The Irish Upstart (7 page)

Widow?
Thomas was thunderstruck. He had a hard time keeping his mouth from dropping open.
“
Do you mean you are the widow of Randall, Viscount Montfret, the son of Lord Trevlyn, Earl of Alberdsley?
”

The younger woman placed a protective hand on the older’s shoulder.
“
Of course that’s what she means,
”
she firmly stated, regarding him with those amazing deep blue eyes that at the moment were full of accusation.
“
What reason would you have to doubt her?
”

“
I didn’t mean, I...
”
Thomas cursed himself. In polite society, he was known for his suave demeanor. Now he was bumbling about like some half-wit. And it wasn’t simply the shock of discovering that Randall had been married. It was also the effect those blue eyes were having on him.
“
Of course I do not doubt you. Rather, I’m surprised. I was not aware Lord Montfret had ever married, nor was his father aware of it, I’m sure.
”

An ironic smile crossed Sinead O’Fallon’s lips.
“
I’m not surprised. You are aware Randall was estranged from his father?
”

“
I am.
”
Not estranged, the man was disowned
, he thought, but decided not to say.

“
Then you can understand why Randall felt under no obligation to inform his family he had wed. I never knew exactly why
,
but he had compelling reasons for keeping our marriage quiet.
”

Thomas knew better than to ask what she meant by compelling reasons. Doubtless they were all in the form of those angry creditors who hounded Randall until he was forced to flee to Ireland. Thomas’s thoughts were churning. This wasn’t what he expected.
“
Do you suppose we could talk, Lady... er... Trevlyn? Or did you say your last name was–?
”

“
O’Fallon,
”
said the younger woman stepping forward protectively.
“
My mother goes by her first husband’s name
”
–she wrinkled her nose–
”
most assuredly not the second’s. I am her daughter, Evleen. So, sir, do you know enough about us now that you can state your business?
”

Before he could answer, Sinead O’Fallon gave a warning nudge to Evleen’s shoulder.
“
Let us not be hasty.
”

Evleen ignored her and continued to glare at Thomas.
“
You’ve come about the rents, haven’t you?
”

Sinead frowned.
“
Daughter, we must remember our manners. It’s nearly dinner time. Our guest must be hungry. After dinner will be soon enough to hear what he has to say.
”
She looked at Thomas.
“
Will you stay?
”

“
I am honored.
”

Thomas smiled to himself when he saw the thundercloud descending over Evleen’s face. But no doubt remembering her manners, she had the grace to quickly smile and say,
“
So it appears you are invited to dinner, Mister Linberry.
”
She placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head appraisingly, her gaze sweeping him up and down.
“
Or perhaps it’s Lord Linberry, judgin’ from that elegant coach and the fine clothes that you’re wearin’. We’ll be having a bit of fresh salmon, poached, I think, along with cabbage and potatoes. A simple meal, I’m afraid, not like those fancy banquets you must be accustomed to at home.
”

He could tell the girl was seething underneath all that ridiculous chatter. She knew full well he’d come about the rents, but no doubt for her mother’s sake, she had dredged up the decency to maintain a facade of politeness. He would set her straight about the titles.
“
Not that it matters, but I am known as Lord Thomas. I
am
the second son of a marquess, you see, and so–
”

“
We are well aware of all that English folderol about titles,
”
Evleen interrupted with a disdainful sniff.

He answered wryly,
“
I can see how I’ve impressed you.
”

She tilted her chin, thus revealing the sweet curve of her neck which, to his chagrin, he found himself wanting to touch and explore with his fingers.
“
If you want titles,
”
she declared,
“
this family has them in abundance. My father was Ian O’Fallon, son of Daniel O’Fallon, who was the eighth Earl of Dunkerry, who was directly descended from the Duke of Connaught, who was—
”

“
Enough, Evleen,
”
said her mother.
“
I doubt Lord Thomas is interested in our family’s history, no matter how much royal blood runs through your veins.
”
She looked toward the coach, and the coachman waiting patiently atop.
“
Greetings to you, O’Grady. You’d best come in for dinner, too.
”

After O’Grady climbed down from his perch on the coach, and Sinead
led
him inside, Evleen said airily,
“
What a pity it’s the cook’s day off.
”

“
A pity,
”
Thomas remarked with caution. He had detected her gritty undertone.

“
It
is
also the butler’s day off, as well as the footman, the parlor maid, the scullery maid–
”

“
I do get your point,
”
Thomas interrupted dryly. He wanted to tell her he didn’t give a groat for titles, that they didn’t mean a damn thing, but he stopped himself. Why should he defend himself? Why did he want to impress this girl? The bubbly young belles in London were mostly docile creatures who deferred to his supposed lordly presence with much manipulating of fans and fluttering of eyelashes. He had never given much thought to it, but wasn’t that the way girls were supposed to act? But this Irish lass was different.

Never had he encountered a girl quite this bold, who didn’t care one whit about impressing him and apparently said anything that came into her head, no matter how outrageous.

Now she had tilted her head to the side and was looking at him quizzically.
“
I can hardly wait to hear why you’ve come so far out of your way to this God-forsaken corner of the world.
”
She smiled wryly.
“
If it’s a dip in the ocean you want, shouldn’t a fine gentleman like you be in Brighton?
”
She made a show of shading her eyes and gazing up and down the distant coastline. ‘I don’t see any fancy resorts around here.
”

“
I’m not looking for a resort, I—
”

He was distracted by a tall, pleasant-faced man and a freckle-faced boy with bright red hair who were rounding the corner of the cottage. They were speaking in a strange language, he guessed Gaelic, when they spied him, and both stopped in surprise.
“
We have a guest,
”
Evleen called.
“
Lord Thomas, this is my good friend, Timothy Murphy, and this is my brother, Patrick O’Fallon.
”

Startled, Thomas took a second look. There was something about the boy... something around the nose and the eyes that reminded him of...
Lord Montfret
. Even though Thomas had been but sixteen or so at the time, he clearly remembered when the debt-ridden rascal fled England, creating a juicy local scandal, causing his family great pain.

Could Montfret be this boy’s father? No, that was absurd. Except for that uncanny resemblance, this boy looked as pure Irish as his name. O’Fallon suited him perfectly, what with his red hair, eyes as blue as Evleen’s, and open face covered with freckles. No doubt the boy and Evleen shared the same father, as well as mother, and unless Patrick had an older brother, he most certainly was the tenth earl of... whatever that Irish title was. Thomas knew little of Ireland’s nobility. In England, it carried little esteem.

With a graceful bow, surprising in one so young, Patrick said,
“
I am most pleased to meet you, sir. Are you from England?
”

There’s a surprise
. The boy knew his manners, as opposed to most of the Irish Thomas had met on this trip. Likeable all of them, and most friendly and helpful, yet their speech and manners were far from the polished perfection of the ton. Come to think of it, Evleen spoke like a lady, too, except for the brogue, of course, but it was melodious sound that touched off something inside him that made him yearn to hear more. Thomas bowed to Patrick in return.
“
I am indeed from
England
.
”

“
That’s too bad, sir. My mother doesn’t like the English.
”

“
Patrick!
”

“
But it’s true, Evleen,
”
the lad told his sister earnestly.
“
She hates everything English. You’ve heard her say so many a time.
”
Patrick made a face.
“
You hate them, too.
”

“
We must remember our manners, Patrick
.
We must be polite
”
—
Evleen
cast a disdainful glance at Thomas—
”
even if he is one of
them
.
”

Amused, Thomas returned an easy laugh.
“
I admire a streak of independence in a child. He speaks his mind, an admirable quality as far as I’m concerned. He’s very bright, isn’t he? I am amazed at how well he speaks.
”

“
For an Irishman?
”
Evleen asked, lifting her eyebrows.

The devil. I cannot get it ri
g
ht
.
“
For anybody,
”
he answered smoothly.
“
Patrick
would do well among the most prestigious gathering of the ton, as would your mother—
”
he paused slightly for effect
“
—and you.
”

“
Well!
”
she said, and seemed at a loss as to what to say in answer to his flattering words.
Rude creature
. He could not imagine why he found her so fascinating.

The tall man she’d addressed as Timothy spoke up.
“
Sure an’ he’s a bright lad–
”
he placed a protective arm around Evleen’s shoulders
“
—as is this colleen.
”

Ah, so she’s his
, thought Thomas, recognizing the age-old male sign of possession.
“
If your mother hates the English, then I am indeed most flattered she has asked me to stay.
”

She replied,
“
My mother is a generous soul. The devil himself could appear at her door and she’d invite him in for tay.
”

Tay? Of course, she must mean tea
. Thomas was silently amused. Despite Evleen’s well-educated speech, still and all she was Irish and it was bound to show.
“
Your mother is most charitable.
”

“
Patrick’s right, you know,
”
she went on.
“
My mother does hate the English. We all hate the English, and with good reason.
”

He executed a slight bow.
“
Then I am most grateful for her tolerance, as well as yours.
”
He wondered if, despite Evleen’s obvious prejudice, he might somehow persuade her he wasn’t such a bad sort, despite being English through-and-through. His spirits dipped as he realized his chances were slim. She’d been right about the rents. After dinner, when she knew for a certainty why he was here, she would dislike him all the more.

Chapter 5

“
Why have I never seen this tablecloth before?
”
asked Patrick as they all sat down to dinner. His bright eyes darted curiously about the long table.
“
Why are we burning candles when there’s still daylight? What’s that funny thing you put in the middle, Mama?
”