Good Earls Don't Lie (9 page)

He understood her wariness, though it put him at a disadvantage. “What is it you’re wanting from me,
a chara
? Is there a way I can prove myself worthy of your trust?”

Lady Rose thought a moment and shrugged. “In time, perhaps. You did intercede well with my mother when she was having one of her spells. I am grateful for it.”

“But you fear something could happen to her.”

Rose nodded. “When she has one of her bad days, she is not thinking clearly. And I may not be able to stop her if she decides to do something dangerous.” A shudder crossed over her at the memory. “But I cannot lock her away. Not my own mother.”

Iain completely understood her fears. To allay them, he added, “I agree. She may be lost within her own mind, but she would only grieve if she were hidden away from others.”

The young woman lowered her face, but not before he caught the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I wish we could help her get better. But I do not know how to heal a broken mind. Perhaps when my brother returns . . .” Her words trailed off, and within them, he heard the trace of another fear. James Thornton, the Earl of Penford, had not yet returned from his travels in India, and no one knew when he would take up his duties in Parliament. Undoubtedly, they were all left in a state of grave worry.

“There is a way I could be of assistance, Lady Rose. I could prevent your mother from leaving the estate unless one of you is with her.”

She sent him a hesitant nod, thinking it over. “That might be helpful. You need not shadow her, for I can get Hattie to stay with her for most of the day. But if she is not in her right mind, the servants are afraid of losing their post if they dare to seize her.”

He gave a slight nod of agreement. It was a reasonable enough request. He could also instruct Nelson not to prepare any means of transportation for Lady Penford unless her daughter ordered it first.

“Let us make a bargain between us,” Iain said. “I will remain upon the grounds of Penford, and you can send for me if there is a need. Between us, we can keep Lady Penford safe.”

She nodded. “Very well.”

It seemed that this arrangement was the best he could hope for, under the circumstances. “And when your grandmother returns, I will prove to you who I am.”

She inclined her head. “But if you are not the Earl of Ashton, I shall have you removed from Penford.”

The rain began pounding harder, soaking through the horse blanket until his hair was wet, dripping down his coat. “Would you like to go inside, out of the rain?” Iain suggested, glancing upward at the dark clouds. It did not seem that the downpour would relent again.

In reply, Lady Rose put down her umbrella and defiantly removed her bonnet, lifting her face to the sky. “Not really. I haven’t had my hour outside yet.”

The rain drenched her hair and gown, spattering against her face. Instead of complaining, Lady Rose began laughing. “I think I’ve gone as mad as my mother.”

Her brown hair darkened from the water, until it grew plastered against her face. Droplets rolled down her cheeks, and her smile transformed her into a breathtakingly beautiful woman. Iain was transfixed by the droplet of rain that she licked from her lips, and he forced the idle thoughts away.

“My lady—” Calvert sputtered. “You must come in out of this rainstorm.”

“Must I?” She let out a reluctant sigh. The footman hurried forward with his own umbrella, but she waved him away. At that, the servant sent a hard glare toward Iain, as if his mistress’s momentary insanity were due to his interference.

But Iain hardly cared. He was fascinated by this uninhibited side to Lady Rose. And when she opened her laughing eyes and regarded him, he winked. Her response was a mischievous smile.

She’s not yours,
he reminded himself. And yet, he was glad to see she was not a subdued, proper English lady. He rather liked her spirit.

“You may take me inside now, Calvert. As for you”—she turned to Iain—“go inside and dry off. I will speak to Fulton about you and see what’s to be done.”

“Will I be permitted to leave the garret?” he inquired.

“Eventually,” Lady Rose responded. “That is, as soon as I have proof that you truly are the Earl of Ashton.”

He gave her a light bow. “I am grateful for the room, Lady Rose. Even if I do have to share it with a disgruntled cat.”

“Moses believes he owns the house,” she agreed. “But he’s quite affectionate. If you’re fortunate, he might share his bed with you.”

“So long as he doesn’t share mice. I’ve given up rodents for supper.”

She sent him an affronted look. “You
are
an ungrateful wretch, aren’t you? And here Moses was hoping to bring you a treat.”

He walked alongside her toward the house. “Don’t worry, Lady Rose. If you’re wanting me to, I’ll be certain to save you all of Moses’s treats.”

As Calvert brought her through the house door, she called back, “I shall hold you to that promise.”

Chapter Five

Lily reached for the necklace beneath her gown and withdrew it. The gold ring hung from the end of the chain, and she slipped it on her finger. It was still loose, but the weight of the ring troubled her.

Her sister Rose believed it was a betrothal ring, when, in fact, it was her wedding band. No one knew she was already married—not even her sister or brother. Strange to think that she had wed Matthew in secret and then hadn’t seen him in nearly two years. But she held no regrets at all. Her fondest wish had been granted.

She traced the outline of the ring, remembering their wedding day. Although it was not a true marriage in a legal sense—for there had been no time to get a license—they had spoken vows before a minister.

At the time, she had believed it was vastly romantic that Matthew wanted to marry her before he left for India with her brother James. The two men had traveled together, supposedly because of Matthew’s investments with the East India company, but she wondered if the real reason was because they’d wanted to see the world and find adventure.

On their wedding night, her family had mistakenly believed she’d gone to visit her dearest friend Catherine—and she had never bothered to correct that assumption. Instead, she had spent the night in the arms of the man she loved.

Matthew hadn’t written to her in all this time. It terrified Lily to imagine that he’d been killed. She missed him more and more with each passing day. Even her brother had never answered her letters, and she didn’t know what had happened. They needed to send someone to India to bring James back, or at the very least, to tell him that he was now the earl. At the moment, their land steward was helping them keep the estate running smoothly, since their mother was unable to do so. But although everything was prosperous on the surface, Lily couldn’t shake the feeling that the illusion would shatter.

Her mother, in contrast, was ever cheerful, believing that all would be well. This morning, Iris had been in good spirits, talking of finding Lily a wealthy husband.
I already have one,
she’d wanted to say, but couldn’t. Instead, it seemed better to redirect her mother’s attention back to Rose.

Her older sister was desperate to walk again before they returned to London. And although Lily didn’t blame her, neither did she want Rose to worry about the opinions of others when they arrived—especially Thomas Kingford, the Viscount Burkham.

Quite frankly, the man didn’t suit her sister at all. Burkham was too dependent upon his parents—in particular, his mother. Lily couldn’t imagine what Rose had ever seen in him, except that Lord Burkham was a safe choice. Everyone knew him as a gentleman with a respectable title and fortune. But she’d always thought her sister could do better.

A knock sounded at the door, and her mother called out, “Lily, may I come in?”

“Of course.” She stood, and Iris entered the room, carrying a ball gown over one arm.

“I brought this in to see if it would fit you. You might be able to wear it to a ball in London.” Iris held out a high-waisted gown that was twenty years out of fashion. But Lily didn’t have the heart to say no when her mother’s good days were becoming fewer and fewer.

“Help me with the buttons,” she told her. Iris set down the gown and closed the door before returning to assist.

“It’s a gown I wore for my debut,” her mother admitted. “I had many admirers then.” There was a slight catch in her voice. “Perhaps it will bring luck to you or your sister.”

“I think Rose should find a husband first, since she’s the eldest.” That was a good enough reason, Lily thought.

But her mother turned to face her, and there was sadness in her blue eyes. “Do you think she’ll ever walk again, Lily?”

“She seems determined to find a way.” But inwardly, she didn’t believe it. Although Rose claimed she had feeling in her legs, not once had she been able to bear weight upon them.

Now that her mother was in a better state of mind, Lily decided to ask about the mysterious Mr. Donovan. It
did
seem that the handsome Irishman had provoked a response from her sister. And so she asked, “Mother, did you or Grandmother ever know Lord or Lady Ashton?”

“Why yes, of course,” Iris said. “I went to school with Lady Ashton. Moira Ryan was her name before she married. And a more lively girl than Moira there never was. The mischief that girl got into . . .” Iris finished unbuttoning Lily’s gown and lifted it over her head. “She married the Earl of Ashton and they had several children.”

“Were there any sons?” Lily murmured. Her mother’s hands stilled upon her corset, and she didn’t speak. “Mother?”

She turned around and saw that Iris had gone pale. When she took her mother’s hand, Iris’s palm was sweaty, and her eyes seemed unfocused. “Are you all right?”

“My arm.” Iris’s voice was slurred, as if she were intoxicated. “I cannot lift my arm.”

Lily guided her toward her bed. “Sit down a moment.” She kept her voice calm, soothing her mother by telling Iris to take deep breaths and rest.

The episode passed within a few minutes, and she helped her mother lie back. Within minutes, Iris curled up to sleep.

Lily pulled a blanket over her, wondering whether she should summon a physician or if this was merely part of her mother’s illness. She rang for her maid, and when the girl arrived, Lily asked her to watch over her mistress.

She needed to speak with Rose and determine what to do now.

Rose leaned back in her chair, while her bare feet rested in a basin of warmed water. She wore a clean nightgown and wrapper, and she had decided to take a tray alone in her room this evening. Her hair was damp and combed over one shoulder, but she held no regrets about being rained upon. Instead, she had enjoyed her moment of foolishness.

Oh, she knew that Calvert loathed being her personal servant. Though he tried to hide his malcontent, it was very clear that he resented these duties. He preferred to polish silver rather than take her anywhere. More than once he’d tried to convince her to get a Bath chair.

But she refused to let herself be confined indoors or imprisoned within a chair—even one with wheels.

The warm water in the basin was growing cooler, and she attempted to wiggle her toes. There. She smiled at the slight movement, gratified to see that she had managed the feat.

A knock sounded at the door, and she heard her sister’s voice. Rose called out for Lily to come inside, and when her sister entered the room, it was clear that something had happened.

“We’re not going to London,” Lily began without preamble.

“Sit down and tell me.” Rose pointed toward another chair, and her sister brought it closer.

Lily hesitated as if she didn’t quite know how to begin. “Mother was having a better day until a little while ago. She . . . brought me a gown she wanted me to try on. But then, her voice grew slurred, as if she were intoxicated.” Lily went on to describe the strange illness and how their mother was now sleeping in her bed. “I think we should call a physician . . . but I’m afraid to.”

The worry in her voice mirrored Rose’s concerns. Neither of them wanted their mother to be thought of as mad. And yet, they could not ignore the onset of this spell.

“In the morning,” she said. “We will send for one then, if it’s necessary. Perhaps a day or two of rest will make everything right again.” Rose lifted her feet from the basin and rested them upon a linen cloth.

Her sister looked startled. “Why, Rose. You moved your feet.”

“So I did.” She beamed at her sister. Though it was such a small movement, it was the first time she’d managed to lift them without using her hands. Hope burgeoned up within her until it felt as if she’d swallowed sunlight. “By summer’s end, I hope to dance, Lily.”

“With whom?” Her sister laughed and ventured, “Calvert, I presume? Or perhaps the handsome Mr. Donovan, if you summon him back to Penford?”

Rose’s smile faltered at the mention of the Irishman. She had neglected to say anything about her agreement. “He . . . hasn’t left yet, Lily.”

“What do you mean, Mr. Donovan hasn’t left? I thought you sent him away.”

“Not exactly.” She reached down and lifted her feet from the water, drying her ankles and legs. “I told him he could stay until Grandmother returns from Bath.”

Her sister’s expression grew incredulous. “Why would you do this? We don’t even know who he is.”

Her sister was right, but Rose couldn’t help but think that he was truly an earl who had fallen into misfortune and was in grave need of assistance. “He saved our mother’s life,” she reminded Lily. “Is that not worth our hospitality for a week or a fortnight at the very latest?”

“We don’t
know
him,” her sister repeated. “Honestly, Rose, where has your good sense gone?”

“The rain melted it away.” But she sent her sister a pointed look. “And it’s not as if you haven’t behaved in a rash manner before, am I right?”

Lily had the good graces to blush. “Be that as it may, if he dares to harm anyone—”

“I will be the first to send him away.” But she believed that Mr. Donovan—or Lord Ashton—was a good man at heart. And she could not deny that he had awakened her sense of adventure, making her want to go riding each morning. He needed help and advice, both of which she could provide.

“Supper will be served within the hour,” Lily reminded her. “Do you honestly expect us to dine with him? Or will he eat among the servants?”

Rose hadn’t thought of that. Though she was tempted to order Fulton to bring Mr. Donovan to their table, it would likely cause an outcry from the staff.

“I suppose he should eat with the staff or alone in his room,” she answered. “Until we know his identity for certain, it would not be wise to disrupt the order of our household.”

But, even so, Rose wondered about the mysterious Iain Donovan. Was he indeed an earl? Or was he merely a liar?

The next day, there was still no sign of Lady Wolcroft. Iain learned that Lady Rose’s mother had been convalescing after a brief illness. At least there would be no danger of her wandering off today. It would give him the opportunity to seek his belongings from the mischievous Master Beauregard. The boy had been given adequate time to return them.

Iain poured water into the basin and washed his face and hands. This morning, he planned to pay a call on Beauregard’s father. But Sir Lester might not receive him, given the state of Iain’s bedraggled clothing—that is, unless Lady Rose accompanied him. He decided to invite her along.

After he finished getting dressed, he rubbed the cat’s ears by way of farewell. Moses purred and butted his head against Iain’s hand.

He left the garret and walked down the narrow flights of stairs until he reached the kitchen. The housekeeper was busy directing the cook on what to serve at breakfast, and the smell of eggs made his mouth water.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, savoring dreams of hot food. In his own kitchen, they’d had to lock the doors and bar the windows, for starving tenants roamed freely across Ireland and would not hesitate to kill those who had supplies. Iain had worn a revolver at his side, morning and night. He’d also ordered the cook to hide a great deal of the food, and he’d kept a tight inventory over what was saved and what was consumed.

His first responsibility was to his own tenants, not strangers. And yet, nothing had been more difficult than turning away those in need. Because of his rationing, they’d survived the first year of famine. It was too soon to tell if this year would be any different, but he hoped the harvest would improve.

Iain bowed to the housekeeper and sent her a warm smile. “Good morning to you, Mrs. Marlock.”

“Off wi’ ye.” She handed him a bowl of porridge and pointed toward a long table, where several of the servants were eating quickly. “When ye’ve finished with that, go out and help Nelson with the horses.”

He didn’t bother correcting her assumption that he was here as a servant, but instead accepted the food and went to sit at the table. Hattie was finishing her own dish of porridge, scraping the bottom of the bowl. Her eyes narrowed at him, but she gave him a nod of acknowledgment and passed him the honey. It was a start, he supposed.