The Convenient Arrangement (19 page)

She withdrew her hand from between his. Only a sap head would play this dangerous game of hearts knowing its inevitable end. Lorenzo had owned to the fact that he was seeking another man to be a husband for her.

Lifting her glass of cider, she said, “I would like to arrange for a gathering at Moorsea Manor.”

“Valeria, we have spoken of this before.” The familiar exasperation returned to his voice.

She was glad. Exasperation she could deal with more easily than her own errant thoughts. “Not a large gathering, Lorenzo. I thought to invite the children of the parish to join David for a celebration of his birthday. It would last only an hour or two, and, if the day is fine, the whole of it can be held in the gardens.”

“You would risk losing any smaller children in that maze of weeds.”

“Mrs. Ditwiller will arrange to have an eye kept on all of them.” She put her mug on the table and locked her fingers around it. “A challenging task like this might help make the household run more smoothly.”

“There have been problems?”

“Some lingering resentment that Mrs. Ditwiller is now in charge of the household.”

He smiled. “She was aware of that problem when I asked her to come to Moorsea Manor. However, if she and you think this party will help, by all means, go ahead. Just include David in the planning. It should keep him occupied.”

Before Valeria could say that she found it impossible to imagine David sitting and discussing a guest list, Trenton returned with bowls filled with steaming stew. Thick vegetables and chunks of meat sent out an aroma that reminded her that she had not eaten breakfast this morning.

She reached for a spoon, but a shadow crossed her hand. She looked up to see a large black and white cat perched on the windowsill beside her. The cat's gaze was focused on the spoon in Valeria's hand.

“That be Kitty.” Trenton gave them a gap-toothed grin. “You need to be keeping yer eye on Kitty. He's got a fearsome temper, he does.”

Valeria drew back. “I was about to pet him.”

“That be fine, if'n he wants to be petted.” He pointed to her bowl of stew. “I think he's got more of a hankerin' for what's in yer bowl.”

“Is it all right to feed him?” asked Lorenzo.

She was shocked anew. She had had no idea that Lorenzo had a fondness for cats. Every day, she realized once again how little she understand this most enigmatic man.

Trenton chortled. “You would be most wise to share a bit of yer sup with him, m'lord. Elsewise, he might take a swipe or two at you. As you can see, he hones his claws on the sides of the sill.”

“Oh, my!” She stared at the wood that had been etched with the marks of the cat's claws. “Do give him something, Lorenzo.”

With a chuckle, he held a piece of game out to the black and white cat. Kitty accepted the offering with delicate disdain as if he were offended that he had to go through this ploy to get what was so rightfully his.

“The poor thing must be hungry,” she said as Kitty swallowed the piece with barely a single chew.

“'Tis all an act, m'lady,” the man said. “He gets fed thrice a day when the maids each come to work. He eats those meals as fast as he can and hunts out back until someone comes in and orders somethin' from the kitchen. Then he comes to beg, don't you, lad?”

The cat gave him a yellow glower and turned his head back to Lorenzo. A hint of a feline smile suggested that another offering would be most welcome.

“He seems quite at home here,” Lorenzo said as he gave another piece of meat to Kitty. “Whose cat is he?”

“The cat's yers, m'lord, unless you decide to sell the tavern. Then he goes to the new owner. Old Kitty's part of the lease here.” Trenton turned away, then paused. “Once yer bowls be empty, you'll be wantin' not to stay sittin' here. Kitty gets impatient with folks who sit at his table and don't have any food for him.” He chuckled as he walked back to the tap.

Valeria took a bite and saw the cat watching her. She chewed it quickly and swallowed. “That cat could prove to be unnerving, Lorenzo.”

“He just knows what he wants and is doing what is necessary to get it.” He cleared his throat as he set his spoon on the table. “This may not be the best time to broach this subject, Valeria, but Tilden Oates sent a message to me this morning.”

“Did he?” She lowered her own spoon to the table and ignored the cat which made a warning growl deep in its throat.

“He asked if he might call upon you.”

“It is something I shall think about. Mayhap after David's party, I can give it some proper consideration.”

His eyes widened. “But, Valeria, I already sent him a message saying that he was welcome to.”

“You sent him that message without conferring with me?”

“I saw no reason to.”

She pushed back her chair and came to her feet. “You saw no reason to confer with me about whom I might consider as a future husband?”

“Valeria,” he said, setting himself on his feet, “anyone who saw you and Oates together at his house would have assumed you would have welcomed him to give you a look-in at Moorsea Manor. You were laughing together and obviously very taken with one another.”

“But how could you agree to this without telling me first?” Tears blurred his face in front of her, but she would not let them fall. She was not a child. She would not weep like a child, and she would not be treated like a child. “I know you cannot wait to rid yourself of me, Lorenzo, but I—” Her voice broke.

As she whirled to go out the door, she discovered every eye in the taproom was, once again, focused on her. She looked back at Lorenzo, who was wearing an astonished expression. If he thought so little of her that he handled her future like this, then he was not the man she had believed he was.

She would not be so foolish again.

Twelve

“Women!”

Hearing a laugh behind him, Lorenzo looked over his shoulder. He had not seen Earl. The man walked so quietly, it was almost as if he was not there until he stood right in front of a person.

“You sound exasperated, my lord.” Earl walked past him and set another armful of logs by the hearth. Cool air from the back stairwell followed him. “At all of them or at a particular one?”

“Not all of them. Some are not so irritating.”

“Which one?”

“Do you know Miss Mary Oates?”

“Sir Tilden's sister?” Earl squatted as he brushed ashes back under the fire. “A fine lady, who has more wit than her brother, if you want my opinion.”

“Your opinion agrees with mine, Earl.”

“Sir Tilden is not such a bad chap. The problem is that no one likes him as much as he likes himself.”

“Valeria seemed quite taken with him.”

“Did she now?” Earl set himself on his feet with no sign that his years were slowing him down. “I collect that you do not see Sir Tilden as a proper mate for your ward.”

“Quite the contrary. He seemed taken with her right from the beginning, but, when I told her that I had agreed to allow Oates to …” Lorenzo dropped into the chair and glowered at the hearth. “Women!”

Earl chuckled. “They do cause problems for a man. I recall my father—”

“Your father!” He looked at the old man. “I wished to ask you about that.”

“What of my father, my lord?” A smile teased the corners of his mouth.

Lorenzo guessed Earl knew what he was about to ask, but he was in too deep now to halt. “I saw a painting of my uncle and his father at the tavern in Winlock-on-Sea.”

“I've seen it as well.” He wiped his hands on his breeches and picked up the candle he never seemed to be without. “And, yes, 'tis true. The older earl was my father, though it's been many, many years since I last saw him.”

Coming to his feet, Lorenzo held out his hand to the old man. “Then you are—”

He shook his head and stepped back. “I'm just old Earl. Nothing else now. Don't try to make something of what doesn't really matter any longer.”

“But you should not be laying the fires if your father was my grandfather.”

“I like what I'm doing now.” He smiled. “It's fitting that I'm here now doing this. Don't fret about me, my lord. You have enough to worry about with Lady Fanning and the lad.”

Lorenzo grimaced and nodded as Earl took his leave. It was true. How could he have guessed that Valeria would be upset when he had done only what he had thought she would have wanted?

Going to his dressing room door, he opened it. He yelped as water splashed over him. A bucket crashed to the floor, splattering everything nearby. He shook his hands, then his head. Blast! That water was cold. The lad had gone too far this time. A purloined boot or a jumble of papers that left him hours of work to put them in proper order had been bad enough, but this was unconscionable.

“My lord! What did you do to yourself?”

He scowled at Kirby who was coming into the room. Had the man taken a knock in the cradle? He had not done anything to
himself
. That blasted bratchet had done this.

“Send for Lady Fanning!” he ordered.

“Now?”

Lorenzo was about to reply, but caught a glimpse of himself in the glass. His clothes were lathered to him, revealing more than was proper. “Tell her I will speak with her in ten minutes.”

“She will wish to know about what.”

He raised his hands and spouted a curse as more water dripped off his sleeves. “Tell her that I have suffered my last indignity at the hands of her nephew. It is time we put a stop to this one way or another.”

By the time a knock sounded on his door, Lorenzo was decent once more. He did not turn from tying his cravat as he called for Valeria to enter.

“What is wrong?” she asked when she opened the door.

“What makes you think anything is wrong?”

“You do. You are frowning into the glass like a judge at a felon, and your voice nearly pierced through the door's wood to lash me.”

He gestured toward the wet clothes. “I believe I have cause to be distressed.”

“Wet clothes? I shall have Mrs. Ditwiller speak to whichever maid delivered them here instead of the laundry yard.”

“They were delivered here quite dry, Valeria. In fact, I was wearing them only a few minutes ago before I encountered this thanks to your nephew.” He poked at the bucket with his toe.

Her face grew pale. “You don't mean that David …”

“Exactly.”

“This is outrageous!” She picked up one sleeve of his coat, then dropped it as water dribbled down her fingers.

“Exactly.”

“This cannot go on.”

“Exactly.” This was going so much better than he had expected.

“You should never have let it get to this point.”

“Exac- What did you say?”

Valeria faced him and folded her arms in front of her. “You cannot let this continue. Allowing this to go on is teaching the boy all the wrong lessons.”

“Me? You think I'm allowing this? I have sent him to his room more times than I wish to count after explaining to him the error of his ways. What more do you expect me to do?”

She laughed, but he heard pain in the sound. “You are so confused. You treat me like a child.”

“Valeria—”

“Yet you treat David as an adult, Lorenzo. You cannot do that and think that he will respond as one. He is still not nine years old.”

“I thought he would appreciate the guidance of an older man.”

She laughed. “Did you?”

He wanted to fire back a sharp retort, but found he had none. Yes, his uncle, Lord Wulfric, had treated him with the same firm hand as his cousins, but always with a sense of humor. His mother had been the gentle voice of discipline, explaining why what he had done was wrong … just as Valeria did with David.

“Surely you do not suggest that I give him a thrashing,” he gasped.

“Of course not!” Her voice softened to a whisper. “You wouldn't, would you?”

“If I haven't thus far, I believe you can accept that I do not see that as a viable way to persuade him to behave as he should.”

“But he is behaving as he should.”

“Pardon me?”

Valeria sat on a chair that was not dotted with water. Looking up at him, she said, “He is behaving like an angry, frightened child. For the past few nights, he has wept in his sleep. I have not woken him up, because I hope the night horrors that plague him will disappear before he wakes in the morning. So far that has worked.”

“What is he frightened of?” Lorenzo shook his head. “You can't be suggesting he is frightened of me?”

“No, of course not. He is angry at you, but he is frightened of being bustled off to another home without so much as his say so.”

“He is a child.”

“A child who has lost his father and his home.”

“He still has you.”

She sighed and looked at the hearth where the fire Earl had rekindled was burning merrily. “Lorenzo, I never spent more than an afternoon with my nephew before he came to live with me.”

“I thought—” He sat facing her, then grimaced as he realized this chair had been splattered. Not bothering to move because that might be more embarrassing than remaining here, he added, “I had thought you two were well known to each other. You seem to understand him so well, and he has such affection for you.”

“Because I'm his only connection with what was.”

“And he's yours.”

She bit her lip as she lowered her gaze to her hands in her lap. She looked so desolate that he reached across the space between them and tipped her face up.

“Valeria,” he murmured as he gazed into her incredible violet eyes, “let me know what I can do to ease this burden for you and the boy.”

“He needs a friend, Lorenzo.”

“I thought you were going to solve that problem by giving him a rout and inviting all the children in the parish.”