Abandoned to the Prodigal, page 14
He drank again. This time, Jenny echoed him. “To Dan!” she said and raised her glass to him before drinking.
“To Dan,” Hugh agreed, with a sigh. “At least now, you can get a new coat.”
“On my expectations?” Dan asked.
“He’s not even taking it seriously!” Tabetha exclaimed.
“I’m stunned,” Dan said frankly. “I’ll take it seriously when I can think again.”
“Oh, don’t pretend,” Colin flung at him. “You’ve been all over my grandfather since you got here, whispering in his ear, turning him against the rest of us…”
“Idiot!” Myerly roared, making everyone, including Colin, jump. It was as well Gun was not present. “Do you imagine I am incapable of independent thought? Or reason? Bah!” He knocked back the rest of his wine and waggled the glass at Waits, who walked over and refilled it before effacing himself.
This seemed to restore his lordship to good humor. “Well, I’ve said my piece and made my toast, and now we all know where we stand. However, seems to me I’m not dying yet after all, so you can go if you wish. On the other hand, you can stay on into next week, just in case I have a relapse. After Wednesday, there will be no more food until my funeral.”
“And by then,” Jenny said innocently, “we shall all be sponging shamelessly off Dan.”
*
Dan lay awake long into the night, his head full of the totally unexpected news. He was his grandfather’s heir. Myerly would be his. Unless the old man changed his mind again, so he should not set his heart on it. Nor should he sit back and wait for it to fall into his lap before he tried to bring about the improvements that would make such a difference to the lives of the people here.
But still, to be master of Myerly. To be able to run his own life instead of being dependent, to give his mother all the choice he wanted for her, to give her a home if she needed one…
It was odd, but until he had come here a week ago, he had never thought of Myerly as home. Coming here had been a chore, a dull chore, seasoned only by resentment on his side and on his grandfather’s. Now, of course, the resentment was all with his aunts and cousins, and he didn’t seem to care.
I will be a landowner. I will be respectable enough for…
For what? he asked himself severely, banishing Juliet’s laughing face from his mind.
But as his brain went over and over possibilities with the land and the village and the house, Juliet kept intruding into his thoughts. And he liked her there. She was gladness, sunshine…and desire, that too.
It was a heady combination to fill his thoughts, but eventually, his mind gave up and slept.
He woke with the sudden jerk of Gun’s body on the bed. The dog did that frequently at night, and it often woke him. But it only meant some sound or smell had caught the dog’s erratic attention, and when he felt only a thump of a tail on his leg, Dan merely closed his eyes again.
But something moved in the room. A faint, scuffling sound on the wooden floor. Surely there weren’t mice in the bedchambers? Even his easy-going mother would not tolerate that…
But mice did not breathe so audibly.
Dan’s eyes flew open once more, peering blindly into the darkness. Was that a person-shaped patch of deeper blackness? He sat up, reaching for the flint on the bedside table, and knocked the candle off on to the floor.
As it clattered, Dan swore, and the patch of blackness moved, no longer shuffling but bolting to the door.
“Wait, what is it?” Dan demanded. “I’m awake now.”
The bedchamber door open and closed with a sharp click. Dan threw himself out of bed, aiming for the door and all but falling over Gun, who had elected to accompany him. But when he finally opened the door, the passage was dark and nothing moved.
Dan scratched his head and went back to bed. Clearly, it had been no one threatening, for Gun had only looked up and wagged his tail. He had known who it was. But who the devil would come blundering into his chamber in the middle of the night? And what the devil had they wanted? Whoever it was hadn’t even answered him.
Perhaps someone walked in their sleep.
He shrugged and closed his eyes. All the same, he couldn’t quite shake off the uneasiness caused by his silent, unknown visitor, and his dreams for the rest of the night were full of ominous shadows.
Chapter Twelve
For Juliet, the following day was even more difficult.
Her father spent a good deal of time in serious conversation with Lord Alford, and they both rode out with Jeremy during the afternoon.
“Showing Alford and Jeremy what they’ve missed out on,” Ferdy said sardonically.
“Don’t be silly,” Juliet replied. “It’s not as if Jeremy would have inherited any of this if he’d married me.”
“No, but it’s all wealth and power, isn’t it? Wealth and power, they will no longer be connected to if they reject you.”
“They have rejected me,” Juliet said flatly.
“Perhaps not for good, Julie,” Kitty suggested.
Juliet shrugged. “It no longer matters. I can’t bear to be in the same room as Jeremy, which hardly bodes well for marriage.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ferdy said cynically. “Seems to be a requirement for some. I suppose we should go back down to Mama, do the pretty with Lady Alford.”
“I thought you would have gone riding with Papa,” Juliet observed.
“So did I, but apparently I’m too frivolous and am better employed entertaining the ladies.”
“Or he doesn’t want you telling me what they’re discussing,” Juliet said darkly.
“Now you are being silly,” Ferdy observed.
He was right of course, but Juliet could not help feeling tense and oppressed by the Alfords’ presence. Even walking into the room where her mother and Lady Alford sat at their needlework, making quiet and apparently companionable small talk. It infuriated Juliet, who, after the briefest of greetings, sat in the corner with her own embroidery. She could barely bring herself to speak to the woman who had once welcomed her as a daughter. And then turned on her in an hour of need, merely on the word of an unreliable scandal sheet she would never admit to reading.
Everyone makes mistakes. I have made many.
But she has never once apologized for what she did or even acknowledged it.
Juliet hated such bitter, unforgiving feelings, but she could not seem to shake them off. She wanted to see Dan, to laugh it all away, to feel like herself again.
“Oh, Juliet,” Lady Alford said suddenly, laying down her embroidery frame and fussing inside her work bag. “This arrived for you in a bundle of letters sent on to us from London.”
“That’s odd,” Juliet’s mother observed. “Who would be writing to you that didn’t know you had come home?”
Juliet walked across the room. “I have no idea. Thank you, ma’am,” she added, taking the letter. “I don’t believe I know the writing.”
“It looks like a lady’s hand,” her mother said. “Open it.”
Juliet broke the seal, retreating to her own chair while she unfolded it and glanced at the signature. “Why, it’s from Hazel.”
“Who is Hazel?” her mother asked, bewildered.
“Miss Curwen. She was one of the princess’s other ladies who was…” She paused, not so much at the difficulty of bringing up that night of shame at Connaught Place but because of what Hazel had written. “Dear God. It was malice. Hazel has discovered who tricked us that night.”
“Who?” her mother demanded with a mixture of hope and dread.
Juliet knew how she felt. Kitty arrived at her side with a gasp and a demand to read the letter. But along with the euphoria of vindication, came a new wariness, for Hazel’s letter was more than information. It was a warning.
Lord Barden had set out to harm them, for spite. And Lord Barden was already on his way to Hornby. This was the man who had lost his fortune to her father, and who was coming here tomorrow with some kind of offer. He could prove her innocence or confirm her ruin, and for that reason, she could not yet reveal his name in public.
She refolded the letter and stuffed it into her work bag. “I shall give it to Papa,” she said.
“But this must be such good news for you, Juliet,” Lady Alford said with a hint of timidity.
“My innocence, ma’am, is not news to me,” she said and picked her embroidery back up. For once, she found the awkward silence soothing.
*
Her father joined her in the library almost as soon as he returned from his ride.
“I’ve made them think,” he said. “There’s definitely regret in both of them at losing you. Whether or not anything comes of it…” He shrugged and sat in the armchair. “Now, what’s this about a letter from your friend?”
Juliet gave him the letter, and he read it, frowning. The frown turned into a scowl. “The blackguard!” he exclaimed. “Absolute scoundrel!” He went back to the beginning and read it again. “She has no proof apart from the fact he called her out in public and is trying to meet with her in private. This is her word against his. Although the Sayles seem to be on her side, which counts in her favor.”
Juliet sat down heavily. “Then this means nothing? You still don’t believe me?”
“I always believed you,” he growled. “It’s the world’s opinion that bothers me.”
Alford’s opinion. Jeremy’s.
“No one around us cares,” she observed. “No one has canceled on Kitty’s dinner. She is still engaged. Mama still receives callers. The people from Myerly did not snub us. Do we need to care for the rest of the world’s opinion?”
“Yes.” He looked up from the letter. “You must be creditably married, Juliet. You are in something of a-a bubble here, but the world is larger than Hornby, and a scandal affects all of us, not just you. And God knows I wish you a better life than that of a recluse.”
She swallowed. “So, what will you do? Will you receive Lord Barden?”
“It would be dangerous not to.”
“Can…can he hurt you, Papa?”
Lord Cosland’s lips twisted. “He’s already proved he can hurt all of us. He already has.”
*
Tea was the next test of endurance. Conversation moved politely around the fine scenery of Hornby to the prosperous land and, from there, to other comparable estates and the growing importance of additional sources of income.
“I’m not suggesting we all give up land and buy mills,” Jeremy said, “but investment in banking and industry, in the Exchange, those will be our future and our fail-safes in bad years.” He smiled. “But I suppose I am preaching to the converted here, for I know you already have interests in these areas. I am trying to convince my father.”
“Your father’s political interests keep him quite busy enough,” Cosland said vaguely. He hated to discuss business.
“As do yours,” Jeremy replied.
“Oh, no, I’m strictly a dabbler,” Cosland said modestly, though with some truth. He was just a rather influential dabbler, which had, probably, been the point of Jeremy’s courtship. It had never been about Juliet.
She rose, moving toward the open French window and stepped outside onto the terrace.
“Are you well?” Kitty asked, following her out.
Juliet glanced behind her to make sure no one else had come out. “Yes. I just feel I can’t breathe in their company. I know Papa still wants me to marry Jeremy, and even if Jeremy was willing, I’d rather eat my own boots.”
“Not recommended,” said a voice that had her spinning around in delight. “Unless your cook is even worse than ours.”
“Dan!” She hurried forward to meet him, both hands stretched out in welcome. He was strolling up the terrace steps, looking as he always did: relaxed, mildly disreputable, and wildly handsome. Gun, pulling on the end of his bizarre lead, had his tongue lolling in ecstatic welcome.
“Good day, Mr. Stewart,” Kitty said more properly.
Hastily, Juliet dropped one hand, holding it out to the dog instead, while letting Dan take the other. But she couldn’t stop smiling. “I am so glad to see you! Have you come for tea?”
“Oh, no, not with Gun here. Just dropping in with my regards and my mother’s, to see how you are. Sit, boy,” he added to the dog. “Now greet Lady Katherine in a civilized manner. Lady Kitty, this is Gun.”
“Because he’s liable to go off like a rifle shot,” Juliet explained, and Kitty laughed, patting the dog’s big head from a safe distance.
“How are you?” Dan asked, looking directly at Juliet.
She wrinkled her nose but smiled. “We’re getting through the days. The Alfords are here.” But, of course, he knew that. It was why he had come. “Oh, and I had a letter from a friend who is also caught in this scandal, and we now know who is responsible. We were indeed tricked with malicious intent.”
He frowned, all laughter gone from his dark, steady eyes. “Who?”
She shook her head. “I can’t say until Papa has spoken to him, not even to…” Not even to you. Fortunately, she broke off before she said the words, for she suspected Kitty wouldn’t understand. She wasn’t sure she did. “Anyone,” she finished lamely. “How is your grandfather?”
“Cock-a-hoop,” Dan said wryly. “Because he has set everyone at everyone else’s throats. Mine, mainly, because he has made me the heir to Myerly.”
Juliet’s eyes widened. “But that is splendid! Have the others departed in high dudgeon?”
“No, they have stayed put with their dudgeon since my grandfather has condescended to feed us all until Wednesday.”
Kitty said faintly, “Congratulations. Oh, dear, is that the right thing to say in the circumstances?”
“I have no idea, but I’ll take it in the spirit you intended.”
“So, what will you do now?” Juliet asked. “Go back to London?”
“Nothing to do in London,” he said casually. “I thought I might skulk here a bit longer, annoying the old gentleman’s steward. If he’ll let me.”
“Well, you’ve already got around the cook,” Juliet reminded him.
He smiled faintly, but his eyes had gone beyond her. She and Kitty both turned to see Jeremy standing just outside the window. Her stomach tightened unpleasantly as he walked toward them.
“Kitty, your mother is asking for you,” he said, giving Dan a nod of acknowledgment before turning expectantly to Juliet for an introduction.
“Mr. Stewart, Mr. Catesby,” she murmured, wondering how she could make Jeremy go away.
“Catesby?” Daniel repeated in response to Jeremy’s elegant but minimal bow. “Good Lord, is this the weasel?”
Her laughter was sudden, almost hysterical, and she had to choke it back with a somewhat unladylike sound.
Jeremy, quite unused to such blatant rudeness, flushed and looked down his long, aristocratic nose at the shabby stranger. “I perceive you mean to insult my name, sir.”
“Not your name,” Dan said frankly. “Your person.”
Fresh anger flashed in Jeremy’s eyes. “I cannot recall ever meeting you in my life before, so I fail to see why you imagine you may insult me with impunity.”
“I don’t ask for impunity,” Dan said at once. “But a man who treats a lady whom he is supposed to love, honor, and cherish, in the shameful way you treated Juliet, is most certainly more weasel than gentleman.”
“Dan,” she protested breathlessly, for the laughter still lurked very close to the surface.
“You know nothing of the matter!” Jeremy exclaimed, flushing under Dan’s contempt.
“I know more than you,” Dan retorted. “Because you didn’t trouble to listen to her.”
Jeremy turned furiously on Juliet. “Have you been gossiping to strangers about our private—”
“Don’t you dare,” Juliet interrupted, glaring at him. “Don’t you dare lecture me on gossip.”
To her surprise, he dropped his gaze with the first hint of shame.
“Oh, it’s you, Stewart,” came Ferdy’s cheerful voice. He strolled toward them, holding his hand out casually to Dan. “Come to be trounced again at pall-mall?”
“I trounced both of you at pall-mall,” Juliet said, relieved to change the subject.
“Only because I wasn’t playing seriously,” Ferdy said. “Come in for tea, Dan?” He eyed the enthusiastic Gun who, forced to sit on Dan’s foot, seemed likely to wag his tail off. “Not sure about the monster, though.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m taking the monster away. I won’t come in, but give my regards to your parents.” With an airy wave and a smile at Juliet, he set off down the terrace steps once more.
She couldn’t help feeling lost.
“Who the devil is that?” Jeremy all but exploded. “I beg your pardon, Juliet, but I have never encountered anyone of such insolence.”
“Don’t you like him?” Ferdy asked in surprise.
“The man called me a weasel!”
Ferdy’s gaze flew to Juliet’s. The laughter surged so hard, she couldn’t speak.
“Have to…” Ferdy began in a strangled voice and then simply turned and strode back to the house.
Since her laughter seemed too likely to turn to tears, Juliet combatted both with anger. “What do you expect, Jeremy? You did not behave well. And you still have not even asked me how I got home that day. A housemaid is entitled to better conditions of dismissal than I was accorded. You believed some filthy scandal rag rather than even ask me, and more or less threw me into the street with nothing.”
“I offered you—”
“Twenty pounds,” she said with contempt. “I imagine it would cost you considerably more to pay off an opera dancer.”
“Juliet!” he protested in shock.
“I am an earl’s daughter. And you broke not only your promise to me, but every rule of human decency I can think of. You are a weasel.” She walked past him and back into the house without troubling to see if he followed.
