Mistletoe and Mayhem: A Regency Holiday Romance Anthology, page 19
Lady Glanford’s lips turned up in an encouraging smile that made his breath tighten again.
“It was in Shropshire,” the boy said.
George cast about in his mind for a Glanford who’d built a railway.
“Ah,” Fitz said. “You mean Clark.”
Lady Glanford’s father had been a partner in an ironworks. But in all George’s preparation for this project, he’d not seen any mention of Clark building a railway.
“It was at the ironworks in Shropshire.” Lady Glanford’s voice filled the awkward silence. “At the time, my father was learning his trade, and he helped cast the iron for a small railway meant to run through the works.”
Her son nodded. “It was an experiment to use iron for the rails instead of wood.”
His mother’s face filled with pride.
She’d been with child, that day in the garden, the day she’d learned of her father’s death. Young Glanford had not heard this proud tale from the man himself. He’d heard it from his mother.
“And did it succeed, Arthur?” Mother asked.
“Not at first, but…Mama can tell it better.”
Gray eyes glowing, Lady Glanford bestowed another fond smile on her son, before glancing at Cassandra who was pulling a face at her plate. The Lovelace girls were as barbarous as the boys.
“Glanford,” George said. “I’ll hear the story from you, but we’d best wait because the ladies will find it boring.”
“Oh no, my mother will not be bored, and she knows far more about iron working than I do.”
When he glanced across the table, Lady Glanford had focused an intense look on her son, delivering some unspoken maternal instruction.
“But of course,” the boy said. “I will look forward to speaking with you another time, sir.”
George’s plate disappeared, and another replaced it, to the sound of his stomach growling loudly. His tablemates giggled, and he knew: Charlotte Cartwright wasn’t a match for him.
“So, tell me, Lord Glanford, Miss Cartwright, have I missed any fun?”
His question set off a round of calls for sledding and games, gathering greenery and finding a Yule log, none of it requiring much input from him. He ate in as much peace as he could expect when he was home with this lot, and between mouthfuls, studied the lovely widow across from him.
After dinner, the nursemaid came for the three boys, and Fitz hurried off with them, saying he must visit his daughter. Before George could propose to wait for him in the library, Mother caught his arm.
“You’ll join us for tea,” she said. “I daresay you’ve had enough spirits today to last you a twelve-month.” The twinkle in her eye softened the chastisement.
He laughed and went about turning up the Argand lamps and lighting more candles. As the room brightened, he saw beribboned pine boughs hung everywhere.
“Oh, sisters mine, I see your handiwork.”
“Yes, and look up, brother,” Cassandra called.
He groaned. A kissing bough hung from the ceiling in front of the fireplace. “I thought you weren’t hosting the neighbors this year, Mother.”
“What do you mean?”
“So much mistletoe, and no single men about to steal kisses from the young ladies.”
Mother smiled. “We should have a jolly tune on the pianoforte. Lady Glanford, will you play for us again? We’ll leave the girls to chatter among themselves for a bit.”
“And let our food settle before Cassandra begins banging on keys.”
Lady Glanford chuckled softly. “You may say the same about my playing in a moment, Mr. Lovelace.”
The low mellow laugh and the saucy remark stirred him again. He took a seat on the sofa next to his mother and watched Lady Glanford move gracefully to the instrument, seat herself, and begin playing a piece from memory.
“She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Mother said in a low voice, studying her teacup. “I’ve convinced her to bring Charlotte out when the season starts, since we’ll still be in mourning. There’s no reason Charlotte should be held back with our girls.”
“Did you invite Lady Glanford here for that purpose?”
“About that—we will talk. Your brother—”
“Fitz and Lady Glanford?” Anger sparked in him.
“George,” Cassandra called from the other side of the room. “You must come and join us this moment.”
“That forwardness of your sister, dear boy, is another reason to delay her come-out. Go.” She glanced at Lady Glanford. “We will speak about the other matter later.”
“Very well.” He strolled over to the grouping of girls.
His sisters popped out of their chairs.
“Come and sit here, Charlotte.” Cassandra patted the chair in which she’d been sitting.
“No thank you,” Miss Cartwright said.
Cassandra patted again, making eyes at her friend.
“No, thank you, Cassandra.” In spite of the room’s chill, Miss Cartwright’s pink forehead glowed.
“Then you sit here, George.”
The sweet smile signaled danger, the kind a man regularly encountered with so many younger siblings. The chair itself appeared safe—the cushions were undisturbed, no frogs, pine cones, or knitting needles.
And she’d offered it first to her friend…
He glanced up. Cassandra had been sitting right under a kissing bough.
Nudging Nancy aside, he took her seat. Miss Cartwright let out a breath and bit back a smile.
“While you chat, Nancy and I will fetch more tea,” Cassandra said and led Nancy away.
George laughed. “Those two nodcocks must have had you at odds with the schoolmistress at every turn.”
She colored, smiled, and pressed her hand to her mouth.
“It’s quite all right for you to laugh in our drawing room,” he teased.
She nodded.
“Perhaps the ton will expect gravity, but at Loughton Manor, we suffer the reign of mischief and mayhem.”
“And mistletoe as well, I suppose.” She grinned. “It wasn’t my idea.”
Behind them, the music stopped.
“I don’t doubt Cassandra and Nancy are responsible. But in any case, we can’t let all this mistletoe go for naught. I shall persuade my mother into hosting the neighbors. Especially all the single young gentlemen.”
A shadow appeared next to him, bringing a whisper of muslin and the scent of lavender. He jumped to his feet.
Chapter Four
Lady Glanford had joined them, her face so sedate it stirred the devil in him again.
“Miss Cartwright and I have just been discussing the Yuletide decorations,” he said.
“Lady Glanford helped us with them,” the girl said.
The lady bestowed a fond look on Miss Cartwright. “Only in the gathering of greens and tying of ribbons. The girls have done all the rest.”
He slid a smile toward the younger lady, winked, and swept a hand at Cassandra’s abandoned chair. “Won’t you be seated, my lady?”
When she perched on the edge of the chair, Miss Cartwright pressed a hand down on another laugh.
“Come and play for us, Charlotte,” Mother called.
“You might as well practice on us, Miss Cartwright.” George turned in his seat. “Cassandra and Nancy, sing a duet for us, if you please. Miss Cartwright will accompany you.”
Lady Glanford turned her chair to watch the performance, and he studied her profile, remembering. Mere days into her first season, Glanford had drummed up a scandal. Their marriage had spared the girl’s reputation and Glanford’s creditors. After, there’d not been one whiff of gossip about her, though her husband’s antics had kept the scandal sheets aflame, at least in those early days of their marriage.
Glanford had been dead over a year, yet she still wore a somber gray, the gown simply-styled, the waist higher than current fashion. A thick bun at her neck tamed waves that glimmered in the candle light, dark blonde without a trace of white, and her only jewelry was a gold cross embedded with garnets. Her wealth—whatever was left of it—was not on display here at Loughton Manor.
“So, you are to be Miss Cartwright’s chaperone?” he asked. “I doubt your services will be needed for the entire season.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s a comely girl. A friend of my sisters, so she must be…lively. And I’ve been given to understand she’s well-dowered.”
Her gaze narrowed on him. “If I do this, I intend for her to take her time choosing.”
He caught his breath. There’d been ferocity in that statement.
Miss Cartwright would be allowed a choice? How would Lady Glanford manage it? She wasn’t often in London, and certainly didn’t move in the highest circles.
“I intend for her to have every opportunity to meet worthy young men.”
Ah. She didn’t want the men of the highest circles. Men like the group in the Townsends’ garden. Like her late husband, and Fitz.
And himself?
“Worthy?”
She nodded.
“And young?” He scoffed. “I’m not sure you’ll find those two qualities combined in the gentlemen of the ton.” He smiled. “Present company excluded.”
Color rose in her cheeks and her lips moved up in an answering smile that didn’t reach her lovely eyes. “Perhaps. In any case, I’ve a good eye for fortune hunters of any age.”
“Her dowry will certainly draw interest.” He recalled Fitz’s belief that Mother was matchmaking, and this lady’s sharp gaze at dinner when his arm brushed Miss Cartwright’s. “Do you think I’m a danger to her?” He drawled the question like one of the rakes who frequented White’s.
“I don’t know you well enough to say. However, you are engaged in a business endeavor, and business endeavors always require capital. You are undoubtedly looking for more funds to invest.”
“Or, the project may be fully vested.”
The gray gaze pinned him, intelligent and challenging, stirring him. This lady was not just a beautiful widow. She might be a sharp businesswoman, if she was ever allowed to engage in trade.
“So, you and your partners foresee no problems? No cost overruns? No unexpected expenses?”
There were always unforeseen matters arising. The solving of them was part of the fun. Crossing swords with this lady was fun as well.
One slim finger tapped the arm of her chair. “Building a railway is not like commissioning a shipload of goods, where a gentleman, on the expectation of great profits, might sink a fixed amount, perhaps all of his wealth and then some, and learn it has been lost to the Barbary pirates with every hand, every bottle, and every crate.” The tapping accelerated. The steady gaze darkened. “In such a case, one loses in one fell swoop. For example, as one might have, if one invested in the Matilda Rose.”
The Matilda Rose? Why bring that up? The ship had been lost years ago. Plenty of fellows had lost money, but not him. On his father’s advice, he’d withdrawn from the risky investment, and so had Fitz.
He shoved down a nagging unease, gave into annoyance, and forced a laugh. “My dear Lady Glanford. It’s rare to meet a woman so well versed in business.” He leaned forward in his chair and lowered his voice. “Perhaps I’ll be a danger to you. Do you know, you are seated under the mistletoe?”
Her finger stilled. She stood and extended her hand.
No rings, no bracelets, no other adornments. He bent over white fingers and brought them firmly against his lips.
Her shiver shook him down to the soles of his boots.
“There.” Under the steady gray gaze, the pulse in her neck ticked. “I shall be more careful in the future, Mr. Lovelace.”
“I’m going up,” Mother announced. “George, you’ll escort me. Girls, don’t keep Lady Glanford up late.”
At the door, he cast a glance back and caught the lady in question watching him. She dropped her gaze and turned away.
So, she was not unaffected either.
Mother sailed along on his arm with nary a limp or a creak of her bones, yet she seemed thinner, more fragile since his father’s funeral.
“Retiring early, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Not so early. You’ll remember that dinner was late.”
Mother could, and often did, stay up until dawn for parties and balls. Father had shared her love of society. It was no wonder she wanted her children at home for this first Christmas without him.
Though, he knew, that wasn’t the main reason she’d called him home.
As they ascended the steps, he plunged in. “What the devil is wrong with Fitz, Mother?”
“You’re just like your father,” she said. “Right to the point. I do miss him so.”
“I know. While we’re getting to the point, tell me also why Lady Glanford is here.”
She paused as they reached the landing. “What think you of Charlotte, George? She’s very eligible.”
“She’s a lovely young girl, and I don’t wish to marry her.”
“Well, I tried.” Smiling, she turned and presented her cheek to him, pointing up at the ceiling, where a kissing bough hung. “I may as well take advantage.”
George laughed, dropping a kiss on her cheek. “You’re still lovely as ever, Mama.”
“And not looking for a spouse either, so don’t even mention the notion.”
“No one could replace Father.”
She squeezed his hand and led him along to her private sitting room, dismissing her maid, and seating him next to her on the settee.
“I wish your father were here,” she said. “And Grumby as well.”
Grumby was their longtime steward. “He’s gone?”
“He’s never quite recovered from the fever that took your father’s life. I’ve given him leave to spend time with his sister.” She sighed. “I’m afraid neither he nor Fitz are seeing to the business of Loughton. Fitz comes home for a few days and is off again. His friends are a wild set. I thought, after Glanford died—”
“Fitz was still entangled with Glanford?”
“I fear so, though he kept it from your father.”
“And Lady Glanford’s visit?”
“The poor dear traveled by stagecoach, left the boys and her maid at the Swan, and turned up on my doorstep. She was determined to wait at the Swan until Fitz returned. Of course, I insisted she move in here with us.”
“Of course. But…she came to see Fitz?”
“The boys are delightful. I wouldn’t mind keeping them, if Fitz wishes and she agrees. Arthur might go off to school with James and Edward. They would enjoy that.” She squeezed his hand. “Sophie has been good with all the children, and has helped a great deal with the Yuletide preparations.” She studied the flames licking the grate. “I sense that she greatly needs help, and Fitz is her boys’ guardian.”
“She might have written Fitz with her concerns.”
“She said she has, and I believe that’s true. I’ve seen letters posted from Lancashire.”
If Fitz was ignoring his own family responsibilities, it was certain he wasn’t concerning himself with Glanford’s.
“She revealed nothing more?”
“No, and I didn’t wish to pry. She has a shield about her, but I sense her distress. I want you to get to the bottom of it, George. Talk to Fitz.”
He stood. “I’ll do so, first thing.”
“Tomorrow is soon enough. You must be exhausted after your long journey.”
She followed him to the door and turned her cheek up again for a kiss. “I’m so glad you’re here. Not just for Fitz’s sake, but for the others as well. The boys have been tormenting the life out of the girls.”
He patted her hand and wished her a goodnight.
It was well on to midnight when Sophie shepherded the girls up to their bedchambers and climbed the stairs to the nursery suite. She kissed Ben, and then tucked the covers around Artie, not at all sure he and his chamber mates, James and Edward, were truly asleep. Even if they stayed up half the night whispering when she left, she was grateful they weren’t alone in the freezing cold manor house entailed to the Earl of Glanford.
She wished the nursery maid a good night and slipped down the stairs to the guest suite she shared with her maid.
Willa jumped from the chair by the roaring fire, where she’d been dozing.
“It’s toasty in here,” Sophie said, casting aside her shawl.
“And my old joints are grateful, dear one. I’m right glad we’re here. Come through and let’s get you undressed.”
Sophie followed the maid into the small room that contained a cot and a collection of loaned garments.
Willa addressed the gown’s laces. “I hear his lordship is here,” she said. “And?”
“And oh, for the days when I was just plain Sophie Clark.”
“You’ve never been plain. You mean rich Sophie Clark.”
“And single Sophie Clark.” A widowed viscount had expressed interest in her, other younger men of the ton, as well. They were all, of course, after her dowry. Even in the first bloom of youth, she hadn’t been a diamond of the first water.
Glanford had called her a diamond in the rough. Among other things.
What a fool she’d been. Her sponsor had warned her against fortune hunters. But a walk on a balcony at a crowded ball with Glanford and a new lady acquaintance had seemed harmless.
So delighted that his daughter had “captured” an earl, Papa had tossed aside his shrewdness and common sense. His daughter would be a countess. The rushed wedding was lavish, her gown exquisite, her wedding pearls the best Papa could buy.
The pearls were gone, as was all of the jewelry known to Glanford and his creditors; all but her grandmother’s garnet cross.
Willa helped settle a nightgown over her head and gathered her discarded clothing.
She seated herself at the dressing table and began taking down her hair while Willa chattered.
“I heard from the housekeeper at Glanford. Most of the girls have found places.”
Her stomach churned. She, a commoner, a nobody, had all but closed up the ancestral home of the Earl of Glanford. Even before Glanford’s death, the steward had begun the letting go of staff and selling off all but the draft horses and the mount that carried Glanford on his ill-fated ride for the foxes.
