“Then you must find your own happiness,” Estelle said. “But not just to be free of him, Maria. Choose with care.” She laughed suddenly. “Listen to Aunt Estelle.”
Maria laughed too. “Come to Everleigh,” she said, patting Estelle’s hand before releasing it. “Viscount Watley too. I shall show you the house and park and the countryside around. They are all lovely, though really there ought to be a far stronger word.Magnificent, perhaps? I will introduce you to people I remember there, though I was very young when I last saw them—just fourteen. I daresay Brandon’s relatives will be polite to me even if not wildly affectionate. They could hardlynotbe polite, could they, when presumably he has invited them to come specifically to make my acquaintance? And I will not bear them a grudge. Old quarrels are foolish things when they are not one’s own. Besides, they will be extra company for you, and you for them. You and Lord Watley have such polished manners that you bring warmth to any company of whichyou are a part. I have watched you do it and try to emulate you. Please, please come. It is a wonderful idea, even if itwasBrandon who suggested it. I suppose it would be foolish to believe that he must be evil to the very core, would it not?”
And now there could be no going back, Estelle thought. She would have to make the best of spending two weeks at Everleigh Park when she and her twin had looked forwardsomuch to a quiet spell at home together. But at least she would have him with her for moral support. And at least they had committed themselves for only two weeks. It was not a great chunk out of their lives, was it, in the grand scheme of things? Not when a friend’s happiness was at stake.
“I shall have Bertrand write a formal acceptance to the Earl of Brandon’s invitation, then,” she said, and Maria leaned toward her and hugged her.
“Thank you,” she said. “You will not be sorry. I promise. I shall see to it that you have a wonderful time.”
Melanie Vane was coming from the direction of the house, a tray bearing three glasses of lemonade in her hands and a cushion tucked under her arm.
“I saw you through the sitting room window,” she called to Estelle when she was within earshot, “and hoped you would still be here after I had finished my letters. You must be thirsty. You walked?”
“I did,” Estelle said, taking the tray from her hands and setting it on the grass between her and Maria while Melanie dropped the cushion onto the lawn and sat on it, curling her legs beside her and tucking her skirt about them. “Did you sayletters? Plural?”
“I address my weekly letter to the whole family,” Melanie explained. “But I always include a brief note to one ofthe little ones—a different one each time. It makes them feel special.”
Melanie was the eldest of eight children. At the age of eighteen she had made the decision to seek employment as a governess rather than marry the farmer who had offered for her. Maria had been her second pupil.
“Estelle and Viscount Watley are going to come to Everleigh Park to spend a few weeks with me,” Maria said as she handed around the glasses.
“That is very good to hear,” Melanie said. “Now I will feel far more at ease about going home instead of accompanying you. Did you know I was leaving, Lady Estelle? I have just been telling my family so. They will be very happy.”
“So you see,” Maria said, “I will have the company of friends and you will not have to worry about me.”
***
Although Justin was not in the habit of standing at windows to spy upon what was going on outside, he did happen to be at the library window when Lady Estelle Lamarr walked across the front lawn toward Maria and then sat on the seat by the pond. She was looking very fetching in rose pink with a straw bonnet far crisper and more fashionable than the pretty, floppy thing she had been wearing when he called at Elm Court.
He had been hoping she and her brother would call, but it seemed she had come alone. He would wait for half an hour, the average time for a social visit. He sat down and opened the book in his hand, something by Miss Austen. He had been intending for some time to read one of her books. The library did not offer much else to attract his interest.
He looked out again twenty minutes later. Miss Vane had joined the other two, and Maria was handing around glasses of lemonade. He waited a few more minutes and then went out to the stables to fetch Captain, who had had a good run this morning but was always ready for more exercise. There was no sign of a strange horse or of a gig. She had walked here, then. Alone? He had not seen a maid when she arrived earlier. But she had been alone by the river more than a week ago. Perhaps she considered that she was beyond the age of needing a chaperon whenever she left the privacy of her own home and its grounds. But he was surprised Watley allowed it. It was not his business, however.Shewas not his business.
“Come, Cap,” he said. And he set off on foot, taking a circuitous route around the paddock, beside a copse of trees, across a lane that hardly qualified for the name, through a meadow, and over a stile to come out on the road out of the village a mere few hundred yards from Prospect Hall.
He had a fifteen-minute wait. Not an unpleasant one. He had learned during the years of his exile to enjoy the sights and sounds and smells of the English countryside and to be content with his own company when there was no other to be had. He had even learned that stilling his natural restlessness was beneficial to his overall well-being. There was much chatter both without and within to drown out the only sound that had anything important to say. Silence, that was. The ultimate irony.
He saw her coming before she saw him. But then, of course, she was not looking for him.
“Sit, Cap,” he said quietly, and leaned his back against the broad trunk of a tree. He crossed his arms over his chest and his boots at the ankles.
She saw his dog first and stopped abruptly.
“Oh,” she said, now spotting him. “Lord Brandon. You startled me.”
Captain, without any prompting, lifted one paw toward her. She came closer and shook it. Her gloves and the ribbons on her bonnet were a paler pink than her dress and spencer.
“Good day, Captain,” she said before looking up at him. “Did you command him not to attack me? Or is he not as fierce as he looks? Is he not a bloodhound, though? A hunter?”
“Even hunters do not dash about the countryside tearing to shreds children and maidens and grandmothers and other assorted persons who appear in their path,” he said. “It is possible to be amiable and gentle by nature and also deadly by training and upon command.”
“And Captain is amiable?” she said. “And gentle? His looks contradict that notion. I would guess you are not here communing with nature by accident, Lord Brandon.”
“I saw you in the rose garden,” he said. “Though I do not knowwhyyou came orwhatyou spoke of with Maria. I did not eavesdrop on your conversation. She has been feeling depressed.”
“I daresay you would be too if you were about to be torn against your will from your home,” she said, and he felt his abdominal muscles tighten as he remembered just exactly how it did feel.
“Everleigh Park is Maria’s home, Lady Estelle,” he said. “Being here was always a temporary arrangement for her, though it has lasted for six years. May I walk with you?”
