Jaded Moon (Ransomed Jewels Book 2) (9 page)

The meal, however, didn’t turn out to be the respite she’d hoped for. Lady Lindville and her son made sure of that.

“Have you organized the spring drive yet, Miss Foley?” Lady Lindville asked, intentionally interrupting the question Lady Clythebrook had just asked the marquess. The cut was obvious.

Josie cast the marquess an apologetic look and felt a deeper rawness when he answered her with a smile. He held her gaze for a brief second then she turned her attention back to Lady Lindville’s question.

“No, we haven’t started the drive yet,” Josie answered, lifting her spoon out of the soup she’d barely touched and placing it on the table.

“Father always said the spring drive was the event he anticipated most during the year, as well as the one he was the most relieved to see come to an end,” Miss Eustacia Pottsworth added, looking at her sister for confirmation. The two nodded in unison.

“Have no fear, Miss Evangeline. Both you and Miss Eustacia will be the first I call upon for help.”

Demure smiles brightened both women’s faces and warm flushes darkened their cheeks. Conversation flowed smoothly through the various courses of the meal, from the fish, to the roast duckling, then the lightly creamed vegetables and candied fruit. It wasn’t until the footman served the dessert Mrs. Downey had specially prepared for the dinner party that Lady Lindville chose to make her move.

“Squire Pearsons,” Lady Lindville said, speaking at the precise moment when there was a lull in the conversation. “I wanted to ask after your sister. The death of a child is indeed tragic, but to lose your only son. Well, I cannot imagine her bereavement.”

Josie’s heart skipped a beat. She knew Lady Lindville’s intent with this line of conversation. So did Lady Clythebrook and everyone else at the table. Only the Marquess of Rainforth was oblivious. He cut into the thick piece of Mrs. Downey’s layered cake and put it in his mouth with only a cursory glance in the speaker’s direction.

Pearsons cleared his throat. “It is indeed difficult for her, even after this length of time.”

Josie looked to Lady Clythebrook for help but realized the older lady had already anticipated this turn and intended to let it take its course. Josie couldn’t. She looked around, frantic to find something that might distract. The only thing in reach was a plate of candied fruit. She held it out to Vicar Chadwick. “Would you care for another—”

Lady Lindville cut off her attempt.

“I can’t imagine the grief of every mother who lost a son during the war. Especially when their loved one was cut down in the prime of life.”

The eerie silence seemed suffocating and Josie noticed a slight pause in the marquess’s movements. He knew.

“All those hundreds of precious lives so needlessly sacrificed because of one man’s—” She paused for effect. “Well…”

Lady Lindville’s sentence went unfinished, but there was no need. Her words had been intentional and malicious.

The Marquess of Rainforth barely reacted. But he’d heard. And he understood.

He took a deep breath, then slowly placed his fork down beside his plate and lifted his head. His features seemed no different, as if he’d gone through situations similar to this so often he was adept at controlling his reaction. With deliberate slowness he placed his linen napkin on the table and turned to face Squire Pearsons.

“Your sister lost a son in the war, sir?” he said, his voice thick. The look in his eyes dark with an emotion too intense for her to read.

“Yes, during the siege of Sebastopol.”

“You have my most heartfelt sympathies.”

The room was deathly silent.

Everyone waited for a reaction. Lady Lindville had laid her trap well. Her intent had been to kill, not just wound. If the squire refused to accept Rainforth’s apology, he would make plain how he and the other guests felt about Rainforth, regardless of the improvements the marquess intended to make. And Rainforth would have to give up his plan. Which was what Josie had been hoping for. The means to keep him away from the caves.

Oh, but not like this. Not to have Rainforth brought to his knees so cruelly. Not if it meant destroying his pride.

Not like this.

She waited, praying the final blow wouldn’t come.                                         

Squire Pearsons sat unmoving in his chair, his intelligent gaze locked with the marquess’s. Josie fought the painful gnawing that ate away at her. A voice inside her wanted to cry out that Rainforth wasn’t responsible for what his father had done, but she knew the marquess would resent her intrusion. So she sat as immobile as the other guests, locked in the drama unfolding around her without being able to do anything to stop it.

She swiped her damp palms against the linen napkin in her lap while the mantel clock ticked away one uncomfortable second after another. Josie knew Squire Pearsons was weighing the earnestness of Rainforth’s words and prayed he read them as she did—filled with genuine sincerity.

The squire finally shifted his round bulk in the chair and gave a short nod, his decision made.

“Thank you, my lord. I will extend your condolences to my sister. They will mean a great deal to her.”

There was another uncomfortable moment of silence, followed by a variety of inane movements. The Pottsworth sisters both meticulously straightened their napkins in their laps. Several of the guests developed a sudden thirst and lifted their wine or water glasses to their mouths. And some just sat, intently studying the food that remained uneaten on their plates.

Only Lady Lindville reacted in an expected manner, with hostility and anger. The scorching glare she sent in Rainforth’s direction frightened Josie. Her son didn’t look at anyone, but gave an irate wave of his hand as he motioned for the footman to refill his wine glass. He drank it in record time then motioned for the footman to fill it again.

Cornelius Sharpe made the next conciliatory attempt by directing his question at the Marquess of Rainforth.

“Lady Clythebrook has informed us that you have an idea to propose she believes will benefit everyone in the area.

Cornelius Sharpe owned several shops in Clytheborough and was always interested in anything that would affect what the people had to spend.

“Yes. With Lady Clythebrook’s involvement, I intend to increase the number of cattle on Clythebrook Estate and St. Stephen’s by several hundred head.”

A collective gasp echoed in the room, every eye now focused on the man speaking.

Mr. Sharpe was the first to recover. “Several hundred?”

“Yes, for a start.”

“But how can you manage such a large number?”

“Clythebrook Estate is lush with grazing land and St. Stephen’s has an abundant underground water supply at its disposal. By utilizing both estates, we will be more than able to raise a substantial herd.”

“What part of the estates do you intend to utilize?” Vicar Chadwick asked, clearly interested.

“The strip of land bordering St. Stephen’s eastern edge and Clythebrook’s western.”

“The land closest to the sea? Above the caves?”

“Yes. It’s not ideal for anything else. And other than the orphanage located inland from the cove, the rest of the land is not being used at present to its full potential.”

Squire Pearsons’s eyes brightened. “Oh, my. What a remarkable idea.”

Mr. Sharpe leaned forward, his attention focused on Rainforth. “And do you anticipate an influx of workers?”

“I do, Mr. Sharpe. First, we’ll take advantage of what local manpower is available. Then, we’ll have to bring in extra workers to fill our needs. It will, of course, mean a substantial increase in goods required to provide for the added tenants and their families but I’ve been assured you are capable of making such goods available.”

He beamed. “Oh, yes. Of course.”

“Lady Clythebrook, surely you don’t intend to go along with this foolhardy proposition?”

There was an accusatory tone to Lady Lindville’s voice and everyone turned to Lady Clythebrook, the person on the receiving end of Lady Lindville’s glaring look.

“I don’t consider it foolhardy at all. Quite the opposite. And Lord Rainforth assures me the profits from such a venture will provide everyone in the area with added income. This will not only benefit the tenants on both estates, but the children in the orphanage and every shop in Clytheborough. How can I not at least consider such an endeavor?”

Josie couldn’t remain quiet any longer. “Can you guarantee such a profit, Lord Rainforth?”

He smiled. “I can. Not immediately, of course. I have already explained that it will take at least a year before the first cattle will be ready to take to market.”

“How do you intend to get the cattle to market?” Squire Pearsons asked, his interest as evident as everyone else’s.

“By rail. And the nearest stop is Lythesborough. Which means we will have to cross Pearsons Grange.”

Squire Pearsons sat straighter and the marquess focused his steel-gray gaze down the table to where the squire sat across from her.

“I’m hoping to convince you of the advantages to this venture so you will want to become involved.”

Pearsons was engrossed in every word. “As you can tell, I’m already interested. I would, however, want to discuss everything in greater detail.”

Josie couldn’t keep her temper from rising. Everything was slipping away before her very eyes and if she didn’t stop it now, she’d lose control of the only means she had to provide for the children.

“Even though we’d all like to believe your idea will be lucrative,” she said, trying to keep her voice soft and steady, “surely you have to admit there’s a possibility what you’re proposing will not be profitable?”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a heart-stopping smile. “I refuse to admit any such thing, Miss Foley. Even if the market remains stable, there will still be a profit. The only point I am willing to concede is that the profit will not be immediate. It will take at least a year before the first cattle are ready to go to market.”

“And in the meantime?”

He frowned. “In the meantime you will go on as you always have.”

But we won’t be able to!

She wanted to scream at him. His plan would ruin everything. How could they risk continuing their smuggling operation with scores of workers watching from above? And without the goods that were smuggled in every quarter, the children would be forced to go without.

She remembered the days before Geoffrey Lindville had come to her with his plan. Days when there was not enough to feed the children and they went to bed hungry. Or when winter came and there were not enough coats, and even the donation drive the Misses Pottsworths were so proud of running didn’t bring in nearly what the children needed. Now, Rainforth’s plan would ruin everything.

She felt her anger mounting from deep inside her. She couldn’t allow him to take away the little control she had over what came into the orphanage without a fight. Baron Lindville hadn’t made her a part of the smuggling operation because he cared about the children, but because he needed access to the tunnels that ran beneath the orphanage. He’d had no choice but to include her. Without her help he had no way to bring the goods inland.

She opened her mouth to voice another objection but didn’t have an opportunity to get the words out. Everyone was too interested in the details of his plan to interrupt.

“Have you anyone in mind to oversee such a project?” Squire Pearsons asked, even more excited than before.

“Yes, the man I’ve chosen is—”

“Lord Rainforth,” Lady Clythebrook interrupted, stopping the conversation. “Perhaps you and the other gentlemen would like to retire to the study to further discuss this venture over a glass of port, and we ladies can talk of more pleasant things than cattle and grazing.”

The men heartily agreed and slid back their chairs and left the room, still discussing the economic possibilities Lord Rainforth’s venture would provide.

Josie sat rigid in her chair while the footman poured coffee and set around small plates of chocolates. The same flush of excitement she’d noticed in Lady Clythebrook’s cheeks earlier was back. So was the gleam in her eyes.

“Constance,” Lady Lindville said, addressing Lady Clythebrook by her given name. “How could you!”

Lady Clythebrook nodded to Banks, then waited until all the servants had quit the room. “How could I what, Lavinia?”

“Don’t be obtuse. You know exactly what I’m speaking of.
Him
. How could you align yourself with a traitor?”

Everyone at the table found a spot in their laps on which to focus. There was a momentary silence before Lady Clythebrook answered. “If you are referring to the Marquess of Rainforth, then you had best be very careful what you imply. The marquess is not now, nor has he ever been accused of being a traitor. There was some evidence that his father, the late marquess, committed the grievous crime of betraying his country, but the young man seated at my table tonight talking about a plan to improve the living conditions for all of us, had nothing to do with the travesty you’d like to lay at his doorstep. My question to you is, what possible objection could you have to Rainforth’s cattle venture?”

All eyes lifted to where Lady Lindville sat.

“It’s not the venture. It’s the man. You’re not so isolated here in the country that you don’t know his reputation.”

Lady Clythebrook chuckled, then reached for a chocolate on a plate in front of her. “Oh, Lavinia. Every young buck with a title has a reputation before he settles down. He’d be a dull fellow indeed if he didn’t.”

There was a chorus of twitters from all the ladies, even the Pottsworth sisters.

Lady Lindville, of course, didn’t find anything humorous in Lady Clythebrook’s statement. She placed her napkin on the table with a snap and leaned forward. “That’s not what I mean and you know it, Constance. The marquess’ reputation has left behind it a dead woman whom he abandoned when he realized she was carrying his bastard and a child of no more than four to find his own way in the world. And the man has not even made an effort to find the boy. Has he, Josephine?”

All eyes darted to where she was sitting.

Josie cleared her voice then answered. “The marquess has inquired after the child, but—”

“And you let him see him?”

Lady Lindville was aghast and so were the other women at the table. In unison, they stared at her, waiting for an answer.

“No.”

“Your reason for refusing him was…?”

“Because… Well, because…”

“I’ll tell you why,” Lady Lindville finished for her. “Because Josephine knows how disreputable he is. She knows to keep the boy as far away from him as possible.”

Josie couldn’t admit Lady Lindville was right. It would sound much more damning coming from her. She was spared having to lie when Lady Clythebrook interrupted.

“That’s enough, Lavinia. You don’t have to like the Marquess of Rainforth, but I won’t allow you to blacken his name with lies and accusations.”

“Well!”

Lady Lindville rose from the table. There was a venomous look in her eyes that no one missed. They all lowered their gazes, everyone except Josie and Lady Clythebrook.

“You’ll regret this, Constance. Mark my words. The marquess cannot be trusted any more than his father could. If word ever reaches London that you’ve aligned yourself with him, you’ll be ruined.”

“Society thrives on shocking revelations,” Lady Clythebrook answered.

“Society swallows such offenders whole. If you believe that won’t be your fate, then you are a fool.”

With that, she shot Lady Clythebrook a frigid glare that sent chills down Josie’s spine. “Please tell my son I am ready to leave.”

The order was directed at Josie and there was a condescending tone to Lady Lindville’s voice that was always there when she spoke to her. As if she needed to remind Josie that even though she’d been raised in Lord Clythebrook’s house and given privileges she was lucky to have been given, she would never be more than a bastard daughter of little consequence.

“I’ll send for Banks—” Lady Clythebrook started to say but Josie rose to her feet.

“No need. I saw Lord Lindville remove himself to the patio.” She nodded toward the double French doors. A terrace ran along both the dining room and the study where the men had gone and Josie had seen Lindville pass the window. “I’ll tell him he’s wanted.”

“He probably went outside to escape the undesirable company in the study.”

Josie ignored the snide comment and went through the doors that led outside. She was grateful to escape Lady Lindville’s spiteful insinuations and inhaled the crisp, cleansing nighttime air the minute she closed the door behind her.

At first she didn’t see Baron Lindville. The flagstone terrace ran the length of the house and he’d stepped over to the far side where he would be out of view. She watched him lift a glass to his mouth and empty the contents, then tip a half-full bottle he must have taken from the study and fill his glass again. If he wasn’t already drunk, he soon would be. He slowly turned when she took her first step toward him.

“Your mother wishes to leave, sir.”

He lifted his glass again and drank. “I imagine she does.” He took a faltering step and reached out his arm to steady himself. “You’ll extend my heartfelt thanks to Lady Clythebrook for a most enlightening evening.”

“Yes. Of course.” Baron Lindville gave her a stiff bow and started to leave. Josie stepped closer to the cement railing that surrounded the patio and leaned against it. “What are we going to do?” she said, not asking really, just voicing her question out loud.