Abandoned to the Prodigal, page 5
He grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t blame you. Even I know kissing you is not considered proper, but it seemed appropriate at the time. Or at least irresistible.”
“I think you are the most outrageous person I ever met, and you don’t even know it.”
“But I am harmless. Mostly. Do you think your mother would receive me if I called?”
“She’ll probably be grateful in the circumstances! But would your grandfather not object?”
“I agreed to go and see him, not be locked in his mausoleum for a week.”
Abruptly, Gun struggled into a sitting position, throwing off their feet and squashing their legs while he sniffed the air around the door.
“Don’t you dare,” Daniel warned him.
“Oh, we are coming up to Myerly,” Juliet noticed. “Has he been here before?”
“No. But he’ll have caught a whiff of some unknown animal, like a cow or a sheep. I should probably put him on a leash. If only I had one.”
Juliet delved into her valise and rummaged before coming out with a length of blue velvet ribbon. It was of a favorite shade and never worn, but she suspected Daniel’s need was greater. “Would this do?”
“It’s a bit fine for Gun.”
“I don’t need it,” she assured him.
He took it with a grin of thanks, and as the chaise slowed, he proceeded to tie it around the dog’s neck with a stout knot.
The carriage came to a halt at the Myerly cross-roads. From here, she could see the rather grim house through the neglected, overgrown grounds. She and her siblings had used to scare each other quite deliciously with made-up stories about this eerie house and Baron Miserly, who lived there.
Juliet held out her hand to the baron’s grandson. “Goodbye, Mr. Stewart.”
He shook it. “Goodbye, but I wish you wouldn’t be so formal.”
“Daniel,” she corrected. After all, she had already called him by his Christian name once.
“Dan is better.” He released her hand with a smile and jumped down. Gun leapt after him with great excitement, almost pulling Daniel—Dan—off his feet, and then skidding to a halt and sitting as he felt the unfamiliar pull of his velvet leash.
Juliet laughed, and Dan, grinning, swept off his hat in a hasty bow before the chaise lurched forward again, and she lost them both from view. She was still smiling as she sat back and longed for home. There were still good people in the world, and Dan was right. Her family would support her.
*
Dan had begun his journey from London, gritting his teeth in order to do his duty. But as he strode along the road, with Gun alternately tying himself in knots, sitting down in bafflement and lunging excitedly in random directions, he found he was grinning to himself.
Of course, he should not have kissed Juliet Lilbourne for any reason, and he knew it as soon as he had given into temptation. Hence his insistence that it had been a friendship kiss.
It hadn’t. Or at least, not entirely, but that way led to danger, and he would take better care of his wayward impulses in the future. Not that he regretted kissing her, for she was soft and sweet and smelled delightfully of flowers, but she was a little too heady for the senses of a prodigal young man with no prospects.
Still, he liked her, and he had hope they could continue their friendship and bolster each other’s spirits through what was bound to be a difficult period for both of them.
To his surprise, the Myerly gates were open, and he didn’t have to bang and shout to be let in, as had happened the last time he’d come. He walked on up the drive, noticing as he drew nearer the forbidding old house that at least half the shutters were open. Normally, the place looked deserted, with the poor servants having to scuttle about in the semi-gloom to fulfill the wishes of their cantankerous lord.
Perhaps the old devil had cheered up. Perhaps he would even speak to his daughter. Or visit his neighbors, like Lord Cosland over at Hornby Park.
Walking across the weed-strewn terrace, he straightened his shoulders and drew Gun to heel by his velvet leash. He knocked loudly at the door, for most of the servants were old and deaf.
To his surprise, the door was opened almost immediately by Griffin, the ancient butler, who beamed with genuine pleasure and flung the door wide. “Mr. Dan! That is welcome, Mr. Stewart, come—”
With a joyful bark, Gun tore his leash free of Dan’s too-careless hand and dashed past Griffin, who flattened himself against the door in terror.
“Oh, the devil,” Dan said ruefully. “Sorry, Griffin, he wouldn’t deliberately hurt a fly, but he is clumsy as a bear. Hold on, I’ll catch him.”
Dan loped after the dog in the direction of the kitchen, but Gun suddenly swerved, went up on his hind legs to push open the door of the breakfast parlor, and bounded inside.
“Trapped him,” Dan said with satisfaction, for his grandfather never used the parlor. He always had his breakfast in bed. However, a feminine shriek mingled suddenly with the unmistakable sound of breaking crockery, and a male yell.
Assuming Gun had startled the servants with an over-enthusiastic introduction, Dan followed, a casual apology on his lips, and stopped dead.
The room seemed full of people, but they were not servants. Two aunts and a cousin around the breakfast table had sprung to their feet in alarm. Gun stood halfway between the table and the sideboard, as though torn between which to ravage first. He was certainly capable of reaching the food on either. The sideboard was unprotected, but Gun liked humans, and he may have imagined these ones could be induced to deliver tidbits and save him from Dan’s ire.
Almost mechanically, Dan moved forward and trapped the velvet leash under his foot before reaching for the scruff of Gun’s neck. The dog whined and gazed longingly at the table.
Three people glared at Dan.
“I should have known!” his cousin Colin Cornwell exclaimed in disgust. “Is this animal with you?”
Dan ignored that for the thought uppermost in mind. “Good Lord, the old boy’s not really about to croak, is he?”
“I suppose that is why you came!” Aunt Tabetha accused. “And think to frighten us all off with this monster while you steal my poor father’s money!”
“Oh, dear,” said Aunt Hetty. She generally said this quite a lot.
“Good morning,” Dan said wryly. “A delight to see you all again, too.”
“Perhaps,” Griffin intoned behind him, “the animal would be happier outside?”
Dan held out the velvet leash. “Perhaps in the walled garden. And if someone could find him a bowl of scraps from the kitchen, he’d be very grateful. He won’t hurt anyone, you know. Unless I tell him to,” he added with an amiable smile at his cousin Colin. “Gun, be good.”
The dog wagged his tail and went obediently enough with the wary Griffin, who held the leash at arm’s length. Gun glanced back a couple of times, clearly hoping Dan was coming, too. But Dan’s stomach was rumbling, and he needed to talk to his family.
“How is my grandfather?” he asked abruptly.
“I’m sure you’ll receive a summons and see for yourself,” Colin said, holding his mother’s chair so that she could sit back down.
Aunt Hetty didn’t wait for the courtesy, merely sat and cast a tentative smile at Dan.
“I did receive a summons,” Dan said. “That’s why I’m here.”
“Then I’ve no doubt you’ll receive a second summons to his bedchamber,” Colin said. “Always a pleasure. I suppose you had better have some breakfast.”
“I suppose I had,” Dan agreed. He didn’t much like Colin, and he particularly didn’t care for the implication that he stood in as host for their grandfather. He even sat at the head of the table.
“Shouldn’t you change first?” Aunt Tabetha asked, looking Dan up and down.
“Probably, but I’m starving.” He helped himself from the meager leavings on the sideboard—namely two slices of toast, some very thinly cut ham, and the scrapings from a bowl of eggs. But at least there was coffee.
Dan sat down beside the more timid of his aunts and smiled at her. “How are you, Aunt Hetty?”
“Oh, dear. Quite well. Apart from rheumatism, you know, but… How handsome you are, Daniel. Jenny must be so—”
“How did you get here?” Aunt Tabetha interrupted ruthlessly. Normally, their infamous sister was not mentioned in the family except on the very few occasions they met.
“Stagecoach,” Dan replied.
Colin blinked. “With that animal? Or did you buy him in Kidfield, specifically to annoy us?”
Dan took a mouthful of coffee and set about piling some eggs and ham onto his toast. “You might find it hard to believe, but I don’t actually consider you at all in the ordering of my life.”
“Is there order to your life?” Aunt Tabetha wondered.
“Not much.” Dan bit into his toast and regarded his relatives while he chewed and swallowed. Tabetha and Colin Cornwell were, as always, immaculately dressed, the former in a severe brown morning gown and a stiff lace cap over her graying locks. Colin’s coat was excellently cut, new, and clearly from one of London’s foremost tailors. His hair was cut short and brushed forward into the fashionable “Brutus” style. Aunt Hetty looked no less expensive, just with less severity. Her hair tended to escape from its pretty cap, and she trailed several shawls half-falling from her neck and her arms.
Beside them, Dan was sure he looked exactly what he was: the poor relation. Once, it had bewildered him. Now, he didn’t care. Except that if Colin inherited the old man’s money, he’d make sure none of it went anywhere near Dan’s mother. Hetty’s son Hugh was better natured. Probably. But Hugh wasn’t here, and Dan suspected Colin had come to try and cut them all out of the old man’s will. Hence, his consternation at seeing Dan.
“What’s wrong with my grandfather?” Dan asked abruptly. “He isn’t really dying, is he?”
“If you don’t think he’s dying, why did you come?” Aunt Tabetha asked with a sniff.
“Because he asked me to.”
Colin scowled. “He really did send for you, too?”
They were circling like vultures, Dan thought with distaste, and some unease, for it seemed the old man, who’d always seemed indomitable to the point of indestructible, could indeed be on the way out. Or else, he wanted them all to think that. Old Baron Miserly was a master manipulator.
The door opened once more. Waits, the baron’s valet, who was even older than Griffin, entered and bowed.
“His lordship requests Mr. Stewart’s company.”
Daniel took a last mouthful of coffee and stood, picking up his toast to eat on the way. “I don’t imagine he put it quite like that,” he said wryly, remembering to bow briefly to his aunts. “Bring me that wastrel now! seems more likely.”
Waits permitted himself a faint smile. “I cannot remember his lordship’s precise words, sir.”
“Yes, you can,” Dan said, following him from the room. Actually, he was glad to see Waits, who was likelier to have sensible information about the old man. “How is he, Waits?”
“He’s been sinking,” Waits admitted. “Seemed certain he was going to die.”
“Is that why he sent for us all?”
“I believe so. But having done so, he appeared to rally.”
“Probably at the thought of us all at each other’s throats,” Dan observed.
An unidentifiable sound escaped Waits’s throat. “I could not say, sir. I will say the fact that you did not come agitated him.”
Dan cast the old valet a twisted smile. “I told him I wouldn’t come back without my mother.”
“And yet, here you are,” Waits observed.
Dan sighed. “Here I am. Wondering if blood is indeed thicker than water, or at least more powerful than common sense.”
Waits was wheezing by the time they reached the top of the staircase, and Dan reflected it was just like his grandfather to send the old man all the way down for him, rather than have a sprier footman or maid carry the message. Dan curbed his impatience and his stride to allow Waits a slow walk along the winding passage to his lordship’s rooms.
There was an antechamber, where once Lord Myerly had dealt with barbers, tailors, doctors, and anyone else he chose to summon to his presence. Dan’s unease increased to see the old man was not in his chair by the fireplace. Waits led him through to the bedchamber.
It was faintly musty and gloomy since just one shutter had been opened a crack. Dan was sure the old man had only allowed in that much light to save on candles. The curtains of the huge bed were open, and Lord Myerly sat propped up on a fine array of pillows. He looked tiny, causing an uncomfortable twinge in Dan’s heart. He really wasn’t well.
“You came,” his lordship observed in a shaky but still somehow gloating tone.
“Only for your money,” Dan said, staring down at the old man.
“So now you’ll accept my conditions for making you my heir?”
“Lord, no. Just give my mother a livable allowance, and I’ll get out of your hair for good. You can leave the rest of your money where you like.”
“Why, thank you,” mocked the old man. “I’ll bear that in mind. So, you’ve said your piece. You can go now.”
“Thanks,” Dan said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong with you, apart from spleen?”
“I’m old. I’m dying. I’m allowed to be grumpy.”
“You were born grumpy.”
“And you were born insolent! What do you mean crashing into my house with some kind of monster?”
“I thought he’d amuse you. Shall I bring him up?”
The old man’s eyes gleamed.
“Don’t send poor old Waits,” Dan begged. “Send a footman.”
His grandfather flicked a glance at Waits, who inclined his head and headed to the door.
“If they’re frightened of the dog, tell them just to open the door,” Dan advised. “He’ll run straight up here—providing the dining room door is firmly shut.”
“So,” his grandfather asked, fixing him with a suddenly piercing stare, “what have you done since I last saw you two—three?—years ago?”
“I lost at cards,” Dan replied. “Won at dice. Then lost again.”
“I heard you seduced a cit’s daughter.”
“Well, I didn’t, and I’m surprised you pay attention to such vulgar gossip.”
“Why did you lose your position, then?” the old man demanded. “You must have done something to the girl.”
“I never touched her. Why would I do anything so stupid?”
“Like father, like son,” the old man mocked. “He went in for a bit of seduction, too.”
“Actually, he went in for a bit of marriage,” Dan retorted. “As you know very well, or you wouldn’t even be considering me as your heir.”
“Hah!” Lord Myerly said rudely. He regarded Dan thoughtfully. “I’ve asked the others, so I’ll ask you, too. I can’t do a thing about the title, or the entailed property at Fallow. That will go to some second cousin none of us have ever even met. But what should I do with this place? And the rest of my money?”
“Whatever you want. That’s what you’ll do, regardless of what I or anyone else says.”
“True. But it happens I want your opinion.”
Dan shrugged impatiently. “Divide it between your daughters.”
“Waste of good property.”
Dan regarded him. “See? You didn’t want my opinion.”
The old man scowled. “What the devil is that?”
That was the galloping footsteps and excited wheefling of Gun as he bolted upstairs and along the passage, his claws scratching dementedly on the floor as he slid.
Dan grinned, and the great beast galumphed through the door of the antechamber, where Waits clearly dropped something with a resounding clatter. Gun bounded into the bedroom and straight onto the bed, from where he threw his front paws onto Dan’s shoulders and enthusiastically licked his face.
By the time Dan shoved the dog off, his grandfather was howling with glee.
“I’ll say this for you, Dan, you’re not boring!”
Dan grinned, holding onto Gun’s neck to prevent him from squashing the old man.
Lord Myerly’s eyes glinted with malice. “And I’ll say this for the dog. I’ll bet he scares the devil out of your aunts and cousin.”
Chapter Five
Leaving the stately if avuncular Abbot to pay the post boy, Juliet ran up the steps and into the house she had always called home. Her mother was rushing across the hall, her cap askew.
Relief flooded Juliet. “Oh, Mama,” she said shakily, and flew to meet her.
But her mother’s arms did not so much embrace as drag her toward the marble staircase. “Oh, Juliet, where have you been? What have you done?”
“I haven’t done anything except leave London because I had nowhere else to go. Lady Alford has turned against me. Jeremy—”
“Yes, well, we shall talk about Jeremy in private. Did you post to Kidfield?”
“From Kidfield,” Juliet said cautiously, allowing herself to be swept upstairs. Her mother’s fingers digging into her arm warned her to stay silent until they reached her mother’s boudoir.
There, the countess released her and sank onto the chaise longue in the center of the room.
“What happened?” she demanded. “Were you with the princess?”
“The princess had gone,” Juliet said flatly. “Three other ladies and I were tricked into attending. At least I have to assume it was a trick. We didn’t discover Her Highness was not there until the next morning.”
“Dear God. You spent the night alone in that house without a chaperone? Please tell me you were not seen, that there was no orgy taking place under the same roof?”
Suddenly weary, Juliet sat beside her mother and dragged off her bonnet. “I may have been seen, but by no one who was sober enough to remember. I suppose the four of us chaperoned each other, but beyond that, no.”
Her mother took both her hands, squashing the bonnet on Juliet’s lap. “Julie, did anyone…any man insult you, hurt you?”
