Evelyn Richardson (26 page)

And her companion had been just as impressive as his equipage and his cattle. Tall and dark-haired with eyes that missed nothing, he handled his team with the ease and assurance of a born whip.

‘Top of the trees, he was, but not the least high in the instep,” Farmer Griggs had continued with his story. “Spoke to me like a real gentleman, he did, all about the fields I rent from his lordship and the longstanding agreement. You would not think that a nob like that would know so much about country matters—more than Lord Granville, I am willing to bet, the new one that is—but he did.”

“Who was he, Tom?” one of the eager listeners, unable to bear the suspense any longer, had wanted to know.

“He was the Marquess of Charlmont, which is a most powerful family in its own right. But what is more to the point, as her ladyship says, this man knows the law, and people’s rights, and he is not afraid to stand up for people like you and me. Her ladyship says that that is what he does in London.”

“And why would a nob like that want to help you, Tom?” another onlooker wondered.

Farmer Griggs stared meditatively at his tankard of ale. “Well, lads, her ladyship says it is because he doesn’t like bullies, and he is all for fairness. But it is my opinion,” he paused for effect, “that he is sweet on her ladyship.”

“Ah.” There was a general chorus of approval.

“But what does she think of him?” A waggish man in the corner spoke.

“Now that is a question,” another chimed in. “She is a lady as has a great deal of spirit—too much of it for his new lordship’s taste at any rate.”

A ripple of laughter greeted this sage observation.

But Farmer Griggs held up his hand. “Let me just say—and then we won’t speak of it again as it isn’t respectful—let me just say that I think her ladyship finds that there is a lot to admire in this gentleman. After all, it is not often that she asks for help or advice from anyone.”

The listeners in the room acceded to his dictum and the talk turned back to the usual topics of the weather and the price of corn, but the curiosity of the neighborhood had been aroused and they did their utmost to keep an eye out for the out-and-outer who was not only going to stand up to his lordship but seemed to have won the approval of Lady Catherine in the process, a feat that completely overshadowed any other claims to fame that the gentleman might have.

* * * *

Happily oblivious to what others might be saying about her relationship with the Marquess of Charlmont, Catherine, too, was arriving at the conclusion that she approved of him very much indeed.

It had been a most lowering experience to discover how much she was counting on his help as she waited anxiously for a reply to her letter. It was even more lowering to feel her heart pound and her breath come in short, ragged gasps at the sound of a carriage pulling into the dower house drive late in the evening, a few days after she had sent her letter to London.

She rose shakily to her feet. Could he have come so quickly? Surely it could be no one else at this time of night, but he must have set out for Bath the instant he received her letter.

Fighting to gain control over her body, which seemed to have dissolved into a weak, quivering mass, Catherine made her way to the door as best she could. There he was, curly brimmed beaver tilted at a rakish angle, springing down from his carriage as though he had not spent the entire day on the road.

“You came!” It was all she could say. She cursed herself for sounding so grateful, but it was true, she was inordinately glad to see him.

“Of course I came.” He took both her hands in his, smiling in a way that reduced the few remaining bones in her body to jelly. “Now tell me all about it.”

“What? Oh yes, ‘Ugolino’. Well, come in and sit by the fire.” She nodded to Lucy, hovering in the background, and while the maid ran off to procure refreshment, she led him into the library.

He had listened carefully to the entire sordid tale without comment until she had finished. “Hmmm.” His eyes narrowed as he sipped thoughtfully on his port. “I may or may not find a legal way to keep him from forcing his will on Farmer Griggs, but failing that, I have other ways of, er, influencing him.”

“Oh?” Catherine looked at him anxiously. His grim expression made him look truly formidable.

“Let us just say that my constitutional dislike of people who abuse their power and their privilege will not let me allow Lord Granville to get his way in this case, a way, which from all that you have related to me, is neither responsible nor charitable. At any rate,” he smiled reassuringly at her, “we will not let Farmer Griggs suffer for his kindness.”

“I shall call on you tomorrow at whatever time you think best and we will go see what we can learn from Farmer Griggs. Now, I must go and get some rest if my mind is to be sharp tomorrow.”

It was not until he rose and headed toward the door that she saw how tired he was. The deep-set eyes were shadowed with fatigue and the lines of his face were more clearly etched than she had ever seen them. A sudden rush of gratitude warmed her, and unexpected tears stung her eyes. She leaned against the heavy oak door as he stepped out into the gloom. “Thank you for coming,” she whispered. “Thank you so very much.”

“Anything for you, my love,” he murmured in reply. His lips brushed her forehead softly. He turned and walked swiftly toward his carriage, feet crunching on the gravel. She remained in the doorway as he climbed into his carriage and watched as he rolled off down the drive until the twinkle of the carriage lamps was no longer visible.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Somehow, just his being there made everything better, and the feeling of hopelessness and gloom that had settled over Catherine since her visit to Farmer Griggs suddenly lifted. She was not alone any more. Someone else was by her side in her struggle with Lord Granville. Just the knowledge that Lucian was there and that he believed in her made her feel oddly invincible, whether or not his legal knowledge proved to be effective.

Anything for you, my love
. Had she heard him correctly, or had it merely been the whisper of a passing breeze and her own desperate fancy? Giving herself a mental shake for indulging in such romantic foolishness, Catherine lit a candle and made her way slowly to her bedchamber. She, too, needed rest if her mind was to be sharp the next day.

Bui once in bed, she found that sleep was impossible. She lay there haunted by visions of an angular face etched with lines of exhaustion but filled with a grim determination to help her win her battle against ‘Ugolino’.
Anything for you, my love
. Could it be true? And if it were true, how could she ever repay him?

But as quickly as Catherine asked herself that question, she had another vision of Lucian looking down at her, face softened by tenderness, eyes alight with a longing she did not dare name, a longing that she too had felt, a longing so elemental that it brought both fear and joy to her heart.

Was it true, then, what she had felt so long ago the first time she saw him, that they were meant for one another? The misery she had suffered after being left without a word had made her scoff at such a romantic fallacy, the fantasy of an inexperienced girl who knew nothing of life’s realities. But now, as she lay there remembering the look, the touch, the taste of him, she wondered if perhaps she had not been so very wrong that first time after all. Tomorrow, she reminded herself, tomorrow would bring the clear light of day, and reason would once again reassert itself. Then she would not be so affected by her own exhaustion and worry. She would see him again as he was, a man, not her savior, not her soul mate, just a man and nothing more.

* * * *

But the next day did not bring the counsel Catherine had expected. A messenger brought a note from Lucian suggesting they call on Farmer Griggs that afternoon when she and he had finished their daily tasks.

“Now, we will enjoy this drive and think of nothing more serious than the beauty of the countryside,” Lucian admonished as he helped Catherine into his curricle that afternoon.

And indeed she did, as they bowled smoothly along the road, past rich green fields dotted with sheep, up the slope to the top of the hills ringing the Avon’s lush valley and overlooking the city laid out below.

They arrived at Farmer Griggs’s, and Lucian, whose easy manners and genuine concern soon made the farmer comfortable, questioned him closely about the fields in question. “Now, if I am not much mistaken, the fields you are speaking of lie in that direction.” Lucian pointed off toward the dower house.

“That they do, my lord. They are between my land and her ladyship’s, along the road here.”

“Ah. And was there a verbal agreement with the late Lord Granville about this, or do you have a lease?”

“Oh, I have a lease, my lord. His late lordship insisted on it. He was a true gentleman, that one.”

“And may I see the lease?”

“Yes, of course, my lord. I shall just fetch it from my desk.” The farmer hurried off and was back within a few minutes, bearing a yellowed piece of paper with a seal on it.

“May I take this with me to examine it?”

“Certainly, my lord. Do you think it will help?”

“I very much hope so. I shall certainly do my utmost to see that you keep your rights as well as Betty and the baby here at the farm.”

“Oh, thank you, sir. We will all bless you for it.” Much reassured by Lucian’s quiet confidence, the farmer waved them on their way.

Catherine, however, was not so sanguine. “Do you really think you can do anything? Surely if there is a lease, Hugo must have his own copy and knows that he is within his rights as a landlord. He is a dreadful bully, but he is far too concerned with his good name and reputation to break the law.”

“You might be right, but he certainly sailed very close to the wind when he tried to claim your inheritance from your great-aunt Belinda as part of your husband’s estate. We shall see. I am not in Chancery, but I know enough about wills and estates to have an idea that may help us in this instance. Now, I also need a copy of your husband’s will. Do you have one?”

“Certainly, in the strong box, in the library.”

“Then let us go there, if we may.”

They were soon ensconced in the library, Lucian with the two documents spread out before him, and Catherine leaning over his shoulder. Not a sound broke the silence as he read, frowning in concentration. “I gather that the large Palladian villa just visible from the road is Granville Park?”

“Yes. Granville’s great grandfather began building it and his grandfather finished it.”

“Then this house, judging by its style and its proximity to the road was here before the park was built.”

“Yes. This was the original manor house and dates back to the beginning of the family’s fortune, when the first Lord Granville was rewarded by Henry the Seventh for his support.”

A slow smile spread across Lucian’s face. “Then, if I am correct, and I think I am, this is the Granville Manor referred to in both the lease and your husband’s will, which gives you life interest in the house and its lands.”

“Yes.” Catherine nodded thoughtfully. “Do you mean to say, then, that—”

“—that the land Farmer Griggs is leasing is actually part of Granville Manor? Yes. And,” the smile grew broader, “if I am correct, the present Lord Granville not only has no jurisdiction over these fields, but he has been collecting rents that belong to you, if he has been collecting the rent, that is.”

Catherine snorted in a most unladylike manner. “Not collect rents? It is highly unlikely. ‘Ugolino’ is the most clutch-fisted… Of course he has been collecting rents.”

‘Then I think that it is fair to say that not only does he owe Farmer Griggs an apology, he also owes you some money.”

“Truly? How delightful!” Catherine could not help executing a gleeful jig.

Lucian laughed. “I do not believe I have ever seen you look so happy. I shall have to see what I can do to make sure that it continues. Seeing justice done appears to bring you more satisfaction than jewelry and carriages bring to other women. You are a rare woman, Catherine, and you have very expensive tastes, which I long to gratify.”

His tone and his words were teasing, but the look in his eyes made her cheeks grow hot. What would it be like to be gratified by him? She could not help thinking of his lips on hers, of the slow, sensuous way they had trailed kisses down her neck, making her ache with longing, of how her body came alive at his touch, which was infinitely comforting and infinitely disturbing at the same time. What would it be like to cast her fate to the winds, to give in to longing and desire, to be swept away by pleasure without a thought for anything else?

In all her life, Catherine could never remember having ever let herself go or given herself up to the joy of the moment without a thought for the morrow. She had never indulged in a whim or an urge without thoroughly examining the consequences. And what had it brought her in the end? Happiness? No. She was content enough with her life, especially now that ‘Ugolino’ seemed to be at bay. She was proud of what she had accomplished. But was she happy? Did she wake up every morning filled with delightful expectation as she once had briefly, ten years ago? No.

For a moment she saw her life stretching endlessly before her. Once it would have been enough to contemplate the shaping of young women’s lives, continuing with the sort of good works she and Granville had done, but now it filled her with a sense of the emptiness, the sameness of it all.

Almost she wanted to throw herself into Lucian’s arms and think of nothing more except this one moment in time. It would be heaven to know he was there whenever she was worried or tired or overwhelmed by life, to know that there was someone to hold her, to help her, to stand by her and share it with her as he had today. But was it real? And would it last beyond today? Could she bear it if it did not?

“Catherine?”

“What?” She had been so embroiled in her own thoughts that she had almost forgotten he was there looking down at her with that disturbing light in his eyes.