The Irish Upstart (12 page)

“
I don’t care about all that.
”
Lord Trevlyn flicked a gaze towards the house where the Marquess was still indisposed, still suffering from the gout.
“
Your father would want you to go, Thomas.
”

Penelope, who’d been listening, wide-eyed
, addressed her brother. “He’s right.
Don’t forget Lord Trevlyn is Papa’s oldest friend. Of course he’d want you to go.
”

Unfair
, Thomas wanted to shout, feeling utterly dismayed. That little jaunt to Ireland had greatly delayed his plans for breeding horses.
Since his
return from Ireland, he’d made great strides, not only in making several trips to Tanglewood Hall, where he had already renovated the house and hired servants, but also he had started to purchase his horses. He reached to pat the withers of his new Thoroughbred. This latest addition was only one of several of the finest horses in the land.
“
What about your brother?
”
he asked Trevlyn.
“
Can’t you send him?
”
Lord knew, up to now Walter and his family had done nothing to earn their keep.

“
Are you daft?
”
Trevlyn replied with a sniff.
“
Walter stands to lose everything if Patrick comes to England. I can imagine his enthusiasm should I send him to County Clare.
”

“
Of course, I hadn’t thought.
”
That was utterly stupid, Thomas chastised himself. Born of desperation. Was there nothing he could do?
“
What about Montague?
”

This time Penelope sniffed.
“
Montague take time from his precious life in London? Thomas, you belong in Bedlam if you think he’d agree to go. And besides,
”
she slanted a knowing gaze at him,
“
only you have the tact to deal with this... this Sinead, or whatever her name is, and the girl you said was feisty, that Evleen.
”

Evleen
. At the sound of her name, Thomas felt a jolt in the pit of his stomach. To see her again... Oh, God, how he yearned to see her again. But he had set his course. His sole purpose in life right now was breeding horses. His carefully planned future most certainly did not include a girl from Ireland who would fit into his well-run existence like water into oil. Everything about such a relationship would be wrong, dead wrong.
“
I’m sorry,
”
he told Trevlyn,
“
To go to Ireland now... I simply cannot. Perhaps in a year or so
...”

“
Quite all right, I do understand,
”
Trevlyn broke in briskly.
“
On second thought, I’ll go myself.
”
He gave a hollow laugh.
“
A bit of brisk sea air might be just the tonic for my rheumatism.
”
He grabbed the reins of his horse, placed his foot in the stirrup, and attempted to swing onto the saddle, but he fell back down, too weak to give himself the proper boost.
“
Wretched animal won’t stand still,
”
he muttered. He tried again, grunting from his all-out exertion, but failed a second time.
“
Damme.
”
Biting his lip, obviously chagrined, he said,
“
Well, Thomas, my groom had to help me when I left. I had hoped I could gather enough strength not to make a spectacle of myself but obviously not. Come, give me a boost.
”

As Thomas helped his old neighbor into his saddle, he remarked,
“
Sir, don’t even think about going to Ireland. Believe me, it’s much too strenuous a trip for a man who
...”

“
Say it, Thomas. For a spindle-shanked old man with the strength of a gnat.
”
From his mount, Lord Trevlyn regarded Thomas with a look of grim determination. His jaw jutted out as he announced,
“
I shall go to Ireland. Nothing can stop me.
”

“
Not a good idea, sir. The journey is a nightmare, and gets worse now that winter’s coming. Perhaps in the spring–
”

“
I shall leave immediately.
”
With a great show of wheeling his steed around, Trevlyn started away, but Thomas grabbed the reins and brought him to a stop.

“
Please reconsider, sir. Conditions aboard those packets are abominable. The air is confined and suffocating. There’s nausea... the food is disgusting. If you cross from Holyhead to Ringsend, you’re obliged to pay a shilling to the boatman to row you ashore. If you can find a boatman. Otherwise, you’ll wait on a rolling boat for hours, cold and hungry, no doubt heaving your dinner, that is if you were able to keep any of that rotten food down. And then–
”

“
I’m going. I want my grandson. I have little time to waste
”

Thomas
felt himself
weakening, despite all his plans. Despairing, he realized a journey to Ireland at this time of year could well mean the end of this old man, who, after all, was not only his father’s best friend but had treated
his
whole family with the utmost care and consideration over the years. One more try.
“
She won’t give him up, sir, take my word on it.
”

“
Then... I shall bring the mother to England, along with her son. Make it well worth her while.
”

“
She would die before she came to England.
”

“
One of the daughters, then... that Evleen, the oldest one.
”

Evleen in England? What an astonishing thought. He was about to give in anyway, but the thought of the Irish girl put him well over the edge.
“
I’ll go.
”

Lord Trevlyn loosed his reins.
“
You will?
”

“
I will.
”

“
How soon?
”

“
The sooner the better before winter sets in. Tomorrow if you like.
”

Lord Trevlyn appeared to be having second thoughts.
“
Not that I wanted to pressure you
...”

Ha
. Thomas nearly choked but got the words out.
“
It’s my pleasure, sir, now that I know how important this is to you. Besides, what’s a few weeks? I’ll still have a lifetime to pursue my own plans.
”

Was that strange noise Penelope trying to stifle a laugh?
“
How suddenly noble you are, Thomas,
”
she said, lips twitching.

Not so noble
, Thomas thought privately. He remembered Tanglewood Hall and a flash of keen disappointment ripped through him. But enough. From this moment on he would set all regrets aside. Most assuredly he would not dwell on yet another delay of his plans.
“
You took me by surprise, but I’m happy I can be of help, sir.
”

“
Wonderful.
”
The old man’s face was wreathed in a smile.
“
You can do it, my boy, with that charm of yours. Use every power of persuasion you can think of. Money... I’ll set some aside, whatever you need. And be sure to tell the mother she can come along... Bloody hell, tell her bring the whole family if she likes. If not the mother, then the sister, that Evleen. Does the boy get along with her?
”

“
Famously.
”

“
Well, then tell this Sinead O’Fallon that if she sends the daughter along with the boy, I’ll see that the daughter—how old did you say she was?
”

“
She’s twenty-four.
”

“
Hmm... a bit old, but still... Tell the mother I shall give the girl a Season. Find her a good match, don’t you see? I’ll see she’s presented at court if she likes—brought out. She’ll have new gowns, as many as she pleases, and hats, shoes, gloves—all those baubles so dear to a pretty girl’s heart. Er, that is... she is pretty, isn’t she? I trust she’s not one of those sturdy peasant girls with rough hands.
”

“
She’s beautiful.
”

“
Well, then. That’s sure to win her over, don’t you think?
”

“
I’ll do what I can, sir.
”
A few baubles
? Thomas recalled that first moment he’d laid eyes on Evleen O’Fallon, standing by the door of her humble cottage, the wind playing such devilish tricks with her gown he’d felt a
surge
of excitement just watching from a distance. Later, when she’d been fixing dinner and he’d watched fascinated by her every move, he’d been struck not only by her beauty but by her competence, maturity, and the proud, sure, no-nonsense way she’d carried herself.

A few baubles?

He tried to picture Evleen in the midst of her London Season, bosom half-exposed in her low-cut gown, giggling behind her fan, fluttering her eyelashes at some cravat-choked, simpering, superficial dandy.

Never. Ludicrous. Utterly impossible.

Chapter 7

With a heavy heart, Evleen left the pot of soup she’d been stirring and went to stare moodily at the sea from the small cottage window. There would be rain soon. The sky was dull and leaden, a perfect color to match her mood. Actually, all the family’s mood now that Mama wasn’t well.

Darragh, who had been sitting by their mother’s bedside, came into the kitchen, huddled in her shawl.
“
Mama’s sleeping now
.
I think she’s a mite better.
”

“
Do you?
”

“
I suppose it’s wishful thinking.
”
Darragh’s brows drew together in a frown.
“
It’s that Englishman’s fault. She was fine until his letter arrived.
”

With a shake of her head, Evleen answered,
“
Let’s be fair. Mama has not been feeling well for ages, long before the letter. Don’t you remember all those times she was breathless, all the times she felt faint?
”

“
I suppose,
”
Darragh answered tartly,
“
but you must admit her condition has worsened since that day. If you ask me, she’s sick with guilt. She knows very well she’s done Patrick out of his rightful inheritance.
”
Her face clouded.
“
And us, too. Just think what forty pounds a year could do.
”
She glanced down at her well-worn light calico gown, her lips thinning with irritation.
“
Look at this old thing. No wonder I haven’t a husband. We could have new clothes, live in a half-way decent house, if only Mama would relent and send Patrick to England.
”

Evleen felt a sudden urge to inform her sister it was not the lack of pretty clothes that was turning her into an old maid, it was her waspish tongue and selfish attitude. Such a chastisement would be most unkind, though. Unjust, too. Despite her faults, Darragh worked as hard as anyone and worried as much as anyone about Mama. Evleen replied gently,
“
Don’t be hard on our mother. Can’t you see why she loathes all things English? Surely you understand why she could never send Patrick to live with his grandfather.
”

It came as no surprise when Darragh gave her a look that said she’d never understand.

Later, after everyone else had gone to bed, Evleen sat by her mother’s bed and smiled down at her.
“
All the chores are done, Mama. You see? We get along very well without you.
”
She noted with sorrow that her mother, once the picture of health, now lay on her bed, pale, hollow-eyed, and exhausted, a mere shadow of her former self.

“
I hate this,
”
Sinead said with a deep sigh.
“
Where has my strength gone? Why can’t I walk a step without panting as if I’d just run a mile uphill?
”

“
You know it’s your heart, but the doctor says if you keep taking your tonic you’ll get better. In a while I’ll fix you some chamomile tea.
”

Mama turned her face to the wall.
“
Chamomile tea won’t fix what ails me. Nothing will.
”