Regina Scott (6 page)

The yearning in the lad’s voice cut into Will. He thought he understood what had bonded his son and Lady Everard when they were younger, despite the differences in their ages and genders. Jamie had been an only child being raised by his grandfather; she had been an only child being raised by her governess, with only occasional visits from her father. With Kendrick Hall so close to Dallsten Manor, it was natural the two should band together.

But now their lives were different. Jamie had been away at school, and Will knew that Eton was a far cry from the rest of the world. Samantha Everard had seen more of that world, if only in England. The way Will had found her crying in the library said she’d seen heartache. Could Jamie appreciate the woman she’d become?

If she had a similar thought, she didn’t show it. Nor did she take the opportunity Jamie had offered to monopolize his attentions. “There’s always the summer party,” she offered with a gentle smile. “Everyone comes to that.”

Again, Will felt his son’s pain. “Yes, I suppose so,” Jamie said, looking away.

But in doing so, he missed the struggle Will could see in Samantha. Her golden brows lowered, and her hand twitched in her lap as if she longed to reach out to Jamie. What was going on inside her? Was she interested in capturing Jamie’s heart, or not?

As if making a decision, she put a hand on Jamie’s arm. “Tell you what—you always wanted to learn to fence. Why don’t I teach you?”

Will brought his cup to his mouth and took a sip to hide his groan. Lady Everard might have more experience in Society, but both of them needed lessons in diplomacy!

Jamie washed white and pulled away from her touch. “I learned to fence at Eton, thank you very much. What kind of man do you think me that I need a girl to teach me?”

“A girl?” There went her back up once more.

Mrs. Dallsten Walcott tittered again. “How silly. I’m certain it was just a jest. Tell Lord Wentworth it was just a jest, Samantha.”

Samantha’s lips were so tight Will didn’t think a word could have escaped. Indeed, all her emotions were leaping in her dark eyes. This needed to end.

He set down his cup. “I’m sure you’d agree, madam,” he said to Mrs. Dallsten Walcott, “that there’s no need to apologize for an acquired skill. Nor would Lady Everard be the first woman to acquire it.”

Mrs. Dallsten Walcott gasped as if he’d suggested all men start wearing petticoats.

Samantha, however, relaxed in her seat. “It’s excellent exercise,” she said, but more as if she were stating a fact than justifying her pastime. “So is boxing.”

He thought Mrs. Dallsten Walcott might have apoplexy. Even Jamie was regarding his friend with something akin to shock.

“It certainly is,” Will temporized. “James is rather good at that as well.” He gave his son a nod of encouragement. “But he excels at the blade. I imagine he’d be delighted to show you, Lady Everard.”

Once more she beamed at him, and he felt as if he were the most clever fellow on the planet. When she turned that smile to Jamie, the room seemed to dim.

“What do you say, Jamie?” she asked. “Shall we fence?”

“Now, now,” Mrs. Dallsten Walcott interrupted. “This has gone far enough. A match between a man and a woman is unseemly.”

Though Will knew many who would agree, hearing the sentiment expressed so vehemently made him question it. Why shouldn’t a lady fence with a gentleman, if both were willing and skilled? He’d never been one to confine a person, by age, class or gender. Why start now?

Samantha frowned at her chaperone. “I’ve fenced with men before. Cousin Vaughn taught me the basic moves years ago, and I’ve had bouts with my cousins Jerome and Richard as well.”

“And I’m certain you taught them a thing or two,” Will said before Mrs. Dallsten Walcott could protest further. “It sounds as if you quite enjoy the sport.”

“More than I should,” she admitted with a bubbly laugh, her composure restored. “You must fence as well, my lord.”

Will shrugged, but Jamie spoke up. “He’s an expert. You should join us Monday afternoon for our weekly bout.”

Will tensed and wasn’t sure why. He had no doubt he could hold his own with the blade. He was starting to fear he would have far less luck with his heart. He held his breath as she gazed at Jamie.

She had to see how much her answer meant to the lad. Emotion simmered in Jamie’s eyes, tension tightened the skin across his nose. He wanted her to fence with him, more than anything.

“Very well, then, James,” she said. “If it pleases you.”

Will let out his breath and thought Jamie was doing the same. But he was no longer sure which of them was anticipating the match more.

Chapter Six

T
he tea party over, Jamie insisted on accompanying their guests to the front door, so Will tagged along and watched while Jamie bent over Lady Everard’s hand and stammered his goodbyes. Will didn’t think it was his imagination that she uttered a sigh of relief as the door closed behind her and her chaperone.

Perhaps she found it difficult to be the focus of Jamie’s attempts at courting. It was becoming increasingly clear to Will that any hope for a love match between her and Jamie lay entirely with his son. Lady Everard saw the lad for what he was—an untried colt with the potential to win races, but not today, and certainly not in the fortnight she planned to be in Evendale.

He didn’t relish watching Jamie figure out as much.

He supposed he could tell his son. He’d have to call on every ounce of the diplomatic skill he’d acquired in his nearly ten years of service. Convincing the Pasha of Egypt to free British sailors kidnapped by the very pirates he funded was child’s play next to telling Jamie he had to let Samantha Everard go.

“An amazing woman,” Will said to Jamie’s back as his son rushed to the window to watch the ladies climb into their waiting coach. “Who would have thought she fenced?”

Jamie glanced back at him and made a face. “And why would she think I still didn’t? I don’t need her to tutor me.”

Will rubbed his hands together. “You’ll show her as much on Monday, I know.”

Jamie nodded, but he stood at the window long after Will heard the Everard carriage depart.

The matter of Samantha Everard remained on Will’s mind the rest of the day, but he could find no easy way to speak to his son about her. He could only hope Sunday might be a day of rest for him and Jamie. Sundays were generally reserved for worship and family in the Evendale valley.

Will had participated in cathedral services, where voices echoed off stone arches that seemed as massive as one of the fells. He’d prayed in a tiny cave while a desert sandstorm howled at the entrance and grit closed his throat. Until he had returned to Kendrick Hall, he had almost forgotten the peace to be had in the little stone chapel at the edge of their estate.

His great-great-great-great-grandfather had ordered the hewing of the reddish stones that made up the walls. His great-great-great-uncle had replaced the previous dark pews with ones of polished oak. His great-great-grandmother had endowed the stained-glass windows that cast jeweled reflections on the worshiping congregation. His contribution for the moment consisted of a stone monument in the churchyard, where Peg had been laid to rest seventeen years ago this week.

No, that was unfair of him. He’d been involved in the parish since the day he’d returned. One of his first duties on becoming earl had been to install a new vicar when the previous man had left for a well-earned retirement. Mr. Pratt was a small man with a bare pate and trembling hands. Unfortunately even after several years in leadership, he consulted Will before making any decision.

Today Will and Jamie had already taken their seats in the Kendrick pew near the front of the church when a murmur ran through the waiting congregation. Samantha, Lady Everard, was making her way up the center aisle, a green velvet spencer over her gray lustring gown, peacock feathers waving from her velvet cap. She smiled at everyone and took her place beside Mrs. Dallsten Walcott in the Dallsten pew directly in front of Will. The scent of roses drifted over him.

It seemed a little peace was too much to ask.

As services began, Will wasn’t surprised to find Jamie fidgeting. They had all heard the words many times before, though Will usually found something new to intrigue him.

But it didn’t appear to be familiarity that bored his son. Jamie kept leaning forward, tilting his head, and Will was sure it wasn’t to better hear the sermon that followed the readings. No, Jamie was trying to catch a glimpse of Samantha Everard’s face, perhaps meet her gaze. To his sorrow Will had done the same thing when he’d been Jamie’s age—using any excuse to turn and look at Peggy several rows back.

To Lady Everard’s credit, however, she did not look at Jamie. Her gaze was on the vicar or the
Book of Common Prayer
whenever Will glanced her way, and Jamie’s heavy sigh told Will that she hadn’t favored the lad with a look even when Will had been focused on the vicar. From what he could tell by her bowed head and sweet voice, she seemed to take her worship seriously.

Normally so did Will. His father had raised him with a healthy respect for the church, and what he’d seen on his travels had only underscored the need to honor his Savior. But lately he felt his prayers laden with more questions than answers.

Why couldn’t Peg have lived to see their son become a man?

Why were they in danger of losing Kendrick Hall when he had worked hard to manage well?

Why had his brother been killed eight years ago?

Why couldn’t he get his mind off Samantha Everard?

Forgive me, Lord. You’ve seen me through robbery and rebellion. I know You have a plan for me now. I just can’t see it at the moment.

As if on cue the final hymn started, the congregation rose and voices swelled. Sunlight glittered through the stained-glass windows, casting a rainbow over the front pew, and Samantha Everard.

Was she part of the Lord’s plan for Will’s future?

He dropped his gaze to the flagstones at his feet. Even if he could convince himself to open his heart again, his place was here in Evendale. She had made it plain she wasn’t staying beyond a fortnight. And he could not hurt his son by evincing interest in the woman Jamie loved. Will needed to let go of these feelings she was raising in him.

Unfortunately letting go was the hardest thing for him to do.

* * *

Samantha sighed contently as the service ended. She’d worshipped at St. George’s, Hanover Square, with most of the denizens of London’s wealthy West End. She’d even spent a few occasions at the grand Westminster Cathedral. But there was nothing quite so satisfying as this church where she’d been raised. The light from the stained-glass windows always made her feel as if God was sending a blessing just for her.

Around her, the congregation was filing out, the murmur of their voices lapping at her like warm waves. The people of the valley would gather for a moment in the churchyard, she knew, to exchange greetings, pass messages about friends and family. She clung to the peace of the sanctuary a moment, closing her eyes.

Lord, I’ve made so many mistakes the past few years. I’ve been impetuous, headstrong and obstinate. Each time, I’ve come to You, and You’ve forgiven me. Help me now to do what’s right, for all of us.

She opened her eyes to find Mrs. Dallsten Walcott regarding her quizzically. “Is something wrong, dear girl?”

Samantha smiled. “No. Just appreciating this place, our people.” She wrapped her arms around the lady and gave her a hug. She knew it was impetuous, but she was fairly sure God looked kindly on such acts of love.

Mrs. Dallsten Walcott did so as well, it seemed, for she was smiling when Samantha released her.

“Come along now,” she said as if to hide the lapse in her normally composed demeanor. “I want to introduce you to the new vicar. He hasn’t Mr. Ramsey’s presence, but he’s very good about knowing his place.”

By that Samantha guessed the new vicar knew how to toady up to the lady. Though the Dallstens had once been one of the most prestigious families in the area, Samantha’s father, the former Lord Everard, had changed that when he’d purchased their impoverished estate and installed his wife and young daughter in the manor. Mrs. Dallsten Walcott had gone to live in the dower cottage at the foot of the drive, her provenance supplied by her daughter’s work as Samantha’s governess.

In other places the change in her status might have been enough to cost Mrs. Dallsten Walcott the respect of the community. But the local families still held the Dallstens in high esteem, which was evident by the number of people waiting to greet Samantha’s chaperone when she and Mrs. Dallsten Walcott exited the church.

But Jamie and his father were not among them. She’d known they’d been right behind her in church; Jamie and his grandfather had always sat in that pew when she’d been growing up. Then as now, his presence had brought comfort.

Jamie’s father was another matter. At times she’d found it difficult to concentrate on her worship, knowing Lord Kendrick might be looking at her back. Was her cap on straight? Was she standing reverently enough? Oh, but she shouldn’t worship to please anyone but her heavenly Father!

Yet the moment she spotted him and Jamie standing in the shade of an elm along the edge of the churchyard, she felt a similar wish to please Lord Kendrick. She wanted him to approve of the way she smiled and exclaimed over new babies, recent marriages and good fortune. She hoped he would join her in commiserating over deaths, illness and hard times. But though she felt his gaze on her as she followed Mrs. Dallsten Walcott from group to group, he remained on the edge of the yard.

What was he waiting for? Why didn’t he approach her? She could not have given him a disgust of her by admitting she fenced, or he was not the man she thought him. What kept him away?

She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or dismayed when Mrs. Dallsten Walcott finally drew her up beside Jamie and Lord Kendrick. Jamie looked dapper in a navy coat and trousers, his cravat tied in some complicated knot she thought must have given his valet fits.

But Lord Kendrick outdid his son. He wore a dove-gray cutaway coat over black trousers, his cravat simply but elegantly tied, the buttons on his silver-shot waistcoat gleaming in the sunlight. And those boots! The scarlet leather was tooled with fanciful birds and sweeping palms. She was certain there wasn’t another pair like them in England.

Lord Kendrick and Jamie had been talking with another fellow dressed more humbly in brown coat and trousers, and it wasn’t until he pulled off his top hat to reveal carrot-colored hair that she recognized him, and every other thought flew from her mind.

“Toby!” Samantha enfolded her friend and former suitor in a hug, then stepped back to eye him. “Oh, it’s been ages. How are you?”

His grin was as bold as ever. “Quite fine, thank you.”

Lord Kendrick’s smile was amused. “I take it you know the gentleman.”

Samantha blushed, realizing she’d been her usual enthusiastic self, a fact that had caused more than one of her acquaintances to cringe. Of course London was a far more formal place than the Evendale valley, and she had known Toby most of her life.

“She knows me to her sorrow, I’m sure,” Toby replied for her. “I once laid my heart at her feet.”

Lord Kendrick raised a brow.

Samantha couldn’t help laughing at Toby’s exaggerated sigh. “You remember it decidedly differently, Mr. Giles. As I recall, my cousin Vaughn made a cake of himself over some imagined slight, and you felt obliged to offer for me to appease him.”

Now Toby laughed as well. “I’m sure it would have taken a lot less than the threat of your cousin to get me to propose in those days. But life moves on. I’ve a missus about somewhere.” He glanced around the churchyard and beckoned to someone. “We can’t all wait for Lady Everard, eh, Lord Wentworth?”

Jamie turned a darker red than Toby’s hair.

Samantha nudged him with her elbow. “Lord Wentworth isn’t waiting for me either. I’m sure he has his sights on the perfect young lady.”

Jamie gazed at her. “I recently made such a decision, actually.”

“And here are Mrs. Giles and her delightful children,” Lord Kendrick put in smoothly, stepping back to make room for the brood. Samantha counted at least six, but she could easily have been mistaken, for the group cavorted around her like a pack of hounds, and it was difficult to estimate the number.

“There’s Molly and Polly, Dick and Nick, Ed and Ned and Hepsibah Elizabeth,” Toby said proudly. He leaned closer to Samantha. “The last is named for her grandmother.”

Nick and Ned—or was it Dick and Ed?—started a tussle, and Toby waded in to stop it. Samantha backed up and bumped into Lord Kendrick, and his hands came down on her shoulders to steady her.

“There’s a happy bunch,” his warm voice murmured beside her ear. “I always wanted a large family.”

“So did I,” she murmured back. “Jamie and I would have done anything for siblings.”

Too late she realized he might take that as judgment. His hands and his presence withdrew. Stricken, she turned to face him. His smile had faded, and his look was deeper, sorrowful, as if a cloud covered the forest green of his gaze.

“I’m so sorry, my lord,” she said. “I meant no disrespect.”

He shrugged, but she thought it cost him. “You spoke the truth,” he replied. “I left Jamie alone far too long. If duty hadn’t recalled me home, I might never have seen my son grow up.”

Now she felt the sting. She knew the duty that had called him home—the death of his older brother. She should apologize for that as well, yet how did one apologize for playing a part in murder?

“There we are,” Toby proclaimed, a son tucked under each arm, their feet dangling. “Come meet the missus.”

Samantha pasted on a smile and turned to greet Toby’s wife, a pale, thin woman with luminous eyes. But she couldn’t help remembering someone else entirely—Lord Kendrick’s lost brother and her other suitor, Gregory Wentworth.

* * *

Will joined in the conversation with Samantha and the Giles family, but it was clear something had troubled her. The light of her usual energy had dimmed. Why?

Was it her memory of how he had abandoned his son? He was ready to own his part in the matter. His behavior had come home to him when he’d returned to Kendrick Hall after news of Gregory’s death had finally reached him, only to find Peg’s eyes gazing back at him from his son’s too-solemn face. It had taken him the better part of a year to gain Jamie’s trust. It had taken far longer for him to forgive himself.

Perhaps that was why he was so determined that Jamie not repeat his mistakes. Jamie was too young to consider marriage. Will had to help him see that.