A Gamble on Love (14 page)

“
And pray who is in charge of Pevensey
Park?” Mrs. Stanton demanded.

“
I am,” Aurelia declared. “Mr. Saunders
is currently searching for a new steward. Since I am sure we are
all agreed he is as competent as he is charming, I am confident he
will find an admirable candidate for the position.” She could not
possibly have said that! Yet it was true. Whatever one might say of
Thomas Lanning or his friend Mr. Saunders, they were each
remarkably capable men. For a moment Relia allowed herself to think
of Oswald Pitney and Viscount Hanley. Where would Pevensey Park be
if she had married either of them?

She shuddered. It did not bear thinking
on.

Fortunately, Biddeford returned with a tray
of tea and scones, and the conversation fell into a general
exchange of country gossip. An illness here, a new baby there, a
possible romance, the continuing (and quite delicious) feud between
wife of the dean of the village church and the vicar’s wife.
Indeed, the visit of Margaret Stanton and her daughter went far
beyond the customary half hour, brought to an end only by
Biddeford’s reappearance.

“
A Mr. Arnold has arrived, Ma’am. The
upholsterer Mr. Lanning said he would send down from London,” he
added with significant emphasis. Clearly, Biddeford felt the need
to let their visitors know that Thomas Lanning had not totally
abandoned his wife.

“
You may tell him I will be with him
shortly,” Relia said, hoping she had managed to maintain a
dignified façade even as her heart raced. He had not forgotten!
Thomas had sent someone to effect the redecoration of the
bedchambers, just as he had promised. He was coming back. When, she
didn’t know . . . but it would appear he expected to return. How
very lowering to admit, even to herself, that she had, indeed, felt
abandoned.

Thomas Lanning had done exactly what she had
hoped her hired husband would do—return to his own affairs in
London, leaving her in charge of Pevensey Park. And yet, as much as
she hated to admit it, his departure had brought gloom instead of
relief. Unfeeling, despicable lout.

Wrong. No matter what had sent him haring off
to London—her own arrogance and sharp tongue?—Thomas Lanning was
the rock on which Pevensey Park would be fixed for the next thirty,
forty, perhaps even fifty years. Surely, she could endure almost
anything for an assurance of that security.

A sensible and admirably pragmatic concept.
But, later, Aurelia would wonder what she would have done if she’d
had so much as an inkling of what was to come.

Life soon settled back into the even
tenor of earlier days at Pevensey Park. Aurelia ordered
long-delayed repairs and improvements, for which the bills were so
promptly paid by Mr. Josiah Eastbridge, who had been astonished to
find himself in charge of a very large sum of Trevor funds. Mr.
Lanning’s credit among tenants and villagers soared beyond their
initial tentative approval. Not what the nobles called good
ton,
paying bills so fast, but Cits
understood about business, they did. Understood a man had to eat,
feed his family. Looked like Miss Aurelia had done well for
herself. For all of them.

Although Relia still suffered from the loss
of the life she had enjoyed when her parents were alive, she
reveled in her new power. Thomas Lanning had not lied. He had given
her what she wanted. She had even managed to recapture the aura of
serenity that had been so much the hallmark of life at Pevensey
Park. With broad strokes of his pen on a stack of papers he had
lifted the pall over Pevensey Park, her terrible urgency to find a
mate, and had returned her world to the beauty, peace and
tranquility she had once known.

Once Mr. Saunders found a steward, she would
even be able to abandon the desk in the estate room, where she
currently spent so much of her time. She would be able to indulge
in books, as her dear papa had done. She might even take up
embroidery again or possibly petitpoint. In a few months she would
be out of mourning and able to attend parties. Yes, indeed,
everything was exactly as she wished.

Be careful what you wish
for
. The old warning hissed at her out of the gloom of
the December day.

It was
not
too quiet. She did
not
miss him! He might stay away
forever.

The renovation of the two bedchambers and
shared sitting room was nearly complete. Thomas would wish to see
it. He would come to the country for the holidays. Of course he
would.

“
Ma’am?” Biddeford, looking a trifle
shaken, appeared in the doorway of the estate room, which was lit
only by windows high on the wall, thus requiring a good many
candles, even in early afternoon. “Two young persons have arrived.
I have put them in the Red Ante-Chamber, ma’am. The female . . .
a
young
female says her name
is Lanning.”

“
Lanning?” From behind the shelter of
the broad estate desk, Relia stared up at her butler. “You are
certain it was Lanning?”
Dear God, did
Thomas already have a wife?

Or perhaps a child?

He never said . . .

Placing her palms flat on the desk,
Relia forced her weak knees to straighten. She could, she would,
meet this challenge, as she had met the last. How
could
she have been foolish enough to
think that marriage would solve all her problems?

“
And the person with her?” she inquired
of Biddeford.

“
Nate Fairchild’s eldest, ma’am.
Brought the young miss here in his farm cart. And may I say neither
one looked too pleased about it?”

Relia took a deep breath, assumed her most
arrogant Trevor countenance. “Very well, Biddeford, let us see what
has been dropped upon our doorstep. And please send for Miss
Aldershot.”

“
And there she be,” Jake Fairchild
declared, “a-sittin’ in the common room, cryin’ her eyes
out—”

“
I was not!”

“
Yes, you wuz!”

“
That is enough!” Relia roared over the
two young people who seemed too intent on quarreling to offer any
coherent explanation of what they were doing at Pevensey Park. “You
will sit down. Both of you,” she added as Jake Fairchild looked at
the gold- and cream-striped satin chair and then at his well-worn
brown cord breeches in something akin to horror. “And then you, Mr.
Fairchild, will tell me your version, while Miss . . . Lanning, is
it?”—the girl nodded vigorously—“remains completely silent. Is that
understood?”

“
But I—”

“
Silence!” Relia looked up, relieved to
discover Gussie standing in the doorway, surveying the scene with
what could only be termed avid curiosity. When all four had settled
into chairs—Miss Lanning with a flounce and Mr. Fairchild rather
gingerly—Relia regarded the young man, whom she had known for many
years, with what appeared to be nothing more than calm expectancy.
She nodded, encouragingly.

“
It’s like this, y’see,” said Jake, “I
was taking hay t’ the Pig’s Whistle this side of Maidstone and
decided to ’ave a pint before I come home. And I see all t’ men in
the tap a-peerin’ into the common room. And there she was on the
settle, a-lookin’ like she lost her last friend.” Jake ducked his
head, tugged a forelock of his straight brown hair. “I know I
shouldn’t ’ave spoke to her, miss—I mean ma’am. Her bein’ a lady
and all—”

That remained to be
seen!
But Relia managed to keep her uncharitable
thought to herself.

“
I’d run out of money, you see,” Miss
Lanning interjected.

“
You
,” Relia
snapped, “will have your turn. For now, pray do not speak!” The
girl, who could not be a day over seventeen, slumped back in her
chair, lower lip protruding in a decided pout.
Heavens
, Relia thought,
is that how I looked when I defied my parents?
“Pray, proceed, Mr. Fairchild.”

“
Well, ’tis as she said. Seems like
she’d set out for Pevensey Park without having enough of the ready.
She’d had to sleep on the settle. Bill Tully, the landlord, woulda
throwed her out, but Pevensey Park be magic words. His missus told
him he might be sorry, for certain sure. So I told her—Miz Lanning—
I’d bring her on. Had to get Mrs. Tully to say she’d known me since
I was a nipper, but the young miss didn’t have much choice, now did
she? So that’s what I did, and here she is, safe and sound. If not
the most ungrateful wench I’ve seen in all my born days,” Jake
Fairchild added on a more plaintive note.

“
That was very good of you, Jake,”
Relia told him. “We are all most grateful. I think,” she added with
a swift glance at Miss Aldershot before turning her attention to
Miss Lanning—who was altogether too pretty, as well as lacking in
manners. Dark hair, enormous green eyes. Even sleep-deprived and
somewhat bedraggled, she was a stunning beauty. “And now,” Aurelia
declared, “let us hear who you are and what you have to say for
yourself.”

“
I am Olivia,” the girl said, nose in
the air, as if that were all the explanation Aurelia Lanning should
require.

“
And who, pray tell, is
Olivia?”

“
Olivia Lanning, of course. I told that
old butler, but he probably never said a word. He’s so high in the
instep you’d think he was master here instead of my
brother.”

“
Brother?” Relia echoed
faintly.

“
Thomas. You
are
Mrs. Thomas Lanning, are you not? The heiress
my brother married?”

“
I am,” Relia managed, though the words
came out on a whisper. “I am so sorry. I’m afraid . . . Thomas
never mentioned a word about you.” As the girl’s face fell—only for
a moment before pride reasserted itself—Relia realized how much her
words had hurt. “Where have you been living, Miss Lanning?” she
inquired quickly. “And how is it that you found yourself stranded
on the road? I am certain your brother would be appalled to learn
of it.”

Miss Lanning turned quite pale; her green
eyes widened in horror. “Oh, you must never, ever tell him. He
would be furious. I have been living with my Aunt Browning, you
see, my mother’s sister, but I cannot like her, and I have been
quite miserable. When Thomas wrote to say that he was married . . .
well, you see, I just had to come. You will take me in, will you
not? Thomas is my guardian, and I simply cannot bear to stay with
my aunt another moment now that Thomas has a wife and a real house
and—”

Relia held up a hand to stem the spate of
words. Silence fell. She noted that both Gussie and Jake Fairchild
were watching this family drama with avid fascination. “Am I to
understand,” the new Mrs. Lanning asked with care, “that you wish
to live here at Pevensey Park?”

Miss Lanning clasped her hands in front of
the top buttons of her rumpled green velvet pelisse. “Oh, yes, oh,
please! I’ll be good, I promise. I beg of you, do not send me back
to Aunt Browning.”

And, of course, Aurelia could not. Yet how
could Thomas not have told her he had a sister? The dangers the
child had been subject to, traveling all alone from . . . from
wherever she had lived.

Jake Fairchild was thanked for his timely
rescue and taken off to the kitchens for a bite to eat and a
replacement for his interrupted pint at the Pig’s Whistle. And
Gussie, patently overjoyed at the opportunity to exercise her
governessing skills once again, was whisking Miss Lanning out the
door when the newest member of the household paused, announcing, “I
don’t really like Olivia. I would much prefer to be called
Eleanor.”

“
But what would your brother say?” Miss
Aldershot asked.

“
I daresay he won’t mind,” Miss Lanning
replied airily. “Eleanor Ebersley is his mistress, and she’s ever
so grand. It is my fondest wish to be just like her.”

~ * ~

“
Charles!” Thomas Lanning, clutching
his wife’s letter in his hand, bawled once again,
“Charles!”

Since Mr. Lanning’s many enterprises required
Charles Saunders’s undivided attention, the young solicitor had the
sometimes dubious honor of a spacious office next to his employer’s
own. It was, therefore, not necessary for Thomas Lanning’s furious
bellow to carry all the way to Lincoln’s Inn Fields.

“
Oh, there you are!” Thomas growled as
Charles appeared. He thrust the letter into his friend’s
hand.

“
Good God!” Mr. Saunders breathed as he
scanned the missive from Pevensey Park. “I knew Livvy was a minx,
but this . . .” Charles pinned his friend with an accusing gaze.
“Is it true you never told Mrs. Lanning you had a
sister?”

“
We departed rather precipitately, as
you recall.”

“
You had three whole days in
Tunbridge—” Charles broke off, his classically pale English
complexion turning puce. “Beg pardon. Most stupid of
me.”

“
If you are implying I was distracted
by connubial bliss, you are fair and far out, I assure you,” Thomas
responded grimly.

“
Whyever not?” Purple succeeded puce as
Mr. Saunders choked, coughed, pounded his forehead with his fist.
“Beg pardon. I fear I left my brains at home with my
breakfast.”

“
No, no,” Thomas demurred, “’tis I who
am all about in my head. I had not anticipated . . . so
many—ah—complications in this marriage. I was notified yesterday
that Nicholas has been sent down,” he added with seeming
irrelevance.”