It forever stunned her that he spoke so horribly of his deceased son-in-law. She clenched her skirt to hide her shaking hands. He’d wanted her to blackmail Harold’s family for his involvement in her accident. Her father blamed them no matter how many times she told him she had instigated the horse race. “Harold asked me to marry him and I accepted.”
“And yet you live here with me and not with his family, a childless widow whose wastrel husband squandered her dowry. Had the doctor simply been wrong, and you had conceived a child during your brief marriage, his family would have had no choice but to take you in.” He tilted his head and studied her for a long moment, the words hanging in the air.
The miscarriage she suffered right after Harold’s death still burned a hole in her soul. She had never told another being and she never would. If her father ever found out, he would make her life even more miserable. He lacked any kind of empathy and took great joy in her uncertain future.
The popping of the wood in the fireplace broke the silence. She glanced about his room, every nerve in her body screaming to escape. A new landscape graced the golden wallpaper and she grit her teeth at the sight. The house was deteriorating around them and he wasted funds on frivolous paintings. It turned her stomach and incited her fury. She lifted her head and met his regard, willing her anger back. If she let her guard down and gave in to the despair, it would consume her.
“Your cousin sent a distressing request. I am most displeased.” He waved a piece of parchment in the air, the writing bold and masculine. Farnsworth had wasted no time in introducing Langdon.
Excellent. Elizabeth was challenged to keep her excitement at bay. She’d tried hard to keep him at arms–length but he had overcome her defenses. “With your heir?”
“Don’t get cheeky with me, gel. Your cousin has asked I play host to a gentleman named Langdon.” He tugged at the end of his night cap, the golden tassel made of the finest silk. The coverlet on his bed was a rich blue with gold stitching. Nothing but the best for him, while the rest of the household suffered.
Her jaw clenched in mock outrage, she began to pace the thick rug to release her pent up energy. “A houseguest, here? I hardly think that appropriate given the state of the house at this time.”
“Yes, a most uninvited situation. He will, no doubt, expect us to cater to his every whim.”
On her trip from London, she had calculated what advantages Langdon’s visit would afford Waverley Park. Her father was wily, however, and she had to choose her words with care. “I would imagine he will expect certain luxuries. We will have to hire some extra help from the village to ready the manse for his visit. Why, the west wing is hardly habitable.”
Sir Nigel grumbled under his breath. “The house is fine, we need not bother with the expense.”
“If you think it best, Father.” She had expected such an argument and had practiced a counter argument. Her father thought himself clever, but he had one glaring flaw, pride. “I am sure Anthony will get over the embarrassment. I did hear Lord Langdon is quite the stickler for propriety; a dandy if you must know. I am sure the man will refrain from gossiping too much about our lack of hospitality.”
The minute the words left her lips, she saw him flush and knew she hit the right mark with her statement.
“No! We can’t allow Anthony to be embarrassed by some popinjay he calls a friend.”
“Then I can hire the extra help?”
He waived his hand in acquiescence. “Don’t hire the O’Malley chit, she is a lazy twit. And I refuse to pay one halfpenny over the standard wage.”
“Yes, Father, I will arrange it posthaste.”
Elizabeth walked down the long hallway, shedding her cloak and her worries with each step. Happy tears welled in her eyes. Thanks to Langdon, part of her burden would be relieved. She headed directly down to the kitchen, humming under her breath. Tomorrow she would hire a crew from the village to do the spring cleaning; a chore she hated above all else.
Cook, an elderly woman with a sturdy frame, and George the butler, were in the kitchen, the scent of fresh baked pie floating in the air. Night was falling and the slant of the late afternoon sun gave the room a warm glow.
“Miss Elizabeth, you look very pleased about something,” George said, starting to rise from the chair next to the cast iron cook stove.
“Please George, don’t get up,” she said.
He looked affronted by the very suggestion and rose slowly from his seat. “Would you like tea, Mrs. Adare?”
“No tea, George. I have only come to share good news. Father has approved help from the village. I will set out first thing in the morning to hire however many girls necessary. We have but days to put the house to rights. You see, we will have a visitor within the fortnight.” She couldn’t help the grin from spreading. Since she had met Langdon, her life had changed for the better. At least it was no longer mundane.
Cook nearly dropped the pot she was holding, her cheeks ruddy. “A visitor, here?”
“His name is Lord Langdon. He is a very agreeable gentleman,” Elizabeth fingered the wool cloak draped over her arm. Lady Nora had sent her home with a trunk full of fine dresses, second hand but all of high quality. Thanks to her aunt, she wouldn’t have to wear the drab garb in her wardrobe. If she could only cover the neglect of Waverly Park with such ease. “He will be staying with us while overseeing the renovation of his new home.”
“A very agreeable gentleman, indeed?” Cook asked with too much interest for Elizabeth’s liking.
Heat burned her cheeks, and she turned to George to avoid Cook’s telling stare. “Langdon’s stay will be our good fortune. His visit will give us the opportunity to accomplish as many improvements as possible.”
“Then for that very fact, he is indeed an agreeable gentleman,” George said.
