Married: The Virgin Widow (3 page)

Susannah gave a defiant sniff. “Are you certain Ford didn’t want to marry you? As I recall,
you
were the one who broke the engagement to marry his cousin.”

“You were a child then,” snapped Laura. “How could you know anything about it? I only broke our engagement because he could not.”

A gentleman was legally bound to stand by his offer of marriage, while a woman had the prerogative to change her mind. Laura wondered how any woman could insist upon wedding a fiancé whose feelings toward her had changed.

“Let’s not spoil such a happy occasion by quarrelling,” Belinda entreated the other two. This was not the
first time she’d played peacemaker between her responsible elder sister and her rebellious younger one. “Ford is home at last and scarcely seems changed from how I remember him. No matter what his feelings for Laura, I’m certain he’ll be hospitable.”

Laura wished she could be so sure.

One thing she could not dispute—Ford’s manner toward her sisters was altogether different from the way he’d treated her. When he’d bantered with them, she caught a bittersweet glimpse of the man she’d once loved. That had shaken her more than his earlier severity, which she’d been better prepared to confront. The last thing she needed were any of her old feelings for Ford complicating her life more than it was already.

Halfway through the main course and after three glasses of wine, Ford continued to ponder the situation he’d found at Hawkesbourne. Nothing was as he’d expected. His uncle’s fortune appeared to be gone. Rather than revelling in the lap of luxury, as he’d imagined her, Laura was living under strictest economy with her sisters and widowed mother in a corner of
his
house.

Though this presented him with an unforeseen opportunity to compel Laura to wed him, marrying her would not restore the fortune he should have inherited. Perhaps he should cut his losses and forget the whole thing.

The hell he should! Seeing Laura again, more alluring than he had left her, Ford knew the debt she owed him was far greater than money.

He sat at the head of the long dining table opposite
Laura, with her sisters seated halfway down each side. The ladies made a pretty trio in spite of their ill-fitting gowns.

“Give my compliments to the kitchen, Pryce.” Ford raised his wine glass. “This dinner is far superior to shipboard food. I cannot tell you how I have longed for the taste of plain, fresh English cooking.”

All the same, it was rather humble fare for a baron’s table. Well prepared, but not much variety. From what he could tell, there were only a handful of servants looking after the place, with Laura and her sisters acting as maids of all work. Her claims of poverty seemed genuine, but where had his cousin’s money gone? Frittered away by a young bride with no thought for the future because she could always snare another rich husband? That was how Ford’s stepmother had behaved, bringing his father to ruin.

“Cook will be most relieved to hear the meal met with your approval,” replied the butler. “More wine, my lord?”

Ford shook his head. “I have already had more than I am accustomed to at meals. Perhaps for the ladies?”

Belinda and Susannah looked toward their sister, who gave a discreet nod. “Only a little, though. We are not used to taking wine with our meals.”

Since Pryce must know that, Ford assumed the comment was meant to enlighten him. All through dinner, Laura had addressed her conversation exclusively to her sisters and the butler.

Not that she had much need to speak. Belinda and Susannah kept him busy answering questions about his experiences in the Far East. At first, he hadn’t known quite what to say. He had never thought of his years away from England as anything but a sweltering perdition
of work and festering bitterness. Yet the young ladies seemed fascinated by the most commonplace customs of those far-off lands.

“Do they drink wine in the Indies?” Susannah savoured a sip from her glass.

“Only the Europeans,” Ford replied. “When I was in India, the local people drank sweet coffee or tea brewed in a mixture of milk and water. In Singapore, where I’ve been lately, many of the traders drink arrack instead of wine.”

“Tell us more about how they dine in India,” begged Belinda.

“Dinner is usually served around midday,” said Ford. “After that, most people retire to sleep for an hour or two. Supper is served late in the evening.”

“Sleep?” Laura sounded if she thought he was having a jest at their expense. “In the middle of the day?”

“In the
heat
of the day.” Ford relished a flicker of satisfaction for having compelled her to address him. “I assure you, it is impossible to accomplish any useful work, then. The only thing you want to do is lie naked under your bed netting and hope you may escape to some cool place in your dreams.”

A sudden vision of Laura lying bare beneath a flimsy drape of netting sent the sultry heat of the first monsoons sweltering through his flesh. What had possessed him to say such a thing, in the presence of her innocent sisters? He should never have let Pryce ply him with so much wine.

“Naked!” Susannah clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a burst of giggles.

Laura stared down at her plate as if she had not heard
Ford’s provocative remark. But even from the far end of the table, he detected a blush blazing in her cheeks.

“Bed netting?” Belinda shot her giggling younger sister a fierce glare. “Is that like bed curtains?”

“Rather like.” Ford seized upon Belinda’s helpful diversion. “But instead of the thick cloth we use to keep draughts out, they use very fine netting to let the air in but keep the insects at bay.”

“Fancy!” Susannah stopped giggling as abruptly as she’d begun. “Now what about the elephants? You said you’d seen some.”

“Mostly in festival parades. Then they are decked out in bright, colored silks and paint, with plates of gold hanging over their foreheads and
howdas
on their backs.” In reply to their puzzled looks Ford added, “A
howda
is a sort of saddle for riding on an elephant. They can be quite elaborate, lacquered and gilded, with canopies to protect the rider from the sun.”

That description invited more questions, which provoked more stories. The ladies seemed to hang upon his every word, including Laura. For the first time in seven years, he found himself making an effort to be sociable. To his surprise, it brought him an all-but-for-gotten sense of enjoyment. Was it possible his experiences in the Far East had enriched him in more than material ways?

“India sounds so much more exciting than cold, dull Sussex.” Susannah turned toward Laura. “Don’t you wish you could have gone to India with Ford?”

“No indeed.” Laura fumbled her spoon. “It may sound fine in stories, but I expect the discomforts and dangers far outweigh the pleasures.”

Her sharp retort pierced Ford’s high spirits and sent them plummeting to the ground. During his first years of exile, whenever he’d beheld a scene of exotic beauty, his first unguarded impulse had been to wish Laura could be there to share it with him. Her disdain for those brief, yearning moments was an insult to every tenderness he’d ever felt for her.

“Your sister is fortunate not to have lived in India.” Though he addressed his words to Susannah, Ford directed a contemptuous sneer at Laura.

“Why is that?” She lifted her napkin and swiped it across her mouth. “Do you suppose I am a frail flower who cannot withstand harsh conditions?”

“No.” He dismissed her suggestion with a thrust of his lower lip. “Because it is the custom in some areas to burn a widow upon the funeral pyre of her dead husband.”

In unison, Laura’s sisters gasped.

“How dreadful.” She spoke in a cool, dismissive tone. “You must be weary after your long journey. We should not pester you with so many tiresome questions.”

Before Ford could protest, she rose from her chair, beckoning to her sisters. “Let us leave his lordship to enjoy his brandy in peace.”

Belinda scrambled to her feet at once, but Susannah gave a mutinous scowl and followed her sisters out of the room with obvious reluctance.

After they had gone, Ford tried to convince himself he was relieved to have a bit of peace and quiet in which to reassess his plans.

Laura had stolen his inheritance and he meant to find out what she’d done with it. If, as he suspected, she’d squandered it beyond his power to recover, he deserved
compensation more than ever. He could imagine few forms of compensation more satisfactory than her presence in his bed.

Two days after Ford’s arrival, Laura found her mother holding court from her bed. Ford and the girls sat on either side while a vigilant Mr Pryce hovered nearby.

Feeling like an intruder, she was about to slip away when Ford suddenly glanced her way. She could not allow him to think he had the power to frighten her off.

“Are you hosting a party, Mama?” She affected a cheerful tone as she entered the room. “I hope too much company will not tire you.”

“Quite the contrary, dearest.” Her mother’s voice sounded stronger. “I have not felt so well in months. Come and sit with the others. Ford was telling us the most amusing story about the time a pack of monkeys got into his baggage.”

As Laura approached, Ford rose from his chair. A fast-fading smile still lit his dark features and once again she caught a glimpse of the man she’d loved. Even as a gentle ache swelled in her heart, the moment passed and he became a stranger once again.
An attractive, compelling stranger, but still a dangerous enigma.

She wished she could keep a safe distance from him, the way she did at mealtimes with the long table and her chattering sisters between them. But there was only one chair left—the empty one beside his.

Warily, she sank on to it. “The poor man may soon long to sail back to the Indies to escape these constant demands for stories of his adventures.”

As Ford resumed his seat beside her, his nearness overwhelmed her senses. The dark arch of his brows and the jutting crests of his cheekbones lured her gaze. Her skin prickled whenever he made the slightest movement, anticipating an accidental nudge of his knee. Every time she inhaled, the faint, spicy tang of his scent tickled her nose. Her ears strained to drink in his low, husky voice.

“Never fear,” he replied, a hint of frost cooling his tone, “I would far rather
talk
about the Indies than return there any time soon.”

“No indeed.” Laura’s mother regarded Ford with a doting smile. “You have been gone far too long. We couldn’t bear to part with you again now that we’ve got you back.”

The butler cleared his throat. “Since all the family is gathered here, Mrs Penrose, shall I fetch tea?”

“An excellent suggestion! The tea Ford brought has such a delightful flavor. I feel quite invigorated when I drink it. And I caught a whiff of gingerbread when Laura opened the door. Could you bring us some of that, too?”

“Delighted, ma’am.” Mr Pryce beamed with pleasure. Just that morning, Laura has overheard him whistling while he polished the silver.

No doubt the poor man was happy to have a proper staff working under him again. One of Ford’s first tasks as master of Hawkesbourne had been to authorise the hiring of several new maids, footmen, gardeners and stable hands.

“Ford,” said Belinda, “Cook is in raptures over the sugar, tea and spices you brought from the Indies.”

Susannah nodded. “And I am in raptures over the bolts of silk and cotton. Did you mean it when you said we could have some to make up new gowns for the summer?”

“Of course I meant it.” Though Ford kept his attention focused on her sisters, Laura sensed his words were aimed at her. “I have never been one to make promises I do not intend to keep.”

Like her promise to wed him? She bristled at the thought. If he had not wanted her to break their engagement, why had he not lifted a finger to stop her?

“Besides,” he continued in a lighter tone, “I don’t believe peacock-blue silk or sprigged organdy would look at all flattering on
me
.”

They all laughed at that, including Laura, though it gave her heart a wrench because he sounded so much like the Ford she remembered.

Mama’s pale blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Tell us more about this new British trading post. Sing-a-song?”

“Singa-
pore
, ma’am. I must say I preferred it to India. Not nearly so hot, though often quite sultry during the monsoons. The settlement is still rather primitive at the moment. Everyone is too busy establishing their businesses and making money to worry about amenities. Besides, it is likely the Dutch will find a way to get rid
of Singapore. It poses a threat to their control of the lucrative China and South Seas trade.”

“It sounds like an exciting sort of place,” said Laura’s mother.

Ford nodded. “It is a crossroad of the world with so many races and cultures all mixed together—English, Spanish, French, Chinese, Indian, Arab, Malay. I have learned to curse fluently in a dozen different languages.”

Laura fought to contain her amusement. She had survived the heartbreak of losing her first love, the shock of her father’s death and the ordeal of her marriage by encasing her heart in a protective sheath of ice. Ford’s coldness only hardened her defences. But the warmth of his wit and kindness toward her family threatened to chip a web of tiny but perilous cracks in her frozen ramparts, making them prone to shatter.

A few minutes later Mr Pryce returned, bearing a tray laden with tea things and a plate piled high with spicy-sweet nuggets of gingerbread. While Susannah and Belinda tucked into those with exuberant relish, Laura took a guarded sip of her tea. Pleasant as these small luxuries were after months of frugal living, they came at too high a price to suit her.

Despite Ford’s assurance that her family was welcome to
visit
at Hawkesbourne, she knew he must want her gone as soon as possible. Every time they’d spoken in the past two days, she had braced for him to raise the subject. With any other gentleman, she’d have been confident he would never turn out an ailing widow and her penniless daughters. But Ford had boasted of his ruthlessness and she knew from bitter experience that he was not a man to let other people’s problems stand in the way of his plans.

When the others had finished eating, Laura rose from her seat. “Enjoyable as this has been, we must not tire Mama.”

“No indeed.” Ford shot to his feet so quickly his arm brushed against hers, sending bewildering sensations rippling through her. “I have an appointment with Repton to look over the accounts and review his running of the estate in my absence.”

His sharp tone and piercing look made Laura wonder what this meeting with his man of business had to do with her.

“Pray excuse me, ladies.” After a stiff bow, he stalked away, leaving Laura feeling as if the breath had been knocked out of her.

As he marched toward the office of Hawkes-bourne’s estate manager, the devilish hot ache in Ford’s loins began to ease. The slightest accidental brush against Laura was all it had taken to set him on fire. Of course that had only struck a spark to the fuel, which had accumulated splinter by combustible splinter as he sat beside her. Hard as he’d tried to ignore her by focusing all his attention on her mother and sisters, he had failed.

The mellow lilt of her laughter had made him long to drink it from her lips like sweet wine. The sidelong glimpse of her dainty hands had made him yearn to feel her fingers running through his hair. But why?

Much as he’d loved Laura Penrose seven years ago, he had not burned for her with such fierce intensity. Was it the time he had spent trying to forget her? Had the blaze of his outrage kindled this unruly passion? Or
was it some streak of perversity that made him crave her because she had spurned him?

He had no time to ponder such riddles now, Ford reminded himself. There were more practical questions to be answered first.

“Tell me straight, Repton.” He dropped into a chair across the desk from the estate manager. “How bad is it?”

If the condition of the Hall was any indication, Hawkesbourne must be deep in debt. Ford recalled Laura’s mention of economic hardship after the war.

Repton’s brow furrowed at the question. He was a slight, balding man with ink stains on his thumb and forefinger. “I beg your pardon, my lord? How bad is
what
?”

“The debts, of course,” snapped Ford. “How much do we owe and to whom? You needn’t be afraid to tell me. I have the resources and the energy to set things right.”

“I’m sure you do, sir.” Repton pushed a large ledger book across the desk. “But I don’t know where you got the idea that the estate is in debt. You can see for yourself—though there are improvements needed, Hawkesbourne is quite solvent.”

Ford scanned the neat columns of figures. Seven years ago, he would not have been able to decipher them. Now he had no trouble. Rents minus expenses yielded a modest profit.

“Then why was so much of the house shut up?” he demanded. “And most of the servants gone? The larder nearly bare?”

Repton closed the ledger. “I told her ladyship the house was part of the estate and should be maintained in a suitable manner at the expense of the estate.”

Ford nodded. “You were quite right.”

“Thank you, my lord.” A look of relief lightened Repton’s stubby features. “Her ladyship did not agree. She refused to have any money spent on the house apart from a few urgent repairs, the coal bill and salaries for the cook and butler. Without your authority, I could not go against her wishes.”

Ford mulled over this information, not certain what to make of it. In a similar situation, his stepmother would not have hesitated to maintain herself in luxury at someone else’s expense. “Did her ladyship offer any reason for all this?”

Repton shrugged as if the explanations of women made no sense to him. “She said it was enough that her family should live under your roof without your permission. She did not wish to be any deeper in your debt.”

Ford fancied he could hear Laura speaking those words in a haughty tone that grated on his pride. Had she assumed he would fail in the Indies and not be able to afford the expense of maintaining her family? Did she think he would be too mean to extend them decent hospitality? Or did she have some other motive for playing the poor but proud widow?

“I am surprised my cousin did not leave her better provided for.” Leaning back in his chair, Ford strove to make the comment sound casual. “I thought he had a fair fortune of his own.”

Repton grimaced. “A man can go through a deal of money if he isn’t careful.”

“Cousin Cyrus always preached frugality to me.” The old fellow had kept him on a tight allowance. If Ford hadn’t borrowed against his expectations, he never would have been able to live the way a gentleman was
expected to. “But I suppose keeping a young wife and all her relations can be quite an expense.”

“Lord Kingsfold made her ladyship a very generous settlement at the time of their marriage,” said Repton. “I believe she provided for her family out of her own allowance. At least, I never received any bills for their support.”

“That’s right, you administered my cousin’s personal accounts as well as the estate’s.” Ford pretended he had just recalled the fact.

“I hope you don’t think I failed in my duty.” Repton sounded defensive. “Or abused your cousin’s trust in any way.”

“Nothing like that, I assure—”

“Because you would be welcome to review the accounts,” Repton rattled on. “Everything is perfectly in order.”

The offer was too tempting for Ford to refuse, though not because he suspected
Repton
of any underhand dealings.

“I’m certain it is,” he agreed in a reassuring tone. “But if it would ease your mind for me to see the figures, I am willing to take a look.”

“I would consider it a service, my lord.” Turning to a shelf behind his desk, Repton drew out another ledger. “Perhaps you could assure her ladyship everything is perfectly above board. I tried to go over the accounts with her after his lordship died, but she found it very distressing to see how little money was left.”

Rather than passing the ledger across the desk, Repton brought it around to Ford, opening it to a page dated 1815. He pointed to a very large disbursement. “There is the sum he gave her ladyship upon their marriage.”

Three thousand pounds? Ford’s eyes widened. “Have you any idea what she did with the money?”

“She did not entrust the handling of it to me, my lord.” Repton’s tone bespoke offence over Laura’s decision. “Perhaps she has her own man of business in London, though to my knowledge he has never called at Hawkesbourne.”

What
had
become of that money? Ford wondered. Surely Laura would not be living in such straitened circumstances if she had an amount like that at her disposal.

“As you can see, my lord, all was well then.” Repton turned the page. “By the next year, however, expenses had begun to exceed income. Your cousin was obliged to dip into his capital to make up the shortfall.”

Ford did not need to be told what a dangerous downward spiral that created.

“I urged economy and retrenchment.” With a sigh Repton turned to the accounts for Cyrus’s final year. “My warnings fell on deaf ears.”

His cousin’s fortune was gone. Ford no longer doubted it. The evidence was there in black and white. But that evidence raised more questions than it answered.

“You have been most helpful.” Ford rose abruptly and shook the man’s hand. “I am relieved to discover the estate is not in debt. I shall return tomorrow to discuss what improvements are needed.”

Repton tucked the ledger under his arm. “I should be happy to discuss them now if you wish, my lord.”

Ford shook his head. He needed some time to collect his thoughts. “Other matters require my attention just now, if you will excuse me.”

He took his leave in haste, heading back to the house
through the neglected gardens that had once been his grandmother’s pride. Now several newly hired gardeners were busy digging and pruning. Ford paid them scant heed as he trod the overgrown paths, lost in thought.

It seemed Laura had told the truth when she’d claimed her inheritance was a paltry one. What she had failed to mention was the handsome settlement Cyrus had made her before her marriage. Had she squandered that, too? Or had she squirrelled it away somewhere while she played at poverty for some devious reason he could not fathom?

Rounding a boxwood hedge near the east wing of the house, Ford came to a sudden halt. Ahead, he spotted Laura talking to a slender young man with ginger hair. She was smiling at the young fool in a way Ford had not seen her smile since he’d returned to Hawkesbourne.