"Indeed it does."
"Mama, let it rest," said Amy who sat across. "If the new Lord Dinsmore wants the first coach to himself, then so be it. Flora doesn't care, so why should you?"
"I really don't care," said Flora, forcing herself to speak. It was an effort just to talk, let alone involve herself in any kind of argument. She was faintly surprised when, earlier, she'd discovered Richard had decreed he should ride alone in the first mourning coach and relegated her and her family to the second. Perhaps if her father were here, he would stand up for her, but he was ill today and couldn't come. Even Amy's husband, the Duke, might have helped but he was at his hunting lodge in Scotland. At another time, she would have been deeply hurt over such an obvious slight. Now it didn't matter.
Her mother peered out the window again, this time to the rear. "There must be at least fifty mourning coaches. Truly a fitting tribute to Lord Dinsmore." She gave a triumphant little sniff. "With all the dignitaries here, I'd wager Lady Constance Boles's coach is well toward the rear."
Flora exchanged glances with Amy, both silently lamenting their mother's compulsion to consider her social standing no matter where she was, even her son-in-law's funeral. "I doubt the position of her carriage has much to do with rank, Mama."
Her mother ignored her comment. "And just look at the crowds of people," she crowed, "they line the streets." In a kindly gesture, she patted Flora's hand. "But of course everyone loved the Hero of Seedaseer."
Flora wished her mother would stop talking.
Charles gone
. Oh, how she wished she'd been kinder to him. If only she had loved him as he loved her. But at least she'd come to know him intimately during his last months. If she had not gone to his bed that night, she would feel even worse, if that was possible. Still, his death bed intimation that he knew what her feelings were for Richard had increased her misery a thousand-fold. Exactly how much he knew, or had guessed, she would never know.
Please, just let me get through this
, Flora thought in silent prayer. All she wanted in the world was to get through the funeral without falling apart, then hasten to the warm, welcoming shelter of Pemberly Manor. Although she'd lived there but a year, she thought of it as her home, not only for now, but forever as far as she was concerned.
"So what will be your living arrangements?" asked her mother. It was as if she had read Flora's mind.
"The same as before, I should imagine." Her mother's question had surprised her. "I never thought—"
"Perhaps you should think," her mother tartly interrupted. "Pemberly Manor belongs to the new Lord Dinsmore now. Not that you're without resources. Be thankful your father negotiated a fine marriage settlement in your behalf, what with jointure and pin money. Still, as you very well know, land and houses go to the heir."
"It really doesn't matter who owns Pemberly Manor," Flora replied. "The new Lord Dinsmore would never throw me out, or be less than the soul of generosity in any way."
"Hmm," said her mother, sounding doubtful. "What you should do, Flora, is move back with your father and me."
Never
. She would lose all the freedom she had gained if she moved back with her parents, although she'd never say so. No question, the new Lord Dinsmore would allow her to stay, Flora assured herself. Nearing the Cathedral, she forgot the depressing conversation with her mother.
As they ascended the steps of St. Paul's, Lady Rensley nudged her. "Here he comes at last. High time
."
Richard appeared, garbed to funereal perfection in total black, including a special black mourning cloak. All shiny gilt buttons and buckles had been removed from his clothing. To complete his aura of mourning, he had replaced his usual pleasant expression with one of the severest gravity.
"Ah, Lord Dinsmore," said her mother, "are you not impressed with the immense size of the crowd? There's no doubt your cousin was greatly beloved and honored."
Richard bowed, rather briefly, Flora thought. For the first time ever, her heart didn't leap at his sight. She sensed there was something different about him. At first she couldn't think what it was, except it seemed as if now he carried a mantle of remoteness about him, tinged with more than a touch of arrogance. "Ah, Lady Rensley," he replied, a touch condescending. "Of course there is a crowd for my dear, departed cousin. I shall escort you all inside. Lady Dinsmore, protocol decrees you shall sit with me during the services."
Protocol decreed? How formal he seemed. How very cold, as if she wouldn't be by his side if it weren't for protocol.
"So you're the new Earl of Dinsmore now," gushed Lady Rensley. Amy nudged her. Finally realizing she sounded much too cheerful, Lady Rensley switched her expression to one more solemn. "My deepest condolences. What are your plans, sir?"
Richard's expression turned even more sober if that was possible. "I shall need months to recover from the lamentable loss of my dear Cousin Charles. Thus, I shall retire from London and return to Pemberly Manor—to my roots, so to speak, where I plan to spend the next few months in prayer and meditation."
"And my daughter?" Lady Rensley asked. Flora flinched. Was there no question too outrageous for her mother to ask? But before she could admonish her mother, Richard turned his attention to her again.
"That reminds me. How soon do you plan on moving back with your parents?"
Thunderstruck, Flora was forming her shocked reply when Richard continued, "Not that you need rush, madam. Take all the time you need. Although...actually, I'd like to leave London as soon as possible and reclaim my home. Do you suppose you could be out by the end of the week?"
Before Flora could begin to answer, a hand shot out of the crowd and gripped Richard's arm. Flora saw it belonged to Lord Lynd, a most unsmiling Lord Lynd with a lethal calmness in his eyes.
"Ah, there you are, Richard," Lynd said in a frigid tone. He briefly bowed to her family and directed his next remark to her. "Lady Dinsmore, my deep condolences." Still with a most uncompromising grasp on Richard's arm, he remarked, "Shall we go inside, Lord Dinsmore? I need a word with you at once."
* * * *
Following the funeral services, in the mahogany paneled offices of Sir James Quigley, Sidney and Richard seated themselves in front of the large, polished oak desk.
From under bushy white brows, the elderly, shaky-handed solicitor regarded Richard with compassion. "You have my deepest sympathy. Sorry I couldn't attend the funeral this morning. I worked with your cousin for over forty years. A fine man. A great—"
"Yes, yes," Richard interrupted. "My friend, Lord Lynd, here tells me there have been some last have changes pertaining to Lord Dinsmore's estate?"
Richard bent forward as the elderly man cleared his throat while fumbling through a pile of papers. He selected one and held it up. "Er...a slight change. Lord Dinsmore called me to his side the day before he died. He...the thing is, Richard, he's entailed all your land."
Richard stared at Sir James. "All of it?"
"I fear so. What that means, of course, is that—"
"I cannot sell it?"
"I fear not."
"That's...that's monstrous
. Why would he do such a thing?"
"I am only his solicitor. You would know the answer to that better than I."
"Then how shall I pay my debts?" Richard sprang from his chair and started pacing. "I cannot abide this, Sir James. Can you not set the change aside? My cousin was ill. He didn't know what he was doing."
Sir James firmly shook his head. "Signed and witnessed, Lord Dinsmore. Dinsmore was ill, but I respectfully advise you he gave every indication of being sound of mind."
"Damnation." Richard sank into the chair again. "At least I shall still inherit Pemberly Manor. The revenues from the estate should amount to something, at least." He scrutinized the peculiar expression on the solicitor's face. "Is there something wrong, Sir James?"
"One other thing." The old solicitor cleared his throat again. "Your father changed his will. You will not inherit Pemberly Manor."
"What!"
"He left it to his second wife, Lady Flora Dinsmore."
"He can't do that." Richard rose in a rage and stomped about. "By God, am I not the closet relative? Pemberly Manor is mine by right of progenitor."
"Exceptions can be made, as I'm sure you know."
"This is unacceptable." Richard pointed an accusing finger at Sir James. "Rest assured, you haven't heard the last of this. I shall take the matter to the Chancery Court."
Sidney, who had sat silent throughout, detected a twinkle deep within the solicitor's faded old eyes. "You are free to do what you want," said Sir James with studied patience. "I should warn you, though, you'll have an uphill battle if you choose to go against the will of the Hero of Seedaseer."
* * * *
"Where are you going?" Sidney asked his still furious friend. They had just left Sir James's office and were riding along Bond Street in Richard's curricle.
"Straight to White's where I shall gamble all night and no doubt drink myself into a stupor," came Richard's unequivocal response.
"No need for that
. You've still got the title, the land, and estates all over England. Ireland, too, as I recall. You simply cannot sell anything, that's all."
Richard stared at Sidney as if a startling thought had just occurred to him. "You knew about this, didn't you?"
Here came the moment of truth, thought Sidney. Best to face up, get it over with right now. "Not only did I know about it, it was I who told your cousin of your plan to evict Flora."
Richard's mouth dropped open. "I've lost Pemberly Manor because of you?"
"If you want to look at it that way, yes. You were going to throw her out, weren't you? Rather a cruel thing to do. So I could not, in all good conscience, keep my mouth shut. That's why I informed your father. That's why he entailed his land and changed his will."
"You betrayed me
."
"You deserved to be betrayed. Stop the carriage, I want to get out."
"What are you doing?" Richard asked as he pulled the curricle to a halt.
Sidney sprung to the ground with one swift motion and looked back up at his childhood friend. "I have never betrayed a friend before and never had the dimmest notion I ever would. Now you, with your arrogance and greed, have caused me to break my code of honor. I agonized before I came to my decision, but in all good conscience, I could not stand by and see you hurt Flora."
Richard broke into scoffing laughter. "I always suspected you were mad for her. This proves it. So how does she feel about you, my faithless friend? Has she ever shown you the slightest interest? Has she ever looked at you with those dreamy eyes of hers all smitten with love? Ha! She looks at me that way, Sidney. If you've deluded yourself otherwise, you're a fool."
"Good day, Richard." Sidney turned, waving his hand in a gesture of dismissal. He started to walk away, knowing he should be angry at his friend's callous words. Instead, he felt as if he'd just had the wind knocked out of him. Everything Richard said was true. While Flora was married to Dinsmore, Sidney's feelings were irrelevant. He had placed them under lock and key with stern instructions to himself not ever to examine them. But now that Dinsmore was dead, never-voiced feelings were surfacing. Flora was free. Perhaps, after a decent period of mourning, she might possibly—"
"I could get her back, you know," called Richard from his curricle. "I have only to snap my fingers and she'll come running."
Sidney spun around. "Flora knows you for what you are. You're the fool if you think she'd ever take you back."
"Really?" Richard asked mockingly. "You know she's still in love with me."
"Do tell." Sidney raised a skeptical eyebrow. "If memory serves, in her last mention of you she described you as the lowest of the low, besides being a rakehell and utterly worthless. As I further recall, she added that if you lay dying in the street she would pass right by and try to refrain from spitting on you."
Richard shrugged. "She was a trifle peeved."
All humor left Sidney as a cold wave of dread flooded over him. "She's done with you."
"Don't be too sure, old friend," Richard called lightly. "Hope you find a hack." With a laugh he snapped the reins and drove away.
* * * *
After the funeral, before she returned Pemberly Manor, Flora found the opportunity to talk to Amy alone. "What's happened to you?" she asked. "You look positively radiant, despite all the gloom of a funeral." She had noticed Amy walked with a lighter step, had a satisfied gleam in her eye.
Amy bent close and whispered confidentially, "I'm in love."
"With the Duke?"
"Of course not. We lead separate lives now. He has his women, or whatever is his pleasure. As for me, he's made it clear he doesn't care what I do, as long as I'm discreet."