh. He drew a deep breath.