Anne Barbour (21 page)

“All in all,” added Jem, “I feel the loan of a horse to get him on his way was a small price to pay for his departure.”

Claudia’s smile faded as she replied. “What a good thing you sent a boy along with him to bring the animal back, else I do not think you would have seen it again.”

Miss Melksham cleared her throat, and spoke tentatively. “In the meantime, my—er, my lord, I believe you have other things with which to occupy your mind.”

Jem swung toward her with a warm smile. “The first of which, my dear Miss Melksham, must be an apology to you for the deception I perpetrated. Please believe me, when I say that I felt I had no alternative.”

Miss Melksham lifted mittened hands. “Oh—as to that...”

“And I hope you are in full agreement with the arrangement your niece and I have come to. You have performed miracles here at Ravencroft, and I’m sure I do not know how I would muddle along without you now.” His gray eyes crinkled engagingly, and to Claudia’s astonishment. Miss Melksham blushed rosily for a moment, before once again assuming her usual mien of austere propriety.

“As to that, my lord,” she said in severe tones, “I cannot say I approve of the situation, but I am convinced that were it not for you, Claudia and I would be in sad straits. You heard Thomas. Nor do I believe William—Claudia’s father—would be any more amenable. Besides,” she added with a swift look at her niece, “returning to her parents’ home would be almost as bad as starving in a ditch.”

“You are being generous, Miss Melksham, for I am much aware that it is I who have put you in sad straits. However”— Jem rose and went to seat himself next to the older woman— “please believe that I will do everything in my power to assure the comfort of you and your niece while you remain here.”

Miss Melksham murmured an inarticulate rejoinder and, rising, cleared her throat once more. “Perhaps, my lord, you would like to announce your, er change in status to the staff. I have taken the liberty of arranging to have everyone brought together in the kitchen in fifteen minutes time.”

“Excellent, Miss Melksham. Then, perhaps you and I might sit down to discuss the improvements that need to be made here. To start with, I thought we might hire more staff.”

Claudia noted with amusement her aunt’s start of pleasure. Lord Glenraven, she reflected rather sourly, certainly knew how to get what he wanted. Flattery and cajolery from the old ladies, and tender kisses for the young ones. What else did he have in his bag of tricks, she wondered. Not that she need worry. He had already got what he wanted from her, and if he had anything else in mind ... Her heart jumped uncomfortably, but her thoughts marched on along a purposeful path. If he had anything else in mind, she told herself firmly, she had her defenses firmly in place.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of chaotic activity. The news of Jem’s sudden rise in fortune and the coming increase in staff was greeted by the servants with gratifying expressions of surprise, pleasure, and not a little surmise.

Lucas was sent forth to London with messages of instruction to persons there regarding the forwarding of money, clothing, and other personal possessions. Miss Melksham put plans in motion for a dinner party to which the neighboring gentry would be invited for their first look at the new master of Ravencroft.

Jem saw little of Claudia during the remainder of the day, and knew her to be readying the estate accounts for his perusal. As the dinner hour approached, he made for the master’s bedchamber, his belongings having been moved there by unseen hands. In an ancient oak cupboard, he found, lying in isolated splendor, the one gentleman’s ensemble he had brought with him. One of the maids had declared herself more than willing to rescue the garments from the parcel in which they’d been carefully folded and tied with string, but she made it clear that she considered such an activity to be much above her station when, she had asked diffidently, would his lordship’s valet be arriving?

Jem chuckled as he donned pantaloons and a coat of Bath superfine. They were perhaps not suitable for evening wear, but they were fashionable and well made. Fortunately they had been tailored to fit his form so that he could don them without help. He mused on the time he had spent performing the services of a valet for Chad Lockridge, and the weeks he had toiled some years earlier as dogsbody in a tailoring establishment. Certainly, he could act as his own valet, except possibly for the laundering and pressing end of the operation.

He whistled softly as he tied his cravat, affixing to it a small emerald pin that had belonged to his father. It had been one of the few pieces of jewelry taken from Ravencroft by his mother, and he had stubbornly refused to sell it during his years of penury.

He bowed to his reflection in the mirror, and waving a hand in jaunty salute, he departed his chambers.

Downstairs, Claudia entered the emerald saloon, and was relieved to find herself alone there. The Reddingers had not appeared at luncheon, having sent for trays in their respective rooms, but they would almost certainly be down for dinner.

Claudia sighed. The days ahead would be difficult enough for Glenraven—and herself—without the depressing presence of Rose and Thomas. Not that she hadn’t every confidence in Jem’s ability to handle the offensive pair. At the thought of the task that lay before her, her heart gave a panicky lurch, though there should be nothing in the prospect of managing his lordship’s stables to disturb her. She would only be continuing what she had been doing successfully for almost two years. In any event, she would probably be gone before long.

The thought startled her. When she had first demanded that Glenraven hire her as stable manager, she had considered the position as a sort of sinecure. Her love for Ravencroft was still a driving force in her life, and she wished to stay there forever—as an employee if not as its chatelaine.

But now ... The thought of her continued proximity to Glenraven made her nervous, and for some reason the thought of the inevitable arrival on the scene of his yet-to-be-chosen bride filled her with an urgent desire to be elsewhere. Yes, she would save carefully from the handsome stipend she had wrung from his lordship, and at the first opportunity she would set up her own stables—far from Gloucestershire and Raven-croft. Surely, somewhere in England there must be a place as beautiful, as welcoming, and as satisfying as Ravencroft.

To her dismay, she felt tears rising behind her eyes, and she dashed them away in irritation. At a small sound behind her, she whirled about, only to feel her heart leap in her breast.

There, poised with a careless elegance on the threshold, stood the handsomest man Claudia had ever seen!

Chapter Fifteen

If Jem January was compelling in a stable hand’s work clothes, thought Claudia dazedly, or in a butler’s sober garb, he was absolutely magnificent in pantaloons that fit smoothly over muscled thighs and a superbly tailored coat that emphasized the compact elegance of his form. He crossed the room to her and pressed a light kiss on her fingertips.

“Good evening, Mrs. Carstairs,” he said in the demurest of tones. His mist-colored eyes, however, sparkled in obvious anticipation as he turned about for her inspection. “What do you think of the transformation?”

Claudia laughed aloud. “Nothing short of spectacular, my lord. You make us all look shabby.”

He surveyed her, his gaze traveling over her lutestring gown of celestial blue, trimmed with ribbons of a darker hue of the same color. Her décolletage, while not precisely daring, was more revealing than any of her other gowns, and earlier she had pondered at some length before throwing caution to the winds and slipping it over her head.

“Shabby is not the word that comes to mind, Mrs. Carstairs.”

Claudia felt the heat rise to her cheeks as his glance paused for just a moment on the place where the lace of her bosom met what she now felt was an appalling spread of mounded flesh. She opened her mouth to speak, but was stayed by the entrance of Thomas and Rose.

They trooped into the green saloon together, obviously geared for battle. Thomas moved to stand before Jem, and Claudia could not help but note the contrast between the two men. Lord Glenraven’s quiet elegance made Thomas look showy and overdressed in his florid waistcoat.

Rose bobbed a nervous curtsy, but Thomas surveyed Jem with a marked sneer.

‘Fine feathers, indeed—my lord,” he drawled, somehow turning Jem’s title into an insult.

“Why, thank you, Reddinger.” Jem’s smile was wide and guileless, but the glance he turned on Claudia held a sardonic glint.

It was with some relief that she turned to greet Aunt Augusta, who entered the room just behind the Reddingers. It had taken much persuasion on Jem’s part to convince her to eat with the family, since she now considered herself a servant, and he turned to usher her to a seat. From that point on, conversation was desultory at best, and to Claudia the time before they were ushered in to the dining room by a nervous footman dragged for an eternity.

As might have been expected, dinner was an unpleasant ordeal. Cook, in honor of the occasion had outdone herself with a rack of lamb and an assortment of vegetables in season with appropriate sauces, ending with raspberry tarts, accompanied by a syllabub and custards and fruits. And all of it, concluded Claudia in rising irritation, might have been concocted from straw and ashes for all the enjoyment anyone took from it. Except for Lord Glenraven, of course, who made a very good repast indeed, apparently oblivious to the slurs and thinly veiled insults offered during the course of the meal by Thomas. Thomas imbibed heavily through every course, demanding constant refills of his wineglass, and when at last the group rose to depart, he could hardly stand.

“Rose,” said Claudia with distaste. “Perhaps you would be good enough to see your husband to his rooms. Aunt Augusta and I have promised Lord Glenraven our attention for the remainder of the evening, for there is much to be discussed.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned to Jem and Miss Melksham with a regal nod. Jem said nothing, but offered an arm to each of the ladies and proceeded from the chamber without so much as glancing at Thomas, who still stood swaying by his chair, glaring malevolently after the departing group.

Miss Melksham had already held an exhaustive session with Jem earlier in the day, so upon reaching the small study, now dotted with small crates containing Claudia’s personal possessions, conversation was almost solely between Jem and Claudia. Miss Melksham settled in a nearby chair, watching the two with an expression that was benign, yet shrewdly watchful.

Claudia sat at the Sheraton desk, account books spread before her. It had been decided that she would show the books to Jem on the morrow, so she merely indicated them with a wave of her hand.

“I think you will find everything in order, my lord. You will observe that things are vastly different from what they were in—in the old days. Our standards are considerably lower, I fear, although-“

“Since I was but a boy in the old days,” interrupted Jem, “I am pretty much unaware of precisely what standards were in effect then. What I do observe is that when you took over the reins at Ravencroft, things were in a sad state of affairs, and you have done wonders.”

Claudia flushed, quite adorably to Jem’s mind, but spoke purposefully. “I suppose you have noticed that there are many items missing—other than the books. I sold them. I’m terribly sorry to have done so, but there was no other way.”

“I understand that,” replied Jem quietly. “I would have done the same in your position.” He smiled, and Claudia felt her heart lighten. “I daresay we shall muddle through without the suits of armor and the tapestries. We may even get them back someday.”

“Claudia kept meticulous records, my lord,” interposed Miss Melksham. “And many of the items were sold to persons living in Gloucester—although some went to dealers in that city, as well as in London.”

Claudia sighed. “I’m afraid getting all the things back will be like trying to get all the troubles of the world back into Pandora’s box.”

“Let us hope we shall be more successful than Pandora and her friend—what was his name? Epimetheus, I think.”

Claudia glanced up, startled. When had a streetwise urchin found his way to tales from Greek mythology? As though reading her thoughts, Jem grinned. “I worked in a bookshop for a few months when I was about seventeen. I did some unauthorized borrowing from time to time.”

“I might have known,” said Claudia repressively.

Conversation continued amiably among the three until Miss Melksham, exclaiming over the lateness of the hour, proclaimed herself ready to seek her bed and took her leave.

“Perhaps you would care for a game of piquet before retiring, Mrs. Carstairs?” suggested Jem.

This offer Claudia firmly declined, the vision only too clear before her eyes of herself sitting across a small table from the newly refurbished and terrifyingly attractive Lord Glenraven while candles flickered and died, leaving them in an intimate pool of light.

She yawned ostentatiously. “Thank you, my lord, but I am extremely fatigued myself. I shall bid you good night,” she concluded, scurrying after Aunt Augusta, who had disappeared into the dimness of the corridor.

At the top of the stairs, she waved her aunt a cheerful good night, and made her way to her own chamber. Truth to tell, she was very tired, indeed. It had been a momentous day, and she felt in dire need not only of a night’s rest, but of some solitude in which she could sort out the day’s events.

Entering her room, she moved to set her candle on the small table that stood just inside the sitting room door, but to her surprise, the table was not there. Looking around the room, her mouth opened in surprise. The little table now rested across the room, near the fireplace, and the two chairs that had always stood near the fireplace had been moved to the window. One or two other small pieces of furniture had also apparently sprouted wings, for they rested in spaces formerly occupied by something else.

One of the housemaids must have been seized with an excess of housewifely zeal, Claudia surmised, moving items in order to clean behind them and then forgetting where they belonged. She would see about it in the morning, she concluded wearily. Right now, she was for bed.