After they saw to the horses, they walked to the house together in silence, with Laura wanting to tell Debnam he wasn’t wicked, and certainly not mad. He was just deeply unhappy. If only he would tell her of his fears. A problem shared is a problem halved, her mother used to say. But she held her tongue, deciding to wait until the chance to change his mind presented itself. It seemed unlikely to happen. Robert could arrive as early as tomorrow.
*
Brendan stripped offhis coat and shirt in his bedchamber. In his riding breeches, he sat to pull off his boots. Gaylord had discovered Laura was here alone and become far too interested. This should have occurred to him. What a fool he’d been. His Uncle Ralph had never liked him, and that was mutual. He had hated Brendan’s father, blamed him for the death of his sister, Brendan’s mother. It was all still raw, despite the passing years. Perhaps because Brendan had been away for years, sent first to boarding school at ten, then Oxford and a tour of the Continent, while his trustees had run the estate and investments. The solicitors, Hillwood & Brown, had done an excellent job. He was beholden to them, and their senior partner still wrote often wishing to discuss new possible investments. But Brendan couldn’t stir up enough interest himself.
When he’d returned here four years ago, he’d found Gaylord had treated Beechley land as his own. Rather than start a feud he’d had no energy for, he’d allowed his uncle to continue. It troubled him to return to the home he’d avoided for years, because everywhere he turned was the stark memory of his parents’ deaths. All the happy times they’d shared as a family, blotted out forevermore by the inexplicable actions of his father. That shattering day had etched itself in his mind when he’d discovered their bodies. His mother had been pregnant.
He put a hand to his forehead, which tightened ominously.Don’t let his cursed malaise return. Not now!He didn’t want to deal with a nasty piece of work like his uncle. Let him do what he liked. But if Gaylord overstepped the line, he might find Brendan capable of great anger. He had been angry since he’d been ten. Finding it impossible to hate his father, he had no one to blame for his tragic loss. At first, he’d tried to bury those feelings, and to lead the sort of life his mother would wish for him. But in the last few years, he’d come not to care. Apart from the few good friends who stood by him no matter what, he kept his own counsel and sought no other friendships among thetonor country society. Until Laura had come into his life. He should resent her awaking these feelings in him. Yet he felt only a deep respect for her and cared for her, while heartily wishing it weren’t so. Otherwise, he would have had her in his bed days ago.
Chapter Eight
Charles brought Laura’safternoon tea to her bedchamber, where she pondered her predicament alone. Several hours passed, but nothing helpful came to mind by the time she’d dressed to join Debnam for dinner. She took extra care with her appearance, choosing her pale-lilac evening gown trimmed with three bands of satin ribbon around the hem and on the puffed sleeves, and Penny revealed a remarkable talent, braiding Laura’s hair in the Grecian style.
Debnam waited for her in the drawing room, a gracefully proportioned room with a fireplace at each end, richly decorated in the chinoiserie style with red-and-gold-patterned wallpaper and deep-red curtains caught back with gold ropes and tassels at the tall windows.
He crossed the Persian carpet to greet her. “Would you care for a sherry before dinner?”
“Yes, please.”
Freshly shaven, his sideburns neatly trimmed, and his cravat fashionably tied, he wore a dark-gray tailcoat and buff trousers. She admired his waistcoat with cream-and-pale-blue stripes and pearl buttons. For a moment, his dapper appearance made him more like the man she’d met in London ballrooms. She had forgotten that man. Debnam no longer seemed anything like him.
She sat on the sofa upholstered with damask, gazing around at the magnificent room. Every reception room at Beechley Park was beautiful, if a little dated, as if some magic wand had cast a spell over the house and kept it exactly the way it had been in the last century.
“You look lovely tonight, Laura.”
When Debnam handed her the glass of sherry, she breathed in his cologne and her heartbeat quickened. As it did whenever he was near. Would she always feel this way about him?
“Thank you.” She took a sip to settle herself. He did not want to discuss his decision with her.
“Would you care for a game of cards after dinner? Or there is chess, or perhaps billiards?” He seated himself a distance from her in one of a pair of gold, silk damask chairs.
“Robert taught me to play billiards.”
He smiled. “Then I shall enjoy the game.”
She raised her eyebrows. “You’re thinking I’ll be no match for you?”
“Can you read my mind?”
“I can read your overly confident expression. My brother said I was a natural.”
“I shall find out after dinner.”
The butler came to the door. “Dinner is served, my lord.”
They finished their wine, and he stood to offer her his arm. “Shall we go in?”
A splendid Italian crystal chandelier hung overhead, spilling light over the long dining room table laid with a white, linen cloth. Sparkling, crystal wineglasses; silver candelabras; a low bowl of red roses; fine china plates monogrammed with the earl’s crest; and gleaming silverware awaited them.
A footman seated her to one side of Debnam, who sat at the head. It was terribly formal. She viewed the acres of white tablecloth and imagined it filled with guests, laughing and talking. As it should have been. But he’d said earlier that he didn’t receive guests.
Redfern poured the wine, then he and the footmen left the room.
“You’ve never invited anyone here for dinner?” she asked, to ensure she hadn’t been mistaken.
Debnam raised his glass, the candlelight flashing off the crystal. “You already know the answer, Laura.”
“But I don’t knowwhy,” she persisted. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to guess. And that might be worse.”
