Anne Herries – The Scandalous Lord Lanchester (страница 4)
‘It was on the cards, but I may also be leaving the service soon. My uncle suffered a severe illness some months ago and needs to spend more time in the sun. My aunt asked me to help them get settled out here—and, as they have no other heir, her husband wishes me to take up residence at their estate in England and assume the running of the place.’
‘Shall you oblige them?’
‘Yes, I think so. Where are you staying?’
‘Here at the inn.’
‘That won’t do, Lanchester. We have plenty of room at the villa. I know I speak for my aunt when I say we should be happy for you to join us. Come and have dinner with us this evening. If you should care for it, you could stay with us for a few days. To be honest, I wouldn’t mind your advice about a few things …’
‘I am unable to dine this evening,’ Andrew said. ‘But if I can be of any help I shall be delighted to give whatever advice or practical assistance I may.’
‘I am glad I ran into you, Lanchester. My aunt will be delighted to meet you. She is feeling a little lost, anxious about finding the right place. They have rented a villa, but may also need something in Milan. My understanding of the language is not as good as I would like.’
‘Then I may be able to help,’ Andrew said. ‘I shall come back with you now and we may talk …’
Andrew was thoughtful as he matched his steps with the lieutenant’s. His meeting with Mariah that morning had been less promising than he’d hoped. It had been in his mind to tell her about his problem, because he was aware that at one time she might have been justified in believing he was considering making her an offer. If he told her that he could not think of marriage until he had cleared his name of this shadow of doubt, she might understand why he had let her down.
Mariah was beautiful, intelligent and wealthy. How could he expect that a woman like that would be prepared to sit around twiddling her thumbs while he floundered about trying to discover an enemy—an enemy who might or might not be Lieutenant William Gordon? The answer was that of course he could not expect it. Mariah had made it clear that she wanted to marry soon.
Even if he were free of the stain on his character, was she the woman he wanted above all others? At times he was so certain that his inability to speak almost choked him with frustration, but at others … at others he was not quite as sure. Mariah needed a husband—but would any man do? She’d married once for money and her husband had spoiled her. Would she expect to be indulged and given her own way again? Was that quite what Andrew wanted from a wife?
Dismissing his confused thoughts, Andrew turned his attention to his companion. Peter Grainger was a fellow officer. It was just possible that he might know where William Gordon was to be found, though he must be careful how he put it. Until he was certain who was behind this business, he must make no accusations.
‘That rose silk becomes you so well, dearest,’ Sylvia said as they prepared to go down and welcome their guests that evening. ‘I am so glad that you have decided to wear colours again.’
‘As you have told me many times, Winston would not wish me to mourn him for ever,’ Mariah said and smiled at her. Sylvia was a pretty, diminutive lady with a charming smile and good manners, and sincere in her affections. ‘I have decided to put the past behind me, Sylvia. I shall cease to look at every gentleman I meet with suspicion and enjoy being courted. I do not wish to live alone for the rest of my life and I cannot always be in the company of friends. It is my intention to marry soon.’
‘As to that, you know you are welcome to live with us, Mariah.’
‘You are so generous. Andrew told me that Lucinda has said much the same. She wants me to consider returning to Avonlea when I’ve had enough of Italy—though how anyone could ever be tired of such a glorious place I do not know.’
‘I do so agree with you,’ Sylvia said, looking fondly at her. ‘If Hubert had no estates to worry him I should prevail on him to stay for another six months at the very least. However, two months more is as long as he can spare and so we shall have to leave in a few weeks so that the journey home is achieved in easy stages.’
‘Yes, I know. Besides, there are pleasures to be had at home,’ Mariah said. ‘Winston has a beautiful country house. I have no desire to live there and shall probably let it to tenants, but they must of course be the right tenants. I think I would prefer to live in London with visits to Bath, Avonlea—and, of course, Italy, whenever I can prevail on someone to bear me company.’
‘I would not turn down the chance another year. We could always travel with friends if Hubert could not find the time to accompany us,’ Sylvia said. ‘But you may be married by then, dearest. Your husband will wish to travel with you no doubt.’
‘Perhaps …’ Mariah looked wistful. ‘Andrew kindly offered to vet my suitors for me. I think I shall accept his help. I have made up my mind that I would be more comfortable married to a decent man. I wanted to fall in love—but perhaps I should settle for a comfortable arrangement.’
‘Would you not regret it?’ Sylvia raised her brows. ‘Surely you are young enough to hope for a little romance in your marriage this time?’
‘I think Winston was the most romantic man I’ve ever met,’ Mariah said and laughed as she saw her friend’s surprise. ‘No, truly he was. Everyone saw the age difference between us and believed the worst—but he was so gallant and so loving to me. He kissed my hand every morning. Every night I found either a rose or a flower of some kind on my pillow. Even when he was ill he had the gardener bring in a perfect bloom to place in my room for him.’
Sylvia blinked hard. ‘You bring tears to my eyes, my love. Of course I knew that Winston adored you but I did not realise that he was such a sweet man. It is little wonder that you hesitate to marry for a second time. I do not think it will be easy to find a man like Winston again.’
‘No, I think I shall not,’ Mariah agreed. ‘But perhaps I should seek someone rather different this time. I was utterly spoiled in my first marriage, but I am older and wiser now. It is time for me to grow up, to move on.’
‘I do not think you could do better than Lord Lanchester himself,’ Sylvia said. ‘He is handsome, respected and has no need of your fortune—besides, I think he likes you, my love.’
‘Yes, I think he likes me,’ Mariah agreed and sighed. She might never find such devotion as she had from Winston again, but she was so tired of being a widow. ‘However, Lord Lanchester shows no sign of making me an offer. I did think at one time—but he did not speak and I think I lost my chance. Something must have made him decide that I was not the wife he wanted, though he is still concerned for my safety and well-being.’
‘Perhaps the right moment has not yet presented itself,’ Sylvia suggested. ‘Be patient, Mariah. He may speak when he is ready.’
‘I fear patience is not my best virtue.’ Mariah laughed at herself, for she knew her own faults. ‘Once I make up my mind to something, I must act—and I have decided that I need a husband, or the promise of one, before we return to England.’
‘Think carefully, my love,’ her friend advised. ‘If you marry in haste, you may regret it.’
‘I have been a widow for nearly two years,’ Mariah said. ‘I have thought of contenting myself with affairs, but I think it would suit me better to be married.’
Seeing she had shocked her friend, Mariah laughed again and took her arm.
‘No, really, dearest, it would not be so very terrible, would it?’
‘Well … if one were discreet.’ Sylvia shook her head. ‘You have been married … I know you are teasing me—but Hubert would be most shocked if he heard you. You might lose all chance of a decent marriage, my dear.’
‘Yes, I dare say,’ Mariah said, slightly impatient, for she thought her friend’s husband a little pompous at times. ‘But I am so tired of sleeping alone… . I want to be courted for myself, loved.’
What would Sylvia think if she knew that her marriage had remained unconsummated? That she was, in fact, still a virgin? It was something she could never tell anyone, even her best friends.
A little later that evening Mariah stood by the open windows of the salon looking out at the night. The sky was velvet dark with only a faint light from the moon, which was half-hidden by clouds, but the air was much cooler after the heat of the day. She was tempted to walk in the gardens, but if she did, someone was sure to follow—and she could not be sure the right man would join her.
‘Mariah, my dear, I want you to meet some friends of Hubert’s,’ Sylvia said, causing her to turn round and look at the newcomers. With a little shock she recognised the man who had saved her from a fall earlier that day. ‘This is Sir Harold Jenkins, Lady Jenkins—and their nephew, Lieutenant Grainger.’
‘What a surprise to see you again, Lieutenant,’ Mariah said, extending her hand with a smile. ‘Good evening, Sir Harold, Lady Jenkins, I am pleased to meet you.’