Lord Satan (7 page)

He stared at her. “What an odd subject for a pretty young
lady to interest herself in.”

She blushed, knowing she had overstepped herself.

“I’ll tell Uncle Neil about it. Naturally, if Reynolds has
neglected his duties, he will be replaced.”

“Oh no, sir. You must not think Mr. Reynolds is not
conscientious about his duties. If anything, too much so, but he needs more
supervision.”

“That’s precisely what I mean. What good is a steward one
must oversee all the time? Might as well stay home and do the job yourself.
Uncle Neil is too busy to keep running down here, and I will be rejoining my regiment
shortly.”

“Why is your uncle too busy to come here?” Libbetty asked.

The young man paled and he shifted his gaze aside. She had
blundered into delicate matters. Her determination to investigate Lord Neil,
and the friendly feelings she had acquired toward the invalid, had led her into
a rude inquisitiveness.

“He is very active in the government,” Cauldreigh finally
said.

Feeling heat rush to her face, she replied lamely, “Oh, I
didn’t know.” Conversation languished again. A maid entering with a tea tray
provided a desperately sought distraction.

Lord Cauldreigh seemed to notice that Edwina had yet to
contribute. He asked, “Miss Hogwood, would you please pour?”

Edwina had been well schooled in the rituals of tea, and she
prettily did the honors.

While she poured, the marquess spoke to Edwina. “I look
forward to taking part in the social life around here once I am recovered. Are
there any assemblies or concerts I might attend?”

“No.” Edwina’s hand shook a little as she handed him the
tea, making the cup and saucer rattle.

Libbetty concluded that Edwina’s nerves at meeting the
marquess had robbed her of the power to think, for Crossfield, only a few miles
away, offered assemblies, and she knew Edwina had attended two last autumn.

In addition, Peasebotham’s musical society met on alternate
Tuesday evenings, in the rooms above the village offices. The society was made
up of amateurs, but contained some fine musicians, including Libbetty’s
youngest sister, eleven-year-old Isobel. The society had invited her to
perform some three times, despite her youth. Mr. Bishop had reluctantly
permitted this.

Since her runaway tongue had already disgraced her, however,
Libbetty would not embarrass Edwina by correcting her. She kept a resolute
silence, sipping her tea and eating a cream cake.

The marquess appeared to have difficulty managing his saucer
of tea in his half-reclining position and soon gave up. Their brief
acquaintanceship did not permit Libbetty to offer any help. Anyway, his
expression of distaste when he sipped the tea gave her the impression he would
have preferred some stronger drink. He ate three or four of the cakes. Edwina
touched neither her tea nor any of the other refreshments.

After several further conversational gambits by the marquess
resulted in monosyllabic responses from Edwina, he turned in resignation to
Libbetty and said, “You seem to know quite a bit about the district, Miss
Bishop. Are you acquainted with the families on my farms?”

*

Neil sat in his study, his attention divided between his
correspondence and regrets for leaving the younger people alone. He should
have commandeered Miss Bishop and left Miss Hogwood to Trevor—no, he should not
have, despite the challenge in the wide blue eyes of the vicar’s daughter.

So why he should find himself at the door to Trevor’s room,
he did not know. “Oh, good, you are having tea.” He strolled into the room,
ignoring Trevor’s glower, and pulled the bell cord, summoning a servant. An
awkward silence hung heavily in the room, and Neil wondered what the animated
conversation he’d heard through the door had been about. Whatever it was, no
one seemed inclined to continue it. When a servant came, he said, “Send in
some more hot tea and another cup.”

At this, Miss Hogwood affectedly checked the watch that hung
from her neck chain. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “I did not realize it was so late.
We must leave at once.”

“Oh, please don’t go yet, ladies,” Trevor begged.

“Thank you, but I must return home.” The squire’s
daughter’s face looked almost stern to Neil, an expression he would not have
thought such a mouse of a girl could ever affect.

“If you must. You will come back, won’t you? Now that I am
better, I need company.” Trevor almost looked ready to cry.

“I would be pleased to call another day.”

Trevor eyed Miss Bishop, but she only nodded and smiled at
him. She did not look directly at Neil, but he noted the sidelong glances she
cast his way.

When the ladies had gone, Trevor looked at the chessboard
and asked, “Want to finish the game?”

The grizzled old soldier who served as Trevor’s valet
entered the room. “‘E needs ‘is rest, I’d say.”

Neil observed Trevor’s heavy-lidded, glazed stare, and
concluded Corcoran had the right of it. He perched in the chair recently
vacated by Miss Bishop—and still warm. Immediately, he pictured her shapely
form nestled where he now sat, then vanquished the unsought vision just as
quickly. “No, I just came to see how you enjoyed your callers.”

“Oh, ‘twas most amusing. One of them had scarce a word to
say, and the other took me to task for neglecting my duties as landlord.” The
amused sparkle in his eyes belied his acid tone.

Neil frowned. “‘Neglecting your duties’?”

“It seems all my properties are falling to pieces, not just
this old heap of a castle.” Trevor picked up one of the pawns and tossed it
from hand to hand.

“I needn’t ask which of your callers reprimanded you.” Neil
smiled, thinking of the vicar’s spirited daughter.

“Is her accusation true?”

“About your properties falling apart? Yes, I fear so. I
have observed a certain amount of dilapidation.”

“How could Reynolds let the farms go to ruin? Should we
replace him with someone younger?”

“The problems can be laid at my door, I think. Reynolds
obviously fears to authorize such large expenditures himself but quakes in his
boots at the prospect of confronting me.”

“Why that sniveling milksop!” Trevor’s knuckles whitened
around the pawn in his hand. “I shall certainly find another steward, and as
well replace anyone else who is so cowardly that they believe the preposterous
rumors about you.”

Neil laughed. “Are you prepared to send away all your
tenants and the whole village of Peasebotham? Don’t worry, halfling. I am
used to people’s opinions of me. I’ll have a talk with Reynolds, and make sure
he presents a list of all the needed repairs needed to the farms and other
properties.”

“It goes against the grain with me not to stop the senseless
speculation.”

“You can only do that if you marry and fill your nursery
with a half-dozen sons. Everyone would then decide I must give up my ambitions
with that many between me and the title.”

“That’s more of a sacrifice than I’m prepared to make right
now,” Trevor admitted.

Neil stood up. “In truth, I have been less than vigilant in
carrying out my guardianship. I felt certain that The Castle must be crumbling
but didn’t realize the other properties were in the same case. I thought I
hated The Castle enough not to care if it fell down. When I last left here, I
had quarreled with my father and vowed never to come back.”

“You quarreled over me?” Trevor lay back on the couch. His
pallor had deepened.

Neil resolved to give the lad time to rest. He tugged at
the bell-pull. “Among other things. Let me help you back into bed. We’ll
discuss this later.”

“You needn’t have worried. Aunt Madeline was kind and had a
nursery full of children for me to play with. I liked it there.”

“I didn’t know that when Father sent you away, and neither
did he. He didn’t make the decision because he believed it best for you. He
didn’t want a reminder of his treacherous son about him, but I felt you
belonged here.”

“It’s strange that Maude has returned,” Trevor said after a
pause. “Do you believe she was married to this Whitelow?”

“It doesn’t matter whether she was or not. I only wish we
could force her to go back to America.”

“She inherited Rose Farm. She has a right to live here. I
confess I’d like to see her. Maybe I could understand what my father saw in
her to make him throw his life away.” His voice trailed off in a yawn.

Neil placed his arm about Trevor’s shoulder and hoisted
him. Trevor’s valet reentered the room and supported the marquess at his
other side back into his bed. Neil tucked him in. “She was very curious about
you, you know,” Trevor murmured.

Neil started to ask Trevor whom he meant, but saw the
younger man had already fallen asleep. I don’t need to ask. ‘Tis the
impertinent one—the vicar’s daughter.

He smiled.

Libbetty glanced over her shoulder as she and Edwina descended
the stairs, but Lord Neil didn’t follow. Why did Edwina choose to leave just
as he came back into the room? Libbetty wanted to observe uncle and nephew
together, to find a clue to Lord Neil’s purpose. And she could not remain at
The Castle without a female companion.

A liveried footman showed them to the stableyard. As she
waited for their mounts to be brought out, Libbetty kept picturing Lord Neil’s
face. Was he disappointed they had left so soon? Most likely he had come to
the room to hurry them along—maybe he had even counted on the girls’ fear of
him and used it to speed them on their way.

That could explain Edwina’s actions. Libbetty must remember
how timid her friend was. As the groom helped her into the saddle, she glanced
at Edwina’s stiff posture and trembling lips. Could Lord Neil’s presence have
frightened her so badly?

As they rode through the gate, Edwina turned to Libbetty.
“What am I to do, Libbetty? I cannot marry Lord Cauldreigh.” Dramatic tears
made her eyes glisten like diamonds.

Libbetty stared. “Edwina, it is too early for you to decide
such a thing. You don’t even know that he will offer for you.”

“My mother expects me to try for him. I cannot simply say I
do not wish to marry him. She will say my reasons are trivial and I can
overcome my aversion if I try.” Tears rolled down Edwina’s face in earnest
now.

“Are you certain you cannot learn to like him better? You
have just met him, after all.”

Edwina shuddered. “All that talk of wounds and fighting!
He—he gloried in such things. I could not bear to be around them. What if he
expected me to follow him? I’ve heard some of the officers’ wives accompany
them into battle.”

Libbetty repressed a smile. “Not into battle, Edwina.
Although, I am sure many wives do go with their husbands to the Peninsula.”
Such a life did not sound comfortable, but she supposed if she loved a man she
would prefer to go with him rather than endure a long separation. “If he
marries you, perhaps he will give up the army and stay home.”

“I cannot think it. That fervent light in his eyes when he
talked about the war? You must help me, Libbetty.”

“What can I do?”

“He seemed to like you. He listened to your boring talk of
farmers and crops and all that. You only need to encourage him to attend to
you. Then, I can appear to wish for Lord Cauldreigh to court me and Maman
cannot blame me if he does not.”

Libbetty could see flaws in the plan, even distant as she
was from Mrs. Hogwood’s pressure. However, if it had even the slightest chance
of helping Edwina, she ought to oblige her. Besides, if she encouraged Lord
Cauldreigh’s pursuit, she might more easily investigate his uncle’s schemes and
perhaps protect the young marquess.

*

In the following week, Libbetty’s rides with Edwina seemed
to have ended. A spell of warm weather caused Mrs. Bishop to complain of
fatigue, and Libbetty helped her as much as possible.

On the first truly warm day, Mrs. Bishop told her, “I have
the headache. The children would like to play outside, but they are too
obstreperous for Floss to manage today. If they could take some exercise
outside…”

Seeing her mother’s pinched face, Libbetty replied, “I’ll
take them for a walk,” although she felt impatient and on edge, not in a mood
to cater to young children.

When they all had put on sturdy shoes and wraps, Libbetty
set off with the children and Floss, the nursemaid, in tow. Scattered puffy
clouds scudded by in the afternoon sky, dispersed by a warm wind. Libbetty,
restless after several days’ confinement indoors, set a brisk pace across
country, through orchards and pastures.

Richard soon fell behind, stumbling over his skirts. She
picked him up and continued walking. The four-year-old had recently outgrown
his baby fat, but his face was still round. His deceptively angelic appearance
melted her pique and as she carried him in her arms, she planted a kiss on his
downy cheek. He snuggled trustfully against her shoulder.

Even thus burdened, she outpaced her sisters and Henry.
“Libbetty, wait!” seven-year-old Henry called out.

“Oh, hush,” she said. “You wanted to go out in the fresh
air. I did not wish to squander my time watching over you.”

Shortly, they reached her destination, a brook meandering
through the apple orchard of a farmer who indulged their trespass. Libbetty
and Floss flung themselves down on the grassy bank, Libbetty removing her
bonnet as she did so.

Not waiting for permission, the younger children sat on the
bank, removed shoes and stockings and dangled their feet in the water, giggling
and shoving each other.

Floss asked, “Do you think we ought to allow them into the
brook? The water is still chilly.”

Libbetty shrugged. “They became sufficiently heated from
the walk, I daresay.” All the same, she warned them, “You had better behave,
or I’ll take you back home.”

She dipped her fingers in the cool water. Unable to resist,
she pulled off her sturdy walking shoes and stockings, and, skirts kilted,
waded into the stream. Her feet and legs tingled as chilly water swirled
around them.

Henry splashed water at her, and she laughed and chased him,
her steps hampered by the drag of the current. The girls waded into the brook
to join the game.

Richard tried to join them, but promptly lost his balance in
the current and sat down. He puckered up to cry. Calling out, “Truce,”
Libbetty grabbed Richard and swung him high up in the air. When he giggled,
she handed him over to Floss, who still sat primly on the bank.

“Ooh, he’s getting me all wet,” she protested.

“You’ll dry before we arrive back home.” The others renewed
their watery attack, and she swept her arms through the water, making waves
that doused her younger siblings thoroughly.

*

Neil stopped his horse far enough from the stream to remain
unnoticed while he watched the children playing. Splashing and calling to each
other, they made a picture of innocent pleasure he saw too seldom. Suddenly he
realized one of the children was Elizabeth Bishop. He frowned. He kept
forgetting how young she was.

Yet, the flash of trim calf exposed by her kilted skirts,
the curves displayed by the clinging dampness of her simple gown, revealed her
to be anything but childish. Innocent she was, however. He had to keep in
mind how his besmirched reputation would stain her if he paid her any special
attention.

He rode on, his discontent unassuaged.

*

Libbetty saw Lord Neil ride away on his black horse. Heat
flushed through her and her heart beat faster. Why did he haunt her? She
frequently saw him on her rambles, and her thoughts veered to him even more
frequently. Why did he occupy her mind so? It couldn’t be fear, despite her
conviction of his nefarious purpose. What her true feelings were, she could
not sort out.

She climbed up on the bank, and turned to the others. “It’s
time to come out of the water.” They obeyed, grumbling.

Everybody’s clothing was sopped, but she was not concerned.
They sat on the bank, the sun drying their bare feet until the golden orb sank
too low in the sky for much warmth. They all put their shoes back on, Floss
helping with the younger ones, and set out for home. Richard had fallen
asleep, and Libbetty allowed Floss to carry his dead weight.

Eleven-year-old Isobel and Henry, still full of energy, ran
some distance ahead. Floss, her shoulders hunched under the load of the
sleeping boy, trudged behind them, lagging farther back.

Golden light surrounded Libbetty, and the late afternoon
atmosphere felt heavy, laden with the scent of grass and earth.

She dropped farther behind Isobel and Henry, with Catherine,
nearly fourteen years of age, beside her. They walked in silence for some
minutes, although Libbetty sensed her sister repeatedly glancing at her.

“Libbetty, may I ask you a question?” the young girl burst
out finally.

“Of course.”

“Is Mama—I mean, does she—expect a baby?”

“Why Catherine!” Libbetty was unprepared for the question.
Yet she had been younger than Catherine’s present age at Richard’s birth, and
she had known her mother’s state.

“Do not lie to me, Libbetty.”

“Of course not!” she replied. “I would not lie. What
purpose would that serve, anyway? You would soon realize I had not told you
the truth.”

“So she is.” Catherine’s flat tone reflected her opinion of
this news.

“Yes. But how did you know? I do not think she shows
overmuch yet.”

“Last Sunday after church, I heard Mrs. Hogwood tell Miss
Marble it was unseemly when there were so many children already, and Papa and
Mama scarce could provide for them.”

“How dared she?” exclaimed Libbetty. “It’s not their
affair. They are probably just jealous. After all, Mrs. Hogwood has only two
children and Miss Marble none. Can you imagine any man ever offering for that
toad-faced woman?”

Catherine, diverted by the description of Miss Marble,
giggled, and seemed less inclined to regard the forthcoming arrival of another
brother or sister as a tragedy.

“I should tell you, Cat, that we must all do our best to
assist Mama. She has not felt very well.” Her mother’s admission of a
headache that afternoon troubled Libbetty.

“Of course, I would be happy to help Mama.”

Looking at Cat, Libbetty knew that in this case Mrs. Hogwood
did have some justification for the observations on her parents’ inability to
provide for all their children.

As Catherine matured, the early signs of her becoming the
family beauty held true. She deserved a chance to shine in London society.
Libbetty saw no hope of that future for her. Her parents aimed all their
resources at fitting their sons for careers. The girls would presumably find
husbands to provide for them, but the boys must make their own way.

And with Isobel there was a different problem. She
practiced upon the pianoforte at every opportunity, and to Libbetty’s ears had
remarkable talent. Isobel was never satisfied with her progress, and although
she did not repine, occasionally mentioned a longing for further instruction.

Whom would Cat and Isobel find to marry in Peasebotham?
There was no one good enough for her sisters.

If Libbetty married Lord Cauldreigh, she would have money
enough to help them. She could even shepherd her sisters through seasons in
London. There, they could find worthy husbands.

When Edwina had proposed that Libbetty encourage Cauldreigh,
she had not thought of inducing in him a serious interest in her. The end of
her secret betrothal to Wat was still too new to adjust her goals.

But Cauldreigh had been interested in what she had to say
about his properties and tenants. Still, that was a long way from interest in
her. Since then, there had been no opportunity to see him. Cauldreigh still
did not venture out of The Castle.

She had wracked her mind for ways to uncover Lord Neil’s
infamy without discovering anything she could do. On the night she and Alonso
had sneaked into The Castle, Lord Neil had made it clear that from then on
every door and every window would be double-checked every night to ensure all
was locked tight. Even if she dared to break in again, that option was closed
to her. But in any case she knew she would not hazard another attempt.

*

After the service the following Sunday, Libbetty stood with
her mother in a cluster of people, when Lord Neil approached. Blood pounded in
her ears, and she sensed the eyes of the others as he stopped in front of her.

With no preamble, he said, “You’ve not come back to succor
my nephew, Miss Bishop. Miss Hogwood has called twice with her brother, but
Trevor hoped to receive a further call from you. Your neglect has disappointed
him.”

Her face heating at his marked attention, Libbetty scarcely
knew how to reply. The ladies with her stared.

Swallowing her envy that Edwina had frequented Cauldreigh
Castle, she said, “I am glad that Edwina has induced her brother to accompany
her.” At once, she perceived her words sounded indifferent, almost rude. She
gulped and looked at her mother—she could not bring herself to meet Lord Neil’s
gaze, though she could sense it as tangibly as the sun’s rays warming her.

Mrs. Bishop bore an incredulous expression. Libbetty
regretted the misfortune of her hearing about the call at The Castle in this
way.

Lord Neil’s bored drawl cut into her thoughts. “Trevor has
asked after you. He stands in need of rescue from the continuing tedium of his
convalescence. Perhaps you could bring your brother.”

As though Tom could somehow rescue her from the pit into
which she had fallen, Libbetty looked about for him, but he had already
disappeared. She nodded.

“Good. We eagerly anticipate seeing you at The Castle.”
Lord Neil tipped his hat to the other ladies and walked away.

“Well!” Miss Marble said when he was out of earshot. “I was
not aware that you were acquainted with that man.”

“I am, slightly,” Libbetty said. The Marble sisters had
perfectly avaricious expressions, like toads that had just spied a particularly
succulent fly. Mrs. Hayes gave her a smile of understanding, although she said
nothing. Her mother’s visible dismay made Libbetty conscious of disappointing
her.

Miss Marble pursued her tidbit. “It sounded as if you have
actually gone to The Castle to meet Lord Cauldreigh.”

“Yes, I accompanied Miss Hogwood there once. She has more
acquaintance with the Coltons than I do, I believe.” Having dangled the
squire’s daughter as bait, Libbetty noted with relief that the Misses Marble
rushed to quiz Mrs. and Miss Hogwood.