Bronwyn Scott Page 19

  Tea was a polite interlude. There was nothing more than small talk exchanged. If there was to be an interrogation, it would occur in private. Well, there was no ‘if’. Mercedes knew there would be an interrogation. She was aware of Andrew’s eyes on her, studious and discerning. The next time she caught him watching her she looked him straight in the eye and smiled. He looked away hastily, nearly spilling his teacup and earning a short scold of caution from Lady Tiverton.

  Greer nudged her covertly with the toe of his boot as if to say, play nice. She’d try, but she’d decided after the second cup of tea she could be nothing other than she was and Mercedes Lockhart didn’t tolerate insolence in any form, not even from viscounts’ heirs.

  When rooms were ready, Mercedes found Emily and Clara at her side, insisting on accompanying her upstairs. They chattered the whole while, pointing out aspects of the house as they passed hallways and closed doors.

  ‘What’s down there?’ Mercedes gestured to one corridor the girls didn’t mention.

  ‘That’s all storage. It’s where we keep the nice things for special visits.’ Clara shrugged as if such an area was commonplace. Mercedes didn’t comment, but the corridor intrigued her. It might be worth a visit. She’d noticed a change in the house as they’d moved up the stairs. The public rooms had been exquisitely done up, but the private areas lacked that same veneer.

  The runners on the hall floors were clean but worn, having seen generations of Barringtons. The long curtains at the hall windows were faded from years in the sun. Tables that should have been cluttered with knick-knacks were bare.

  The room she was given was lovely, done up in light yellows and pinks with a view of the south lawn and gardens, but by no means sophisticated. The old, solid oak furnishings would have suited a well-to-do farm house. Her rooms in Brighton far outclassed them.

  The girls made themselves comfortable on the wide window seat, watching in wide-eyed amazement as she unpacked her trunk.

  ‘Don’t you have a maid?’ Emily asked.

  ‘No. We’ve been travelling and it’s been faster not to be burdened with one.’ Mercedes shook out the blue dinner gown she’d worn the first night she’d met Greer. She hoped he wasn’t being interrogated downstairs. She’d felt awkward leaving him after a week solely in his presence. Since Birmingham it had just been the two of them. That would all change. Now there were others vying for his time. She’d have to learn to share him.

  Emily’s eyes widened further. She was old enough to take in the implications of such a statement. ‘You travelled alone with my brother?’ Mercedes wished she’d worded it more carefully.

  ‘He’ll have to marry you!’ Clara chimed in with a worthy amount of adolescent fervour over the scandal.

  ‘No, he doesn’t.’ Mercedes turned away, putting a chemise in a bureau drawer scented with sweet lavender. Would she marry him if he asked? It was an academic question only. They’d never talked of any future beyond Brighton and even that future had become uncertain lately. Would they go on to Brighton? Or would only she go on? Greer had not mentioned the tournament since leaving Birmingham and it was highly possible, once he saw the benefits of home, he’d simply stop here. He didn’t need Brighton, not like she did.

  ‘How did you meet my brother?’ Emily asked. ‘Was it at a ball? Did he sweep you off your feet? Greer’s a great dancer.’ Of course, she would think they met at a ball. Where else did nice girls of Emily’s background meet nice young men? It was another reminder of how far apart their two worlds were.

  The girl would have to be redirected before the questions became more awkward. She wouldn’t lie to Greer’s sister, but the truth might see her expedited from the house. His parents wouldn’t like her telling impressionable Emily that she’d been travelling the countryside playing billiards with men and masquerading in brothels.

  ‘I met him in Brighton. He had business with my father.’ It was true, but it wouldn’t hold up for long. It was time to redirect. ‘Have you been to Brighton?’ She didn’t expect they had. Young girls didn’t travel further than the distance between the schoolroom and the dining room. ‘The Prince’s pavilion is a sight to behold. I’ve danced there once.’

  She went on to describe the oriental palace with its spirals and domes, the seaside and the bathing machines that took people out into the ocean. The girls were enrapt and soon questions about their brother were forgotten.

  ‘You have lovely clothes.’ Emily looked longingly at the oyster organdy. ‘I wonder if Mama would let me wear something like this? She only lets me wear white. She’d never let me have a colour like that.’ She gestured at the coral gown hanging in the wardrobe. ‘But oyster, maybe. It’s almost like white, only creamier. White makes me look so pale.’

  Mercedes picked up the gown and held it against the girl. ‘Yes, oyster becomes you—see how it gives you a little glow?’ Emily beamed. Mercedes felt encouraged. She could use a friend in these environs. Pick someone who is open to your advances. She pushed the hustling rule aside. She was not hustling Greer’s family into accepting her. She was merely cajoling them.

  ‘White can be helped along with ribbons.’ Mercedes dug through her personal items and pulled out a handful. She sorted through them until she found the one she wanted. It was a gentle aquamarine, not too bright. Lady Tiverton couldn’t complain. It would look light but fresh against a white dress. ‘Why don’t you try this? I think you’ll like how it looks.’

  ‘Really? I can keep it?’ Emily was thrilled at the impromptu gift.

  ‘If it’s all right with your mother.’ Mercedes smiled. It wouldn’t do to alienate Lady Tiverton. ‘Now, how about you, Miss Clara? What kinds of colours do you like to wear?’ She would conquer the Barringtons one by one and hope it would be enough. Tea with the family had set a nice tone, but Mercedes was not fool enough to believe that meant her worries were over. The other shoe was going to fall. It was a given.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The other shoe was, in fact, falling in the gardens right then. When an unsuitable woman showed up on one’s doorstep, action must be taken immediately before word spread. Still, for Andrew such speed was most impressive, Greer thought uncharitably. Mercedes had barely been whisked upstairs before Andrew had asked for this interview on the premise of wanting to show him new plans for a fountain.

  Greer eyed a much-folded sheet of paper Andrew withdrew from his inner coat pocket and rethought his analysis. He might be wrong about the speed. His brother might have had a week or two to compose his words. Not even the army moved as slowly as his brother.

  ‘Miss Lockhart is a most improper lady.’ Andrew handed him the folded sheet. ‘My friend, Mister Ogilvy, wrote to me from Bath. Would you care to read it?’

  ‘I take it we’re not going to discuss the fountain?’ Greer could feel his temper rising. He didn’t like hearing Mercedes maligned so casually. He’d come home to sort through his thoughts and regain his perspective. He’d thought he’d have a little more time before he had to defend his choices. Apparently he was only going to get an hour.

  ‘It’s going over by the roses. There. We’ve talked about the fountain,’ Andrew said tersely.

  ‘I haven’t been home in three years and the first thing you can think to do is berate me for my companion.’

  ‘We’re all glad you’re home. We’re glad you weren’t killed in some meaningless action. But...’ Andrew gestured with the letter in his hand, urging Greer to take it ‘...you’ve been home for some months. Instead of coming here where you belong you’ve elected to cool your heels in Brighton and head off to Bath with a billiards champion and his daughter.’ He looked at Greer sceptically. ‘Half-pay officers must make considerably more than I thought. I know an expensive woman when I see one.’

  Greer’s fist tightened at his side. ‘I should hit you for that. You don’t know a thing about her.’

  ‘I know she’s got you spinning so fast you can’t see straight. Ogilvy says the pair of you were inseparable
in Bath and that you had rooms in her home.’

  ‘Her father’s home.’ Greer corrected. Andrew made it sound as if they’d been living in sin. Greer yanked the letter from Andrew’s hand and scanned the page. He’d known something of this nature was bound to happen. England wasn’t that big and the peerage even smaller. Everyone was connected in some way and news travelled. Still, Ogilvy and his brother? It seemed an unlikely connection. Ogilvy was so gregarious and his brother was, well, not.

  ‘How the hell do you know him, anyway?’ Greer asked, passing the letter back. It hadn’t been nearly as damning as it could have been.

  Andrew shrugged and put the paper back in his coat. ‘I’ve only met him a couple of times in London. We are both members of an agricultural society and have exchanged letters about crop rotations over the years.’ And now they were exchanging letters about him. Great.

  ‘Ogilvy wasn’t even sure you and I were related,’ Andrew added. Too bad he’d decided to mention it at all, Greer thought. In all fairness, though, if it hadn’t been Ogilvy, it would have been someone else. He couldn’t have kept the last two months of his life a secret forever.

  ‘We’re getting away from the subject at hand.’ Andrew stopped on the garden path and faced him squarely, arms crossed. ‘I must ask what your intentions are in bringing Miss Lockhart here. Good Lord, she’s upstairs right now with our sisters. Who knows what she’s teaching them?’

  Probably how to blow chalk off a cue. It would almost be worth it to voice the irreverent thought out loud. Andrew looked so serious, as if the fate of the world rested on this. Greer supposed it did. Andrew’s world was considerably smaller than his. ‘Father put you up to this. You sound just like him.’

  Andrew didn’t bother denying it. ‘Yes. He thought you’d take it better from me. You and he haven’t always been close. He thought you might think he was being heavy handed, as always.’ Andrew softened, reminding Greer of the brother he’d grown up with. ‘Besides, I volunteered to do it willingly. I’m worried about you. I don’t expect you to be excited about the Devonshire life, not after all you’ve seen. But it’s a good life, Greer.’

  ‘It’s not the life I want,’ Greer answered simply. If he’d learned anything on the road with Lockhart, it was that he’d not be happy isolated in the country doing the same thing every day. There was a tedium to country life that had never quite suited him even when he’d been young. Greer shook his head. His plans were starting to take on a new importance. They had to succeed or it would be the home farm for him.

  ‘What do you mean to do?’ Andrew asked when there was no response from him. ‘Have you received a new posting?’

  ‘No. I’m thinking about selling my commission.’ His family would not like it, but he knew with absolute clarity what he’d do. ‘We mean to go on to Brighton. There’s a billiards tournament I’m going to play in and then I’m going to open a subscription room. People in Brighton are always looking for entertainment.’

  ‘We? You mean with her?’ Andrew was more agitated about Mercedes than the subscription room.

  ‘Yes. If she’ll have me. We haven’t talked about specifics yet.’ He couldn’t imagine returning to Brighton without Mercedes, couldn’t begin to contemplate launching this new enterprise without her. They’d have to contend with Lockhart, of course, but he might be more amenable to reconciliation once his anger cooled.

  ‘If she’ll have you? I’m sure there’s no question of it. You’re a good catch for a girl like that.’ Andrew’s tone bordered on derisive, the moment of softness gone.

  ‘A girl like what?’ Greer went on the defensive.

  ‘Well, just look at her. She’s the kind of woman who makes a man think with his wrong head.’ Implying, of course, that Greer was doing just that.

  ‘Will you accept her?’ Greer asked point-blank. He was really asking if the family would accept her.

  ‘Your mistress is your own business, you don’t need the family’s approval on that. But a mistress isn’t to be flaunted in your family’s face. You knew better than to bring her here.’

  ‘No.’ Greer cut him off before Andrew could begin a sanctimonious tirade about a gentleman’s ethics. ‘Will you accept her as my wife?’ It was an admittedly madcap idea, marrying Mercedes. He wasn’t even sure she was up for it after her débâcle with Luce. But once the idea had taken up residence in his brain it wouldn’t be evicted. Lady Mercedes Barrington.

  Andrew shook his head. ‘You need to think this through. This could be a scandal for all of us and with Emily’s Season next year it’s an enormous risk.’

  ‘I don’t think the risk is all that great,’ Greer countered. ‘She’s a celebrity’s daughter and I’m a second son. I doubt the scandal would last long enough to do Emily any damage.’

  ‘Then there’s Father to consider. He won’t forgive this, Greer. You will have crossed him for the last time. Think of all you’ll be giving up.’

  He tried not to think of that. Grandmother’s inheritance, left specifically to him. Twenty thousand pounds to be his upon his marriage to a suitable bride.

  Andrew dropped his voice. ‘That twenty thousand would go so far here. We wouldn’t have to live like we do. You know what I mean.’

  He did know what his brother meant: keeping up appearances. ‘There’s money for a new fountain.’

  ‘We’re entertaining this autumn. We had to do something.’ Andrew sighed. Yes, Greer thought, something to distract the eyes from what was really around them—a tired, worn-out estate.

  ‘With your twenty thousand, we could invest and draw on returns. We could fix the roof.’

  ‘You mean you could,’ Greer broke in coldly. ‘You’ve been dreaming of the inheritance, haven’t you?’ He was starting to see where this was all headed. Andrew lacked the sophistication of Allen Lockhart when it came to manipulation, but the end game was the same. He saw his brother’s plan. Give Greer the home farm to run, find him a nice baron’s daughter to marry and keep him and his twenty thousand here.

  ‘No,’ Greer said firmly. ‘I will not be emotionally blackmailed into this or threatened into it.’

  Andrew’s face turned red. ‘You’ll never see a penny of it if you marry her.’

  ‘Not unless you use your influence with Father to convince him to release the funds.’ Greer smiled coldly. He didn’t relish what he was going to say next, but it had to be done if he wanted to know Andrew’s true colours. ‘What if I promise you half of the money if you can get it released?’

  The anger left Andrew’s face almost immediately, replaced by a calculating glint in his eyes. ‘Well, that would be something to consider. Ten thousand would certainly help.’ His words were slow as he thought out loud, already imagining how to spend the funds.

  Greer wanted to hit him. ‘You bastard. This isn’t about money.’ At least it shouldn’t be about money.

  ‘Of course it is, Greer. It’s always been about money.’ Andrew sneered. ‘Don’t be naïve.’

  ‘You disgust me.’ Greer turned on his heel and headed back to the house. It was something of a setback to discover he’d traded Allen Lockhart’s shenanigans for his brother’s, and that the two weren’t all that different. This visit might turn out to be shorter than planned, but he couldn’t leave it, as much as he wanted to. He wanted to spend time with his sisters, to show Mercedes his home and he needed to talk with his father, even if the outcome of that discussion seemed obvious and futile.

  * * *

  Five days in, Mercedes could sense things were going poorly. Not that anyone was going out of their way to be cruel. She almost wished they were. Then she could meet trouble head on. In fact the opposite was true. Dinners had been unfailingly polite, as had the game of cards afterwards. The girls and Greer’s mother had shown her around the gardens the next morning. They’d spent a companionable afternoon on the back verandah enjoying the sun and their individual arts. Emily worked with her watercolours while Clara read aloud from a novel while she and Lady Ti
verton stitched.

  On the surface, it all looked perfect. Like the public rooms downstairs. But underneath there was a very rotten core. She noticed it in the way no one asked her anything personal. There was no attempt to get to know her in any meaningful way. She was included enough to make it clear she was excluded.

  Today she was left to her own devices, another reminder of her ultimate exclusion. The girls and Lady Tiverton had gone to the village for a meeting at the church. She’d notably not been invited. It would have required public acknowledgement. Greer was nowhere to be found, as he had been for the better part of the visit.

  She saw very little of Greer and they were never alone when she did. Out of respect for the home and his parents, there was no question of a clandestine visit to his rooms or hers. She sorely missed his presence in her bed.

  It was the perfect strategy: divide and conquer. She wondered if Greer saw it, this attempt to keep them apart while reminding him of all he had, of who he was, maybe even of what he stood to lose if he defied them. All the while the clock was ticking. She had to think about getting to Brighton.

  Mercedes wandered into the storage corridor. Today was a perfect day to check it out. It was intriguing enough to have a storage corridor. Most people used attics. What in the world did they keep in here? She gave the first door a tentative try. It gave and she pushed it open. The room was the size of a bedroom and full of boxes.

  Mercedes studied the labels: linens, tablecloths, bed sheets. Curious, Mercedes pulled down one box and opened it. The scent of cedar and lavender wafted from it. She dug her hands into depths past layers of tissue paper. Whatever was in here had been stored with the utmost care. Her hands made contact with the softest of linen and she pulled out a pristine set of white sheets trimmed in expensive lace and exquisitely embroidered. She held them to her nose and inhaled. It brought a little smile to her lips.