As You Wish (30 page)

As if on cue, Warner appeared in the doorway.  “Mr. Cantrell is here.  He requests a visit with the whole family, whenever convenient for all of you.”

Leah’s fork dropped, clattering on her plate.  “
Requests
a visit?”

“Yes, miss.”  Hints of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.  “And the younger gentleman isn’t with him this morning.”

Lord Solebury clasped his hands together in front of him.  “Wonderful news!  Do ask Mr. Cantrell to join us for breakfast.”  As Warner ducked back out, he smiled at Leah.  “It looks as though your father won’t be quite as difficult as you expected.”

The furrows in her brow endured.

Warner returned with Mr. Cantrell, who hesitated in the doorway.  Face tilted slightly downward, he eyed his daughter from under bushy, red eyebrows.  Two pairs of sea-green eyes exchanged a long look, then Leah leapt up and hugged him.  He patted her back, looking rather awkward.

She left off her embrace and turned to the others, moistening her lips.  “I think you all met my father briefly yesterday . . . Bob Cantrell.  Dad, you remember Lady Isabella, her brother Lord Solebury and, uh, David Traymore.”

Mr. Cantrell nodded to his hosts and then to David, who noted that his gaze lingered longest on him.

He nodded in return, wondering what to expect next.    Unquestionably, the man had changed his approach, but any further conclusion would be folly.

Leah looked to her father and gestured toward the place next to hers at the table.  They took their seats, and Warner poured coffee for the new arrival.      

“Thank you.”  He took a sip and sat back in his chair, though his downcast gaze belied the ease of his posture.  “Right off the bat, I want to apologize to all of you for my behavior yesterday.  I had no business storming in here the way I did.”

David scanned the room, observing Lord Solebury’s approving nod and Lady Isabella’s scrutiny of the speaker.  Leah eyed the empty sideboard, meeting no one’s gaze.

“I had plenty of time to think last night,” Mr. Cantrell continued.  “I didn’t sleep a wink with Kevin’s snoring.  In fact, maybe it was his snoring that got me thinking.  Spending twenty-four hours straight with that nitwit has made me wonder how Leah managed to bear three years with him.  Take him off a car lot and away from the sports page, and he doesn’t have a damn thing to contribute to a conversation.  And you’d think the world were coming to an end just because he couldn’t get ranch dressing with his dinner last night.”

Startled, David stole a glance at Leah.  She looked at her father, but her expression remained impassive.

Mr. Cantrell cleared his throat.  “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I’d like to start over, to listen and find out why my daughter cut her tour short to stay here.  I guess maybe I overreacted by coming after her, but as long as I’m here, I’d like to get to know you all--to make sure she’s all right, you know?  Then I’ll go home.”

The marquess smiled.  “Your concern is admirable, Mr. Cantrell.  Certainly, too much is preferable to too little.  Let me try to assuage your worries by assuring you your daughter is an honored guest here.  Of course, you’re likely wondering more about David’s intentions toward her.”

All eyes moved to converge on David.  He glanced at Leah, but she looked away.

“They are honorable, sir.”  With a pang of guilt, he looked down, touching his napkin to his mouth.  His intentions may have been honorable; his conduct, however, had not been.  “Unfortunately, I cannot assure you of much more right now.  At the moment, my financial circumstances are rather, er, straitened.  I mean to turn that around quickly, however.”

He looked up and saw Mr. Cantrell studying him.  Suddenly, the man emitted a snort of laughter.

“Hell, but you’re a serious fellow, aren’t you?”  He shook his head.  “All this talk about intentions and money!  Do you think I expect you to marry Leah after knowing her four days?”

David had rather thought he did and, if not, couldn’t imagine what Mr. Cantrell
did
expect.  Did the man mean to allow his suit or not?  He tried to catch Leah’s eye, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“I feel as though I’ve know her for centuries,” he murmured.

At last, she looked up, a line forming between her brows.  He wished she had appeared even the least bit pleased, but he could hardly expect it after he’d avoided speaking to her the day before.  Furthermore, he could say nothing to make amends for his behavior.  Indeed, he wasn’t sure he could behave differently now.  He still didn’t know whether her father would let him court her--and even if so, his current state of destitution would delay the privilege for years.

“Romantic, too,” Mr. Cantrell said, his mouth twisted in a smirk.  “I’m beginning to understand why she’s not in Paris with Jeanine.  Women always suck up this kind of nonsense.  Leah, I hope
your
head’s not already full of dreams about marrying this fellow.”

David, keenly aware he’d been insulted, waited for her response.  She only pulled her gaze away, however, looking back to the sideboard.

Her father’s brows shot up.  “I’ll be damned.  I don’t have a clue what’s going on here.”

“Welcome aboard,” Lady Isabella said, tapping her chin with a finger.  “Perhaps we all need to acquaint ourselves better.  I’d like to have a little dinner party tonight.  I hope you and your young friend will join us, Mr. Cantrell.”

“I’d be happy to.”  He let out another short laugh.  “But are you sure want me to bring Kevin?  I’d think you’d want to give your boy an edge over the competition.  Or don’t you want him marrying a commoner?”

“Dad, please.”  Leah sent him a pained look, while her father chuckled at his own joke.  David, meanwhile, sat mute, feeling a perfect fool.

Mr. Cantrell stood and patted his daughter on the shoulder.  “Don’t worry, honey.  I’m going now, so you can eat the rest of your breakfast in peace.  Lady Isabella, Lord Solebury, thanks for your hospitality.  I look forward to tonight.”

Isabella gave a wan smile.  “As do we.”

“I’ll show you out,” Leah said, rising as well.  She took her father’s arm and practically dragged him toward the doors to the hall.

Mr. Cantrell stopped again, however, standing in the entrance, and turned back to David.  “It should be interesting to see you and Kevin
duke
it out.  Are you a duke, Dave, or do I have the wrong title?”

“Viscount,” Lord Solebury interjected, while David stewed to himself. 
Disastrous encounter!
  “My
son
will be marquess upon my death, of course, but no higher rank than that, unless he earns one by some great feat of his own.”

David stared at him.  The marquess had called him son again, but he had put a curious emphasis on the word, as though trying to make a point.

“Come on, Dad,” Leah begged, yanking her father into the hall.  Before the doors swung closed after them, David’s gaze met Mr. Cantrell’s a last time.  The man’s grin had faded.

He gathered up his scattered pride and turned back to Lord Solebury.  “I thought we agreed to leave the question of my identity open.”

“That was yesterday.”  Lord Solebury lifted his cup without its rattling in the saucer.  He took a long swig of tea.  “Today I’m prepared to close the matter.”

“But I told you I cannot claim to be your son--”

“Oh, I know you’re not my son.”

Isabella gasped, while her brother gave David a cunning smile.  “Of course, you know it as well, though I understand why you haven’t revealed your true identity.  You see, I had this very strange, very vivid dream last night--a nightmare, really, full of swirling colors and engulfing waves.”

David held his breath.  Could the marquess indeed have deduced the truth?

Lord Solebury watched him closely.  “When Isabella and I first met you and Miss Cantrell, you were both drenched in water.  You’d taken a dunk in the spring, hadn’t you?”

He nodded.

“You were also wearing some rather odd, old-fashioned attire, weren’t you?  Early nineteenth-century, I believe.”

David felt a chill, despite the warmth of the room.

“Jon, what is this all about?” Lady Isabella asked.  “What do the spring and nineteenth-century costumes have to do with anything?”

Her brother smiled at her.  “Quite a bit, my dear.  You’ll see when I explain why Miss Cantrell has the same name as the girl in our family legend--and, for that matter, why David shares his name with the sixth marquess’s son.  Quite simply, they
are
the two in the legend.”

The look on Isabella’s face could have soured milk--and David felt as though he had swallowed a quart.  If she asked him to deny Lord Solebury’s conclusion, he would not be able to oblige her.

But if he tried to convince her the marquess spoke the truth, he was certain he’d fare no better.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Leah stood on the front steps, watching her father drive away in the rental car.  His change of attitude had been a relief--almost a miracle--but he’d still managed to humiliate her as only a parent could.  Not that she really blamed him for calling David’s bluff on his supposed “good intentions.”  No, she was
glad
her father hadn’t let him get away with that drivel.  She only wished he hadn’t asked
her
if she’d been thinking about marrying David.  Lying had never come easily to her, and her silence had probably given away the truth.

The car disappeared among the trees, and she turned back to the door.  What game had David been playing, anyway?  Trying to put on a good face for her dad?  Maybe, in his hopelessly antiquated mind, he’d expected her father to call him out for sullying her.  He’d probably implied he would marry her in order to avoid meeting her father with pistols at dawn.

Too bad things didn’t work like that anymore.

With a grimace, she stepped inside and closed the door.  If she wanted her honor preserved, she’d have to do the preserving herself--and in a far less dramatic way.

She paused in the hall, reluctant to go back and face David’s playacting.  After three years with Kevin, she’d had her fill of insincerity.  But living well was the best revenge, and that meant showing those who hurt you that they couldn’t keep you down.  David was the one who had treated
her
badly, not the other way around.  She wouldn’t allow herself to hide from him.

Resolved, she took a deep breath and lifted her chin high.  She strode back to the breakfast room and pushed through the double doors.

To her surprise, no one paid attention to her entrance.  Lady Isabella sat glaring at Lord Solebury, who, in turn, gave her a self-satisfied grin.  David was also watching the marquess, his eyes narrowed and his gaze intent.  She caught herself staring at him and looked away.

Obviously, something had happened while she was gone.  She hoped everyone’s lack of noticing her meant that she wasn’t involved.  Unsure whether to join the others or leave them in privacy, she stopped in the doorway.

Lord Solebury turned and nodded to her.  “I’m glad you’ve returned, Miss Cantrell.  Please take your seat.  I have an announcement that should interest all of you.”

So she did have some stake in this.  She sensed Lady Isabella’s gaze boring into her and knew David was watching her, too.  Without looking at either, she obeyed his lordship’s request and went to her chair.

The marquess pushed his plate to the side and folded his hands on the table.  “I spoke to my solicitor yesterday, informing him of David’s appearance and confirming that my will secures him as heir.  David, since you’ll be assuming my son’s identity, you must remember to call yourself Viscount Traymore from here on.  Upon my death, you will, of course, receive my title--only two hundred years later than you rightfully should have.”

Leah’s jaw fell open.  “Does this mean you . . . ?  But how . . . ?”  She trailed off.  He couldn’t possibly know the truth, and any question she voiced would only raise suspicions.

“Yes, I know who you are.”  Lord Solebury smiled.  “While you were out of the room, I explained that the truth came to me in a dream last night.  Admittedly, I don’t quite understand all of it.  For example, your father is clearly a contemporary American.  Does that mean you are from the current time period?”

She glanced at David, who shrugged in response.  But why did she care what he thought, anyway?  Looking back to the marquess, she nodded.

“Of course, she is, Jon!”  Lady Isabella slapped her palm down on the table, rattling the juice glasses.  “Just as we all are, including
Mister
Traymore.  Now, please leave off this absurdity.  You were doing so well up till now.”

“I still am doing well.”  He turned back to Leah.  “The legend records that a gamekeeper saw you and David disappear into the spring in 1815.  I must assume that you somehow visited the nineteenth century before returning to the present again with David.  But how?  In my dream, I saw you nearly drown.  Does the spring have something to do with the time travel?”

His line of questioning intimidated her.  Lady Isabella would never believe the truth and would therefore label her a liar.  Still, she didn’t like having to hide the real story, and at least in this century she didn’t have to worry about being thrown into Bedlam.  She nodded again.

“Good God, Jon, you’re falling right into their trap!”  Lady Isabella jumped up and leaned over the table on her hands.  “Don’t you see?  This must be what they intended all along--to swindle their way into an inheritance!”

“Please, Isabella, reseat yourself.  You’ll drive your blood pressure through the roof.”  The marquess watched her until she complied.  “Now, what would these two have to gain by this scheme you’ve laid out?  You’ve informed them yourself that the estate is mortgaged to the hilt.  We’ll likely have to sell before this young man even inherits.  I’m only ashamed I haven’t been able to sustain some vestige of hope for Solebury’s future.”

Isabella gave David a hard stare, which he met squarely.  Looking back to her brother, she said, “It could be your title they’re after.”

“In this day and age?”  He waved off the suggestion.  “Today’s young people have little interest for titles.  They’re more likely to scorn such relics of social inequality.”