Good Earls Don't Lie (13 page)

He didn’t want to see her suffer from a broken heart. She deserved better than that, after all she’d endured.

He could understand her desire to return to London, fully recovered from her illness. And he found himself wanting to help. If he offered for the sake of friendship, she might refuse because of her pride. But he needed her assistance, as well. He had no inkling of how to behave in polite society or how to find a bride. Perhaps they could strike a bargain between them.

“Lady Rose, I’ve a proposition for you,” Iain began. “I wonder if we might help one another.”

Her face held curiosity, and she waited for him to speak. He stood by the open window and admitted, “As I’ve said before, I’ve come to England in search of a wife. But I have never been to London, and my knowledge is woefully lacking.”

“And what would your bride receive in return for handing over her dowry? Besides a pirate for a husband, of course.”

“Several thousand acres of land, along with the manor house.”

Lady Rose thought for a moment. “Just how particular are you, regarding her looks?”

Her caveat was not lost upon him. “It all depends. Given the choice between a shrewish beauty and a kindly troll, I suppose the troll would be easier to live with.”

“There are a few possibilities,” she said. “Though I would not call Evangeline a troll. More like painfully shy. A wallflower who hardly talks to anyone. But she is a dear friend of mine.”

“That wouldn’t bother me, if she has a good heart.” He leaned back against the summerhouse wall. “If you will help me find a suitable bride, in return, I could help you learn to walk again.”

He wasn’t expecting the burst of laughter from her. With a smirk, she added, “Are you from Nazareth, then? Can you turn water into wine as well?”

He ignored the jibe. “You did stand just now, did you not? You’ve not used your legs in half a year. If they gain strength, it could happen.”

Her teasing mood dissipated, and she turned serious. “I want to walk again, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to learn how.” She brushed droplets of water from her face and regarded him. “But it could be another year before that happens. You don’t have that much time.”

He didn’t know whether her prediction would be true or not, but he wanted to make the attempt. And there was no question that he needed her help in navigating the complications of London society. “Are you willing to let me help you, Lady Rose?”

She hesitated for nearly a minute, staring outside the stone window of the summerhouse. The rain had stopped, and they could now return to their horses. Hattie had risen from the floor and was standing a discreet distance from them, though she had undoubtedly heard every word.

“Possibly,” Lady Rose said at last. “But I am realistic about what progress I might make.” She faced him squarely, her mind made up. “I will amend our bargain. If I manage to take two steps on my own in the next few weeks, I’ll make a list of the wealthiest heiresses whom I believe would make a suitable match for you. And I will speak to them and to their parents on your behalf.”

“Fair enough.” He reached out to her hand and kissed the back of it. “I am not from Nazareth, as you said. But we are in agreement.”

It was not a contract he had made lightly. For he had a feeling that Lady Rose would indeed walk, sooner than she believed it was possible.

Chapter Seven

After they returned to the house, Rose’s thoughts were in turmoil. Now that she had seen the signet ring upon Mr. Donovan’s hand, she felt guilty about doubting his identity. They had treated him so badly—he’d slept in an attic room among the servants, for heaven’s sake.

She asked Mrs. Marlock to make up one of the guest rooms, and Rose sent some of her brother’s older belongings for Lord Ashton to wear.

But that wasn’t the only reason she was anxious. No, it was because Lord Ashton had offered to help her walk again. This afternoon, that dream had finally seemed within reach. It had been so long since she’d been able to bear weight upon her legs. Even though it had caused her great fatigue and had barely lasted more than a second, she was so thankful for that fragile moment.

Only days ago, she had wondered if it would ever be possible. And now, Lord Ashton had made it real. Though she was afraid to get her hopes up—for she had no idea how he could help her—she couldn’t stop the feelings of joy.

She spent the remainder of the afternoon daydreaming and thinking of possible brides for Lord Ashton. Most of the wealthy heiresses had no need of a penniless Irish lord. They could choose any man they wanted. But surely there was someone.

A knock sounded at the door, and she heard Lily’s voice. “Rose, may I come in?”

“Yes, do.”

The door opened, and her sister hurried inside. Lily’s face held excitement. “I have news. The Countess of Castledon is coming to supper this evening. Along with Grandmother.”

“I thought she was in Bath.” Rose straightened, wondering why their grandmother had not simply returned home.

“She was. But she stopped to spend the night at Castledon, and the countess thought to send word of her impending arrival.”

Rose managed a slight smile. “I imagine it was a warning that we should brace ourselves.” Though she loved her grandmother, she had a feeling that the old woman was plotting something. Why else would she stop at Castledon first?

Lily sent her a pained smile. “I suppose we had best prepare ourselves.” She sat down on the bed and said, “I hired a man to travel to India to search for James. He needs to come back, Rose.”

“I know it.” Her deeper fear was that their brother had disappeared somehow or was hurt. All of them were trying to put up a brave front, but what if he didn’t return?

“We are having difficulty with some of the tenants,” Lily said. “Many of them haven’t paid their rents. Then, too, some of our money has gone missing.”

“Missing? How?”

“When I was visiting Mother this morning, she confessed that she had given money to the poor.” Lily’s expression revealed her dismay.

“Oh, dear,” Rose sighed. “How much?”

“A thousand pounds, at least. Any time someone asks her for money, she gives it. Apparently someone from a charitable society asked her for a donation.”

Rose winced, for she hadn’t known of this. “She cannot be expected to handle money. Not anymore.”

“Not in her current state of mind,” Lily agreed.

“It makes me wonder, what else has she been hiding from us?” Rose hadn’t worried about the state of their finances, for everything had seemed fine. But if it wasn’t, what then? She didn’t like to think about it.

“I don’t know,” Lily said. “But we need James to return. Once he does, we can unravel all this.” She crossed the room and opened Rose’s wardrobe. “In the meantime, would you like my help in getting dressed for dinner?”

“If you like.” She attempted to move her legs over the side of the bed, but she lacked the strength to do so without lifting them with her hands. “I will wear the violet gown. And please ring for Hattie, so she can help me with my hair.”

It was her own vanity, but she wanted to look nice. Especially since Lord Ashton would be joining them at dinner for the first time.

“Your hair does look . . . interesting.” Lily grimaced and brought over the gown. “You were caught in the rain, I imagine?”

“Yes.” She wanted to confess everything to her sister, about how Lord Ashton had helped her stand while Hattie cowered from the rainstorm. But the more she thought of his calm strength, the more her face flushed. When he had held her in the summerhouse, the heat of his hands around her waist had spread all the way through her body.

The earl had evoked such a feeling of longing, she hadn’t expected her senses to awaken in such a way. She could not deny that he had kindled up the fierce need for human touch. She had wanted to lean her head against his broad chest, allowing him to hold her up.

It was so wrong.

She told herself that it was only her loneliness for Lord Burkham that had made her so susceptible to temptation. Once she saw Thomas again, these feelings would fade.

Her sister helped her dress, and Rose decided that it was best to keep silent about what had happened in the summerhouse.

“You are
not
attending supper.” Calvert sent Iain a murderous glare and blocked the hallway. “Servants do not dine with the family.” The older footman puffed up and said, “I don’t know what lies you’ve been telling, but you’re nowt but a charlatan. Someone has to stop you.”

Iain stood his ground. He wasn’t about to waste time arguing with the footman. Instead, he stared back at the man with the confident knowledge that he was indeed the Earl of Ashton. But before Calvert could speak another word, an elderly woman approached, leaning lightly against her cane.

“Ashton! I am so pleased you could come as our guest.” She beamed at him and reached out to take his hand. “My goodness, you’re the very image of Moira. I would know you anywhere.” Lady Wolcroft peered at him, her face alight with warmth.

Calvert looked appalled, his mouth gaping like a codfish. Iain had to admit, the man’s discomfort was gratifying. At least he had the good graces not to speak.

“I apologize that I was on holiday when you arrived.” Lady Wolcroft patted his hand and took his arm. “But I want to reassure you that I
did
receive your letter last winter, and I am confident we will indeed find you a bride.” She guided him down the hallway, while behind him Calvert sputtered.

“I agree,” came another woman’s voice. Iain turned and saw a matron who sent him a vivid smile. Her blond hair was arranged into a neat updo beneath her bonnet, and the mischievous expression on her face revealed that both of them had overheard the footman’s outburst.

“Lord Ashton, may I present Amelia Hartford, the Countess of Castledon.” Lady Wolcroft nodded to her friend as she introduced them.

Iain bowed. “Lady Castledon. It’s pleased I am to make your acquaintance.” He sent her a smile of his own, glancing back at Calvert, who held the rigid posture of a statue.

The countess exchanged a look with Lady Wolcroft, and he could have sworn the pair of them were plotting. “You were right, Mildred. Ashton will have no difficulty whatsoever finding a bride. He is quite good looking, and that Irish accent will cause many a young lady to fall into a swoon. I, for one, should be glad to offer whatever assistance possible. There is nothing I adore more than matchmaking.”

Iain wasn’t at all certain whether to be grateful or frightened. Calvert stepped forward to take Lady Castledon’s bonnet and wrap, and he cleared his throat loudly.

Lady Wolcroft was ignoring him, but he kept coughing until at last she asked, “Calvert, are you suffering from consumption, or was there something you needed to say?”

The footman stiffened. “My lady, I believe this man to be an imposter. He cannot possibly be lord of anything at all. I wanted to warn you.”

“What on earth are you prattling on about, Calvert?” the woman demanded. “I know exactly who he is.”

“B-but, he arrived wearing nothing but—”

“It is a story best told over supper,” Iain interrupted. “Suffice it to say that I was robbed of my belongings on the journey and arrived here looking like a beggar.”

“Oh, that
does
sound like a good story,” Lady Castledon gushed. “I do so want to hear all about it. Especially the part where you were wearing nothing.”

At that, Iain nearly choked. The mischief in the countess’s eyes revealed that she had fully intended the innuendo. “I hesitate to disappoint you, Lady Castledon, but I was half-clothed.”

“I should like to have seen
that.
” The matron winked at him. “Do tell me that you will allow us to meddle and choose the perfect bride for you. My husband, David, thinks that I interfere too much, but I say that men need to be managed. Don’t you agree?”

He understood that she was only having a bit of fun, and despite Lady Wolcroft’s horrified expression, he inclined his head. “I give myself over into your hands. Do with me what you will.”

“Oh, I
do
like you, Lord Ashton,” the countess sighed. “It’s a good thing I’m happily married, or I should have set my cap for you myself.”

Iain escorted both ladies toward the dining room, while Calvert glowered. As they walked, Lady Castledon and Lady Wolcroft continually chattered, filling his ears with promises of how they would help him choose a bride.

When they reached the dining room, Lily rose and exclaimed, “Grandmother, I am so glad you’ve returned.” She kissed the woman on the cheek and then offered a greeting to Lady Castledon.

Lady Penford was already seated at the table, her face pale. The matron hardly looked well enough to dine with them, and when her gaze turned to her mother, she did not appear to recognize the older woman.

Lady Wolcroft’s expression dimmed at the sight, but she crossed the room and went over to embrace her daughter. “I heard that you were ill, Iris. I am so sorry that I was away and did not receive word until a few days ago.”

The woman did not respond to her mother’s words, and there came a rise of panic in her eyes. Iain decided to ignore propriety, and he chose a seat beside the matron. Strangely, it did seem that she recognized him, and her eyes seemed to plead with him to keep her safe.

“Are you feeling better, then, Lady Penford?” he asked gently. “No bad dreams are plaguing you?”

“S-some,” she stammered. She looked down at the table and clenched her hands together.

“Then it will be good to have your family around you,” he reassured her. “Your mother and your daughters.”

She nodded but kept her gaze fixed upon the tablecloth. An awkward silence filled up the space while the others took their seats. Rose had not yet arrived, but Iain hoped she would join them soon. He was eager to see her again after their outing in the rain.

The countess sat across from him, and she eyed Lady Penford thoughtfully before choosing another topic to change the subject. “Lord Ashton, how is your family?”

He could have said that they were all fine, but then, was there any purpose to a polite lie? The countess was quite aware of why he had come to Yorkshire. This was about planning a strategy, finding a bride, and saving his sisters’ hopes for marriage.

“We have fallen upon difficult times,” he admitted. “It’s grateful I am, that my mother and you”—he turned to Lady Wolcroft—“have remained close.”

The older woman smiled and added, “Moira was like a daughter to me. She came to England for boarding school, and she spent all her school holidays with us. Do you remember Moira, dear?”

Lady Penford shook her head. Her eyes focused upon the wall, distant and unseeing.

Lady Wolcroft’s smile grew pained. “Be that as it may, Moira began writing letters to me. She told me I was the mother she’d always wanted, and she was such a bright spirit. Then one day, just before you were born, her letters stopped. I wrote to her for many years, but she never answered. Even after I visited her at Ashton, she remained distant. Your letter was the first I’ve received from your family in a long time.”

“My mother? A bright spirit?” He couldn’t imagine her that way. Moira had always been a tyrannical shrew.

The older woman sent him a kindly smile. “Yes, she used to be. It’s possible that a broken heart made her bitter, after your father died.”

Iain tried to imagine his mother smiling and found it impossible to do so. “She’s gone to New York with my sisters,” he told her. “It’s been dangerous at Ashton in the past year. She thought it would be best to take them away for a time.”

“I can understand that,” the countess answered. “I’ve seen many of the refugees from Dublin, and I can only imagine the suffering. Any mother would want to protect her children.”

Although it was true that Moira had been eager to leave with his sisters, she had not spared him a good-bye. It didn’t seem that she’d even cared.

A gloved hand touched his, and he looked over at Lady Penford. “It must have been hard for her to leave that burden on you.” The matron sent him a sympathetic look, and he squeezed her hand in return.

The woman might indeed suffer from madness, but she had a good heart. And perhaps it was for that reason that he held a softness toward her.

While Lady Castledon and Lady Wolcroft began speaking together about their strategy of finding him a wife, Iain lowered his voice and asked, “How are you truly, Lady Penford? Have the wolves troubled you at all?”