A Rival Heir (14 page)

“Many of them,” he admitted, sounding a little bemused. “I am not, I fear, an expert on such matters. At the intermission you will no doubt hear as many unfavorable comments as complimentary ones. It is the nature of Bath society to be critical.”

“Well, I shall listen to no one who does not find them quite remarkably good,” Nell informed him stoutly. “I may not be an expert either, but I have never heard anything so beautiful.”

Rosemarie had fallen asleep, but as she was not snoring, Nell paid her no heed. In fact, when she had ascertained that her aunt still slept after the second number, which was just as exciting to her as the first, Nell took the opportunity to ask Sir Hugh, in a cautious whisper, if he had learned anything about Mrs. Dorsey.

"I have," he said, after a quick, skeptical glance at his godmother. "Are you quite sure she's asleep?"

"Oh, yes. Music is an unfailing soporific for her."

"Then I wonder she was willing to come to a concert!"

"She wasn't paying for it," Nell explained, quite seriously.

Sir Hugh shook his head with amusement, but managed to say, "I have actually spoken with Mrs. Dorsey. She is indeed the mother of the fellow I knew some years ago," before their attention was recalled to the musicians once again.

As interested as Nell was in this news, she had no difficulty in concentrating on the concert. It was as easy for her to lose herself in music as in a fantasy. Both served the admirable purpose of transporting her from her rather drab life to an enchanted place where something wonderful could, and often did, happen at any moment. That night, witnessing professional performances beyond her experience, Nell found herself so engrossed that on two occasions tears came to her eyes, which she surreptitiously wiped away with her embroidered handkerchief.

Such sorrows and joys as music spoke of, she thought, resonated with one's own life. The deep wail of the horn reminded her of the despair she had felt after her parents died. The sprightly notes of the flute recalled the delight of winging butterflies and dancing buttercups. Even the anxious whine of the violins felt familiar; she had her own moments of worry about what would become of her. Nell was finding the whole evening an intensely rewarding experience.

Rosemarie roused herself at the intermission to comment, "Thank heaven that's over."

"Not over," Nell informed her. "We are just at the break. Perhaps you would care to stretch your legs."

Her aunt looked disgustedly down at where her legs resided under the half-mourning gown and muttered, "If I am going to move, missy, it will be right out the door."

"Then by all means retain your seat," Nell said. "I'm thoroughly enjoying the concert, aunt, and would be very disappointed to leave before it's over."

Aunt Longstreet gave a snort and glared at her, but did no more than wave her away. Sir Hugh, his lips twisted wryly, offered his arm to lead Nell out into the foyer. Amidst all the delightful gowns, Nell did not suppose that hers stood out, but she could this once feel a part of the elegant crowd. And if a few gentlemen appeared to notice her, she assured herself that it was only because of her unusual height, or perhaps that she was in company with Sir Hugh.

They stopped not far from the concert room so that Nell could keep her eye on her aunt, who alone remained rigidly seated, her cane gripped in one hand, staring straight ahead. Two older women who were the last to come out of the room appeared to be discussing her.

"I tell you I knew her—years ago. She's John Longstreet's daughter. Inherited every penny from him, too. The other daughter was in disgrace, or maybe dead by then, and no son in the family. This one is godmother to Sir Hugh Nowlin."

Nell was hoping rather desperately that the two women would notice that she and her escort were just within hearing range of their gossip, but the other woman, unaware, had her eyes on her companion. She nodded vigorously, and said, "I hear he has grand expectations there. And they can't come too soon, I imagine. His father all but ruined Fallings."

Chapter Nine

Nell's hand had unconsciously tightened on Sir Hugh's arm. Color rose to her cheeks and she was unable to meet his eyes. In one skillful movement he turned her so they were facing in a different direction, away from the two ladies and their distressing revelations. He said nothing but with narrowed eyes studied the crowd before them.

Eventually his face relaxed into a smile and he said, "Let me introduce you to Mrs. Billings. She's Holmsly's sister, and therefore Emily's sister-in-law. No two women could be more different, but they are the best of friends."

With that he moved them carefully through the throng until they reached a diminutive red-headed woman who greeted Nell's escort with affection.

"Sir Hugh! It is almost as rare to find you here as it would be your sister," she teased.

"We Nowlins don't do well at sitting still for so long," he admitted. "Mrs. Billings, I don't believe you've met Miss Armstrong. She's my godmother's niece. They've come to Bath for a few weeks so that Miss Longstreet may take the waters."

“How delightful! Emily has mentioned you," Mrs. Billings said, with a warm smile. "Are you enjoying the concert, Miss Armstrong?"

"Very much. Everything about it seems wonderful. But Sir Hugh tells me that the concertgoers will find fault with it, so no doubt I am hopelessly provincial."

"Or our concertgoers are hopelessly jaded," suggested Mrs. Billings. Her brow creased slightly. "Or perhaps it is that we have come to expect such a high level of performance that anything less than perfection is something to be noted. In either case, Miss Armstrong, I trust such comments, should you chance to hear them, will not detract from your enjoyment."

Nell's enjoyment had been dampened by her chance overhearing of something else entirely, but she declared stoutly that they would not. To change the direction of this conversation, she asked, "Perhaps you could direct me to where in town I might find the music for that third piece, Mrs. Billings."

Though Nell had looked forward to speaking alone with Sir Hugh during the intermission, she found herself clinging to Mrs. Billings so that she would not have to either pretend she had not heard those two dreadful women, or discuss the meaning of their comments with the baronet.

The comments had shaken her, and she did not want to let on that she had been discomposed. Aunt Longstreet had frequently put her to the blush, heaven knew. But there was something quite different about tonight's revelation.

It was with relief that Nell seated herself for the second half of the concert. She was unable to pay full attention to the music, as distracting thoughts wandered through her mind. Foremost among these was the understanding that Sir Hugh might not have been the best person to confide in about her worries.

Rosemarie was drowsy but awake on the carriage drive back to Queen Square, so there was no chance for any private discourse. In the entry hall that irascible woman commented, “All that screeching has given me the headache. I'm ready for my bed." And she shuffled across the entry hall and began to climb the stairs without a backward glance.

Nell turned to the butler, who had just relieved her of her pelisse, and said, "That will be all, thank you, Woodbridge. I’ll see Sir Hugh out."

"Very good, miss."

The moment Woodbridge had disappeared down the hall, Sir Hugh turned to Nell and said, "I'm sorry you were forced to hear those two women tonight, Miss Armstrong, but you should know that what they said was largely the truth.”

“I see.”

He gave a tsk of frustration. "It's all such an awkward business, and one which is indelicate in the extreme to discuss. My godmother has every right to dispose of her property in any manner of her choosing. That goes without saying. But what must be recognized is that an expectation of my inheriting her estate has grown up over the years."

Nell raised a hand to stay his confession. "Sir Hugh, my grandfather intended the property should go to you after Aunt Longstreet. He did not wish me to have it, as he believed me to be illegitimate.” She turned toward the door, hoping that he would follow.

But the baronet stood rooted to the spot. “Nonsense,” he said flatly.

“My parents,” she said, a catch in her voice, “were both brilliantly irresponsible and careless. They were also delightful, loving people. Really, you must be leaving now, Sir Hugh. Else Woodbridge will be concerned.”

Sir Hugh shook his head in frustration. "But, Miss Armstrong, you were still his granddaughter. He should have made provision for you.”

“He took me in. Longstreet Manor has been my home for many years.”

"Does your aunt believe in your legitimacy?"

Nell tilted her chin up. "She has never said, one way or the other. But my aunt is fond of me."

“Then she should be willing to provide for you.”

“My grandfather did not wish me to inherit any part of his estate and I’m sure my aunt will carry out his wishes.”

“That is a terrible hold she has over you.”

“You are mistaken.”

“Then why do you stay with her?”

“Where else could I go? Besides, I promised my grandfather on his deathbed that I would always stay with Aunt Longstreet, and I shall.”

"He cannot have expected you to give up your life to serve your aunt."

"Oh, but he did." Nell had no difficulty in picturing that scene, when her grandfather lay in his four poster bed, weakened by days of blood letting and no appetite for food. His hands had become shrunken but he had held onto her with an unexpected strength. "Promise me," he had demanded. "Promise me you won't ever leave your aunt."

And Nell had promised. What choice had she had, after all? He had given her a home when she had nowhere to go, had fed and clothed her. And all in spite of the fact that he had cast off her mother and did not accept the legitimacy of his granddaughter. Yes, he had known what he was asking of her.

To forestall any more questions from the baronet she turned to the door and opened it. “Really, it’s late, Sir Hugh.”

“Of course.” He grasped and pressed her hand briefly before stepping out onto the stoop. “Oh, I almost forgot. Mrs. Dorsey lives in Corn Street and she is indeed the mother of the young man I knew some years ago. Good night, Miss Armstrong.”

“Good night, Sir Hugh.”

Though she shut the door immediately, Nell remained standing in the entry hall for some time. She could almost feel the pressure of his fingers on her hand, and see the intensity of his blue eyes on her face. You will not develop a
tendre
for him, she warned herself. That would be foolish beyond permission.

Not only did her own situation preclude anything developing between the two of them, but his motives for paying the slightest attention to her were surely suspect. Sir Hugh wanted—nay, needed—to know where he stood with regard to inheriting Longstreet Manor from his godmother, because he was in need of that inheritance.

With a ragged sigh, Nell moved toward the stairs, remembering as her emerald gown swayed with her how regal she had felt earlier in the evening. Well, the gown at least she would always have—even if she had nowhere to wear it once they returned to Longstreet Manor.

Chapter Ten

Sir Hugh irritably tapped his curly beaver hat down over his forehead, dismissed his carriage, and strode off along Queen Square. Hell of a sensitive subject for the two of them to be discussing, but what choice had he had? He could scarcely have avoided it after they’d overheard the two women gossiping about his inheritance at the concert. 

Hugh had tried to be honest with Miss Armstrong about his situation, and she had, he believed, responded with just as much frankness. She apparently found it perfectly reasonable that his godmother would leave the entire estate to Sir Hugh. Yet he now found that position incomprehensible, given that Miss Armstrong had served as companion to her aunt for ten long years.

Understanding the workings of a mind such as Rosemarie Longstreet's was well beyond Sir Hugh's powers. He was himself a straightforward man, and a good-natured one. He could not easily decipher the contradictory directions of a perverse mind such as Miss Longstreet’s. And though she had lived with her for so long, Miss Armstrong might not be correct about his godmother’s intentions and expectations, either.

And damned if he knew how he felt about Miss Armstrong’s—Nell’s—own  revelations. Never leave her aunt? Impossible. Nell had looked so striking in the fashionable emerald gown, so regal and captivating, that Hugh could no longer envision her banished to the wilds of Westmorland with his difficult godmother. Nell deserved the opportunity to make a life for herself, to enjoy the society and culture of Bath and London, to surround herself with people who could offer her pleasurable outings and sensible conversation.

But Hugh found himself in an impossible position with regard to Nell. He was intrigued by her, attracted to her, and wary of her. He felt a considerable urge to unlock for her all the pleasures of Bath and its surrounds. Yet he feared that he would be perceived—by the woman herself, as well as her aunt and every other member of Bath society—as merely self-serving.

And how serious was she about this promise to her grandfather? Surely a woman of sense would not hold herself bound forever to a crotchety aunt merely because her grandfather had extracted such a promise. Sir Hugh could only wonder whether Miss Longstreet even knew of the constraint.

There were other questions in his mind as well. Why hadn't his godmother gotten in touch with Mrs. Dorsey? For that matter, why did she hate Lord Westwick? There was even the question of whether the estimable Mr. Bentley was pursuing Nell for love or money. Or was that pursuit merely a figment of his sister Emily's imagination?

Sir Hugh's head had begun to spin with the plethora of unanswered questions. The only thing he knew for certain was that he planned to escort the Queen Square ladies to another assembly, because he had every intention of standing up with Nell in that fetching emerald gown.