Her Beguiling Butler (19 page)

Alicia, having slept supremely soundly, was prepared for any encounter. She took one look at Finn and knew he had waited for her to open conversation. That made her proud. And made her smile. “Do you dine for hours in this room?”

A roguish smile curled his lips as his eyes met hers. “I do.”

One footman remained, but she would not be dissuaded from her plan to learn precisely who he was. However, she would not be as forward as she once was with him. Her pride, if no other aspect of her character, demanded it. “I wish you would occupy yourself elsewhere.”

“You are my only occupation.”

He was so sweet. Might she indulge herself in that endlessly?

Pushing back her chair, she walked to the sideboard, took another plate and piled high a second helping of bacon and a coddled egg, both looking cold as stones. But no matter. She had an appetite born of frustration with this man, Finn or Finnley or Wallace or Beaumont.

“Hungry this morning?” He grimaced at the wealth of food on her plate.

“I could eat a bear.”

“I can wait.”

“Don’t bore yourself. I will be a very long time.”

“No matter. While I wait for you, I get my reading done and my thinking,” he told her with a hint of humor in his beguiling baritone.

As she headed for her chair at the opposite end of the long dining table, she nodded at his broadsheet aside his plate. “What news do you get here in the country?”

The footman came to hold out her chair for her. And she sat.

“Financial news. My investments do well. From the West Indies and new ones from China. I care not much for politics. Or social news.”

“I agree with you on those last two,” she said and regretted the familiarity of her statement. “Financial news appeals to me. What do you like about it?”

“Grain prices hold steady. We shall have constant bread prices this winter.”

“Which means few riots,” she said as she dug into her egg.

“Precisely. Rumor says a few of the lords have persuaded Prinny not to run us out of house and home to refurbish another palace.”

“True. He has too many.” She took a bite of toast and considered the profligate man who would be king. “Why does a man need more than one house? I find such abundance a challenge.”

“I know you’d like just one home,” he stated in earnest.

He remembered that? Her heart gave a little leap of joy. “One loving one should do. Too many causes confusion. A jumble. You lose items. Where did I leave my black cape? Here or there? And why won’t my damask roses grow in this garden when they sprout like weeds in the other one?”

With a tip of his head and a twinkle in his eyes, he said, “Just so.”

She regarded him with interest borne of her long absence from his company. He looked healthy. Tanned from the sun. Had he been working out of doors? On what? He exuded a magnificence that oozed charm.

She licked her lips and forced her sight back to her plate. It was empty.

“Have you seen the gardens yet?” he asked.

“Last night before dinner. It’s everything the
ton
says it is.” She swallowed hard and wished to converse but found no words.

Silence descended.

“Alicia,” he breathed and she detected that the footman had disappeared. Had Finn dismissed him?

Finn walked over to her.

“You’ve finished, sweetheart. Come stroll with me in the gardens.”

She looked at him. Saw him, really, for the first time as the man she’d known before, kind and honorable, and the man she’d met yesterday, as sweet. As lovable.

He put a hand to her shoulder and another to her hand. “Let me show you the roses, darling. You’ll love the fragrance.”

He offered his arm and she took it. Leading her through the doors to the terrace, he patted her hand and put his face up to the sun. She was content not to talk but to enjoy the peace of being with him.

They strolled along the path, past the border of tall yews and headed for the roses. The damasks were out in full regalia. Their leaves, big and lush, had benefitted from the tenderness of the countess and her gardener.

“I would like a garden like this.”

“One you can design yourself,” he said and she noted it was a statement as if he’d read her mind. “My aunt plotted out this one more than ten years ago. You must ask her for details.”

“I will. I’ve never had a garden of my very own.” She stopped to put a finger to a large petal, soft as velvet, its face to the glory of the June sunshine. “Tell me please how old you are, Beaumont.”

“If you will call me Finn, I’ll tell you anything.”

“Finn.” She liked the sound of his name on her lips. She adored the way his blue eyes took her in as if she were a mirage. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine. Thirty in November.”

“Six years older than I. And you have never wanted to marry?”

He considered her lips. “Never.”

“Why is that? I find that difficult to believe. A man with name, fortune and good looks.”

“You compliment me too much, Alicia. I wanted nothing of other women. Only once did I ask for a woman’s hand in marriage.”

“I remember you told me. She rejected you.”

“That was the duke’s daughter. But the second offer was to a lady who never knew of the offer. Though her brother asked it of me with his dying breath, her father rejected me.”

“Why was that?” She was being forward but something about his statement seemed pointed. And if she was to consider drawing closer to him, she needed to know details of his life, his passions, even his aspirations. She would not marry a man because she desired him, but because she understood all of what he was in private and public. She wanted to honor the man she loved and married.

“My father cast a ruinous impression. He was terrible roué. And I had no money, a rundown estate. My mother’s family were respectable but that counted for nothing next to my father’s reputation.”

“And now you have redeemed your family name with investments and previous employment with the Home Office.”

“I did. I have. I am done with investigating for them.”

She smiled faintly and they began to stroll along again. “That is good to know. Not that anyone should stop you, if that is what you wish to do.”

“I have no desire to do that. I am committed to my new role here as my uncle’s heir and to continuing to improve upon my investments. I have plans for the future and I will need money to implement them.“

Might those plans include me?
She stared up at him.

He halted and drew her toward him. He sank his fingers into the hair at the sides of her ears and lifted her face to his. “Will you come with me for a carriage ride?”

“Today?”

“Now.”

She tilted her head toward the house. “The young lady will miss us.”

“As will Lord Llandudno.”

“He might be better occupied with his current company,” she offered with a wink.

He grinned. “Should I buy a copper mine?”

She snorted. “If you do, you can get copious advice from his lordship.”

He ran a finger down the line of her jaw. “Or you can advise me.”

She took his hand and burst into laughter. “Can we take that carriage ride?”

His face fell from joy into a raw and urgent hunger. “Come with me while I order the stable boys to hitch the curricle.”

She nodded, her heart flooding with happiness. “Yes, let’s.”

He led her at a brisk pace down the path toward the stables.

Within minutes Finn assisted her up into the seat and he climbed up to take the reins.

“Where are we going?”

“To see my house.”

She was surprised and pleased. “Tell me about it.”

“It belongs to the cadet branch of Demerests. My father and mother lived here since their marriage. I grew up here until I was sent to school.”

“Is the house large?”

He inhaled. “It was.”

“Was?”

“We had a fire which destroyed half the place when I was twelve. My mother died soon afterward and my father lived the rest of his days in the remaining wing.”

She sat quietly, not wishing to be intrusive. His family history seemed so sad. And yet, he had surmounted the sorrows of them and made something of himself. Furthermore, it was clear that his aunt and uncle viewed him with love and respect. Theirs was a loving family.

“You would have liked Jerome, my brother.” She said it out of instinct, not thinking that it would elicit the probing look from him. “What have I said?”

The curricle rumbled along the lane, the horse clip-clopping at a steady pace. The quiet was not ominous but pregnant. His expression drifted from grim to contemplative.

She put a hand to his forearm. “Do tell me, Finn.”

“I will. Give me time.”

Time. He wanted that again. And in the interest of not rushing him, she waited, suppressing her past impatience with him. “As you wish.”

“Here we are.” He turned the horse from the shady lane into the pebbled drive leading straight up to a stone façade, a structure that was more hulk, more skeleton, than house.

In size, it was or once had been a manse. In color, it was lovely buttery stone. In style, what was left of the original on one wing, spoke of Restoration and early Georgian. The windows, those that remained, were Palladian. One large stained glass window stood near the top center. She guessed that piece came from some medieval structure that the family had preserved.

And in the yard, by the mews, in front of the stone front and up in the wooden scaffolds stood dozens of men. Hammering, hoisting huge posts, yelling to each other as they positioned and fitted one beam to another. They looked like bees, busy at their work. And she put a hand to her throat where joy burst upon her and brought a rush of tears to burn at the back of her eyes.

Yet she did not cry from sadness.

No.

She saw the house as it might be inside, full of sunlight from the half-moons of the Palladian windows, sparkling with white marble or pink or black, embellished with
tromp l’oeil
scenery of lovers walking through gardens. She envisioned the outside with a fountain near the entrance, water tinkling in gay welcome to those who lived here every day. She saw the trees trimmed, the bushes cut, and to the right a rose garden. She could close her eyes and smell the fragrance of them.

“You see it as it should be,” he said to her.

The curricle had stopped. They sat before the main entrance, pale stones arched like a bower but without a roof.

She found his gaze and smiled at him. “I do.”

He got out and came round to help her down. “Let’s walk through it, shall we?”

Her awe grew. And so did her visions of what the house might become. It was foolish, it might even be childish, but she allowed her heart to fantasize.

They did not speak. She was content at that. She merely wanted to walk the floor, note the rays of sun as they marked the wood and marble. Though he did not tell her what room this was or had been, she saw the potential of what the place might become. The hall here, the saloon there, the family drawing room here. The kitchen at the back but close to the dining room. And above—she stopped to gaze up to the rafters where the master bedroom suite might be—she noted how massive but cozy the mansion would be.

He walked her out to the terrace which faced a withered maze. She saw it as it should be, with dark greenery and shaped topiaries, garden seats and children romping along the path.

He faced her. “It took me months to begin the restoration. The weather was so awful, no mason or carpenter would think of working in the climate.”

“Still in all, you have been busy.”

He took her hands and studied them. “I asked my uncle and aunt to hold this party despite the court mourning period. They agreed because they knew my intent. I meant to show you this.”

How her heart swelled to hear that. “Thank you. It is quite lovely. And will become even moreso.”

“I know you have not begun any restoration of the Bentham house.”

She shook her head. “I did not yet have an inspiration to begin.”

“I hoped that was the case.” He stepped closer to her. “Alicia, I want you to know that I knew Jerome.”

She gazed at him in a new and startling light. So her inkling had been a sound premonition. “How?”

“We were together in the Army for more than four years. He was an excellent officer and his loss to the regiment was a tragedy.”

She could tell he had more to say. “I loved him. Miss him. He was my protector.”

“Yes.” Finn curled his arms around her waist. “In many ways, he wanted to save you from disaster.”

“How do you know?”

“He spoke to me of you often. I think I knew who you were from his tales. How you played toy soldiers with him and even took up fencing so that you could test him.”

She laughed. “That’s true. He was tolerant of his nagging little sister.”

“Darling,” Finn said and locked his gaze on hers, “I was with him when he died.”

She could not move.

“He was quite brave about it.”

“Tell me how—“

Finn shook his head once. “No. I will say that twelve-pounder does terrible damage to a man’s body. But Jerome’s mind was with him before he went. Very much so.”

“What did he say?”

“He made me promise I would ask for your hand in marriage.”

Her mouth fell open.

“He wanted me to return to London and propose to your father.”

“You were the man who asked for my hand,” she said, in awe.

He swallowed. “I was.”

“My father rejected you.” Oh, the years that had been wasted.

“He did. He wanted Ranford for you.”

“He wanted the prestige, the social connection and—“

“That is the past. Over. Done. And had he accepted my proposal, you and I would not have the equal of what we might have otherwise.”

She searched his enchanting eyes. “What do you mean?”

He turned her toward the house and with two fingers, circumscribed the perimeters of the mansion. “I hope to show you the fullness of what we can be together.”

Her heart took rapid flight. She nodded. “Do. Please.”

“My dear woman,” he whispered as he kissed her ear, “I wonder if I might interest you in a different house?”