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The little boy was puzzled. ‘But you are to be one of the family now, aren’t you? Mama said …’ He looked from one to the other.
Sandford laughed and clapped him gently on the shoulder. ‘Absolutely right, dear fellow!’ he breezed. ‘And do you approve of your new aunt? She’s a cracking good rider, let me tell you!’
Christopher was suitably impressed. In his opinion girls couldn’t really ride, having such stupid saddles to contend with but, if his Uncle Robert said his fiancée was good then, by golly, she must be and that made her fine by him. He watched as Sandford helped Harriet mount, then ran, waving farewell to them as they rode off.
‘They are such lovely people—your brother’s family,’ commented Harriet, as they crossed the meadow to the Beldale estate. ‘What a terrible tragedy that he will never see his children grow up. Judith has been so brave in her loss. Am I correct in thinking that Lady Butler cannot have been much help or comfort at the time?’
‘None at all, I understand from my mother. She took to her bed with ‘'the vapours'', which caused poor Judith even more distress and then she had the gall to preside over the funeral reception wearing black veils and so on. We have very little affection for her, I fear, but she is Judith’s mother and grandmother to Philip’s children so one must endure her remarks. I have to congratulate you on your forbearance. Another of your famous strategies, I deduce?’
‘Just ‘'getting over the heavy ground as lightly as possible” as they used to say,’ said Harriet, her face wreathed in smiles at his compliment.
‘A veritable fund of manoeuvres! I can see I shall have to be careful not to join battle with you,’ he chaffed laughingly.
Fencing companionably in this manner, they rode on for some minutes until a shout from the trees caused them to turn their heads. A horseman appeared on the track ahead of them and a cheerful voice called, ‘Home then, Sandford? I’m very glad to see you back. And with a betrothal, I hear. Do I get an introduction?’
The rider was a comely, well-built man dressed in leather jerkin and riding breeches. Sandford greeted him with pleasure and presented him to Harriet as his cousin, Charles Ridgeway.
Ridgeway, as Harriet had already learned from her conversations with Lady Caroline, was estate manager of both Westpark House and Beldale. He lived with his mother, the earl’s sister, in the Dower House of the Beldale estate, his own family residence having been sold off many years ago to meet his impecunious father’s debts. Baron Ridgeway, having gambled away his wife’s fortune, had finally taken his own life when his son was still a schoolboy, leaving them both penniless and, eventually, homeless had it not been for her brother’s affection and generosity. The earl had given his sister, Lady Eugenie, lifetime tenancy of the Dower House, along with a generous annuity, as well as funding his nephew’s remaining education. When Charles had expressed an interest in land management the earl had arranged for him to work alongside Baxter, his own elderly manager and, upon that worthy’s retirement, had handed the office to his nephew. Philip Hurst had also trusted Ridgeway’s judgement and had offered his cousin the same post at Westpark. The twins had grown up alongside Charles, of course, he being some six or seven years their senior. He had never married and, although both Sandford and his brother had frequently maintained that Judith Butler had always been the object of his youthful affection, he had never once, during all the years of his employment, treated her with anything but gentle courtesy and respect. After Philip’s carriage accident Ridgeway had taken on without complaint the extra load his young master’s death had inevitably caused and now, with the earl himself indisposed, his working days were longer still and he was not sorry to see Sandford home again.
‘Your servant, ma’am,’ he said, smiling as he bent over her hand. ‘You will not regret your choice of husband. After his father, Sandford is the finest man I know.’
‘Steady on, old chap!’ Sandford protested. ‘Not quite in the old man’s league, I fear!’
‘True,’ acknowledged his cousin, laughing, ‘but you are getting there. I have heard about some of your exploits in Spain, you know, in spite of your efforts to keep them secret. Jimmy Braithwaite’s boys came home last month and were full of stories they had heard about you.’
‘Mostly exaggerated and of no account, I assure you! These things tend to get blown up out of all proportion. I only did what other fellows were doing all around me.’
‘And that was hardly of no account!’ interjected Harriet hotly. ‘His lordship’s exploits were well known when I myself was out there, Mr Ridgeway, so allow me to vouch for the truth of the stories!’
Charles Ridgeway laughed. ‘Well, Robert, it’s clear that your young lady will defend your achievements for you, however much you care to deny them—which is just as it should be, of course.’ He wheeled his horse round and turned to go. ‘When you can spare an hour—I must talk to you about the bottom fences. They need replacing—oh!— and Potter’s cottage caught fire last week. He’s staying with his daughter at the moment, but we really need to discuss the whole row—when you’re ready, of course.’ He saluted them both with his crop and cantered back into the spinney.
Sandford waited until his cousin was out of sight before turning his head to Harriet.
‘Whilst I recognise your need to defend our military exploits, Miss Cordell,’ he said, as they continued along the bridleway, ‘I feel I must point out to you that most of our countrymen have no real comprehension of what went on over there. I, myself, have increasingly found that is not a popular topic in polite society and you have already seen how eager certain people might be to place the wrong interpretation on your presence in the train. I would not want you to be embarrassed …’
‘Oh, pooh to such people!’ interrupted Harriet. ‘You cannot think that I am ashamed to have been with the army! You, of all people! You know that most of the women were wives of the soldiers and spent their time cooking and foraging for their menfolk. The few others I saw were usually local girls and very choosy, so I’m told!’
Sandford raised his brows, stifling his laughter. ‘You shouldn’t have been told any such thing. I’m surprised your mother allowed such a conversation.’
‘Oh, don’t be so stuffy! When we were surrounded by death and injury! Some of the men behaved appallingly, it’s true, but hadn’t they good reason, at times? Papa never condoned their behaviour when they went to extremes, but he did understand the cause. Most of them will never come home,’ she finished sadly.
‘Nevertheless,’ counselled the viscount, after a pause, ‘none of this is deemed to be a fitting subject for polite conversation and I must recommend that you endeavour to steer clear of it, if at all possible.’
He had not enjoyed listening to Lady Butler’s attempts at giving Harriet one of her infamous set-downs, especially as the girl had won the field on this occasion. From past experience he knew that the older woman would try to find new ways of discomfiting her because there were few things she enjoyed more. Judith’s party would provide Lady Butler with an excellent opportunity, he reasoned, and was determined to do his best to safeguard Harriet against public calumny.
‘As you wish, my lord,’ said Harriet in a small voice, her shoulders drooping. What a pompous prig the hero had turned out to be, she thought in dismay, and wondered if, after all, some of the tales of his exploits had been embellished.
They rode in silence once more, each absorbed in private reflections and, upon entering the house, Sandford excused himself from Harriet, saying that he would go straight up to his father before changing.
Harriet went to her own room where Rose was waiting to help her undress. The girl had laid out one of the new dresses, which had been delivered during her mistress’s absence, and Harriet was delighted with the pretty, soft green muslin, its short puffed sleeves just right for the warm afternoon. Rose tied the matching sash high above her young mistress’s waist, as was the prevailing fashion, and adjusted the tiny frill that edged the low neckline.
‘I hear tell that some of the young ladies do damp their dresses to make them cling to their bodies!’ she marvelled, as she knelt to tie the strings on Harriet’s slippers. ‘And they don’t always wear a petticoat either!’
‘I don’t think I should care for such a fashion.’ Harriet assured her. ‘This dress is very pretty as it is, don’t you think? Is there an evening gown amongst the others? Madame said that it would be ready in time for Mrs Hurst’s party.’
Rose showed her the rest of the deliveries, which did, indeed, include the gown for Judith’s party. This was a simple but elegant tunic in a sea-green shot silk, which was to be worn over a white satin slip. Harriet’s eyes shone with delight when she saw it, immediately taken with its clean-cut shaping, for she was not a girl who cared for too many frills and flounces in her clothes.
‘There’s slippers to match too, miss,’ Rose indicated. ‘ ‘Tis a pity that you had to leave your jewel-case behind, for a necklace would make all the difference.’
Harriet did not reply. She was beginning to feel somewhat concerned about her increasing indebtedness to her hosts and wondered when she would be in a position to repay them. She hoped that her grandfather would soon be in touch with instructions for her to be sent to him at once as she was still most uncomfortable about the role she had agreed to undertake. A lot of good people were being deceived, she reflected, and was sorry that Judith and her children should be amongst these for she felt that she could easily become very fond of them. Even Sandford’s company was surprisingly bearable when he refrained from telling her what she could or could not do, she mused, and she was smiling at the memory of the cheerful raillery they had exchanged during their morning ride when there came a tap at the door.
‘His lordship wishes to speak to Miss Cordell if she could spare him a moment.’
Harriet heard March deliver his message and rose at once to her feet. Now what had she done? she wondered, casting about in her mind for possible aberrations as she hurried downstairs to find the viscount waiting in the small salon.
‘How very prompt,’ he said, surprising her by turning with a smile as she entered. ‘Father has expressed a desire to meet you—he knows your story, of course, and he also knew your grandparents in his youth. Do you feel up to it?’ He looked at her anxiously.
‘But, of course.’ Harriet’s eyes sparkled. ‘I’d love to meet Lord William. Are you sure he is well enough for a visitor?’
‘He maintains that he is well enough to look at a pretty face,’ Sandford said cheerfully, as they made their way upstairs. ‘He is keen to see if Mother’s description of your likeness to your grandmother is justified.’
At Sandford’s gentle scratch, Chegwin opened the door of the Earl’s chamber and placed his finger against his lips to urge their silence.
‘His lordship has fallen asleep again, sir,’ he whispered, as he ushered them to his master’s bedside. ‘But he left instructions that you were to remain until he awakes—he drowses off on account of the medicine, but seems anxious to speak with you, my lord.’
His eyes were troubled as they fixed upon the earl’s sleeping form. Harriet, too, stared concernedly at the pale and lined features of the white-haired old man in the bed.
Sandford led her to a chair by the bedside and seated himself opposite. Together they watched the shallow but steady rise and fall of the bedcovers at the earl’s chest. Harriet felt unaccountable tears pricking her eyelids as she studied the viscount’s father. How alike they are, she thought in a flash; the same aristocratic bone structure, straight nose, high cheekbones, firm chin—even in repose. Were his eyes that same clear grey? she wondered, and almost jumped out of her skin when, as if in answer to her question, Beldale’s eyes opened and were staring at her intently.
‘Don’t weep, girl, I’m not gone yet,’ came a gruff voice and a hand crept out of the covers to take hers. She held it firmly between both her own and smiled, a gentle flush staining her cheeks.
‘And very pleased I am to hear it, sir,’ she replied softly. ‘Did we disturb you?’
‘No, my dear, I was waiting for you, but this infernal laudanum keeps dragging me off to sleep—do better without it.’ He glared balefully at his manservant, who regarded him fondly in return.
‘Bring a light, man. I want to see the girl properly!’
Although it was daylight the heavy curtains were drawn to keep out the sunshine, making the room quite dark. Chegwin lifted a branch from the dresser and held it aloft so that Harriet’s face was bathed in its pool of candlelight. The old man contemplated her steadily for several minutes, his eyes faded but indubitably grey, and she felt no embarrassment at his scrutiny.
Sandford grinned, feeling a surge of respect at such composure. ‘Well, sir? And do you approve?’
Beldale gently squeezed Harriet’s hand. ‘Very fetching, my boy,’ he said. ‘Your mama was right—image of her grandmother—glad you found her, Sandford—made her ladyship very happy.’ His voice faded, then his eyes flashed wide open once more. ‘Keep your guard up, Robert—just remembered—something—happened …’ His head drooped back on to the pillows and Sandford started up in alarm, but Chegwin put his hand on the viscount’s arm and steadied him.
‘He’s all right, sir,’ he said. ‘Keeps dropping off like that. Needs the stuff for the pain, you see. Leave him to me, if you please, sir—and ma’am.’
He bowed towards Harriet who, seeing Sandford’s agitation, had immediately risen from her own chair but, at the sight of the tears in his eyes, had swiftly bent to tidy the covers over Beldale’s recumbent form.
‘I know you’ll take good care of him, Chegwin.’ Sand-ford’s voice held a tremor but, straightening his shoulders, he held out his hand to Harriet and escorted her from the room.
Downstairs, Lady Caroline was waiting in the small dining-room as the dishes were being brought in. They took their places at the table and she signalled to Rothman to begin serving.
‘His lordship seems so much better, don’t you agree?’ she applied hopefully to her son. ‘Sir Basil thinks to reduce the medication tomorrow—it has been over a week since his fall.’
Sandford nodded. ‘He will be relieved to be off the drug—he dislikes taking it, I know. It seems to make him ramble somewhat, too. I remember having to take it myself on one occasion and had the most awful hallucinations. I’m sure he will be better without it.’
The meal progressed through the various courses, during which Lady Caroline, eyes twinkling at her son, inquired as to the success of their visit to Westpark. Harriet, after describing Judith’s plans for the forthcoming assembly, thanked the countess for the garments that had been delivered in their absence, expressing her particular delight with the green silk gown intended for the party and it was in a happy, friendly mood that they all repaired to the salon afterwards, with Sandford opting to take his brandy with the ladies and the evening being rounded off with some rousing games of piquet.
The following day the viscount rode over to Westpark, as he had promised, to take his nephew out riding. Harriet spent part of the morning with the earl, at his request. He was more lucid than he had been on her previous visit and had expressed a desire to hear her story first-hand. He, in turn, was able to tell her more of her family’s history and Chegwin was very satisfied to hear, more than once, the sounds of stifled laughter issuing from his master’s bedside.
When Harriet rose to leave, having judged that his lordship was beginning to tire, the manservant accompanied her to the door with a smile, saying, ‘This has done him a deal of good, miss, if I may say so. He will sleep naturally this afternoon, I feel sure.’
Finding that Lady Caroline was engaged with the housekeeper, Harriet decided to take herself for a walk down to the lakeside, where she hoped that the air would be fresher. The day was warm and very humid and, having been cooped up in Lord William’s darkened rooms for some time, she felt that she needed the exercise. She walked sedately across the sweeping stretches of the rear lawns until she was sure she was out of sight of the windows then, running and skipping with pleasure, she reached the waterside.
The lake had been sunk many years previously and its banks were quite steep in parts. Both willow and aspen straddled the water’s edge and bulrushes grew in profusion. A small pavilion was situated on an island in the middle of the lake. This was reached, as far as Harriet could tell, by the rowing-boat that she could see tied up outside a boathouse on the far side of the lake and she began to make her way towards it along the path, which meandered around the lake.
Now shaded from the sun by the leafy branches of the trees on both sides of the path, she felt much cooler. Smiling at the sight of the mallard duck leading her almost-grown brood in stately procession across the water, she frequently strayed to investigate the various splashings and rustlings of other small water creatures exploring their habitat. These delays caused her to take much longer than she had intended but, when she eventually arrived at the boathouse, she was still determined to take just a little peek at the pavilion, judging that it would not take her many minutes to row the short distance to the island. She checked that the oars were in place and was beginning to untie the mooring-rope when she heard a cry. Startled, she looked around, fearing that she had, once more, broken some unwritten rule. The cry was repeated, this time louder and she realised that it was a cry of distress.
Someone was calling for help. Her eyes scoured the water and the banks, trying to identify the place from which the sound had come. Then she saw. A small boy, up to his waist in the water, was clinging to the roots of a willow tree that grew at the water’s edge. Picking up her skirts, she ran quickly along the path to the spot. She could see that the bank sloped steeply down into the murky water, which was thick with weeds. She could not tell how deep the water was at that point, but did not stop to consider it. Crawling on her knees, she edged her way downwards, stretching out a hand towards the grimy lad.
‘Reach forward,’ she said. ‘See if you can take my hand.’
‘Oh, miss—miss—I can’t do it,’ came the wailing reply. ‘I’m stuck fast in the mud.’
Harriet slithered further down, her hands on the roots of the tree and grabbed at the boy’s wrist. He suddenly jerked back and pulled himself away and, to her horror, disappeared beneath the surface. Scrabbling to regain her balance, she felt her body sliding sideways down the bank and, although she managed to keep hold of the tree root, she found herself up to her knees in the mud. Frantically, she looked about her for the child, who was nowhere to be seen, but a sudden sound from the water’s edge some distance to her right alerted her to the astonishing sight of a small, bedraggled figure climbing out of the lake and disappearing into the bushes.
‘What on earth … !’ Harriet exclaimed in rage, as she struggled to free herself, but, upon finding that her feeble attempts had merely caused her to lose one of her slippers, she held still and tried to apply her mind to her situation. Her feet were on firm enough ground as far as she could tell, but she could see nothing within her reach that would help her to extricate her legs from the mud’s tenacious grasp. She was eyeing the thin root she had managed to keep hold of, weighing up its ability to take any strain, when to her dismay she heard the sound of approaching hooves and then the unwelcome sight of the rider, Sandford himself, appeared on the path. He could not fail to observe her.
‘Good God!’ he exclaimed, reining in and leaping from his mount. ‘How has this happened? Here, take my hand …’ and, leaning his weight against the boll of the tree, he effortlessly hoisted Harriet to firm ground. She ignored the glimmer of laughter in his eyes as she tried, ineffectually, to sweep away the thick black mud from her clinging skirt.
‘You just can’t stay out of mischief, can you?’ he said, his grin widening.
‘This was not my doing,’ she said crossly. ‘Someone pulled me in. There was a young boy—I thought he was in trouble—but I slipped and he—he swam off and left me.’
Sandford regarded her with unconcealed amazement. ‘A boy? What boy?’ he said, looking about him.
Harriet stamped her unshod and mud-encrusted foot. ‘How dare you disbelieve me!’ she stormed. ‘I am not in the habit of telling lies! There was a boy, I tell you!’
Tears of fury began to prick her eyes, but she blinked them away and struck out at him with her muddied fists. He backed away quickly before she could touch him.
‘Whoa! Steady, there!’ He looked at her uncertainly. ‘We’d better get you back to the house before anyone sees you like that. Are you cold?’
Harriet shook her head, wearily controlling herself. ‘No, thank you. I will soon dry in the sun but—I have lost a slipper and it is a long walk back.’
‘I’m sure Pagan can cope,’ Sandford rejoined. Pulling a rolled-up blanket from his pannier, he wrapped it around her muddied skirts and proceeded to lift her effortlessly on to his saddle.
How tiny her waist is, he marvelled, holding her steadily as she attempted to find her balance. His senses quickened as he felt the vibrant warmth of her body through the thin muslin fabric. Warning signs immediately flashed in his brain. Abruptly, he withdrew his hold.
‘All set?’ he asked, with apparent cheerful unconcern. ‘See if you can steady yourself against the pommel. Hang on to Pagan’s mane.’
Harriet complied with his instructions in silence. Assuming that the viscount would climb up behind her, a mounting sensation of breathless confusion gripped her at the thought of the necessarily close physical contact.
Sandford had intended to ride with her but, for some unfathomable reason, now found that he was unable to trust himself with her tantalising nearness. He hesitated momentarily, then gathered the horse’s reins in his hands. ‘I’ll lead him in,’ he said, still feeling somewhat shaken. With a slight frown on his face he started back towards the house.
Harriet registered his hesitation and her heart seemed to shrivel, overwhelmed by feelings of humiliation and rejection. With difficulty she repressed these emotions as she tried to apply her concentration to keeping her seat and her replies to Sandford’s searching questions became curt and, for the most part, monosyllabic.
Sandford led his horse into the stableyard and Tiptree came running at the sound of his master’s voice. His eyebrows shot up at the sight of the dishevelled figure being helped down from Sandford’s mount, but he said nothing as he took the reins and the mud-stained blanket from the viscount.
‘Don’t put him away,’ Sandford instructed. ‘I shall need him again. Get Thunder saddled for yourself. I’ll be back presently.’ He escorted Harriet through the rear of the house to the foot of the staff staircase.
‘Come up this way,’ he said. ‘The kitchen staff will be at lunch. I’ll head off anyone who appears.’
Harriet reached her room unobserved and, as soon as she had closed the door behind her, she slumped down on to the nearest chair, regardless of the mess she was making, for she was utterly chagrined. What else could go wrong? she wondered. The morning had started so well and she had enjoyed her time with Beldale. The lakeside walk had been so pleasant until that incident. A puzzled frown creased her forehead. What was the meaning of it? It was no accident, of that she was convinced, but could see no point in what had occurred. Just a malicious prank? But, to what purpose? And, more infuriating, why had Sandford dismissed her story out of hand? Oh, if only her grandfather would reply to Lady Caroline’s letter! Harriet felt that she could no longer remain at Beldale under such a cloud and wondered if she could confide her troubles to Judith Hurst. In spite of Sandford’s instructions she was tempted to ask her new friend’s advice should a suitable opportunity arise.
During the next few days Harriet did her utmost to avoid Sandford’s company. She spent much of her time with the earl, who enjoyed her pretty attentions and was making steady progress towards a full recovery. She managed to take one or two rides about the park and to visit Judith, but only when she was sure that Sandford was elsewhere. She was obliged to take her meals with him, of course, but made sure she had a fund of Lord William’s stories to relate to the countess so that it became unnecessary to hold a separate conversation with the viscount. Sandford himself appeared not to notice her evasive behaviour and, in any event, always seemed deeply preoccupied with estate business. To Harriet’s relief, he made no further reference to the lake incident. Harriet had decided not to tell her hostess the full story of her misadventure, merely saying that she had slipped on the bank whilst trying to untie the boat. Lady Caroline had, at first, been rather shocked that Harriet had not asked a manservant to row her to the pavilion, then she had laughed and said, ‘You modern young ladies! You have so much more freedom than we did in my day. I envy you, I do truly!’ And the matter was forgotten.
At last the letter for which Harriet had been praying arrived. Rothman delivered it to her ladyship at the breakfast-table and the countess broke open the seal eagerly.
‘How quickly he has replied,’ she said, as she scanned the contents. ‘Yes, he says he has written at once—you are to remain with us—he is actually coming to fetch you himself! He says he is overjoyed—and forever in our debt—what nonsense—but how sweet! Oh, my dear! Your troubles will soon be over!’ She placed the missive into Harriet’s trembling hand. ‘There, my child. You may read it for yourself. Your grandfather will be with us in no time at all if all goes well with his travel arrangements,’ and, turning to Sandford, she said, ‘Isn’t this happy news, Robert? Ramsey will surely come to his granddaughter’s rescue now that he knows her whereabouts, don’t you think?’
Sandford nodded, but did not reply. He felt a sudden lowering of spirit for which he could not account and stared moodily across the table at Harriet, but she was still deeply engrossed in her grandfather’s words. Excusing himself, he quickly finished his coffee and left the room.
‘We must go and tell Beldale the good news,’ said the countess. ‘He will be so happy for you—and glad to see Ramsey again, I dare say—if only to compare the wrinkles!’
Harriet laughed joyfully. She was feeling euphoric, hardly believing that her dream was finally about to become a reality. How long would it take her grandfather to travel to Beldale? Two weeks, perhaps. She could surely hold out until then, now that she knew he was actually coming. Then she was struck by a sudden thought.
‘But—Judith’s party?’ she inquired of the Countess. ‘We must inform her before it is too late to cancel. It will not be necessary to pretend an engagement now, surely?’
Lady Caroline hesitated on the stairway, considering the problem.
‘On balance, my dear,’ she said at last, ‘I think it would be wiser to wait until your grandfather arrives—supposing he were delayed? Remember that we conjured up the plan in order to prevent unsavoury gossip. It is still the best protection we can offer you until he comes. Judith’s guests will have seen the notice in the Mercury and it will not do to start up a hive of speculation so soon after the announcement. Don’t worry, dear child. It’s only a small local party, after all.’
And with this she continued up the stairs.
Harriet was perturbed, but did not mention the subject again. She knew that the countess had gone to considerable trouble to keep other members of the family away from Beldale House, using Lord William’s indisposition as an excuse even to her own two daughters, who had been besieging her with requests to visit their father. Harriet had been relieved to learn that she was not expected to come under Sandford’s sisters’ scrutiny, as she doubted that her acting ability would pass muster under such close inspection. Casual observation by a few local families at a small houseparty would be much less of a trial, she decided. She determined to put away her fears and do her best to look forward to the forthcoming assembly, reasoning that Sandford was unlikely to accord her anything other than the devoted attentions of the newly engaged man he was supposed to be, especially since the plan seemed to have been concocted with his approval. After that, as far as she was concerned, he could please himself!
Chapter Four
Sandford stood at the entrance to the Dower House with a frown on his face. He was not looking forward to confronting his aunt with his discovery and, on being shown into Lady Eugenie’s morning room, he saw that his cousin Ridgeway was also present and resigned himself to an uncomfortable few moments.
Ridgeway saluted him from his seat at the desk and Lady Eugenie smiled at him in welcome.
‘Why, Robert,’ she said, holding out her hand for his kiss. ‘This is indeed a pleasant surprise—but your father—’ her voice grew anxious ‘—he has not taken a turn for the worse?’
The tiny, birdlike Lady Eugenie was a sweet and gentle soul who had suffered a very unhappy marriage to a man who had married her only for her considerable dowry and name. He had treated her monstrously, flaunting both debts and mistresses with total disregard for her sensitivities. When he had finally taken his life she had felt nothing but relief and had dedicated the succeeding thirty years to charitable works. Her brother’s pensioner, she had no money of her own, but gave her time unstintingly to any deserving organisation that approached her, from orphans’ relief to support for fallen women. The meagre staff she employed at the Dower House consisted entirely of waifs and outcasts rescued from disaster by her ladyship. Ridgeway jokingly predicted that they would one day be found murdered in their beds but, secretly, he was immensely proud of his mother’s achievements and her entire household was devoted to both the baroness and her son.
Sandford, having assured his aunt of the earl’s continued improvement, stood undecided momentarily, abstractedly tapping his crop against his boot.
Ridgeway, attending to some paperwork, raised his head at the sound and looked at Sandford curiously.
