Marjorie Farrell (13 page)

The housekeeper greeted them warmly and led them up to their rooms, where she had hot baths and a light supper waiting. The two women were so happy to be out of the chaise and so eager to bathe that they almost forgot to bid good night to their host.

He smiled understandingly as Nora turned in the middle of the stairs to thank him for his escort.

“Never mind, Mrs. Dillon. I will see you in the morning. Sleep in if you wish. I am usually up for an early-morning ride before breakfast, but there will be servants in the morning room until ten.”

* * * *

Nora awoke early the next morning as the sun poured through her light muslin curtains. She had forgotten to pull the draperies over them, but since she was usually an early riser, she did not mind. She and Miranda were in adjoining rooms with a connecting door, and she peeked in, knowing that she would find her daughter still asleep, since Miranda tended to be more wide-awake after nine P.M. and to sleep late in the morning. She was happy to let her sleep, and dressed quickly. Her own routine was to breakfast early, write for a few hours, and then take some exercise.

The viscount was there at breakfast when she came down. He was obviously surprised to see anyone up this early.

“I hope I do not disturb you, my lord?”

“Not at all. I am merely surprised to see you up after such a tiring day as yesterday,” Sam replied. “Is Miranda up also?”

“Oh, no.” Nora smiled. “I am the early bird in our household.”

“Well, please help yourself to eggs and ham and cereal. It is all there on the sideboard. I usually serve myself in the mornings,” he added apologetically, “and did not think to have a footman ready till later for you.”

“I assure you, I am quite used to serving myself breakfast,” said Nora. “And cooking it too. I have become quite accustomed to living without servants, you know.”

Sam filed that remark away. If Mrs. Dillon had become accustomed to doing without servants, then did that mean that she had once been waited on? She gave so little information about her past that Sam was intrigued and certain there was a small mystery involved.

“Do you ride, Mrs. Dillon? If you would like to join me tomorrow, I can pick out a mount for you.”

Nora’s face lit up at the prospect before she realized that accepting the offer was quite out of the question. She had not ridden in over eighteen years, and of course had no habit.

“I am afraid I have not been on a horse for many years, my lord, and I could hardly ride in my morning gown,” she said with such regret that Sam was determined to have her on horseback in the next few days.

“Let me see if I can remedy that,” replied the viscount. “There are trunks of old clothes in the attic and I will set Nellie the task of digging through them. I’m sure there must be a habit or two
—outmoded, of course, but that would fit you and Miranda.”

“As much as I would love to ride again, I am not sure I should,” Nora said. “It is almost easier to do without than to have a little taste of pleasure, knowing it is only for a short while,” she said wistfully.

Sam was sure, from this simple statement, that this was the way Mrs. Dillon had survived: not by rationing luxuries, but by doing without them altogether. He felt a sudden desire to give her something, anything, to make up for her years of deprivation, and determined that whatever happened between Jeremy and Miranda, he would see that she could ride whenever she wanted, even after she returned to Hampstead.

“If Miranda married Jeremy, then you both would have every opportunity to ride,” Sam said, curious to get her reaction.

Nora looked up from her eggs and toast to see, if she could, what lay behind that statement.

“But Miranda will not marry Jeremy,” she said quietly, unable to fathom Sam’s expression. “That is what we are here for, isn’t it, to convince them their marriage would never work?”

“But what if it convinces them of the very opposite? Have you thought of that possibility, Mrs. Dillon?”

Of little else, thought Nora. “If that happens, then I will forbid Miranda Jeremy’s company,” she replied.

Although it was what she had been saying all along, Sam was surprised. If her daughter’s heart was truly given and Jeremy’s also, what reason could she have for such a harsh step? Her objections on the basis of age did not make sense either. She could ask for a longer betrothal, surely, so Miranda had time to mature, rather than severing all ties. And if, as Sam was beginning to suspect, the bond between the two young people was genuine and strong, then such an extreme response could send them off to Gretna.

“And if you cost Jeremy and your daughter their happiness?” asked the viscount.

“It would cost far more if they ever married,” replied Nora. Knowing she had said too much and wishing to distract the viscount, she said quickly that she had changed her mind and would like to try riding again, and would seek out the housekeeper herself and help her search the attic trunks.

Sam had no choice but to let the subject drop. He was not willing to push her further, but knew, from her vehemence, there was some other, more serious reason for her objections to the match than age or difference in station. He found himself wishing he could win her trust and get her to share her burden with him, to let someone help her for a change, instead of shouldering it all herself. Perhaps this little house party had been a good idea for more reasons than the original one, he thought as he wiped his mouth with his napkin, pushed his chair from the table, and excused himself.

* * * *

Nora happily let him go. She was determined not to let the viscount push her toward revealing any more than she had already. He was so genuinely friendly that it was difficult to go against her own tendency to be open with people. She had liked him almost from the beginning, and found herself attracted to him. He was quite tall, and a bit thin, and his face was interesting, with light blue eyes a startling contrast to his dark complexion. And his springy black hair looked like it would… Nora caught herself up short. She did not want to wonder what his hair might feel like, or to notice him at all as a man. He was someone who was being kind and hospitable under difficult circumstances, but they would never see each other again after these two weeks.

She finished her breakfast and went back to her room, ready to wrestle with Cordelia and Lord Soames, which would, she hoped, keep her from dwelling on another lord.

It was due to luck that Nora had gotten some work done in the morning, for Lady Whitford and Jeremy arrived that afternoon and the household was at sixes and sevens, as the viscount’s servants got her settled. Nora was able to pull Nellie aside for a moment and mention the viscount’s suggestion. The housekeeper smiled and said they could meet at the attic stairs when Lady Lavinia was taking her nap, and she was sure there would be suitable habits in one of the trunks.

And there were. Although both were outmoded, she and Nellie found two broadcloth habits, quite simple, with none of the frogs and epaulets of the modern style. The dark blue could be altered for Miranda, and the black fitted Nora almost as though it had been made for her. Nellie was sure that they could be aired and pressed and altered by the next afternoon.

Dinner that evening was a bit strained, since Lavinia was tired and therefore at her most annoying. She could not ignore their guests, but she certainly kept them ill-at-ease, with her complaints about the long journey for such a short visit, and her reminders that she and Jeremy would need to unsettle themselves again when they returned home. The fact that Alverstone was only ten miles away and that they would have been making a journey from London anyway was one that Sam wished to point out, but decided, from long experience, that it was easier to let Lavinia get all her irritation out, no matter how unpleasant. After dinner, he suggested a few hands of whist, not wanting to burden the Dillons with Lavinia the first evening. He volunteered to watch, but Nora immediately said, “I am a very frustrating partner, as Miranda will attest, my lord. I tend to get distracted and start throwing away my trumps rather recklessly.”

“I must warn you that she is not merely being polite.”

Miranda grinned. “I would be happy to have you as a player, my lord.”

“All right, for this time, but I must insist that you play on another occasion, Mrs. Dillon.”

“You will regret it, but I promise. And now, if you will just point out the way to the library, I will, with your permission, find a book for this evening.”

The viscount escorted Nora, and lit the candles in the library himself. She was delighted with his overflowing shelves and assured him that she would be happy for hours, so he returned to the card room. Miranda was no woolgatherer like her mother, and he and she were soon joking together like old friends as they proceeded to win one rubber after another.

“That is enough,” protested Jeremy after an hour and a half. “We yield, don’t we, Mother?”

“I am too tired to attempt a comeback,” replied Lavinia, in a far more relaxed tone than anyone had heard from her all day. “I think that I am off to bed.” She excused herself, and the viscount looked at Jeremy and Miranda, who looked not tired at all. Ah, youth, he groaned to himself.

“I am going to see if your mother was able to find something in the library. And then, I think, it is time for us all to retire, for I understand you have a riding lesson, young lady?”

Miranda smiled in anticipation, and Jeremy waited impatiently for Sam to leave so he could pull Miranda down on the sofa with him. They were drawn immediately into an almost involuntary embrace. Miranda pulled back first. “The viscount will be returning, Jeremy.”

“I know,” he groaned. “I was so looking forward to these two weeks, but now I realize we will be able to snatch only a few moments alone together.”

“Perhaps that is all to the good,” Miranda said, blushing a little.

“You are probably right, but I cannot wait until we are officially engaged.”

“Are you certain, Jeremy?” Miranda asked seriously.

“About what?” he asked, surprised at her tone.

“About an official betrothal. If this is what is described as a small estate, I shudder to think what Alverstone must be. Neither mother nor I am used to any of this: servants, housekeepers, libraries, and stables and…” Miranda waved her hand in an arc to sum up all the rest. “How can I become a countess and run a household larger than this? It quite terrifies me.”

“I would be there to help and support you, and once you become a bit used to it, you will make a wonderful countess. I truly have no doubts at all, Miranda.”

“Then I will try to ignore mine.”

* * * *

When Sam arrived at the library, he expected to find Mrs. Dillon engrossed in a novel, or perhaps already gone up to her room. What he had not anticipated was that he would come upon her curled up in the corner of the leather sofa, sound asleep, her book in her lap. She looked very young, he thought, relaxed and vulnerable, and he was tempted to lift her and carry her up to bed, as he might have done with Miranda. She must have dozed off just before he came in, for she stirred as if she felt his eyes on her, and opened hers, which were glazed with fatigue.

“Oh, dear, did I fall asleep?”

“Whatever book you chose must not have been too stimulating.” Sam smiled down at her, and she immediately became conscious that her feet were tucked under her, her dress rucked up, and her hair, no doubt, all over the place. She sat up, and put her stockinged feet on the floor, searching with her toes for her slippers, and smoothing her dress.

“No, no, it was not the book, but the hour. I keep quite early hours at home, my lord, and am used to reading myself to sleep in bed. I must have done just that here. I apologize.”

“No need, Mrs. Dillon,” said Sam, offering his hand, “but we should get back, for I have left Miranda and Jeremy alone for a few moments, and although we can be rather informal in the country, I would not want the servants gossiping.”

“Of course not.” Nora could not find her left slipper, however, and in her embarrassed rumblings, had sent it under the couch. Now she could not reach it.

“Let me, Mrs. Dillon,” said the viscount, smiling to himself as he realized her predicament.

“No, no, I can get it. You don’t have to get down on your hands and knees, my lord.” They both found themselves down on the floor in front of the couch at the same time, reaching for the slipper. Nora got her hand on it first, but not before she had brushed his. The shock was electric, and she stood suddenly, like a jumping jack, leaving him on his hands and knees, watching her shaking hands replace her slipper and admiring her trim ankles.

She was almost out the door before he caught up with her.

“Do you ever let anyone do anything for you, Mrs. Dillon, or are you always so self-sufficient?”

Nora was confused by her reaction to him, and by her realization that any other woman would have let him do that small service of retrieving a slipper. What did that mean about her, if she could never let anyone help her?

“I have become used to it, I guess,” she replied, her voice shaky. Sam saw that he had upset her in some elemental way by his teasing words, and followed her thoughtfully down the hall.

The next afternoon, the viscount had two of the gentlest horses in his stable saddled and Miranda had her first riding lesson. Nora, who was following behind her, beginning to feel at home again on a horse, marveled at her daughter. She seemed to have a natural seat and sense of balance, and very little fear after the first few minutes.

Miranda went back after an hour, accompanied by Jeremy and the viscount, and Nora decided to continue with the countess. After a gentle canter down a tree-lined lane, the two women pulled their horses up and gave each other the first natural smiles since they had met.

Nora was prompted by the moment of friendliness to say:

“Lady Whitford, I know you are not happy with the present circumstances and I know you were not sure letting Jeremy and Miranda be together was the right way to handle them. I wanted to tell you I appreciate your willingness to have us here.”