How to Manage a Marquess (25 page)

Thank God the rain had stopped. The coachman reported early this morning that the water had receded and it was safe to travel.

“Are we almost there now, Miss Anne?” Edward bounced on the seat, but fortunately this time he was sitting next to her.

“Shh. Quiet, Edward,” she whispered. “Lord Haywood is asleep.”

Lord Haywood sighed and sat up. “No, I'm not.
Are
we almost there?”

“Yes, actually. We're just coming up on Loves Water.”

Stephen and Edward both crowded to look out the window.

“It looks like a lake,” Stephen said.

“It
is
a lake.”

“Then why don't you call it Loves Lake?” Edward asked.

Anne laughed. “You know, I've never really thought about it.”

“Perhaps some northerner found his way down here,” Lord Haywood said. “They call lakes ‘water' up in the Lake District, Edward.”

Edward wrinkled his nose. “They should call them
lakes
if it's the
Lake
District.”

Stephen was still looking out the window. “Is it very deep?”

“Yes, it is, Stephen,” Anne said. “Very deep and very cold.”

“And people swim in it?”

“No.” Anne frowned. Loves Water wasn't very far from the Hall. Surely the boys would have the sense not to go there. “No one swims in Loves Water.”

“I bet I could,” Edward said. “Uncle Nate taught me how to swim.”

Lord Haywood's eyes widened with alarm. “No, I didn't, Edward. I
started
to teach you. You are not to go anywhere near Loves Water. People have drowned there, you know.”

“They have?” Stephen looked rather nervous.

Heavens, the marquess wasn't going to tell the boys the story of Isabelle Dorring, was he?

He was—but at least he skipped the part about the baby.

“Two hundred years ago,” he said in a ghost-story tone of voice, “a woman fell in love with the third Duke of Hart. Unfortunately, he didn't return her affections, and in a fit of despair, she threw herself into Loves Water.”

Edward sat back and snorted with disgust. “What a silly thing to do!”

“Yes.” Stephen nodded. “Aunt Olivia told Mama that just because she picked a snake the first time, that didn't mean all men were snakes. She said Mama would be smarter next time.” He grinned at Anne. “And I think she was.”

She smiled back and gave him a quick hug—while reminding herself once again to be careful what she said in the boys' hearing.

Lord Haywood blinked, clearly surprised by Edward and Stephen's reaction. Then he shrugged. “Well, in any event the point is that Loves Water is so deep, the woman's body was never found.”

“Not even her bones?” Stephen asked.

“Not even her bones.”

Edward sniffed, though his voice wavered a little when he spoke. “S-she probably couldn't swim.”

“And neither can you, Edward,” Anne said. “But even a good swimmer might get into trouble in Loves Water.” She would have to speak to Papa about finding a suitable tutor for the boys. They were too young to be trusted to understand such risks and behave accordingly. But if there was a sensible young man around—

It was really none of her affair. The boys had a mama. Mrs. Eaton—or, well, she couldn't very well call her that any longer, could she? In any event, the boys' mother and Papa would decide what they thought best.

Which made her feel . . . sad.

Ridiculous. She wasn't one to insert herself into other people's affairs.

Oh. That was different. The Spinster House was
her
affair—or at least she hoped it would be.

“Look,” Edward said. “There's a cat sitting on that rock by the water. It's orange and black and white.”

“Oh, that's Poppy.” She was happy to get her mind off the matter of Papa's wife and her own changing place in the household. “She lives in the Spinster House. I wonder what she's doing so far from home?”

“Watching us,” Edward said.

Anne laughed. “More likely hunting. And now we are going over Little Bridge. It crosses Loves Stream.”

“They should call it Loves Bridge,” Stephen said. “After the village.”

“There already is a Loves Bridge, Stephen, at the other end of Loves Water, closer to Loves Castle. It's bigger—thus this one is
Little
Bridge.” She smiled. “And now that we've crossed the bridge, we're very close indeed to the Hall. Any minute now—”

She felt the coach slow.

“See? We're turning onto the drive.”

Edward and Stephen mashed their noses against the carriage window again.

“It's not as big as Banningly Manor,” Stephen said when the house finally came into sight.

“No, but it's big enough.” When she'd left just a few days ago, she'd thought the house had room only for her and her father. Now she was certain it would welcome Stephen and Edward, too. Whether she and Mrs. Eaton could both live here, however . . .

Even if Mrs. Eaton were her closest friend, the Hall would still be too small for the two of them. No house needed two mistresses.

She glanced at the marquess, who was also looking out the window.

But when the story got round that he'd tried to pass her off as his wife and spent the night with her at that despicable inn. . . .

Lud!

She'd told George Harmon that the villagers wouldn't believe the rumors, and she hoped that was true, but it didn't really matter. Whether they believed them or not, they wouldn't be able to keep from talking about them. Look at how everyone had gossiped about Cat and the duke.

She rested her head against the carriage wall.

And whatever the situation in the village, Mr. Harmon was quite right about how the rumors would play in London. Society would never ostracize the Marquess of Haywood, but it would have no hesitation in slamming its doors in the face of a mere Miss Davenport. There would be no more
ton
invitations, so no more opportunities for Papa to unload her on some noble scion.

Which was fine with her. The men of the
ton
were idiots. And proud. They would not accept damaged goods.

But I'm
not
damaged goods.

She glanced at the marquess.

If he loved me, I'd accept his offer in a flea's leap. But I am
not
going to marry him because people think he's ruined me.

The carriage stopped in front of the Hall, and Lord Haywood got out and helped her down the carriage steps. When she turned to assist the boys, she found them huddled against the coach's far wall, two pairs of wide, worried-looking eyes staring back at her from the shadowy interior.

She'd not expected this reaction. “What's amiss?”

“N-nothing.” Edward looked at Stephen.

Stephen visibly stiffened his spine. “It's just that, well, this will be our new home and . . .”

“And it's suddenly a little overwhelming?”

He nodded.

She smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way and held out her hands. “Everything will be fine. See? Mr. and Mrs. Bigley have come out and are waiting to greet you.”

“Who are they?” Edward asked as he followed Stephen down the carriage steps.

“The butler and housekeeper. They've been here since I was your age.”

“Do they like little boys?” Edward whispered, grasping her hand.

“They like children very much, perhaps especially because they weren't able to have any of their own.”

“I'll stay behind for a moment to see to our luggage,” Lord Haywood said.

She smiled at him. It was good of him to let her introduce the boys herself, but he might also be choosing to stand guard in case either of the boys lost nerve and bolted.

“Thank you. Here comes James, our footman. You can tell him what needs to be done, though I expect Mrs. Bigley has already taken care of everything.” She smiled at James. “Lord Haywood will be our guest for a day or two.”

Lord Haywood's brows shot up. “I'm sure I can stay at Loves Castle.”

“Oh, no, Uncle Nate,” Edward said. “Please stay here.” He swallowed. “With us.”

Stephen had too much control to add his entreaties to his brother's, but it didn't take much to see from his tense expression that he, too, wanted Lord Haywood to remain at the Hall.

“Very well.” The marquess looked back at Anne. “If you're certain it will be no trouble?”

“Of course it won't be. Now come along, boys, and meet Mr. and Mrs. Bigley.”

When they got to the portico, Anne discovered Mrs. Bigley's eyes were red and she was twisting a large handkerchief in her hands. Mr. Bigley's eyes were a bit red, too, and damp. He blew his nose.

“Whatever is the problem?”

Mr. Bigley grinned. “Nothing now, miss.”

“We were that worried about you, miss,” Mrs. Bigley said. “Your Papa sent word you were arriving with the boys, but we were given to understand you'd be here yesterday, Banningly Manor not being that far.”

The thought was strangely comforting. Mrs. Eaton might be mistress here now, but it was still Anne's home.

“We would have been here yesterday, but the rain made the roads impassable. We were forced to put up for the night at an inn.”
Oh, Lord. They'll hear all about that soon enough.
She gestured to where Lord Haywood was talking to James. “The marquess escorted us, but had to leave his curricle behind due to the weather. Lord Banningly will send it along, but until it arrives, the marquess will be our guest.”

“Very good.” Mr. Bigley nodded.

“I have the blue bedroom all ready for his lordship,” Mrs. Bigley said.

“The blue bedroom? What about the gold?” That was where they usually put guests.

Mrs. Bigley didn't quite meet Anne's eyes. “Your father said to use the blue if Lord Haywood was staying.” She smiled down at the boys. “You lads must be the new Lady Davenport's sons.”

Anne bit her lip at hearing Mrs. Eaton called by her mother's title, but she recovered quickly to introduce Stephen and Edward.

“You look very hungry,” Mrs. Bigley said. “Would you like something to eat?”

“Oh, yes.” Edward gave a little bounce and even Stephen smiled.

“Come along then. We'll have something nice in the kitchen and then I'll see you up to the nursery. That's where Miss Anne stayed as a girl.”

The boys went off with Mrs. Bigley quite happily.

Anne wished she were as happy.

There was only one reason her father would have told Mrs. Bigley to put Lord Haywood in the blue bedroom.

It was next to hers.

Chapter Seventeen

 

Anne gripped her teacup tightly. They were in the Hall's drawing room. She had purposely chosen to sit in the narrow-seated, straight-backed, uncomfortable chair that everyone usually avoided.

Lord Haywood perched on the settee, looking slightly frustrated. He'd just asked her again to marry him and she'd just refused again.

His curricle had arrived yesterday afternoon, only a few hours after they had. Thank God. She'd been afraid Lord Banningly was in league with her father and would delay sending the equipage in order to strand Lord Haywood here.

But now the marquess's horses were rested and his bag was sitting at his feet. In just a few moments, he'd be gone.

And not a second too soon. If they hadn't both been exhausted last night, she wasn't certain what would have happened.

No, she was all too certain she'd have found her way into Lord Haywood's bed or he into hers. Clearly the Bigleys would not have prevented it. They'd been conspicuously absent ever since the man arrived.

“You're confident you'll be all right here alone with the boys?” Lord Haywood frowned at his coffee as if he wished it were brandy.

“Of course. This is my home, Lord Haywood.”
Or at least it is at the moment.
“And I'm not alone—I have the Bigleys and the other servants to support me.”
Wherever they are hiding.
“You saw how well the boys did in the village yesterday. I think they are glad to be here.”

That, at least, was something to be happy about. They'd driven into Loves Bridge after everyone had got settled in their rooms. It might have made more sense to have taken the boys round the estate instead, but she'd thought they would like to meet some of the village children.

And she hadn't trusted herself to be with Lord Haywood all afternoon with only the boys as chaperones. Showing him the places she grew up, dealing with all those memories and her almost overwhelming attraction to him, was more than she could handle on only the few hours of fitful sleep she'd got at the Three Legged Dog.

Though going into the village had had its own drawbacks. They must have looked like quite the family group, the marquess at the gig's reins, her beside him, and the boys in the back. And then the four of them strolling on the village green . . .

In fact, Jane had said as much, her eyebrows dancing suggestively all the while. Thank God Anne had sent Lord Haywood and the boys on to visit the vicar when she'd seen Jane approaching.

“I could stay until Eleanor and your father return.”

That was tempting, but the result would be disastrous. Lord Haywood had already introduced her to some shocking physical intimacies. She had no doubt that, given the chance, he'd lead her farther down that primrose path until she was ruined in truth.

Her body hummed with anticipation—

Which was precisely why she was sitting on this hard chair. And why she had to get the man out the door and on his way back to Town as quickly as possible.

“No, you couldn't. The sooner you return to London, the sooner you can quash any rumors that might be circulating about our stay at that horrible inn.”

And the sooner the whispers that must be starting in the village would be silenced as well. Jane hadn't been the only one to see them yesterday. The Boltwood sisters had almost executed a jig right there in front of the lending library.

“And we don't want to start any talk about your stay here. I don't have a proper chaperone, you know.”

Good Lord, she sounded like someone's old maiden aunt.

Which she might well be one day—a step aunt or a half aunt.

She drank the last of her tea and put the cup down on its saucer with a decided click. This had all happened too quickly. She didn't really know if she loved Lord Haywood. She might simply be infatuated. And she
did
know he didn't want to marry her. He didn't want to marry anyone.

Not to mention that any warmer feelings he might have for her would be snuffed out at once if the duke married Cat.

Dear God. Instead of excitement at that thought, she felt...

She wasn't certain what she felt, but it was a heavy, droopy, weepy sensation, almost as if her courses were coming on.

That's it! Of course. It explained everything. Her courses
were
due. Her blue devils weren't caused by the marquess at all.

“I don't mean to hurry you out the door, Lord Haywood, but if you've finished your coffee, perhaps you'd like to have your curricle brought round.”

He scowled at her and stood, picking up his bag. “Very well. I should like to say good-bye to the boys before I leave.”

“Of course. It sounds as if they are coming down the stairs now.” She'd quickly discovered that little boys did not move anywhere quietly.

She and Nate stepped out of the drawing room to find James, the footman, with Stephen and Edward.

“Hullo, Uncle Nate,” Stephen said, grinning. “James is taking us down to the stables to meet Mr. Riley, the head groom, and see the horses.”

“And the barn cat,” Edward added. “James said he just had six kittens.”

Lord Haywood laughed. “I think if the cat had kittens, Edward, it's a she, not a he.”

“I was stopping to ask yer permission first, milord, miss.” James looked somewhat anxiously from Lord Haywood to her. “Mrs. Bigley asked me to keep an eye on the boys, since I've got younger brothers. She said they didn't yet have any lessons, and they were getting a bit, er, bored in the nursery.”

“Into mischief were they?” Lord Haywood asked.

“Aye, milord.”

“All we could find were dolls and books for girls,” Edward said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“We found this ball,” Stephen added, holding it up for their inspection, “and played a bit of catch.”

“But then we almost knocked one of the pictures off the wall.” Edward's nose was still wrinkled. “A silly picture of a girl.”

“So would it be all right if I took the boys out?” James asked.

“Of course,” Anne said. “But before you go—” She did hope the boys wouldn't be too upset. “Boys, Lord Haywood is just leaving for London, so you should say your goodbyes.”

“Good-bye, Uncle Nate.” Edward gave him a quick hug and then started toward the door. James held him up while they waited for Stephen.

Stephen appeared a little more affected by Lord Haywood's departure. “You'll be back, won't you, Uncle Nate? To see Mama and Miss Anne?”

“And you and Edward,” Lord Haywood said, ruffling Stephen's hair.

Stephen grinned. “That's good then.”

“Have Riley bring up Lord Haywood's curricle, James,” Anne said as James and the boys departed.

“Yes, miss. I will.”

“It appears the boys are settling in,” Lord Haywood said, looking back at Anne and smiling.

“Yes. I think Mrs. Bigley was wise to put James in charge of them. He's the oldest of four boys and sensible. I feel fairly confident he won't let them get into trouble.”

He frowned. “And you're certain your father will treat them well?”

“Yes. Papa is good with children. Though I'll suggest he consider a tutor for—” She bit her lip. “But then that's none of my affair, is it?”

“No, I suppose it isn't.” He opened the door, and she preceded him onto the portico. “I know it won't be easy at first, Anne, but Eleanor isn't a bad sort, and she does love her sons.”

“I know she does.”

The surprising thing was how attached Anne had grown to them. She'd never had any special interest in the nursery set. But they were good boys—charming and interesting and . . . lovable. She'd give Mrs. Eaton full credit for that. Certainly her disreputable, departed husband hadn't had a hand in it.

“And I believe she loves your father as well.”

Anne sighed. “Yes, I think you may be right.” She found that very hard to believe, but she'd paid attention during the wedding and had seen how Mrs. Eaton had looked at Papa when she'd said her vows. And how Papa had looked at her.

As much as she hadn't expected it—as much as it still shocked her when she considered it—she was beginning to accept that this might be a love match. Perhaps a better match for Papa than the one he'd made with her mother. Mrs. Eaton struck her as someone perfectly content to spend all her time at home in the country.

They heard the sound of Lord Haywood's curricle approaching. The marquess turned to her and said in a quiet voice, “I won't badger you since I know you don't like it, Anne, but my offer of marriage still stands. Write me if you find that rumors of our ill-fated stay at the Three Legged Dog are bedeviling you. I will come at once.”

Her heart twisted with . . . longing?
Nonsense
.

“Oh, don't worry,” she said. “People may talk for a while, but they'll lose interest in the story soon enough.”

His brow arched up skeptically, but he didn't argue. Instead, his eyes searched her face.

For a moment, she thought he was going to close the small gap between them and kiss her. She held her breath, not certain whether she hoped he would or he wouldn't.

He didn't. Riley arrived with the curricle just then and Lord Haywood straightened. He smiled once more—with a touch of sadness perhaps?—and said good-bye. Then he strode over to his curricle, took the reins from Riley, and set off down the drive and out of her life.

He did not look back.