Her Beguiling Butler (18 page)

The new heir to the Ranford estate was a distant cousin of Robert’s and a colonial from New York City. Fortunately for her, he’d taken his time to sail to England, viewing his new title and responsibilities more as a chore than a gift. After he had arrived in London last week, he’d come down to visit with her and found the details of estate management overwhelming. He had even asked her if he might refuse the inheritance of the estate. She’d told him that he couldn’t. One did not refuse a title or an estate, let alone its responsibilities to the land and its tenants. The man had returned to London, flummoxed, and was consulting a solicitor to press his case.

“I should be home, Aunt. This business with Robert’s heir confounds me.”

“No matter, dear.” Her aunt patted her hand absently as she looked out the window of the coach. The woman fluttered her hands and suppressed a grin. She’d been like this for weeks, as if she were a ten-year-old about to debut or burst her buttons with some mad caper. “The estate is his problem. We are here to enjoy ourselves.”

Alicia rolled her eyes. “You mean you hope to influence the Newports to allow dancing.”

Hortense flicked open her fan and waved it quickly. “A midnight ball, don’t you think? They could open the ballroom doors to the gardens and a lovely breeze blows through. I remember dancing here years ago.”

Alicia grinned at the wistful look on her aunt’s face. “You can show them how well it is to be done.”

“For myself, I want to dance with the new heir.”

Gossip in London, so said her aunt, had it that the Newport’s nephew was at last taking up his duties as the earl’s right hand. “You cast your cap for him?”

“I understand he is quite handsome. A veteran of Waterloo, no less. Accomplished in some government business which he gives up to work with his uncle. And rich from investments in the trade with the West Indies.”

“Do I detect you are selling me a bill of goods?”

Hortense tapped her fan on Alicia’s arm, that silly bubbly air of hers overtaking her. “Of course I am. But then he’ll take a look at you in that rose carriage dress and need no encouragement from me.”

“I need you not to push me into any man’s arms.”

“Still smarting over that butler’s departure. I understand, dearest. I do. But he was not worthy of you. No matter who he really was.”

Alicia had told her aunt the entire story of Finnley’s suspected identity and his subsequent revelation that he was an investigator with the Home Office and Bow Street. It was true that Alicia wondered who he was and why he’d taken on such an occupation. Over the past five months, she had hoped she might see him walk up the path to the front door of her Ranford house. She envisioned him asking to be received, hat in hand, and coming to stand in her parlor, revealing who he truly was.

She had imagined it so often that she’d actually concocted different ways in which she might receive him.

He would be apologetic. She would be unforgiving.

He would be demanding. She would be stoic.

He would declare who he was. She would listen and show him the door.

He would offer for her hand. She would ponder if she could trust him.

He would sweep her into his arms and kiss her. And she would melt and want and question if she were a fool to ask for no more in this world than to become his lover and his wife.

“Come along,” her aunt said as the coach rolled to a stop. “Time for fun.”

Argh.
Alicia girded herself for the five days ahead. If she were ever to recover from the loss of Finnley, she would have to find herself a new and engaging occupation. Social charmer might be one.

Humpf. She doubted she’d carry off the ruse.

She knew for certain she would not carry it off when she entered the grand foyer of Newport House and was greeted by the countess of Newport, her husband the earl, and beside him, his nephew.

The man was devastatingly handsome.

And she was tongue-tied.

“May I introduce you to my younger brother’s son, Lady Bentham?”

The earl rattled on. She did not hear him.

But recognition washed over her. She was calm. She was rational. She was curious as to who this splendid creature was who bowed and gave no hint that they knew each other intimately.

She extended her hand and Newport’s heir raised it to his lips so that she stared into the clear blue depths of the man’s eyes. As his supple mouth grazed her skin with homage, she noted the patter of her heart.

“How do you do, my lord,” she managed.

With a sultry regard, he gave her a broad smile. “Lady Bentham, I am delighted to meet you.”

Delighted? Ohh, you planned this, Lord Whateveryournameis.

Aunt Hortense stood beside her. That lady’s mouth did not fall open. She did not offer a gasp. Curious, Alicia glanced at her and her aunt beamed. Beamed!

She frowned at her.

The lady preened. Preened! And when he turned to her, she curtsied to him. She even grinned at him.

Ohh, her aunt conspired in this?

Alicia set her teeth.

She and Aunt Hortense would have a talk. A long one. All that giggly expectation of her aunt’s was because she knew about this meeting! She had helped to plan it.
Ohh.
She would have things to say to her. Many things. But not now. Now she had to be gracious.

She bit her lip as she watched this man take her aunt’s hand in welcome.

They chatted.

She fumed.

They were polite.

She was demure.

Hell.
She had no idea what they said—and so she gave up and did what instinct demanded.

She devoured him with her eyes. His height still inspired her admiration. His hair, as black, as shining, but shorter, cut to precision around his noble head. His clothes. Ah. His forest green coat of superfine was cut across shoulders that seemed broader. His waistcoat of gold brocade with green thread shot through gave his ruddy complexion a rich hue. His white stock was elegantly tied, no simple butler’s collar for this man. Nor did he wear a servant’s black trousers but fawn breeches that fit so well his muscular thighs were shown in best relief.

She swallowed back her fascination for this man. Confound it! She was here to carve a new path in society, not drool over the heir. She needed to be ruled by her wits, not her desires.

She straightened her spine and plastered a smile on her face. Would to heavens, she appeared natural. Yet she feared she looked wooden as a marionette. Best to stay far from him…if she could.

But he seemed stuck to her side. Talking, grinning, making conversation with her aunt, he offered his arm and she had to accept it. He escorted her and Hortense into the drawing room where he directed them to a settee and he sat in a large chair opposite. The earl and his wife took their places as well and there ensued chatter of who would next arrive.

Lady Somethingorother and her mother from London. Lord Hampshire and his wife, both long-time friends of the Newports. Another lord whose name sounded like Lullaby.

Alicia knew none of them. She focused on the tall, dark haired gentleman whom she’d once called Finnley and who gazed at her intermittently with hot caresses of his sky blue eyes.

They remarked upon the weather. Beautifully warm after the horribly snowy winter they’d suffered.

They discussed the coronation plans. Not to be until next summer when the Court was officially out of mourning.

They held forth about this one and that. Lady Louise Macomb was to be married to her brother’s best friend. Lady Pemberton’s daughter, who’d just come out this Season and who lived with her mother at Number Fourteen in Dudley Crescent, was engaged to a viscount.

“And you, my dear Lady Bentham, what are your plans for your Bentham manor house?” asked the countess.

Alicia had wits enough about her to comment on that. “I find it in need of many repairs.”

“Ah, yes,” said the countess, “I understood no one had occupied the house for decades.”

“It does appear that way,” Alicia told her. “Half a wing is more like a stables. The spiders and mice are quite at home in the other wing. I must begin repairs soon on Bentham because the new baron has come from America and should soon take over my Ranford country house.”

“Will he?” the earl asked. “I hear he is not inclined to become a baron or a landlord.”

Alicia gave a small smile. “You are correct, my lord. He questions the value of it.”

“When being a lord cannot bring you happiness,” declared the handsome creature sitting near her, “what value is it?”

“How right you are, my lord,” she said and turned away from the lure of his mouth and the need in his eyes.

They went on like that, discussing that and this and nothing of any consequence, until the host and hostess were called to the foyer to greet newly arriving guests.

Her aunt found an excuse to follow them out.

Alicia shot to her feet.

He stepped close to her.

She looked up into his face. Oh, she had missed him. His smile. His sweet consideration. His mellow voice. The way he watched her with an intensity that stole her breath.

But she forced iron into her spine. She had missed every detail of his introduction, save that he was his uncle’s heir. Cursing her dizzy lack of social decorum, she would not shame herself by making any
faux pas
. “Tell me, sir, by what name do I address you?”

“I am Beaumont.”

“Beaumont.” The name was a surprise in more ways than one. “The viscount, is that correct?”

“It is.” His expression drifted from concern to fear.

“Then you are also the man who was a contender for the barony of Bentham. My rival.”

“That was no doing of mine. It was the way the Lords read the genealogy and my mother’ family marriage records that a few thought me eligible. You won the title, as you should have.”

She nodded, cool to his warm regard. “And what, may I ask, do your close friends call you?”

“I am Wallace Finnley Demerest. Finn, to my dearest friends and to you.”

Finn. Finn, you were all to me. Still are.

She’d be damned if she’d use his name. Tears stung her eyelids. “Please excuse me, my lord. My journey was long. I must retire to my room.”

She swept from the room and he did not follow.

Thank heavens.

If he had, she would have thrown herself into his arms and kissed him senseless. Or boxed his ears.

Which was worse?

Before she went down for dinner, she had to have a fitting word or two with her aunt.

“Oh, there you are. Good,” Hortense said as she swung wide the door to her suite and let her march in. “Well, I see you are in a stew. If you plan to reprimand me for this, I will not listen.”

“You
knew
.” Alicia fairly steamed. “
Knew
who he was.”

“I did. But not at first.” She did have the courtesy to appear sheepish. “Not when he worked for you.”

“When did you learn?”

“Last month. I was invited to Lord and Lady Grayson’s for dinner. And who should appear but Finnley. Or Finn. Or—“ She circled a hand in the air. “Beaumont.” She giggled but stopped abruptly and cleared her throat.

“You find this amusing. Amusing!” Alicia paced before her aunt.

“I find it thrilling. You should, too.”

“Oh! You are incorrigible.”

“And you, my pet, are very fortunate.”

“Why? Because he is here? Because he is—“

“Interested in you. Still.” Her aunt pulled on her dinner gloves and turned to her mirror to check her riot of white ringlets. “Of course. You loved him as he was your butler. Why can you not love him as a rich, eligible bachelor with prospects to be an earl?”

Alicia stared at her aunt. And frowned.

Was she being petulant? Resisting a man who wanted her, always had, because he had not been honest with her when she demanded it…and he had other duties that prohibited him?

Why had he waited for months to tell her? Why not come to her and explain?

Was she unreasonable? After being forced to marry a man she did not want and after being married to a creature who had taken so little regard for her feelings, had she become a hard-hearted woman? Was she a shrew?

Oh, now that was a frightening prospect.

Argh.
She turned on her heel.

“Where are you going?” Hortense looked stricken, frightened.

“For a walk in the gardens.”

“Alone?”

“Yes. I can. I will. And do not tell
anyone
.”

“Dinner will be served in—“

“I will be there.” Alicia yanked open her aunt’s bedroom door. “Never fear.”

Fortunately, Alicia managed dinner with ease. She was seated next to Lord Llandudno, a Welshman, with a copper mine or two. Beaumont was seated far down the table near the young lady who had arrived with her mother. The lady who was lovely save for her snaggletooth had decided at some point in the day that Lord Beaumont was a man to be snared in her net. And that gentleman had decided to apply polite indifference to her efforts.

Alicia stifled her joy at that and turned to the Welshman.

Lord Llandudno, meanwhile, was passing interesting, if one wished to learn how a copper mine was run.

The evening went without concern, although Aunt Hortense kept a sharp eye on Alicia. And the other set of eyes on her were blue and anxious and Alicia adored the attention.

When it came time for the men to enjoy brandy and the women to retire for the drawing room, Alicia begged off and sought her suite.

She needed a good night’s sleep because she was certain that as the wealth of the day spread before her tomorrow, Beaumont would find her.

And she must have her plan ready. Whatever that was.

He was seated in the dining room when Alicia arrived at eight, sipping coffee. Llandudno sat to his right, eating and attempting a discussion of politics. Alicia took a chair far down the long table, implying how she wished to dine in silence. That was not to be.

A minute after Alicia sat, young Lady Snaggle arrived and sat to Finn’s left. She promptly took to cooing at Finn. He took up a broadsheet. Finishing her egg and toast, young Snaggle took Finn’s cue that he was bored—and left to walk in the gardens. Llandudno soon followed and Alicia suspected he thought to train his monologues on copper mining toward the lady.