The Convenient Arrangement (9 page)

“This is lovely.”

He glanced toward where Valeria was running her fingers just an inch from the wall. Standing behind her, he squinted to make out the figures that had been painted on there. The paint had dimmed or chipped away in several places, but most of the scene of the moors that rose beyond the house remained intact.

“This section is new.”

“It doesn't appear to be part of the rest.”

“I suspect it was painted over this section of the battle scene more than fifty years ago,” she said.

“How do you know that?”

“The clothing.” She bent toward him and whispered, “The women's clothes look just like what Miss Urquhart wears.”

He chuckled, then he laughed out loud, as he had not in a long time. When she put her fingers over her lips to halt her laugh, she was no more able to control it than he had been.

“We must hush,” he said softly, “or she will come to see what we find so amusing. It would not be easy to explain.”

“No—no, it wouldn't.” Her efforts to keep from grinning tempted him to laugh even more.

Lorenzo turned as he heard a clatter behind him. A pebble or a bit of mortar that had come loose bounced across the floor. Blast it! This whole house was falling down around them.

“Mayhap,” he said, raising his voice to reach David and Miss Urquhart on the far side of the room, “we should continue on without delay. This ceiling might not be—”

Something clunked against the rafter above him. He looked up, then put his hands over his head as dust and other debris rained down on him. Motioning toward the door, he called, “Get out now!”

David shouted, “Look out!” The boy was bouncing from one foot to the other in excitement.

“For what?”

Lorenzo got his answer when something whizzed past his head. He heard Valeria cry out in horror. As frightened bats flew down out of the rafters, he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.

She shrieked as the bats flung themselves outward from the rafters in a frightened pinwheel. He threw his arms around her and pulled her beneath him as he crouched. Her face was pressed against his legs as one of her arms grabbed him around the waist while she tried to hold her gown off the floor.

“Don't move,” he gasped as she shifted.

“More bats?”

“Yes.” But that was not the only reason. Pressed against him as she was, any movement was too intimate. The scent of her cologne was making him as dizzy as the circling bats, and her breath sifted, warm and moist, through his breeches to his leg. His fingers itched to pull her back from him before he gave into the craving to bring her closer. He must be as mad as Miss Urquhart.

“Make them go away,” she breathed.

His own voice was breathless. “They shall calm themselves in just a moment.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” he lied. He could be certain of only one thing now—of how he ached to pull her up against him and forget the bats as he delighted in her softness. If he thought of something else … There was nothing else he wanted to think about, save for her enticing form draped around him.

Lorenzo had no idea how long they huddled there. Or how long they might have huddled there if Miss Urquhart's cane had not tapped him on the shoulder.

“Are you going to squat there all day?” the old woman asked irritably.

Valeria lifted her head, and Lorenzo wondered if he dared to move. Her lips were just below his. A single motion could have brought them together. Gazing down into her warm eyes, he knew he had seen this color only once before. The sun had disappeared into the night, setting the sea awash with this rich shade at the very point where it met the sky. That night had been lush with warmth … just as her eyes were.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“You're welcome.”

“I hate bats.”

“I thought you might.”

When her smile glowed in her eyes, he watched her lips part. Would they be as soft as her curves against him? If he brushed his mouth against hers, what would she do? She had enjoyed at least one Season in London and had been married. Would she sense that he had never—?

“Are you going to squat there all day?” repeated Miss Urquhart, jabbing his shoulder with her cane. “We haven't seen half of the house yet.”

Coming to his feet and holding out his hand to assist Valeria to hers, Lorenzo cleared his throat and said, “I believe I speak for both Valeria and myself when I say we have seen enough for today.”

“You are spooked by a few bats?” Miss Urquhart laughed. “'Tis a good thing we didn't start with the attics.”

“There are more bats up there?” David asked, grinning.

“More than you can shake a stick at.” She gave a sly glance toward Lorenzo. “Or throw a stone at.”

Valeria paused in brushing dust from her gown. Her eyes narrowed, no longer soft with gratitude. “What do you mean by that? Did someone throw a stone to wake those bats?”

When Lorenzo stared at the lad, he was not sure if David would own up to his crime, even when he must have been the one to rouse the bats. Blast it! Was there no end to this boy's vexing dog-tricks?

David ground the toe of his shoe into a crack between two stones in the floor. “It was my fault, Aunt Valeria. I'm sorry.”

“Just sorry?” Lorenzo asked. Scaring the bats and them went far beyond the boundaries of mere naughtiness.

David avoided his eyes as he looked up at his aunt. “I didn't think the bats would scare you, Aunt Valeria. I didn't think you were scared of anything.”

Lorenzo clenched his teeth to keep from spitting out the angry words battering at his lips. The explanation made it clear that David's apology was only to his aunt. The boy seemed determined to disrupt Lorenzo's life as much as possible with his pranks.

“Step forward, young man,” he said, remembering how his cousin's father had confronted them with a punishment when they were caught climbing the trees in the orchard or playing along the strand when the tide was coming in.

David hesitated.

“Do as Lord Moorsea says,” Valeria said quietly.

With a grimace, David edged forward a half-step. He was not going to surrender his will to Lorenzo's any more than he must.

Lorenzo bit back his curse. This battle, he feared, was far from over. Although it was one he did not want to fight, he guessed the boy had other ideas. Locking his hands behind his back, he faced the boy and said, “I suggest you go to your room and stay there. Your supper will be brought there to you, and I suggest, as well, that you plan on going to bed early because your lights must be out by an hour after dark.” He took a deep breath, then added, “Gil will be there to be certain you do as you've been told.”

“Aunt Valeria—” he pleaded.

She put her hand on David's shoulder. “Lorenzo, that is rather harsh. It was just a childish whim.”

“Which scared a year off your life.” Lorenzo was not sure if he was more irritated at the exasperating boy or his even more exasperating aunt. “It is time the boy considered the consequences of his actions before he embarks upon them. I'm just giving him time for that contemplation.”

“I think you are making a mistake.”

“Mayhap, but,” he went on as David began to grin, “David made a greater one by not thinking before he acted.”

The lad's smile evaporated in the heat of his scowl. “Aunt Valeria—”

“Go to your room, dearest.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and a shove toward the door. “I will be there as soon as I have a few words with Lord Moorsea.”

Lorenzo did not move as the boy bounced out of the room, abruptly happy. Miss Urquhart followed, mumbling something to herself.

Keeping his hands clasped behind him, Lorenzo faced Valeria. His determination faltered when he saw luminous tears in her violet eyes. He was about to offer compassion for her lingering fear when her voice lashed him.

“How dare you!” She spoke in no more than a whisper, but he recoiled from her fury. “David is not your son.”

“No,” he said as quietly, “but this is my house, and
you
are my guest. I shall not have my home in an uproar merely to entertain a bored child. Nor shall I have my guests disturbed to give him a laugh.”

“He did not mean to cause any harm.”

“Of course he did.” He laughed without amusement.

The wrong thing to do, he realized, as she turned on her heel and strode out of the room. Dashed woman! If he had half a brain, instead of wandering around Moorsea Manor today, he would have started looking for a husband for her.

Tomorrow, he would begin the search across the moors. Then he would make sure the banns were read in the nearest church with all speed while the household arranged for a grand wedding here that would be the perfect sendoff for her and her naughty nephew. Then, and only then, would he have serenity in his own home.

And then, only then, would he be able to forget how he longed to share more than angry words with Valeria.

Six

Valeria tapped her chin, then asked, “Where is the biggest room in Moorsea Manor?”

Gil's forehead rutted in thought. “Other than the old hall, you mean?”

“Yes.”

The footman pondered her question for a moment, then said, “There is a big parlor on the opposite side of the staircase from the library.”

“Have you and David been in there?”

“Not me, my lady.” He rubbed one foot against the back of his other leg. “Don't know about Mr. David. He'd explored a lot of the house before Mr. Wolfe—I mean, Lord Moorsea asked me to keep an eye on him.”

“Where is he now?”

“Lord Moorsea? Don't know, my lady. Reading, most likely. He likes to do that, you know. Reading and writing and writing and reading all the time.”

“I meant David.”

“He's in the kitchen helping Cook with the cakes.”

Valeria smiled. It was comforting to have one aspect of their lives unchanged. David never missed a cake-baking day, glad to offer to clean out the mixing bowl and watch the baking so he might have a piece of warm cake.

“Shall we see this parlor for ourselves then?” She started up the stairs, then paused. “You do have a broom, don't you?”

“A broom?”

“In case there are bats.”

“I'll get one from Mrs. Ditwiller.”

“Meet me by the parlor door as soon as you have it.”

Valeria ran her fingers along the smooth banister as she climbed the steps. How many hands had touched this before hers? She turned to look back at the huge foyer. It would be the perfect place to greet one's guests as they arrived along the long drive and came to fill this mausoleum with life once more. A small orchestra might fit in the corner near the curve of the staircase with more musicians on the landing above. The music would surround the guests as they flowed up the stairs and into the parlor.

Hurrying to the double doors, she looked back over the thick railing. Yes, musicians at both the entrance and up here. The hallway was wide enough for guests and footmen with trays of fine champagne to add conviviality to the evening. With lamps set between on the window ledges and mayhap a few brands burning in the torchières by the library door, the gloom would be banished.

“Along with that blasted bear,” she mused aloud. “It will frighten any lady so much that she'll have no interest in dancing and conversation.”

“Dancing and conversation?”

With a gasp, she turned to see Lorenzo behind her. “I hope you don't intend to make it a habit to sneak up on one like that!”

“I'm sorry I startled you.” He gave her no chance to reply before he went on, “Are you planning a party?”

Valeria smiled. “How better to become acquainted with our new neighbors? And Gil tells me there is a parlor here.” Throwing open the doors to a room that was as large as the library, she walked in, giving a cautious glance at the ceiling. No rafters offered a haven for bats. “Isn't this a wonderful room for a gathering?”

“I'm not so sure about that. How can you see anything but these boxes?”

She stepped over a pry bar and eased around a stack of wooden cases that reached higher than her head. Her smile broadened when she discovered a Palladian window on the far side. It must be the most recent renovation to the old house. Squeezing past another pile of crates, she found what could be the edge of a raised platform. Mayhap Gil had been wrong. This might not be a large parlor. It might instead be a small ballroom, which would be the perfect milieu for the first gathering in years at Moorsea Manor.

“Where are you?” Lorenzo called.

She laughed as she pushed through the stacks to where he stood, looking perplexed, by a settee and a pair of tables which might be the only furniture in the expansive room. “Isn't it perfect?”

“How can you say that? All the furniture must have been taken apart and put in these crates, although I cannot fathom why.”

“It shan't take long to unpack whatever we need.”

“Need?”

“For a gathering.” She flung out her hands. “It will give this grand old house a chance to show how it can be glorious once more.”

“Valeria—”

“Cook has told me that she can have all preparations for a small
soirée
within a fortnight.” She ran her fingers along one of the tables and smiled as she wiped dust from them.

“A fortnight?”

“That will allow Mrs. Ditwiller time to have this room cleaned and the furniture unpacked while you have a footman deliver invitations to our neighbors.” She clapped her hands together. The sound echoed wildly along the high ceiling of the room. Turning, she laughed with delight. “This house was built for having country weekends and gatherings for the Polite World.”

“I believe you are mistaken. My uncle—”

“Should have shared this with everyone.” She threw aside the drapes on the nearest window. Dust assailed her, and she sneezed. Shaking her head in dismay, she wondered if she was being optimistic. Two weeks might not be long enough to clean up this jumble. Sneezing again, she said, “Lorenzo, your uncle was only the latest master of Moorsea Manor. This house is grand and old and must have welcomed many people over the centuries.”