Lord Avery's Legacy Page 4

  Where would she find the money? The pottery was gaining a market, but slowly. An expanded flock would improve the feather harvest, but not enough to cover that unfortunate gaming debt. They badly needed a new ram, for only half of the ewes had conceived this year. But there was no money. And now their neighbors had an arrogant lord in residence who would not scruple to run roughshod over her. She had a very bad feeling about the coming weeks.

  Michael returned from the orchard, passing a subdued Alice as she left the drawing room. “Josh is ready to leave for Exeter,” he reported, naming their man of all work.

  “Good. How are the peaches?”

  “Delicious.” He grinned. “The rain did some damage, but not as much as you feared. Mrs. Peccles rescued most of the windfalls for making jam and wine.”

  “Perhaps the storm will drive up prices. Our trees are more sheltered than most.”

  Michael’s face twitched at the mention of money, but he said nothing. After his first week home, she had banned further apologies.

  “How is Ozzie?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “I was on my way down there. We will be cutting hay next week, so I thought to clear a spot for the stack.”

  She nodded, proud that he was planning ahead without her prodding. “Take him any of the peaches Mrs. Peccles cannot use, but remove the pits first. They did not agree with him last time.”

  “Right.”

  She headed for the kitchen. Mrs. Peccles would need help with the peaches. Without any pottery to decorate, she had time.

  Chapter Three

  Richard was still reproaching himself when he pulled to a stop before Tallgrove Manor. The house had been built from an Inigo Jones design, though he doubted Jones had participated in its construction. Myriad panes twinkled in the afternoon sun from a stone facade liberally sprinkled with large windows.

  “Lord Carrington?” The butler’s voice barely formed a question despite that Richard had never visited Tallgrove. “Her ladyship is in the drawing room.”

  “Has my luggage arrived?” Richard asked, hoping that Kesterton had passed him while he was searching for a new team, but the butler was shaking his head. “Very well. Send up warm water. I will attend my aunt later.”

  Even without fresh clothes, he needed to clean up. His boots were caked with mud. A sizable puddle just inside the gates had spattered his pantaloons and ruined his jacket. He would have done better to wear his driving coat until he was in sight of the house.

  But before he could escape upstairs, Lady Avery burst into the hall.

  “Thank heaven you are here at last!” she exclaimed, tears evident in her eyes. “How could you delay so long when you know the danger that threatens poor Terrence? Those awful people are leading him about by the nose, determined to ruin him, and I can do nothing to stop them. Terrence ignores every word I say. His insolence is driving me mad!” She broke into choking sobs.

  “Control yourself, Aunt,” he admonished, appalled by her outburst. Half a dozen servants were drinking in every word. The butler did not even pretend a lack of interest. Nor did he make any effort to send the lower servants away. “Let us retire to the drawing room, where we can discuss this in a civilized manner.”

  “Of course, my lord. You must forgive me, but these past weeks have brought one horror after another. Nothing has gone right since my dear Gareth died.” She turned weeping eyes to his face.

  Knowing her penchant for endless complaint, he quickly steered her out of the hall.

  “If only you had come immediately! Terrence ignored my summons to the funeral! Cited his studies, of all the frivolous things. Now he runs wild, eschewing propriety. And Millicent hasn’t mourned as she ought. I cannot understand how she can be so flippant. The girl lacks all sensibility. What did I do to deserve so unnatural a daughter?” She dabbed at her tears with a wisp of lace. “And Mrs. Gudge complained only this morning that Scott had not checked the household accounts. What does she think I can do about it? No lady understands figures, so why anyone expects me to do sums, I do not know. That is Scott’s job, for why do we pay him if not to run the estate? But everything will be all right now. You will send those horrid creatures packing and return Terrence’s attention to his duty.”

  “Hush,” he ordered as the door handle jiggled. He was in no mood for complaints, and if she aired her woes before the servants, the entire county would know that she exerted no control over her children – if they were not already aware of that disgrace.

  The butler delivered a tray containing tea, wine, and an assortment of biscuits and sandwiches. Richard’s glare kept Lady Avery quiet until the man reluctantly departed. He accepted a glass of wine and took up a position before the Italian marble fireplace, where his muddy clothes would inflict minimal damage.

  “You must save my poor boy,” she wailed, giving him no chance to speak. “Gareth’s death has addled his wits. How else can I explain his behavior? I have warned him against those vulgar schemers since he was in short coats. They are base-born mushrooms who have long looked to rise above their station. The girls are no better than they should be. And that boy! Do you know that he had the audacity to apply to Eton! They have no notion of how to go on in the world, engaging in activities I swoon merely to think about. But what can one expect from people whose mother was a courtesan and whose grandfather was in trade?”

  He stiffened. “I cannot believe that Terrence is so deceived,” he said soothingly, setting his empty glass on the mantel. “He is barely twenty. Even if he is suffering an infatuation of the moment, it is of no account. He will not do anything stupid.”

  “That’s all you know!” countered his aunt. “He has no experience of the world. And that insufferable chit is angling for marriage. She has bedazzled him and will do anything to compromise him, playing on his naïveté by appearing helpless and pure. Yet all the time she is a scheming jade who wants nothing more than to be mistress of this house. I won’t have it, I tell you! I won’t! She will not usurp my position and drag dear Gareth’s name through the mud!”

  He missed the rest of her increasingly strident diatribe as disturbing memories teased his mind. There had been another girl who had perfected the art of appearing helpless and pure. He had come within a hairbreadth of succumbing to her blandishments. Even ten years had not dimmed the memory. Penelope Rissen, with her red hair, sapphire eyes, and voluptuous bosom. He hated her very name. If fate had not revealed her purpose, he would have languished in misery every day of his life. He forced his attention back to his aunt.

  “And that sister of hers is even worse!” she was saying. “Why, the woman actually runs the farm herself. What more proof does one need of low breeding? Terrence saw her last month supervising sheep dipping, of all the outrageous activities. Mrs. Jacobson swears she works in the fields alongside men who don’t even wear shirts! Yet Terrence accepts every word she utters as gospel.” Again she dabbed her eyes. “And those horrid birds! Even the lowliest tenant would eschew such business. Yet she has the audacity to claim a place in society. And she has Sir Francis Pelham so besotted that he actually invites them to dinners and card parties that by rights should be reserved for decent folk. You’ve no idea what I have been made to suffer. Sir Francis actually cut me in Exeter only a week before poor Gareth died. Two women who I thought were friends laughed, and a total stranger turned her back. Sir Francis is the one who should be cut. By ignoring class differences – to say nothing of common decency – he has confused poor Terrence until he actually believes that those harpies are as good as we are! Gareth must be turning in his grave. To think that his heir could be so heedless of what is due his title and breeding!” She succumbed to inarticulate sobbing as one hand waved a vinaigrette beneath her nose.

  “Rest easy, Aunt Mathilda,” he urged, pouring himself another glass of wine. For all its size, the drawing room was suffocating him. He hated scenes. “I will talk to Terrence and remind him what he owes his position. And I will inform these girls that they
are no longer dealing with a green youth. Where do they live?”

  “About two miles north of here,” she sniffed. “Winter House, they call it, though that is too grand a name for the place. It is nought but a tumble-down hovel unsuited even for pigs. Go immediately! I live in hourly fear that they will succeed in trapping poor Terrence. He is so unworldly!”

  “Tomorrow morning will be sufficient.” He could hardly appear in public in his present condition. “I must first recover from a lengthy journey and speak with my ward. But you need not worry. Fortune hunters are all alike. As soon as these discover that Tallgrove is under my control, they will seek an easier target.”

  “Of course!” exclaimed Lady Avery, her expression lightening in relief. “I had not considered that point. I only wish you could have gotten here sooner. It was cruel to delay when you knew how upset I have been.”

  “I came as soon as I could. I was not at Carrington Castle when your letter arrived, and the weather has been most uncooperative. But everything will soon be in order. What is the name of this family, by the way?”

  “The Wingraves.”

  He stifled a gasp. He might have known. Fury again engulfed him even as the certainty of imminent disaster overwhelmed all reason. Every moment of that meeting in the lane returned to taunt him. But perhaps it was well that he had seen her without her public mask. She might have fooled Sir Francis with a facade of sweet humility and breathless adoration, but he had seen her true colors. He had no doubt who was the moving force behind this scheme. Her game was obvious. Though she was firmly on the shelf herself, her sister could provide entree into higher social circles, so she had foisted the girl onto an impressionable lord. He could count on her to make unacceptable demands the moment a marriage was finalized – money for herself and other indigent relations, introductions into society for any number of unsuitable sprigs, perhaps even control of Tallgrove. He ground his teeth. Never!

  Her grandfather had been in trade. She was also dabbling in trade in the form of a pottery. She must have picked up some tricks from her mother as well. That would account for his reaction. And she was running the farm. If those overgrown hedgerows were any indication, she was not doing it well. Little wonder that she had set her sights on her wealthy neighbors, but how did she expect to carry off a charade of innocent respectability? Her scandalous business ventures alone would bar her from polite society even if she managed to hide her immoral past. It was a point he must make very clear to Terrence. Regardless of any physical attraction – and if the sister looked like Penelope he could understand an attraction – Terrence must take a wife from his own class. A mésalliance would destroy his own standing and impair that of his offspring.

  But he would prevail. She was now dealing with a wily gentleman who had earned a reputation for judging people to the inch. No woman was entirely honest, and experience had taught him that redheads were the most pernicious liars of all.

  His aunt was again bemoaning the trap her son had stumbled into. He repeated his assurances half a dozen times. Earlier noises hinted that his baggage had finally arrived. His skin crawled with the need to bathe. But before he could leave, the door burst open to admit Terrence.

  It had been three years since Richard had last seen his cousin, and he nearly groaned. Terrence reminded him all too much of Reggie. The boy was enamored of the more flamboyant of the dandies, flaunting exceedingly tight biscuit pantaloons, a close-fitting peacock jacket, and the gaudiest waistcoat Richard had seen in years. His brown hair was cut in the Brutus, though it was even more disheveled than was common for that style. But his face stood at odds with his dress. Instead of displaying the ennui that was de rigueur at the moment – especially in the dandy set – Terrence was bursting with starry-eyed excitement. Brown eyes glittered, and a mobile mouth stretched from ear to ear. Indeed, he seemed on the verge of exploding from ecstasy.

  “Thank heaven you finally arrived!” Terrence exclaimed, hurtling across the room to grasp Richard’s hand and pump it furiously. “I could hardly wait until you got here, for I know you will love Alice – though not as much as I do. Nobody could possibly do that, and I would call out anyone who dared, but she is the sweetest, most wonderful girl who—”

  “How can you be so foolish?” wailed Lady Avery, interrupting the flow of words. “She has bewitched you, for you know as well as I do that she is beneath contempt despite the airs and graces she dons in your company."

  “Fustian!” retorted Terrence. “You have never even met her, so how can you judge? This baseless hatred must stop! Your absurd claims do nothing but undermine your own standing. She will make me the perfect wife – capable, intelligent, demure.”

  “Aren’t you rushing things?” put in Richard. “You have years before you need to set up your nursery. Enjoy them, for life will never again be so good.”

  “Don’t go all fusty on me,” begged Terrence, some of his excitement evaporating. “Wait until you meet her. You must agree that she is everything a gentleman could ever want. I still cannot believe that she loves me as much as I love her.”

  Lady Avery gasped. “I told you to stay away from her until your guardian had spoken to you. Perhaps then you will see the sense of what I have been saying. I won’t stand for that mushroom usurping my place. It is too much for any lady of quality to tolerate.”

  “There is no sense in any of your words, madam,” said Terrence coldly. “You frequently take unreasonable dislikes to people based on no more than twitterings and flutterings in your own head. Our neighbors laugh at you behind your back, parodying your tirades and ridiculing your intransigence. I prefer to judge people for myself, based on my own observations and on the reports of those I trust. Alice is the kindest, gentlest girl I have ever met, far more worthy of being a viscountess than you. Get used to the idea, madam, for she has already accepted me. As for your place, it has been in the dower house since the day your husband died.”

  Lady Avery uttered a strangled squeak and fainted dead away.

  Richard jumped to catch her, laying her on the couch. “You reveal your inexperience in every word you utter,” he snapped. “No one of your tender years is capable of judging others, particularly females. They are natural deceivers who master the art of seeming fragile while still in the schoolroom. In reality, they are nought but calculating hypocrites, always alert for a greenling they can exploit.”

  Devil take the storm that had delayed him! The disaster was far worse than he had expected. He now faced an appalling fight that would ultimately cost a small fortune. How much would these jades demand to drop their claims? Had anyone witnessed his half-witted cousin’s proposal?

  “Where did your offer take place?” he asked sharply.

  “Not that it is any of your business, but just now when we were walking by the stream that divides our properties.”

  “Did you tell her sister?”

  “Not yet. Miss Wingrave was not at home this afternoon.”

  He sighed in relief. Of course she was not. She had been abusing him in the lane. “Good. There is no witness, so she can prove nothing. That precludes a breach of promise suit. She will undoubtedly claim seduction, but there should be little evidence for that as well. It will be no problem to buy the pair off.”

  “Buy her off? I intend to marry her.”

  “Of course you will not marry her,” he swore. “Such a mésalliance would ruin you.”

  “What lies is Mother spouting now?” demanded Terrence. “The one about the nonexistent merchant grandfather? The slander about her mother? Or was it the claim that Penelope runs a bawdy house? Ridiculous stories, every one. You are the one who is naïve if you believe a word Mother says. There is nothing wrong with Alice’s breeding. It is true that she has no dowry, but I have enough to support us. As for Mother, if she will not remove to the dower house, I will have her committed. I’ll not have her spite disrupting my family.”

  “Aunt Mathilda is right. You are bewitched. But no ward of mine will make such
a mistake,” he thundered. “You are far too young to consider matrimony. And I will never condone an alliance with Miss Wingrave. You will not see the girl again. I will explain their miscalculation to them. The word of a marquess will be enough to make them mend their ways.”

  “How dare you storm into my house and throw your title around? Do you really expect me to obey a man who issues decrees without checking a single fact?” shouted Terrence, his face alternately white and red. “You will not ruin my life! I’ll take Father’s will to court and have you declared incompetent to supervise even a privy! You are the worst excuse for a gentleman I have ever met.” He whirled toward the door.

  Fury again exploded through his head. “That is enough, young man!” His voice whipped Terrence in the back, halting him in his tracks. “You betray your youth with every word. Even your manners are sadly lacking. You will go to your room and contemplate the world in which we both live. If you examine Miss Wingrave’s actions, you will discover that she has been grossly misleading you, playing a part for the sole purpose of attaching your title and wealth.”

  “And you betray your ignorance with every word,” Terrence countered sharply. “How can you claim to be reasonable when you judge without even meeting the people involved?”

  “I have met her sister. That is enough.”

  Terrence tried to interrupt, but Richard continued without pause. “I will never countenance association with that family. You will forget this nonsense at once. I control your inheritance until you turn five-and-twenty. How long do you think she will consider you a catch when she learns that you will have no allowance for the next five years?”

  “I should have believed the tales,” Terrence murmured, half to himself. “You have a reputation for icy arrogance, but I truly thought that you would at least investigate before making a decision. How wrong I was! You are a close-minded fool, my lord, and I deplore being in your power. But I will manage. Keep the inheritance. Transfer it to yourself if you want. I care not. Alice and I will find a way.”