Anne Barbour (16 page)

Jem considered her words silently. She was right, but... “You don’t know much more about horses than I do,” he said, irritated at the pettish note he heard in his voice.

Claudia heard it, too, and smiled. “That may have been true a few years ago, but I have learned a great deal. Aside from that, I am very good at handling the accounts and spending the profits to the highest advantage. I am a good salesman, as well,” she added, casting her eyes down in an assumption of modesty.

Jem suppressed an involuntary grin. He was forced to admit that her proposal appealed to him vastly. The next moment, the grin faded. He must be all about in his head. The continued presence at Ravencroft of this lissome charmer was a sure ticket to disaster. He could just imagine the gossip that would circulate, and while he did not care for himself—he would surely not be the first-landed gentleman to install a beautiful young woman in his house—it could prove a tragedy for the young widow. Any chance she might have for a second, and hopefully happier marriage, would be doomed at the outset.

“If you are concerned about the proprieties, my lord ...”

Jem started. Good Lord, was she a mind reader in addition to her other witchery? “... I shall, of course, cease to live in the house. Aunt Augusta and I will remove to Hill Cottage. It is situated far enough away to prevent any untoward speculation by the neighbors, but it is close enough so that Aunt Gussie and I can perform our duties without undue difficulty. I know that it is customary for the housekeeper to reside in the domicile, but perhaps you could overlook this very small discrepancy.”

Jem waved his hand irritably. He had the feeling that, like the crafty pitchman she had become, she was focusing on a small facet of the problem, knowing it to be one that he could easily overlook, in order to ease him into acceptance of the larger issue. Lord, if she thought that moving into a house in his demesne, not a quarter of a mile from his own home, would still the wagging tongues of a rural community, she was woefully mistaken.

On the other hand, he mused. Miss Augusta Melksham was undoubtedly a figure of unimpeachable virtue and propriety. Her austere presence in the main house during the daytime and at Hill Cottage at night would go far to make the situation acceptable. In addition, from what he could gather, Claudia Carstairs herself had established a blameless reputation during her tenure at Ravencroft that would stand her in good stead.

He shook himself. What was he thinking? The idea was impossible—quite ridiculous. And yet... A picture formed in his mind of himself huddled over the account desk across from the delectable widow—of hours spent in her company discussing plans for the expansion of the stables—of days of listening to her musical voice and gazing into her topaz eyes and perhaps allowing his fingers to drift over her silken, taffy-colored hair. He was forced to give himself another mental shake.

“I’m afraid your plan would not at all satisfy the proprieties, Mrs. Carstairs. Just think, you will wish to remarry someday, but I’m afraid any gentleman worthy of your hand would look askance at a female stable manager, living in such close proximity to a bachelor.”

“I have no plans to remarry, my lord.” Her tone was bleak and sharp, and such was her expression that Jem forbore to probe further. “In any event”—she crossed her arms and began to tap her foot on the carpet—“you are talking nonsense—and you are evading the issue.”

“Which is?” asked Jem, fascinated.

“That it would be in your best interest to hire Aunt Augusta and me. We have all the clothes we need for years to come, and our other requirements are minimal, so all that we would ask in remuneration, besides permission to live in Hill Cottage—which is already adequately furnished, by the way—is our board and a trifling sum for pin money.” She folded her hands in her lap and smiled serenely as though awaiting his capitulation to the overwhelming force of her logic.

He rose to pace the floor swiftly, running his fingers through hair that already looked as though it had been set upon by mice, and made the shocking discovery that he was actually thinking of accepting her proposal! He turned to face her, and was struck for the first time by her attire. She really should not make it a habit to accost susceptible butlers in the middle of the night wearing her nightclothes. To be sure, this time she was bundled in a serviceable dressing gown of what looked like woolen homespun, but with the candlelight reflected in that glorious hair hanging down her back in a satin fall, and her eyes full of ancient, womanly mystery, it was almost more than a man could do not to stride to her and pull her up from that chair and— He took a deep breath.

“Mrs. Carstairs, it is late. I appreciate your coming down and—and giving me an opportunity to explain my actions. As to your proposal, I simply cannot give you an answer tonight. If you will give me a few days...”

“So that you may think up more unreasonable excuses for not accepting my offer?”

“So that I may come to a reasonable conclusion regarding your highly unorthodox proposal.”

She cocked her head. “It’s odd, my lord, but somehow you do not seem the sort of person who would be overly concerned with the orthodoxy of a situation.”

Jem was beginning to feel harassed. “I’m not, but...”

Claudia tried to quell the churning that had begun again in the pit of her stomach. Dear Lord, this had to work! She breathed deeply. “You know very well, my offer is to your advantage, my lord. And do but consider. If you refuse, I shall retain legal counsel and will fight your claim to the end. Despite your display of confidence, I think you are wondering if the proof in your possession is sufficient to convince the authorities of the validity of your claim.”

Jem observed her in growing wrath. The chit thought she had him squarely beneath her thumb, didn’t she? He ran his hands through his hair once more. Well, there was no getting around it, she did have him in a corner, and as he examined that , he found little room to maneuver. Bloody hell!

He took several more turns around the room before he turned to her at last. “Very well, Mrs. Carstairs,” he said stiffly. “I will agree to your proposal.”

For a long moment they stared at each other in a silence so charged that Claudia felt it almost as a physical presence. At length, she extended her hand, and after an instant’s hesitation, Lord Glenraven clasped it with his own. Her fingers were very cold, he reflected irrelevantly, and having given his hand a slight shake, she withdrew her own hastily and stepped back.

“I shall notify Aunt Augusta of our new situation,” she said briskly, “and after that I shall tell Thomas and Rose.” Her mischievous smile startled him. “I fear that Thomas will take all this very much to heart. Why, he shall probably whisk Rose away from Ravencroft—and he may vow never to speak to me again.”

“May I take it, that your reflections fall into the every-cloud-has-a-silver-lining theme?”

Her mouth curved engagingly, but her voice was demure as she said, “I would never admit to such an undutiful turn of phrase, my lord. However, upon considering that Fletcher Botsford will no doubt withdraw his suit, I think we might add to our collection of pithy sayings the one about those same clouds raining pennies from heaven.”

He joined her in a burst of laughter that died almost as soon as it had begun. An awkward silence descended upon them, and their expressions grew somber once more.

Tomorrow,” said Claudia, her throat tightening, “we will go to Gloucester, if you wish—if we start early, we can be back by nightfall—and find an attorney who can help us with the business of transferring the deed.” She could feel tears gathering behind her eyes, and she blinked fiercely. She was determined she would not cry before this man. “You will not be sorry for your decision, my lord,” she continued unsteadily. “I will do a good job for you. As will Aunt Augusta.”

“I’m sure you will, Mrs. Carstairs,” he replied gravely, then hesitated. “I am truly sorry to be the means of removing Ravencroft from your ownership. Your love for it has saved it from certain ruin, and I—I hope that your continuing presence here will be a source of—fulfillment for you. I know that everyone here will benefit.”
Particularly myself,
he almost added, but refrained.

She could not answer, but merely nodded, and turning on her heel, she hurried from the room.

Jem remained for a long time gazing at the closed door. He was filled with apprehension at the commitment he had just made, but beneath it a strange exhilaration bubbled. Silently, in his stocking feet, he did a slow waltz about the room. He told himself that the happiness he felt was due to the knowledge that at last, he would be able to take possession of Ravencroft, full and clear. He finished removing his clothes and fell into bed, exhausted. Still, it was a very long time before he closed his eyes in sleep.

As she hurried through the darkened corridors of Ravencroft to her bedchamber, Claudia allowed some of her gathering tears to fall, then wiped them away determinedly. No, she was not going to cry, for tears would not help. In truth, the urge to weep passed almost as quickly as it had come, leaving her strangely lighthearted. Losing Ravencroft was a blow almost unbearable in its cruelty, but her relief that she would still have a roof over her head—and that the roof would be on the Ravencroft estate—acted as a powerful stimulant, raising her spirits immeasurably.

Reaching her room, she extinguished her candle and sat in the darkness to reflect upon her coming change in station. In all likelihood, she mused, she would want to leave Ravencroft eventually. She could not hang about forever, dependent on Glenraven’s good graces. Besides, when he married, his bride might wish to choose a new housekeeper, and might resent the presence in such close proximity of another young woman.

Would he? she wondered. Marry?

The thought caused a flicker of dismay to curl through her, and after a moment she chided herself. How silly she was being. Of course, he would marry—it was his duty to do so. He had declared his intention of contracting an advantageous match, and he must produce an heir. At this thought, the flicker became a major quake, which she suppressed with difficulty. What in the world was the matter with her? Lord Glenraven was her employer, for Lord’s sake, and nothing more. Nothing more at all.

This being the case, she thought purposefully, she had better be prepared to serve him to the best of her ability. And, she considered further, she’d be wise to put what was left of the night to good use. Flinging off the woolen robe, she climbed into bed—where she spent a good hour staring at the ceiling.

Despite the lateness of the hour at which she had finally fallen asleep, Claudia awakened before cockcrow. For an instant, she stared into the grayness about her with a strange sense of disorientation. Then she remembered. She looked around the room, as though memorizing its familiar contours against the time when she would no longer have the right to so much as enter this chamber.

She sighed, and slipping from her bed, dressed hurriedly and hastened to her aunt’s chambers. Before she and Lord Glenraven began their journey to Gloucester, she must take the time to inform Aunt Gussie of all that had transpired.

Reaching Miss Melksham’s chambers, she was forced to knock twice before she heard her aunt’s summons from within.

“Whatever is the matter, child?” asked Miss Melksham in bewilderment. The old lady sat up in bed, her voluminous cap askew over one eye.

Claudia hurried to sit on the bed, taking both Miss Melksham’s hands in her own. “Oh, Aunt, I’m sorry to awaken you at such an ungodly hour, but I have something terribly important to discuss with you.”

Pausing only to reach for her spectacles from the bedside, and having adjusted them on her nose, she adjured Claudia to continue. She did not interrupt Claudia’s tale, except to interject an “Oh, my heavens!” at close intervals and in increasingly higher frequencies. After much soul-searching, Claudia had decided to tell her aunt of the discovery of Emanuel’s lists, and at this the older woman threw up her hands in horrified amazement.

“Oh, my heavens, Claudia!” she gasped. “I knew the man was a monster, but I never realized the depths of which he was capable.”

Her reaction to her niece’s further revelations was no less profound. “What do you mean you didn’t tell Jem! My dear, you have committed a terrible sin! Surely you must—”

Claudia managed to soothe the old lady’s sensibilities, but it was some time before she was able to launch into the final portion of her tale. When she was finished, Miss Melksham flung herself back on her pillows with a moan.

“Oh, Claudia what have you done? To perpetrate such a deception—”

“But, don’t you see, Aunt Gussie? I had no choice. If I had given Lord Glenraven the papers, I would have had no bargaining power, for with them, he has all the proof he needs to take over Ravencroft—leaving him free to turn us out without a second thought—for I put no credence in his talk of a fair settlement. Promises are easy to make, and it’s my experience that a man will proceed to do as he pleases. And I did not lie, after all. If I sinned, it was one merely of omission. You must admit, it’s not as though I have brought his lordship any harm. We have served Ravencroft well, and there is no reason why we should not keep on doing so.”

She was obliged to continue in this vein for many more minutes before her aunt finally flung up a hand in concession.

“Yes, very well,” she sighed. “I’m not sure you acted wisely, my dear, but it seems the die is cast. I will say nothing of Emanuel’s wretched list to—to Lord Glenraven. Gracious, it will seem strange to call him by that title. Who would have thought that one’s butler could become so elevated?”

“Certainly not I,” responded Claudia, chuckling despite herself. She then explained her plans to travel into Gloucester with Lord Glenraven to arrange for the transfer of the title. “For,” she concluded, “I wish to present a fait accompli to Thomas.”

Her aunt sat bolt upright in her bed. “Oh, my heavens, I had not thought of Thomas. He will be absolutely livid!” Her mouth wrinkled into a sour smile. “Yes, I can see your point. Left to his own devices, he would never see you turn over Ravencroft to another without a cataclysmic battle. Well,” she concluded, at last flinging the bedcovers aside. “We have much to do today, so we’d best get started. Would you ring for my maid, dear?”