Worth Lord of Reckoning (35 page)

Worth smacked her nose with his stalk of hay, entirely the brother, but also affectionate. “Explain your female reasoning to me. Why would Mrs. Wyeth reject my suit if she cares for me?”

“Your
suit
?”

“Yes, my suit, brat. I’ve asked her to marry me more than once.”

Good for Mrs. Wyeth. Yolanda had the sense few women refused the Kettering brothers anything of value. “Are you such a bargain, Worth?”

“See how many swains flock to your side when word of the dowry I’ve set aside for you gets out. I’m not exactly shoddy goods, Lannie Kettering.”

How she loved the nickname he’d given her. “You’re a good bargain,” she said, in part because of that nickname, “but a husband is a complicated proposition.”

“A long-term investment.” He stroked his face with the straw the way Yolanda often touched a quill pen to her cheek when puzzling over some Latin. “One gathers you ladies view the long-term investments warily.”

Warily, and incessantly. Most of the girls at school had been obsessed with Debrett’s for the information it held concerning possible husbands.

“You have to offer her something she doesn’t already have, Worth. She has a roof over her head and meaningful work and people to care about.”

The notion intrigued him, for he ceased fussing with his bit of hay. “I can offer her wealth, an honorable before our name, all the entrée in Town she wants. She could be Hess’s hostess, clothed in silk and jewels, own all the cottages in England.”

He could also give her babies, though Yolanda did not point that out to him.

“I’m not sure what cottages have to do with it.”

“Neither am I, but it’s important to her. More important than I am.”

How well she knew that feeling. “Don’t sulk. While I was stuck in a cottage with Mr. Hunter for most of an hour, he had to remove my boot and wrap my foot with his bare hands, and he didn’t permit himself the smallest liberty.”

What a delight that had been, to be treated so properly, so carefully.

Also a towering disappointment.

“He had better not take any liberties.” Worth tossed the hay at the sleeping cat and missed. “Do you fancy this yeoman, Lannie?”

Thomas smelled a great deal better than any yeoman Yolanda had stood downwind of. He quoted poetry, and he loved his children.

“I’m sixteen. If I say I do fancy him, you’ll laugh at me. If I say I don’t, you’ll accuse me of lying. Brothers are awful.”

“You didn’t laugh at me,” Worth pointed out. “If this is the fellow you want, Lannie, then do the pretty in Town next Season, but know that you’ll be welcome to spend your summers here at Trysting.”

Yolanda’s exact plan, though she’d been unsure how to manage the part about summers at Trysting. Worth’s generosity was too convenient not to be a little suspect, though.

“You aren’t saying he’s beneath my notice when I’m the daughter of an earl, my brother is an earl, and I’m generously dowered, for which I do thank you.”

“You’re my sister. Of course you’ll have a decent portion, and I will not lecture you about your station. You’re the acknowledged illegitimate daughter of an earl, and if you haven’t already sensed it, the tabbies of Polite Society will ensure the distinction is noted by all.”

Yolanda turned an idle page, though Worth’s blunt acknowledgement of reality was comforting in a way his generous dowry could not be.

“School was no different. If I’d been the illegitimate daughter of a mere baronet, it might have been worse. Coin does seem to open doors.”

“You are not like any sixteen-year-old of my acquaintance, Lannie Kettering. Next you’ll be reading the financial pages.”

Yolanda put her book aside, because he’d given her the opening she needed.

“I saw a piece in the
Times
about the Drummond being late for its scheduled return and you being a major source of investors. Are you in trouble, Worth?”

* * *

“Had I not been quizzing Avery on her fairy tales”—Hess handed his brother two fingers of brandy—“we would have had no conversation at dinner to speak of. Are you and your housekeeper feuding?”

“We are.” When had Hess become Worth’s drinking companion? “My thanks.”

“Is this feud over the menus, perhaps?” Hess took the second of the library’s two largest, most comfortable chairs. “Or maybe she wants a raise in her pay?”

“She deserves a raise in her pay.” Though Jacaranda, in her contrary fashion, would regard a pay raise as an insult. “I asked her about traveling north with us next month, serving as Lannie’s companion for the winter months at Grampion.”

“Miss Snyder isn’t willing to serve any longer?”

The question was posed casually, but Worth had been watching the glances exchanged at dinner. “You find Miss Snyder attractive?”

“Her papa is heir to a barony.” Stated even more casually.

Worth set his drink on the low table. One Kettering brother in perpetual rut was one too many. “Go back to Town, Hess. Avail yourself of what Mary freely offers and settle your nerves.”

“I did.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I did avail myself of what Mary so delightfully offered, and my nerves are settled.” Hess took a contemplative sip of his drink, and indeed, he did appear to be more relaxed than he had upon arriving from the north.

Rotter.

“Settle them again. The activity bears repeating in the right company.”

“Up to a point,” Hess allowed. “Then it is merely an activity, and as pleasant as it is, I found my nerves adequately settled by the one occasion.”

“Pleasant.” Life had been simpler before Hess had resumed being a brother—also lonelier. “If it’s merely pleasant, then you’re going about it wrong, brother mine.”

“I was never afflicted with the passions affecting the rest of our family.” Hess retrieved Worth’s drink and handed it to him. “Back to your Mrs. Wyeth. What is the problem?”

The question of the hour.

“I delivered her an ultimatum,” Worth said, “or as good as, and that after telling her she could have between now and forever to make up her mind.” Though every half-witted, spotty legal clerk knew a decently drafted contract specified an exact period of performance.

“What did your ultimatum regard?”

“What do you think it regarded?” Worth paced to the window—the sparkling-clean window, which he was tempted to put his fist through. “I offered her marriage, she politely laughed in my face. Why should she give up all this freedom, the endless adventure of warring with the dust and the mice and the gossiping menials when all I offer is a ring? So I offered something less weighty—my heart on a platter—and she dithered. She’s still dithering and talking about going to visit her family.”

“Well, there’s your answer, isn’t it?”

“Must you be so honest?”

Hess rose and put a hand on Worth’s shoulder. “I cannot fathom women, never have, never will. You’ve more than the normal complement of sense, though, Worth, and a Kettering’s portion of pride. Why do you persist when the reception is feeble?”

“Because it isn’t feeble, damn it. She nigh devours me when we’re private.”

“And you devour her?”

No,
that
was the question of the hour.

“I haven’t yet.” Worth traced his finger down the lattice-work of the mullioned window. “It’s a near-run thing, Hess.”

“You’re in unfamiliar waters?”

“Deep, shark-infested unfamiliar waters with cross-currents and undertows.”

“Then it’s time for a strategic return to dry land, old man. You’re the only brother I have, and I refuse to stand by and watch you dragged out to sea ever again.”

Worth stood, staring out the window, long after Hess had sought his bed. He considered getting drunk, something he hadn’t done for a decade or so, but if he imbibed, he was more likely to talk himself into visiting Jacaranda’s boudoir.

He went for a long swim, diving frequently to the coldest reaches of the pond, and eventually sheer fatigue took the edge off his mood. He arrived to his rooms tired, chilled, and no clearer in his mind than he’d been earlier. While part of him was certain Jacaranda would dither and prevaricate on his offer for the rest of her natural days, another part of him wondered if she was waiting for some sign from him, some subtle indication of worth he’d failed to give.

So he fell into a restless sleep and dreamed of the Drummond coming to grief on rocky shoals within sight of port.

* * *

“Why is my stable master waltzing about the garden with Miss Snyder?”

“Good morning, Mr. Kettering.” Jacaranda rose from her place at the table to stand beside him at the window to the breakfast parlor. “Roberts and Miss Snyder do not appear to be waltzing.”

Simply standing near Worth had Jacaranda’s pulse leaping, had her leaning infinitesimally closer to catch his scent.

“Promenading, then. Are they enamored of one another?”

“If they are?” she asked, resuming her seat.

“Then good for them,” he said, taking his own. “At least somebody on this benighted estate is finding some pleasurable company.”

She took a sip of tea and scalded her tongue. He’d very nearly hurt her feelings, though she
wasn’t
good company.

“My apologies.” Worth reached for the teapot. “I’m on tenterhooks regarding an investment, and my nerves are unsettled.”

“You usually take it with cream and sugar,” Jacaranda said as Worth winced at the taste of his tea.

Worth spooned the sugar in generously. “Does anything on this property escape your notice, Mrs. Wyeth?”

Her wits, her common sense, her ability to be honest with the man she’d come to love.

“Much,” she said, wondering—hoping?—he was in this foul mood because he’d not come to her bed last night.

She’d missed him, missed him badly, and tossed and turned for hours. She’d made the decision to return home to Dorset, but longed to consummate her dealings with Worth Kettering before she did.

A woman already sunk in falsehoods might as well steal some memories, too.

“I take leave to doubt you miss anything of significance, madam. Is that all you’re eating?”

Toast and butter. Daisy’s breakfast in the early weeks of her pregnancies. “My appetite is off.”

His gaze narrowed. “Is it really? What a pity.”

“You are not a mean man. What has got into you?”

“Do you recall telling me I could have your coin?”

Not an answer, and he was busy putting more omelet onto Jacaranda’s plate.

“I recall that, yes.”

He stopped heaping eggs before her. “Why won’t you marry me?”

“Oh, Worth.” She stared at her plate, trying to form an answer as tears welled. “Not fair.”

“What isn’t fair,” he said, his voice low, “is that you pleasure me like a siren in the night, find bliss in my arms, and then turn up diffident and prim at the breakfast table. Am I really such poor husband material, Jacaranda?”

She fell back on the truth.

She dabbed at her eyes with her serviette. “I honestly do feel an obligation to my family, but you and I also hardly know each other. I am not the ideal wife for an earl’s heir. You would agree with me if you knew me better.”

“The earl’s heir? I’m not asking you to marry Grampion’s unborn children,” Worth said. “Trust me, Hess is getting up the nerve to find himself a countess. I know the look, and he’s a smart lad. Winters are long in the north, and families tend to be large.”

“Hush.” Jacaranda rose.
I love you, I love you.
“One doesn’t pick a husband like a new mount at Tatt’s. You and I suit in one regard, I’m confident of that, but I sense others have suited you as well, and you know you’re not my first.”

He rose. “Dear heart, that can hardly matter to me when you won’t even permit me to be your second.”

His eyes held puzzlement, hurt, and not a little determination, so Jacaranda left the room at the fastest walk dignity would allow.

* * *

Worth pushed the remains of his breakfast away and went in search of his brother, resisting the urge to chase after his unwilling intended. Instinct suggested that if he pursued Jacaranda too tenaciously, she’d flee not simply to her sitting room, but clear back to that cottage in Dorset she seemed so fond of.

He could not fathom
why
. Some secret tormented her or some familial obligation. Perhaps she had a child in her brother’s care in Dorset—

Walking by the library, Worth was surprised to hear an otherwise peaceful morning punctuated by Yolanda’s voice, nearly raised at her older brother.

“You said you wouldn’t drag me north against my will!”

Hess’s voice came next, civil, but tense from the tone, the words indistinguishable.

Worth debated mentally, then pushed the door open. He loved them both, and they were clearly in difficulties.

“Greetings, siblings. A pleasant day for a disagreement, is it not?”

“We weren’t disagreeing,” Hess began, as Yolanda crossed her arms and declared, “Wonderfully so.”

“What seems to be the trouble?” Though for once, no part of Worth relished a touchy negotiation, no part of him was eager to see if he could untangle the Gordian knot of Hess’s sense of duty, Yolanda’s injured pride, and his own desire to remain as close to Trysting as possible.