A Countess of Convenience (27 page)

Realizing he still waited for an answer, she took a deep breath and told herself to get used to this arrangement of being polite to each other during the day and passionate during the night. “Of course, I'm glad. It would be a terrible bore to do this night after night and not enjoy it."

He nodded and lay back against the pillow.

She suddenly wished to be alone. “With the Baileys in the house, I told Hazel to wake me early in the morning. You might want to return to your room so you won't be disturbed."

Creases formed between his eyes as he looked over at her. He took a deep breath—was it a sigh? Then a stiff smile pulled at his lips. He got out of bed, retrieved his robe, and looked down at her while slipping it on. “I would like to sleep in tomorrow. Thank you for warning me."

Had he wanted to stay? Of course not. Perhaps he'd wanted a little more time to catch his breath after their physical activity, but he cared nothing about snuggling after the fact. She had to keep reminding herself that his skill in lovemaking had nothing to do with his feelings, only his pleasure.

To forget that would leave her open to more heartbreak.

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True to Neil's prediction, Squire Culpepper warmly welcomed his unexpected visitors the next day. In fact, Malvern was a bit embarrassed that a man he barely remembered treated him as though he were some long lost friend.

As the three men strolled though the stables examining the horses, the squire pointed to a sorrel mare and said, “And this pretty filly is a direct descendant of your father's Epsom winner, Warrior Heart."

Malvern paused to rub the mare's head. “You knew my father well, then?"

"We became friends over time. Your father had just inherited his property when I moved into Aysbeck Dale determined to turn myself into a country gentleman. He was too polite to tell me the very expensive horses I'd bought were really hacks. Instead he let me discover that for myself, by besting me in a number of races.

"After losing a considerable amount of money, I finally admitted to myself that he knew more about horses than I and started taking his advice on improving my stock. Now this horse—” He pointed to the next stall, and they moved on.

When the tour was over, the squire invited them to the house for tea.

"We wouldn't want to impose on your daughter,” Neil said.

"Nonsense,” the squire replied. “She knows you're here and will be hurt if I don't bring you back to the house."

From the hot tea, sandwiches and biscuits that awaited them back in the parlor, Malvern could see that they had indeed been expected. While Miss Culpepper greeted him most respectfully, she was obviously far more interested in Neil, who sat in the chair closest to her and quickly offered his assistance in passing out cups and plates. She accepted his attention with reddened cheeks and downcast eyes. Malvern recognized a courtship in progress.

Good for Neil. Perhaps he'd finally found the solution to his money problems and would stop being Malvern's burden.

Hoping to give the lovebirds a bit of privacy, he began to question the squire about possible help he could recruit from the neighborhood for cleaning the streambed. Culpepper seemed pleased that Malvern planned to do this and advanced a number of possibilities, including the fact that his southern neighbor, Bodkin, would undoubtedly lend Malvern a dredge he used on his portion of the stream.

"I received a letter from that gentleman complaining about my lack of attention to the matter. Are you sure he'll be willing to help?"

"Oh, absolutely. He's a neighborly sort. But it will be best to approach him about the matter yourself. He and your bailiff have had a row or two."

"Snavely is no longer the bailiff at Aysbeck,” Malvern said.

A smile broadened the squire's face. “Then I'm sure Bodkin will be glad to help."

"I'm afraid I relied too heavily on Snavely to run Aysbeck. When I was a child, Yorkshire always seemed so far away that my mother and I seldom made the trip. Now that the railroad is nearby, I can make the trip in two days, so there's no reason for me to stay away as I did in the past."

A knowing twinkle came into the squire's eyes. “Especially now that the countess is here."

Malvern surprised himself by saying, “I'm not sure how much longer she'll be here."

The squire raised his eyebrows. “When I spoke with her, I got the impression that she expected to live here."

"Well, that was the original plan, but I had forgotten how antiquated Aysbeck Manor is. The plumbing and heating make it uncomfortable in the winter."

"Old houses can always be renovated,” the squire said, “and your countess makes a lovely addition to our community. We'd be sorry to see her go."

Miss Culpepper overcame her shyness enough to ask Neil, “Will you leave when your sister does?"

"No,” he assured her. “I'll be here for—for quite some time."

Malvern decided to give his brother-in-law a helping hand. “I may have to depend rather heavily on Neil until I can find another bailiff."

She looked greatly relieved.

The squire told Malvern about an agent in York who could be of assistance in finding a new bailiff.

Malvern nodded with enthusiasm. “That's a good idea. I hired Snavely through an agency in London. A Yorkshireman should get along with the locals better than he did."

Neil snorted. “Anyone will get along better than Snavely did."

The squire chuckled. “The man did seem to have a burr up his—ah—nose."

Miss Culpepper blushed and the men laughed to cover the squire's near
faux pas.

The squire stood. “I have that agent's address in the library. I'll get it."

"I'd appreciate that,” Malvern said.

The squire took a step and then stopped. After a glance at his daughter and Neil, he turned to Malvern. “Perhaps you'd like to see the library. I just received a shipment of books from London. Might have something you'd like to borrow."

Realizing the man wanted to give his daughter time alone with Neil, Malvern quickly rose and followed after him. With the father's approval, Neil's chances of getting himself a wealthy wife vastly improved. However, Malvern wondered if the squire knew just how dismal Neil's financial circumstances were. Should Malvern tell him?

The squire would probably consider himself lucky to get his crippled daughter married to a man with connections to nobility. Malvern decided to keep his knowledge of Neil to himself unless asked directly. Then he would tell whatever his honor dictated. The girl obviously liked Neil, and he wasn't a bad fellow except for his love of fine clothing and games of chance. He could make the girl happy, unless he squandered her fortune.

As the squire copied the name and address of the agent at his library desk, Malvern ignored the row of books that had been pointed out to him and moved toward a newspaper on a nearby table. “This is something I've been missing up here."

The squire glanced up. “The papers? I take both the
Yorkshire Gazette
and the
Edinburgh Times
. One comes a day and the other two days after publication, but they keep me fairly well up to date."

"I should make some arrangements to get some sort of newspaper myself. I am beginning to feel cut off here.” A story on the front page caught Malvern's attention.

"Feel free to come over and read mine anytime."

Malvern realized the squire had moved beside him and was holding out a piece of paper. “I'm sorry,” he said, hastily laying the newspaper down and turning back to his host. “The story about the Prime Minister calling a cabinet meeting caught my eye. It's rather unusual for the cabinet to meet this time of year, unless something important has come up."

"Go on with your reading then,” Culpepper said.

"No need. There's just the announcement that the meeting was held, nothing about the agenda."

"I shouldn't be surprised if it didn't concern the failure of this year's potato crop."

Malvern was surprised that Culpepper had heard about a problem that had affected farmers in the southern part of the country. “Has the blight been a problem up north, too?"

The squire nodded. “Most of the farmers in this area raise sheep, but from what I've been hearing the blight's been felt all over the country."

"I didn't know it was that bad.” Malvern considered his words carefully before speaking. While Culpepper was a country gentleman now, he'd made his fortune in commerce and could be a Liberal. If that were the case, Malvern didn't want to argue politics with him. “The government will have to get involved, I suppose, come up with some sort of aid program for the farmers."

One of Culpepper's eyes twitched. “The farmers? The government needs to assure that
all
the workingmen in this country have bread they can afford to buy. The Corn Laws will have to be suspended."

No doubt about it, Culpepper was a Liberal. “I dare say Prime Minister Peel will consider all options. I just hope he doesn't find it necessary to call a special session of Parliament. Of course, the Commons have to act before the Lords get involved, so it probably wouldn't interrupt my holiday."

A frown briefly crossed the squire's face. Evidently he didn't approve of Malvern's lack of concern for the current crisis, if it was a crisis. Malvern found it hard to believe that this Yorkshire squire knew more about the state of the country than he did.

After the squire handed him the agent's address, Malvern thanked him and said, “I hope I can find someone who'll take good care of Aysbeck."

Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, the squire was silent for a moment. Then he said, “Your father really loved his land. Even after he became the Earl of Malvern he came up to Yorkshire whenever he could."

Malvern forced himself to smile. “I know. My mother never understood why he spent so much time here."

"He was proud to be the earl, but the Durand baronetcy went back to the time of the Normans. That meant a lot to him too."

"If it meant so much, why did agree to change his family name?"

The squire smiled ruefully. “No question about that. Love. When he came back after his first successful racing season, the only thing he wanted to talk about was the earl's daughter he'd met. To him, she was the most beautiful, most sweet-natured woman God ever made."

Malvern unsuccessfully tried to picture his stern and often strident mother as the young woman who had inspired such devotion. “I wonder if he ever regretted his choice."

After thinking for a moment, the squire said, “He might have regretted becoming an earl. A few times he complained about the responsibilities, but he never complained about the woman."

Remembering his mother's declaration of her undying love for his father and now hearing that his father had returned her feelings, Malvern shook his head in confusion. “So why did he fight that duel?"

The squire's face grayed, revealing as no words could the depth of his friendship for Malvern's father. “I think he worried about upholding the honor of such a grand title."

A lump formed in Malvern's throat as he realized how much he actually did have in common with his father. He hurriedly turned back to the bookshelf. “You have a nice collection here, Culpepper, but I have a stack of Blue Books that I need to read before I go back for the next session."

After nodding, the squire said, “But, if you get tired of reading all those dry parliamentary reports, feel free to make use of my library."

"You need not feel obligated to stay with me, Mr. Weathersby,” Miss Culpepper said, after the squire and Malvern had left the parlor.

Neil moved from his chair to the sofa where she sat, leaving a respectable distance between them. “And miss a private conversation with a pretty young lady? Books cannot lure me from such an opportunity."

She blushed and bowed her head, and he wondered if a real conversation would be possible. Looking for a topic that might interest her, he asked, “Do you enjoy reading?"

She looked up, but her blush deepened. “Papa doesn't approve, but I like to read novels."

He forced a serious expression as he asked, “How do you acquire novels, if he doesn't approve?"

She leaned toward him and lowered her voice. “My sister in Leeds passes them on to me."

Neil leaned a little closer and lowered his voice to a near whisper. “Are they scandalous stories?"

She drew back, her eyes wide with shock. “Dear me, no! Miss Austin and Mr. Dickens write about real people facing real problems—nothing scandalous."

"So why does your father object to them?"

"He thinks all novels are frivolous, that people should only read to improve their minds or their souls."

"Well, it seems to me that reading about how people solve life's problems does improve one's mind."

She nodded in emphatic agreement. “Exactly. Do you read novels?"

He paused and acted as though reluctant to speak. “I'd hate to lose your father's esteem, but I must admit a fondness for Scott, and I have attended a reading by Mr. Dickens. I even shook his hand."

She gasped and raised her hands in wonder. “You are so fortunate. I would love to hear him."

"He travels about giving readings. Perhaps he'll come to York."

She gave her head a small shake, causing the corkscrew curls in front of her ears to bobble. “Papa would never take me to a novel reading.” Then she brightened. “But if he comes to Leeds, my sister surely would."

"Do you visit your sister often?"

"Papa must attend board meetings at least four times a year and I go with him and visit with her. Our mother died when I was only six years old, so I sorely missed my sister when she moved away."

He nodded sympathetically and then turned the conversation toward his own interests. “What sort of board meetings does your father attend?"

"Of his company—Culpepper Mining and Refining—it belongs to him and his two sisters. Papa turned the day-to-day running of the company to others when he decided to make Pepper Hill something more than a summer home. But he's still head of the board. My sister's husband works there and keeps Papa well informed."