Secrets in Mourning Page 5

  This was one of those days she questioned the value of thirty thousand pounds in her life. Was it truly worth it?

  He was coming with her. She was going out with a man who, if he didn’t outright despise her, was clearly indifferent to her. A man who worked his own land and was appreciated and respected by those over whom he had stewardship.

  Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe in deeply. He would see her humiliation as she struggled with this task.

  She shouldn’t care. He hadn’t been kind to her. And she certainly wasn’t interested in him in a romantic way.

  “His Lordship is waiting in the foyer for you. Shall I tell him you’ll be down shortly?” Elizabeth, the maid, looked to the far wall in the room, not bothering to spare her a glance. Others would think that the servant was well trained, but by the rigidness of her shoulders, Victoria knew that it wasn’t her training, but the fact that the girl did not relish speaking with her.

  No matter how much more understanding she had become of their plight in life, they hadn’t warmed to her. They probably never would.

  “No, thank you. I shall join him directly.”

  Not bothering to wait for another reply, the maid bobbed a curtsy and left.

  Steeling herself for the afternoon, she walked down the halls and staircase with a calmness she didn’t feel.

  Her façade was in place. Nothing would touch her.

  “I see you are prompt. I appreciate that.”

  The comment threw her off a little, bringing her to a faltering halt at the base of the staircase. “I saw no reason to delay.” The distasteful ring to her words came out unbidden, and by the flexing of his jaw, she could tell that he caught the tone.

  Perplexed with her behavior, she followed his suddenly receding back from the house. Why had she said that? She was unnerved, yes, but there hadn’t been any reason to let him know it. Where was her discipline?

  Surely, she had more than that. Or perhaps it had all fled when she had left London.

  Shaking her head firmly, she denied that possibility. Without the rein on her emotions, she would never be able to finish the year out.

  But his anger would need to be appeased. It would make the situation so much worse if they were to continue on, visiting the sick and poor in this manner.

  She swallowed, knowing the words she needed to say, but knew they wouldn’t be easy. Words never were when you were unused to saying them. “I’m sorry.”

  He halted so suddenly, she had to step to the side to avoid slamming into his back. “What?” He snapped around, searching her face.

  “I said, ‘I’m sorry’.” She could tell he wasn’t certain whether to believe her or not. “Truly. I am somewhat nervous for these visits, but I should have had more tact as to not reveal that.”

  “Nervous? Whatever for?” His confusion seemed genuine.

  “Usually, when someone is ill, they have no desire to see me.”

  “Why is that?” He stopped, adjusting to lean against the fence, waiting for her explanation. She had noticed that trait before, and she couldn’t decide if it was unnerving or comforting. He gave her his full attention, seemed to take in everything. She knew he didn’t miss one flicker of movement, one ounce of feeling that she had. She wasn’t sure anyone had paid that much attention to her in her life.

  No one except her brother. He always seemed to know everything.

  Trying not to squirm, she looked off at the horizon. The Earl was every bit as observant as her brother was. She would need every ounce of will power to keep from giving away things she would rather he not know.

  “I’ve been told I have an unpleasant bedside manner,” she said wryly. A small quirk of her lips followed her words. Her brother had hated when she feigned nonchalance, but she didn’t care if it bothered the Earl.

  He stood there quiet, and she knew he was searching for more information, but she wouldn’t give any away. He didn’t need to know anything more about her. Didn’t need to know her weaknesses. When others knew them, they could be used as a weapon.

  “Well, let’s hope that it improves over time.” He began walking again, but at a slower pace, allowing her to walk beside him. A cart laden with offerings stayed a ways behind, providing them with privacy.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because this will be a weekly task for you.”

  “Weekly!” The thought of her enduring this for one afternoon was almost more than she could stand, let alone knowing it would be something she would have to endure every week for a year. It was unthinkable.

  A knot began to form in her stomach.

  “Yes, weekly. Who else will see to the task? You are in charge of taking care of the manor, and that includes the surrounding tenants and the village.”

  She saw the small smile he tried to hide and wanted to smack it off his smug face. He had seen though her mask and had realized how much she dreaded this.

  Why was he so intent on torturing her? What did he have against her? She tried to stay out of his way, tried not to come to him for anything more than was necessary.

  “I see. And will you be accompanying me every week?”

  He seemed to mull the question over, but she knew he was just baiting her. “I think not. After today, you should be able to continue on your own.”

  “How gracious of you.” There was no mistaking the malice there. It dripped from her words like acid.

  “There,” he said, pointing to a small cottage nestled between two budding trees. “That is the first cottage we shall visit. Her daughter is sick with a fever, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a few extra loaves of bread.” He motioned to the cart following them to stop in front of the house.

  Gathering their offerings, Victoria was more than happy to follow behind him, allowing him to take the lead. She didn’t know what to say, how to approach the strangers and offer them food. It all seemed so awkward.

  She didn’t do much at the first location. The woman had been grateful, smiling at the Earl with gratitude as he asked after her daughter by name, listening with rapt attention as she explained what the doctor had said before handing her the loaves of bread.

  It had all seemed easy enough at the first cottage, and even the second when the same thing happened.

  With only a few stops left, Victoria was feeling more at ease. He didn’t expect her to speak, to ask after the tenants’ well being, only to stand by and smile. And that was something she could do.

  After all, that was all anyone had ever expected her to do in her life.

  “Here, I want you to take these to the last house,” the Earl said, handing her a loaf of bread and a jar of preserves.

  “Me?” Having relaxed, Victoria wasn’t prepared for the request, and was unable to school her voice. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m absolutely serious.”

  Her shoulders began to tense. “No. Why don’t you do it? It’s the last one and the people seem so happy to see you.” The compliment rang false. It was a desperate attempt to sway him and they both knew it.

  “Why are you so afraid of this?”

  The words were kind, and his question was filled with honest curiosity, but it made something inside her snap back into shape.

  She wasn’t supposed to be afraid of anything. At least she wasn’t supposed to look that way.

  The cold mask reappeared, a slow smirk fitting to her face. “There isn’t much I’m afraid of, my lord.”

  His relaxed manner seemed to breeze away as quickly as her own. His eyes narrowed as if he were trying to tear away the prickly exterior she had erected. “Good. Then I should think this would be easy for you.” He sounded hard.

  Reaching for the basket of items, her chin lifted a notch. There was nothing left to say.

  Walking to the door, she heard him following closely behind her. He didn’t trust her. The realization hit her full force. Not that she expected him to, but he honestly didn’t think she could handle this.

  Squaring her
shoulders, she knocked on the door, a brittle smile on her face. She knew it was more of a grimace, but it was the best she could manage at the moment. Her hands were beginning to sweat, her satin gloves becoming sticky, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

  They were just people, people that were sick. People that needed her help. And if they hated her, what did it matter? Members of the ton hated her, servants hated her. She was used to it.

  Yet, for some reason it bothered her now.

  A woman opened the door a crack. She was young, perhaps even as young as Victoria herself, but she looked as if she had experienced harder things in her life. “May I help you?” she asked tentatively, glancing at Victoria’s expensive gown.

  There wasn’t any malice in the woman’s voice, no envy in her gaze as she looked at Victoria’s apparel. Just honest curiosity.

  Victoria’s shoulders relaxed, her smile began to curve naturally. “His Lordship and I were out today and thought you might enjoy these items. We heard that you have a sick child.”

  Startled, the woman glanced past Victoria to look at the Earl. “Forgive me, I had not realized, my lord. Would you and the mistress like to come in have a bite to eat?”

  Already beginning to give her regrets, the Earl strode forward. “We would be delighted, Elizabeth. Thank you.”

  The look the Earl passed her was one that brooked no arguments.

  While the woman was friendly enough, Victoria had no desire to enter the sick home. What if she did something wrong? What if she did something to upset the child further?

  Taking a heavy breath, Victoria steeled herself before entering the small cottage. Everything would be fine, and with any luck, they would be out of there quickly.

  Stepping into the woman’s home, she was shocked at how different it was from what she’d imagined. The outside was plain brown wood with little stonework for decoration. The roof was thatch and was obviously in good repair, but it was anything but pleasing to the eye.

  But the inside was much different. The heady aroma of the cooking fire, some stew or soup simmering over the flames that lapped at the pot, made the house feel homey, welcoming. The floors were bare except for one small rug in front of the fire, but they looked as if they had just had a recent cleaning. The stones were polished to a shine; not one speck of dust looked as if it would dare take residence there.

  The pallets in the corner looked fresh, the linens were nicely folded at the foot of each. There wasn’t even one dirty dish to be seen.

  “How is little Johnny?” the Earl finally asked after taking a seat at the small, round table.

  “He’s feeling a little better today.” Elizabeth deftly cut into one of the fresh loaves, offering the largest slice to the Earl. “Come on out, Johnny. Say hello to the Earl and his guest,” she called out.

  Scurrying out from behind a trunk, Johnny ran straight for the Earl. No older than three, the young boy with a disarray of sun-kissed hair and dirty fingers, jabbered with only a few coherent words.

  Laughing and ruffling the boy’s hair, he said, “It’s good to see you too.”

  “I think he’s missed seeing you.” Elizabeth smiled.

  The boy missed the Earl? She had felt uncomfortable, but now, seeing the boy act with such affection and familiarity with the Earl, her discomfort doubled. Elizabeth seemed so at ease, so relaxed in the her lord’s presence, and it was obvious that he felt the same. The child certainly did.

  What was their relationship? Sneaking a look from beneath her eyelashes, Victoria was surprised by the small sting of jealousy she felt.

  Was the child his? The thought jarred her. Could he have honestly brought her to his mistress’s home?

  She nibbled on the piece of bread, barely listening to the Earl’s small talk. Why would it matter to her? She had no claim on him, and no desire for one. Besides, she had no intention of staying in the country longer than required.

  But then why would she feel jealous? It was different than what she had felt for the Duke of Wathersby. With him, she had felt angry, consumed with a need to win. But this was so much different.

  It was uncomfortable, and these feeling were not something she wanted to examine further.

  The boy stopped his chattering and glanced in her direction. She froze, waiting for his traits to resemble Connor’s. But as the boy’s lopsided grin flashed, stray bread crumbs stuck to his face; he didn’t resemble him in any way.

  Running to her side, the boy wasted no time climbing up her skirts and onto her lap. “Oh, hello.”

  And with that opening for conversation, the boy let out a whole long stream of jibber jabber, looking at her expectantly when he finished.

  Never in her life had she seen anything so sweet, so innocent. The roll of laughter started in her belly, making its way up through her chest and finally out her mouth. She couldn’t contain it, couldn’t temper it.

  Once the child heard her laughter, he began to laugh, a high pitched squeal that made Victoria laugh even harder.

  When their laughter finally died down, the young boy gave her a smile and snuggled into her. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around the child, surprised by his actions. Never once had someone come to her for comfort.

  In the Ton, children weren’t seen or heard, they were hid away with their nannies, always out of the adults’ way. In fact, she couldn’t recall spending this much time in a child’s presence in her entire life.

  Glancing up from the boy’s head, she realized the room was silent. Connor looked perplexed, while Elizabeth looked as if someone had hit her over the head.

  Looking between the two, Victoria tensed, wondering if she had done something to upset them. “I’m sorry, would you like me to put him down?”

  “Oh, no.” Elizabeth put her hand to her chest before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry for staring that way, my lady, but Johnny hasn’t taken to strangers like that since his father died several months ago.”

  “His father?”

  Connor nodded. “Yes. He died in a lumber accident on the estate.” Victoria could hear the regret in his voice. He blamed himself.

  Elizabeth moved to put her hand on his shoulder, giving him comfort.

  “I’m sorry.” Victoria was careful to keep any surprise out of her voice. While Connor may not be the father, they definitely had a relationship other than tenant and landowner.

  Elizabeth accepted her sympathy with a nod. “If it wasn’t for Connor, I mean His Lordship, I’m not sure what we would do.”

  With Victoria looking closely between the two of them, Connor obviously realized the unspoken question. “You will always be taken care of, Elizabeth. I will never let anything happen to you.” Turning his attention to Victoria, he began to explain, “Elizabeth and I grew up together. Her father was our butler for many years and we were childhood friends.”

  Everything became clear. No wonder he took care of her. If there was one thing that she had learned about Connor in the last several weeks on the estate it was that he took care of what was his own. His servants never wanted for anything, his shrew of a mother was provided for, and his home received all the attention he could give it. He wasn’t a man to do things half-way. If someone or something mattered to him, he looked after of them.

  With the Earl and Elizabeth quietly talking, Victoria adjusted the boy in her lap. Feeling his weight slacken in her arms, she realized that he was quietly sleeping.

  Nuzzling his downy hair, Victoria almost sighed. The boy was precious by anyone’s standards, but her heart did a little extra beat when she held him closer.

  He was sweet, innocent. He didn’t care about rank or about money. He only cared about being loved.

  Had she ever been that carefree in her life? If she had, she couldn’t remember it. Trying to block unpleasant memories of her youth, her father’s harsh, demanding words, she didn’t hear Connor’s voice.

  “Lady Victoria?”

  Glancing up, she was startled to see both Connor and Eliz
abeth staring at her. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “Yes, I said we should probably be going.” Connor had a curious look on his face, but she wasn’t in the mood to decipher it.

  “Oh. All right.” She shifted, trying to move the child gently off her lap, but only succeeded in getting more tangled. Looking up to Elizabeth for help, the woman laughed lightly and bundled the child into her arms.

  Walking out the door, Victoria wondered if she would ever have her own child. But with the resolve to never remarry, she thought it was unlikely.

  It was a pity though. If she was sure to have a child like little Johnny, she might even reconsider marriage.

  But there were no such guarantees in life. As she well knew.

  Chapter 6

  “You wanted to see me?”

  Glancing up from her desk, Lady Evelyn Bryant’s lips curved wickedly. “Yes. I asked for you almost an hour ago.”

  Victoria stamped out the knee jerk retort that sprung to her lips, but just barely. Not only had the Dowager Countess been getting more demanding of late, she was also becoming much more difficult to avoid.

  “I was discussing the menu with cook. I was unable to get away before now.” It galled Victoria that she would be required to explain her actions. Never once in her life had she needed to justify her time. The fact that she barely had a moment to rest during the day made the need to defend herself even more frustrating.

  “I see. Well, the task that I have for you involves her, so you will need to speak to her again. If you had come to me directly, you wouldn’t need to interrupt her again and waste more her time.”

  Victoria’s hands clenched at her sides, her fingernails biting into the skin. The tiny pinpricks were enough to get her to remember why she was here, why she was enduring this woman.

  Independence.

  “What is it you would like to discuss with me?”

  Turning in her chair, the Dowager Countess turned more fully in her direction, her stiff black skirts rustling with the movement. Her back ramrod straight, she looked like a queen speaking with one of her subjects. No doubt that was the picture she wished to present.