Regina Scott (3 page)

She needed no reminders of the mistakes she’d made, of the tragedies she’d inherited along with the Everard legacy. Those mistakes were the main reason she’d refused her suitors over the years. Each had had something to commend him: a pleasant disposition, a commanding presence, a devotion to duty. Her latest unintended conquest, Prentice Haygood, had followed her about so loyally she’d resorted to hiding in the ladies’ retiring room at balls to avoid hurting his feelings!

Some of her suitors had been handsome, and some had been wealthy and some had been both. Far too many, however, had been fortune hunters, and she’d come to the point where she could smell the breed at twenty paces. Those she had no trouble refusing.

But one other sort of follower had plagued her last days in London. Her home had been broken into, her rooms pawed through. Nothing had been taken, but she could not shake the feeling that someone was watching her. She’d made inquiries, even set a trap in her home to catch the villain, going so far as to leave a window open and waiting with her strongest footman in the dark, but to no avail. Only her impending birthday had forced her north to the one place she’d ever felt truly at home: Dallsten Manor.

Unfortunately she had found an entirely different problem awaiting her in Lord Kendrick. She wasn’t surprised to be attracted to him. Both Jamie and his grandfather had delighted to tell her about his adventures. The stories had circled the valley when she was a girl—his insistent courtship of Peggy Demesne, who was only the miller’s daughter; their eloping to Gretna Green to marry despite his father’s wishes; her death a year later birthing Jamie; and his journeys throughout the world to forget his heartbreak. William Wentworth was the stuff of legend in the Evendale valley.

Or had been, until her family’s scandals eclipsed his.

She hugged her velvet cloak closer as the carriage trundled through the night. Emotions fired too easily in her family, for good and ill. Emotions, she was convinced, lay at the heart of her family’s past problems. She would not trust her feelings with her future. Though it cost her everything, she would not marry on a whim, not even to save her fortune.

Chapter Three

W
ill would have preferred to have put the lovely Lady Everard from his mind. Unfortunately, Jamie’s attitude at breakfast the next morning prevented that. The lad’s cheeks and mouth sagged, his shoulders slumped over his coddled eggs and salmon. His responses to Will’s attempts at conversation consisted of grunts and questionable movements of his head.

“Oxford,” Will announced, keeping his gaze on the freshly baked bread he was slathering with butter. “Fine school. I think it will do very well for you.”

“Oxford?” The silver-rimmed china clattered as Jamie set down his cup.

Will glanced up to see that he had his son’s attention at last. “Oxford. Divinity school. With all these martyred sighs I thought perhaps you were planning on being a man of the cloth.”

Jamie’s mouth turned up as he shook his head. “I don’t think I’m cut out for Holy Orders, thank you, Father. And you said I didn’t have to return to school if I didn’t wish it. You never attended Oxford.”

He hadn’t, and now that the title had come to him, he wondered if his earlier choices had been wise. But at eighteen, he could not have imagined the road he would travel. “So you still plan to stay here with me, learn more about managing our estate, our holdings.”

Jamie nodded, hands braced on the damask tablecloth. “I’d like to understand my duty better, yes. But I intend to take a little holiday before jumping in.”

Will raised his brows. “Planning to go on a Grand Tour of Europe, are you?”

Jamie grinned, pulling back his hands. “Nothing so elaborate. I’d just like to fish, ride, visit neighbors. That sort of thing.”

Will set down his butter knife. “Neighbors like the Everards.”

Jamie colored as if he’d been caught with his fingers in the sugar bowl. “Lady Everard is our neighbor, so yes, I planned to visit her as well as the Gileses, Mr. Ramsey our old vicar and others who knew me before I went away to Eton.”

“Very...neighborly of you,” Will managed.

Jamie raised his chin. “I thought so.”

Will watched as the boy attacked his eggs. Jamie might protest all he liked, but Will was certain more than a friendly nature motivated him to pursue Lady Everard. He had to find a way to break through to his son.

“Perhaps I’ll come with you,” Will ventured. “I feel in an uncommonly neighborly mood as well.”

For some reason his son did not seem amused by the prospect. But he finished breakfast and excused himself, promising to rejoin his father after Will’s morning ride.

Will hoped that ride would at least clear his mind of his concerns. Nothing like pounding across the turf to remind him of the reason he was born. He was a Wentworth, and this estate had belonged to his family for ten generations. He glanced back at the hall as he wended his way through the boxed hedges for the stables behind the house.

A sturdy brick edifice four stories tall, with squat wings clinging to the center, Kendrick Hall had been built for his great-grandfather. The numerous high-arched windows capped in white, and white stone columns marking the center block, managed to give the place a look of elegance in keeping with the current age. But though the house was newer than its neighbors, Wentworth blood had defended the grounds from Scottish tribes over four hundred years ago.

And now it was Will’s turn to defend it from the rising debts. He nodded to his head groom as he mounted Arrow, his favorite horse. He knew others whose heritage had been stolen by a father who gambled, a brother who invested unwisely. That was not the case with the Kendrick estate. His father had been a good if unenlightened manager. But times were changing, and the Evendale valley, so close to the fells of Cumberland, was struggling to keep pace.

Will set Arrow to a canter and guided him out around the house for the front. There he could see snatches of the oak woods to the north and the lone line of oaks flanking the long drive to the road. He had only to move beyond them, and he could see all the way to Dallsten Manor.

So he could not fail to notice the other rider pelting across the green pastures between the two houses. Even if he had doubted the identity, the flash of sunlight on golden hair would have given her away.

The gelding beneath him tossed his head as if wishing to follow. Will felt a similar desire to give chase. He knew Arrow was swift enough to catch her. But he wasn’t sure he wanted the conversation that would follow. Neighbors or not, the less time he spent in Lady Everard’s company, the safer he’d feel.

But would Jamie be any safer if Will let her be? Jamie had no understanding of the female mind; Will had met enough ladies on his travels to have some familiarity. Lady Everard had implied last night that she would be more interested in him than in his son, a fact that had refused to leave his thoughts for much of the night.

Should I keep an eye on her, Father? Try to understand why she’s here, what she hopes to gain?

Something inside him jumped at the idea. Still, Will hesitated, watching her. She certainly had no concerns about her own safety. Though she had crossed onto his lands, she had forsaken a groom or lady to attend her. Her horse galloped across the field, sheep scattering before them, and approached a low hedge that separated the patches of grass so the flocks could be rotated among the pastures.

Surely she’d slow; surely she’d stop. He found himself rising in the stirrup irons as if he could hold her up by sheer force of character.

The horse sailed up and over the hedge, and Lady Everard flew up and out of the saddle to land on the ground.

Will felt as if his breath had been knocked from him as well. Arrow was moving before he realized he’d directed the dappled gelding. Down they went, through the trees, over a stream. Every length Will sent up a prayer that he would find her unharmed. He galloped to the hedge and leaped from the saddle.

She had managed to raise herself into a sitting position and was gazing about her as if dazed. Will crouched beside her. Her tall-crowned hat had fallen, her curls hung free about her shoulders, and her cheeks were bright. She blinked at him as if surprised to find him there.

“Lady Everard,” he murmured, tightening his fist on the reins to keep from touching her. “Are you all right?”

She wrinkled her nose and puffed out a sigh. “I am remarkably disappointed. I’ve taken that hedge any number of times. Why was today any different?”

He wasn’t sure whether to hug her to him in relief or shout at her for risking her life. He settled for rising and going to fetch her horse, which was waiting for her a few yards away. When he returned with the black-coated mare, Lady Everard had retrieved her hat and was struggling to take another step, the skirts of her blue riding habit heavy with the mud of the field.

“Easy!” He dropped both reins and reached for her, but she held out her free hand to prevent his touch.

“I’m fine,” she said, straightening to her full height, which still put her under his chin. She took a hesitant couple of steps and nodded. “Yes, quite fine.” She dimpled up at him. “But thank you for your concern.”

Will shook his head at her cavalier attitude. Didn’t she know she could have broken her neck? “You’re certain?”

“Reasonably. Though I could use your help to mount.”

That was it? He couldn’t think of a lady of his acquaintance who would take such a fall so calmly. His Peg had refused to ride, saying the great beasts frightened her, and he’d felt distinctly manly at the time that he was so comfortable in the saddle. In his travels he’d met any number of women who rode or drove wagons pulled by horses, donkeys or oxen, but those women had never been among the aristocracy.

“Your servant, Lady Everard,” he said, bemused. Knowing his horse was well trained enough not to wander off, he handed her her horse’s reins and bent to cup his fingers.

Hat back on her head, Samantha Everard put her foot in his hands. For all her bravado, it was a surprisingly small foot. Even encased in a sturdy brown leather half-boot, it fit easily in his grip, and she seemed to weigh next to nothing as he lifted her into the saddle.

She spread her sodden skirts as she settled into place. “Thank you, my lord. I appreciate your kindness.”

But not necessarily his presence. Already she was gathering the reins, preparing to ride off. He should let her go, hurry back to Kendrick Hall and all those tedious estate duties. But those duties would not help him understand her, or protect his son.

“Then perhaps you would grant me a favor,” he said.

She arched a brow. “A favor?”

He lay his hand on her stirrup, gazed up at her with his best smile and was surprised to hear his heart pounding louder than when he’d seen her fall. “Allow me to ride with you. I’d like to apologize for my behavior last night and become better acquainted.”

* * *

It should have been easy to urge Blackie to a run and dash away, but Lord Kendrick’s face, turned up to her, was bright with hope. Those green eyes positively twinkled in the summer sun, as if being with her was the most delightful thing he could imagine. Besides, her hip was beginning to protest its collision with the ground, and she didn’t relish galloping at the moment.

“Very well, my lord,” she said.

Returning to his horse, he swung himself up into the saddle as if from long practice and eased alongside her. His dapple gray was a fine animal, with dark intelligent eyes and a ready step. She was certain he’d give Blackie a good run, if she’d have dared to race today. But perhaps she should try to remember she was a lady for a change.

Together they set off across the pastures toward Kendrick Hall. The air was still cool so close to the mountains, scented with damp earth and growing things. London never smelled this good. No country estate she’d visited matched the crisp scent either. She found herself drawing it in. It smelled like home.

“You’re certain you’re fine,” he asked again, as if noticing her deep breaths.

Samantha felt herself coloring. “I’ve taken a fall or two in my time, sir. There’s no need to fuss over me.”

Immediately she regretted the tartness of her words, but he merely smiled. “Habit. It seems I’ve grown a bit too much into the fatherly role.”

Just as Jamie was outgrowing it, she realized. She remembered how she’d had to accustom herself to her three guardians when her cousins had first arrived at Dallsten Manor on her father’s death. Lord Everard had kept his nephews in the dark about his wife and daughter. Certainly Samantha had never dreamed she had a family until her father had died and his will demanded that she work with her cousins to save her inheritance and theirs.

The will had required her to be presented to the queen, to be welcomed in all the homes who had refused admittance to her scandalous father and to garner an offer of marriage from three eligible gentlemen. One had been from her old friend Toby Giles, one from her cousin Vaughn and one from the brother of the man who rode beside her. Only one requirement remained, and she knew she would never fulfill it now.

“Still, there’s no need to apologize,” she told him as they crossed the stream, the horses’ hooves splashing in the sparkling mountain waters. “You were only trying to protect Jamie. I used to do the same thing when we were younger.”

He held the reins lightly, but his gaze flickered over her. “Did you?”

Could he not see her in that role? “Certainly. He was so cute when he was little, so earnest.” She smiled, remembering. “He would do anything I suggested. I had to be very careful, I promise you.”

He seemed to sit taller in the saddle. “And now you’ve returned,” he said, and something simmered in his warm voice. “But not to stay, it seems.”

The light of day made this conversation no easier than it had been last night. She said the lines she’d rehearsed. “I thought it was time I took a more active role in the summer party. It’s a family tradition, and it’s been years since I even attended.”

“So I understand. Eight, isn’t it?”

Did he think to upbraid her? She offered him a smile and said sweetly, “Less than the nine or more years you were away.”

He grimaced, a quirk of his gentle mouth that reminded her of Jamie. “Your point. I should be the last one to question why someone would want to leave Evendale.”

Or return. She knew why he’d come back, and though she was glad Jamie had been reunited with his father, the knowledge of the part she’d played was a weight on her heart.

“And how go plans for the big event?” he asked as if realizing she was too quiet. Her—quiet! How her cousins would laugh if they knew. She certainly had no trouble talking to anyone else, and she very much feared it wasn’t her guilt that was keeping her tongue-tied.

She could see Kendrick Hall rising ahead of them and directed Blackie to stop.

“Well enough,” she answered him as he pulled his horse up beside hers. “There will be a puppet show, a whirligig and more pies than anyone should safely eat.”

“And dancing in the evening?”

She blushed at his tone and wasn’t sure why. “Certainly, my lord. That is tradition, too.”

“And woe betide us for changing tradition,” he said with a chuckle. “As you did not favor me with a dance last night, I hope you’ll save one for me at the party.”

A dance? With him? Ever since her father had instituted the annual summer party, she’d dreamed of dancing. When she’d left for London, she had been too young, in her governess’s eyes, to participate. The party had been held the past eight years without her as she’d attended one house party after another, from Cornwall in the south to Carlisle in the north, all to fulfill the last requirement of her father’s will. She’d had to delegate the party to her housekeeper and Mrs. Dallsten Walcott.

Now at last and possibly for the last, Samantha was the hostess.

“I will certainly see if I can find time for a dance,” she promised. “But I expect to be very busy, my lord.”

He barked a laugh. “Well, that’s a leveler. I thought all young ladies wished to dance with eligible earls.”

Did he consider himself eligible, then? She thought every lady within miles must be setting her cap at him. Funny. Given his history she’d somehow considered him immune.