The Convenient Arrangement (11 page)

“Not his marriage. Yours.”

“Mine?” Her voice squeaked on the single word.

Miss Urquhart grinned, obviously pleased at having garnered all of Valeria's attention now. She went to the closest window and tapped the top of her cane against the time-stained mullions. “There he goes again.”

“Yes, Lorenzo rides out to enjoy the view on the moors every day at this hour,” Valeria said as she looked past the old woman to see Lorenzo on the road leading to the outer wall of the house. He rode with the ease and grace of a man who was comfortable in the saddle and with his own solitary thoughts.

“Is that why you think he goes for a daily ride across the hills?”

“Yes, of course.”
I would not have said so otherwise
. She could not speak those harsh words. The old woman might be a bit touched, so it would be better to let her enjoy her delusions of … Valeria had no idea what delusions Miss Urquhart might be delighting in today.

“Then you are utterly jobbernowl.” Miss Urquhart whirled in a swish of satin from her unfashionably full skirt. Poking Valeria with the cane, she said, “I thought you had realized by this time that he rides out in pursuit of a husband for you.”

“A husband for me?” A laugh burst from her. “You are—” She bit back the words she should not speak.

Miss Urquhart was not so reticent. “I am what? Mad? Mayhap, but I know what I know, and I hear what I hear. Chap in the stables was telling me that the boy was asking about other country houses of the gentry that are within a day's ride. Other houses with young men who might be seeking a wife.”

She stared at the old woman, then turned away. She clasped her hands in front of her and swallowed the mixture of anger and disbelief clogging her throat. It all made sense, for, once she had remarried, Lorenzo would not be bothered by her company or by David's. It seemed like an excellent solution—for him—even though she did not want to accept that Lorenzo would do such a thing without consulting with her first.

She had not thought of remarrying. All she had thought of was sanctuary, far from her brother's creditors and the shame that had spread from Paul to her. Worrying about a home for David and her nephew's future had kept her from thinking of her own. Only now did she realize that each of those problems would be resolved if she made a wise second marriage.

“I had no idea,” she whispered.

“You do now.” Miss Urquhart walked toward the door, but paused to add, “I suppose I should check how the lads are doing on clearing out the last of the bats. Weddings at Moorsea Manor always take place in the old hall, I understand.”

“There is no need to hurry.”

“You may think so, but I suspect the boy thinks differently. He has said more than once he wants tranquillity around here so he can concentrate on his studies and his writing.” Miss Urquhart's smile grew calculating. “He can solve part of his problem with a husband for you, but I wonder how he'll deal with me?” She glanced at the ceiling. “I do hope he doesn't intend to lock me away in some attic like in one of those novels Francis had an odd predilection for.” Coming back to the bookshelves, she took down a pair of books and shoved them into Valeria's hands. “I trust you will call here at Moorsea Manor once in a while after your marriage to check upon me to see that I am not a reluctant prisoner in a tower.”

Valeria nodded, not sure what to say. As Miss Urquhart walked out of the library, still chattering about how she would fight anyone who tried to imprison her on the upper floors, Valeria glanced down at the books the old woman had given her. Their titles were the same, for they were two volumes of the same tale, and the titles made Miss Urquhart's message clear.

The Idiot Heiress

She pushed the books back onto the shelf. If Lorenzo thought he was going to try to trip her the double by arranging a marriage for her without her knowledge, he would learn his mistake without delay. David was not the only one who could make his life uncomfortable.

Slowly she sat as she shook her head. Doing that would only guarantee that he would not be waylaid from his determination to get her married and out of his house. She must act in just the opposite way, not disturbing him and convincing him that she was necessary at Moorsea Manor until such time as she decided to leave.

She shuddered. That would mean giving up all plans to brighten this house with guests and entertainments. If she did that, she feared she would grow as quoz as Nina Urquhart, lost in the past with little idea of what was going on in the present beyond the walls of this house.

There must be a compromise that would save her sanity even as it kept her from an unwanted marriage, but what? How could she persuade Lorenzo that letting her stay here at Moorsea Manor was a better idea than arranging a marriage for her? He must think he was acting out of kindness for her and David, as well as in his own best interests. She could not imagine that he would not force her to marry … or would he? He had never made it a secret that he had no place in his life for anyone or anything else but his studies, so this might seem, to him, a very convenient arrangement.

For him, it would be.

For her, it could be a disaster. She must find answers to the questions tormenting her before she found herself standing in front of a parson with a man she did not even know now.

Seven

Lorenzo woke to a scream. Sitting up in his bed, he looked around, bewildered. How had the windows in Wolfe Abbey been moved and changed shape while he was sleeping? The big window should be on his left as lief his right, and the hearth should be …

Another scream rang through the room. It whisked the remnants of sleep from his head. A woman's scream! Egad, he hoped David had not found another colony of bats and set it to prey on someone else tonight. No, that wouldn't be possible at this hour. The bats would be hunting in the darkness.

Or had the boy set some other prank in motion? During the past week, Lorenzo had found sour milk in his tea, pepper on his facecloth, and a trio of frightened frogs hidden beneath the blanket on his bed. David was, he knew, the creator of each prank, although Lorenzo had yet to catch him in the act of sneaking into his room.

So what was he up to now?

Grabbing his cream satin robe, Lorenzo pulled it around his shoulders as he rushed out into the corridor and right into something soft and silky and wondrously fragrant. Something a man could enjoy being next to for days on end and during nights without number.

“Look out, Lorenzo!” Valeria's prosaic words were the antithesis of his momentary lapse into fantasy.

And that was all for the good. What was he doing thinking about her like this when he had spent the past two days riding until his bones were sore in an effort to meet what eligible bachelors might be living near Moorsea Manor and arrange for them to call on Valeria? Their number was small, and most of them were either in London or calling on friends elsewhere in England. Lorenzo had ignored the questioning glances in his direction that suggested he was an odd volume for preferring the quiet of the moors to other places.

“Pardon me,” he said when he recalled that Valeria was waiting for an answer, “but I thought to see who might be screeching at this hour.”

“As I did.”

“Is David—?”

“He's asleep in his room.” Her voice was cool, as it had been since his return to Moorsea Manor this afternoon. He had been curious about that, but she had given him no time to ask a question then, and this was not the time now.

“Are you sure of that?”

Her frown was visible even in the dim light. “He was the first thing I checked, Lorenzo.”

The scream sounded again. Not pausing to see if Valeria followed, Lorenzo sprinted along the hall toward the tall window at the far end. In the light of the half moon, he could see a form clinging to the drapes and staring out at the night.

He seized the young woman by the shoulders and spun her about. “What is wrong? Have you seen bats flying in at this window?”

“Bats, my lord?” She cowered as she looked toward the ceiling. “Here?”

“You tell me.”

“Lorenzo,” scolded Valeria, drawing even with them, “don't chide the girl when she obviously is distressed almost beyond words.”

“I wish only to discover what has set her screaming.”

The maid gasped, “'Twas a ghost, my lord.”

“A ghost?” He shook his head. “Impossible.”

“I saw it with my own two good eyes.”

“Don't you know that ghosts are only the offspring of a fertile imagination and reading the wrong sort of novels?”

“I don't read much, my lord.”

“But you have an imagination, I trust.”

She stared at him as if she feared for the state of his sanity. “I saw a ghost, my lord. 'Tis not my imagination that brought it forth. 'Tis the moonlight and shadows that have given birth to this ghost, my lord.” She raised a quaking finger toward the window. “Look for yourself and see.”

Before Lorenzo could remonstrate, Valeria drew aside the drapes and peered out. “There's nothing there.”

“But there was, my lady.” The girl twisted her apron in her hands. “I swear 'tis so. I would not lie.”

Valeria smiled gently. “I'm sure you thought you saw—”

“I know what I saw!” Her voice rose on every word. “I was born and raised in this house, and I've never seen its like. Taller than a man and with limbs that glowed with a demon's light.”

Putting her arm around the quivering girl, Valeria said, “You are shaking too hard. Why don't we sit and calm ourselves? I trust we can use your rooms, Lorenzo.”

“My rooms?”

“Yes, I don't want to disturb David. He's become so exhausted lately after his long days of his tramping about the moors with young Gil, so he needs his sleep.”

“As we all do.”

“And which we all shall get once this matter—and its ghost—are put to rest.” She steered the maid along the hall.

When she opened the door to his rooms, Lorenzo sighed. Had any man ever gotten Valeria Fanning to heed his words and halt her headstrong ways? If so, he wished to meet that man straightaway and learn how he had persuaded Valeria to think sensibly.

His bare feet were cold as he went back into his rooms. When he saw Valeria had seated the maid at his writing table and was lighting the lamp there, he rushed forward to collect his papers before they were read.

“I'm sorry to intrude, my lord,” the maid whispered.

“It isn't your fault.” He dropped the pages onto the messed bed and drew up the covers, not wanting anyone to see the phrases he had been working on tonight. Had he been out of his mind to put pen to words like
deep sea-purple gaze and hair the color of a sunrise of expectation?
He reached to pull the pages back out and toss them on the hearth, then realized that could call more attention to them.

Valeria poured some of his best brandy into a glass and handed it to the maid. Wide-eyed, the girl looked from her to Lorenzo.

“Drink up,” he said quietly. “It will fortify you and help you sleep.”

“At the same time?” the maid asked.

When Valeria smiled, Lorenzo sighed. Mayhap his cousin Corey had been right when he warned Lorenzo that he needed more experience with women in order to begin to comprehend their ways. Reading about the fairer sex in a book would not serve him in good stead when he was in their company, Corey had told him on so many occasions. Tonight, Lorenzo wished he had heeded his cousin. He did not begin to understand why Valeria scowled at him one minute and wore a lighthearted expression the next.

“Tell us about what you saw,” he said.

“'Twas a ghost, and he—it—I'm not sure if it was a man or a woman or what.”

“It was nothing but moonlight, I assure you. There's no such thing as a ghost.”

“I know what I saw.”

Lorenzo was startled by the maid's back-answer. The lass must have been deeply frightened to speak to him with such vehemence. “I know what you
think
you saw. Drink up the brandy and take yourself off to your bed. You should find that morning light will clear your eyes and your mind.”

“But, my lord—”

“Drink up.”

She nodded and sipped the brandy. As soon as she was finished, he took the glass while Valeria helped the lass to her feet.

“I can't!” the maid gasped when Valeria bid her to hurry to her bed. “If I see that thing again—” She hid her face in her hands, then hiccuped.

Lorenzo went to the door and threw it open. He was amazed to see Gil coming toward him. The footman should be asleep at this hour. Was the whole house taking after the bats in the old hall and wandering the night?

“My lord!” he cried. “I didn't—that is—”

Lorenzo waved him to silence. “I'm glad to see you, Gil. I need you to help this young lady back to her room in the attics.” He stepped aside as Valeria led the frightened maid to the door.

Gil grinned as he looked at the maid, who gave him a shy smile in return. “Glad to do that, my lord.” He held out his hand to the maid.

She took it as her smile widened. “Thank you, my lord, my lady.” She fluttered her eyelashes at Gil as he led her along the hall. “And thank you, Gil.”

Lorenzo stifled a groan as Valeria tugged on his sleeve and whispered, “I do believe those two should have someone watching over them.”

“Valeria—”

As always, she paid him no mind. She crossed the outer chamber and knocked on a door.

Kirby groggily came to the door and mumbled, “Yes, my lord.” His eyes bulged in his face. “My lady!” Looking past her to Lorenzo, he gulped.

Lorenzo fought a yawn and said, “Lady Fanning is concerned that young Gil might need a
duenna
.”

“My lord?”

“Just go and keep an eye on him so we might all get some rest tonight.”