Mary Brendan – Reunited With Her Viscount Protector (страница 10)

Dawn hadn’t stopped thinking of him either, despite the horror of losing her stepdaughter. Dawn had wished Jack had come to the funeral, but understood his reasons for staying away. The vicar had made it clear he wanted a small, discreet affair when his wife was laid to rest. He’d intimated it was from respect for her, but Dawn suspected it was to shield himself from disapproving looks. News might have circulated about the circumstances of Mrs Mansfield’s demise.

In all, the mourners had numbered just a dozen and most of those had comprised Peter’s ecclesiastical colleagues. A few neighbours and Dr Wilson had come to the wake at the vicarage which had lasted less than an hour.

‘What will you do now? Will you return to London?’ Jack enquired.

‘Yes... I must. I cannot stand to stay here with him. Neither, I think, does he want me to. At times I feel so angry that I cannot hold my tongue so am a constant reminder of his terrible neglect of Eleanor.’ Dawn frowned, remembering the vicar’s curt good morning to her when they had passed earlier in the hall. For her part she would sooner ignore him and keep her distance. When in his orbit she felt a compulsion to leap towards him and pummel him for what he’d done. ‘Peter still blames me for interfering, even though the doctor severely rebuked him for failing to get his wife the help she so desperately needed.’ She glanced at Lily. ‘Yet... I cannot bear leaving the poor little mite behind when I return home. I wish I could take her with me and care for her.’ Her voice broke and she shielded her distress behind unsteady fingers.

Jack gently drew her into his arms. ‘Come... You have endured a tragedy, but are coping admirably with it and I know you will continue to do so.’ He paused, brushing rogue chestnut curls away from her spiky wet lashes so he might gaze into a pair of bright green eyes. ‘The most sensible thing would be for the vicar to put his daughter into your care in London, at least until he sorts out a good nursemaid to take charge of his daughter.’

‘I have already suggested to him all of that, but because he knows how much that arrangement would please me, he has dismissed it out of hand.’ She knuckled fresh tears from her eyes. ‘The child is his responsibility, he says, and must stay with him. Yet he pays Lily no heed whatsoever. He doesn’t deserve to have the dear little thing.’

‘Am I right in thinking it is not just this calamity that has coloured your opinion of Peter Mansfield?’

‘I’ve never liked him. Now I loathe him,’ Dawn admitted with unsuppressed vehemence. She clamped together her lips; she had confided too much. She hardly knew Jack Valance, yet was telling him very personal things. She had felt that immediate connection to him years ago, almost from the day they’d met. But he obviously hadn’t felt the same way about her to so easily forget her and go abroad without a word. She had allowed him liberties then...and was doing so now, standing quietly within his embrace as though it were her natural place to be. But it wasn’t; if what she’d heard was true he had a fiancée. Though she knew he was simply comforting her, she stepped away from him. Just in time, as it transpired.

‘Ah... Valance. How are you, my good fellow? My servant said you had arrived.’ Peter Mansfield strode into the room and extended his hand. His attitude was completely different to that on the day he had first met Jack. Then he had treated him as an interloper instead of a guest.

‘My condolences on your loss, sir.’ Jack shook hands.

Peter huffed a sigh. ‘Thank you. I wanted a son more than anything.’ A silence followed, but the bereaved husband made no mention of missing anybody else as he plunged his hands on his hips. ‘I have heard talk in the village that you have taken up residence at Croxley Grange, Mr Valance.’

‘It is a temporary stay. My preference is to reside most of the year in London.’

‘We had heard that a viscount had taken over the whole estate.’ Peter clucked his tongue. ‘The gossips concoct such fantastical tales.’

‘On this occasion they are correct.’

Peter’s grin appeared to freeze on his face. ‘You are Lord Sterling?’ he eventually burbled.

‘I am.’ Jack gave a slow nod.

‘Well...what splendid news. While you are in the vicinity you are very welcome to visit the vicarage whenever you wish, my lord.’ Peter gave an obsequious bow.

Dawn darted a glance from beneath her lashes at Jack. He was watching for her reaction to the news he was an aristocrat. She was surprised to hear of his elevation, but then there had been no reason or opportunity for him to discuss his business with her. Years ago, when she’d believed them to be growing closer, he’d told her a little bit about his family. He was the younger son of a baron with a meagre allowance and few prospects, he’d said. She’d known things were different for him now. Emma’s husband had described his friend’s change in circumstances as Valance having found his feet and his fortune. And in rather a magnificent way, it seemed.

‘While you are in Essex, my lord, you must meet some of the local dignitaries,’ Peter declared, strutting to and fro across the rug. ‘I would most happily attend any social function you hold at the Grange and bring the bishop along with me to introduce you...’

‘As you are in mourning, sir, I doubt you would wish to socialise for some while,’ Jack smoothly said. ‘In any case, I have no plans to entertain during my brief stay, so you will miss nothing at Croxley Grange.’

Dawn had listened to the vicar’s blatant social climbing with mounting disgust. Not a single word or look to mark his guilt or sorrow on losing his wife. Yet, before the wreath on his front door had withered he was shamelessly wheedling for an invitation to dine with the new owner of the big house.

‘I deeply regret that I did not have a chance to become better acquainted with your wife.’ Jack knew he had the fellow squirming and he wasn’t about to let him off the hook. What he was determined to do was get Dawn what she wanted, and what the child needed. And what he needed. In London she would be close to him.

‘My stepdaughter would have liked an opportunity to know you better, too, sir,’ Dawn blurted out when it seemed Peter was intending to remain tight-lipped about his dead wife. Moreover he now appeared sullen. Well, let him sulk! She would not allow Eleanor to be forgotten so easily, or to be kept from a conversation to protect his ego!

Jack crouched down to stroke a finger on Lily’s soft cheek and be rewarded with a shy smile. ‘Mrs Mansfield’s daughter is her image; a lasting tribute to her mother. You must be very proud of your little girl, sir.’

Peter made a non-committal noise, fiddling with his neckcloth and his perambulation of the room became speedier.

‘Yes, indeed, she is like her mama.’ Dawn again broke the silence and she gave Jack a grateful smile. Although no word of a plan of action had passed between them she sensed he’d decided to be her ally against Lily’s father.

‘Have you arranged tea for Lord Sterling?’ Peter barked. He resented being put in his place. He barely glanced at Lily even though a pointed reference had been made to her. In turn the little girl seemed oblivious to the fact her father was close by.

‘I want no tea, thank you,’ Jack said, straightening up.

‘Please take some port, then, my lord.’ Peter didn’t want to lose his illustrious guest before he’d inveigled himself into the fellow’s good books. He was also inquisitive about what was to become of the largest estate for miles around. He strode to the sideboard and poured two glasses of ruby wine without offering Dawn a drink. ‘Do take a seat, my lord; you must tell me all about your plans for Croxley Grange.’ He gave Dawn a sharp nod so she would sit down, allowing the gentlemen to do likewise.

Dawn returned to her chair, not for the vicar’s sake, but for her own. She also wanted to keep Jack Valance’s company. For as long as possible. After days of being battered by anguish, his presence today had actually lifted her spirits, made her feel more alive than could even Lily’s sweet company. Constantly fretting over her granddaughter’s bleak future living with a parent who seemed careless of her existence was guaranteed to depress Dawn.

‘We heard the house was run-down and had been returned to the Crown on the death of the previous owner. Viscount Welham had no heir. He was an odd fellow—kept very much to himself and sadly contributed little to the community.’ Peter took a swig from his glass. ‘It was most disappointing that the man was no proper benefactor to good causes as one in his position should be.’

‘The Grange will be restored to a sound condition—other than that I have no plans for any major changes.’ Jack politely sipped at the port that had been forced into his hand, then placed the glass on a table.

‘Oh...a great pity, sir; the presence of gentlemen of your standing is sorely needed in the area.’

‘I will give to local charities, whether or not in residence in Essex,’ Jack said with a hint of a sardonic smile.