Authors: Alicia Meadowes
“I appreciate your consideration, gentlemen. By all means let us salvage what little reputation we can for Seton. He was not
always as he was at the end.” Once again Straeford remembered Mrs. Seton and was relieved to be able to comply with her request.
“Very noble of you, Straeford. Very noble,” Belvoir claimed heartily. “Naturally there will be a public statement clearing
you of all wrongdoing in the Nangore affair, and the board will be dissolved without further meeting. How say you to that?”
“Whatever you decide, sir. I will be relieved to put it all behind me.”
“Very good, my lord. I laud your discretion.” Car-stairs joined his praise to that of Belvoir. “Now, there is another matter…
the promotion. We agree with Seton that you are deserving of it… but…”
“But the timing is inopportune,” Straeford finished for them. “That the press and public would not look favorably on such
a sudden reversal, I’m well aware.”
“You are far ahead of us, dear sir. And your understanding is excellent. Be assured that the matter of your promotion would
not be forgotten, but merely delayed until such a time that it may be accomplished without undue disturbance.”
“I find no fault with that procedure, gentlemen.”
“Excellent. I think we can expect to close this matter with a minimum of public outcry—especially since attention is so much
focused on the European front at present,” Carstairs said.
Straeford nodded his assent.
“Which leads us to our last consideration. We feel this would be a propitious time to transfer you from India to Portugal.
Arthur Wellesley is preparing an expedition to that country, and we thought to send you along in charge of the 9th Brigade.
How say you?”
“I say very good, gentlemen. It is exactly the course I would have chosen for myself had I the opportunity of doing so.”
“Well then,” Carstairs claimed, rising and extending his hand to Lord Straeford, “I say this was a most successful interview,
and I give you my heartiest good wishes for your future success, Colonel.”
“And I add mine to them.” Belvoir rose, shaking Straeford’s hand and closing the interview.
That evening over a supper at the Green Fox, the earl reported his interview to Harding and lifted his glass in response to
his friend’s toast of “Better days.”
“That’s a toast I’ll gladly join, my friend. I did not look to see the Seton affair so neatly packed up and settled. It still
leaves me dazed.” Straeford’s gaze turned inward as, with mixed emotions, he relived the morning’s interview at the War Office.
He was both saddened and relieved. “I knew Seton was headed for disaster—but never did I think he would end up a suicide,
poor devil.”
“Suicide is a messy business, Just, but it certainly resolved a touchy situation for everyone concerned.”
“I wonder if Seton’s wife would sum it up that way. She came to see me the other morning.”
“Did she, by Jove! You didn’t tell me.”
“I had forgotten about her… a little broken bird of a woman…”
“Now don’t turn maudlin, my friend. It ain’t your style. Furthermore, ‘one man’s meat is another man’s poison.’ You have come
out of the wretched affair with your feathers all smooth and your future looking bright—leastways, as far as the army is concerned.
From what you’ve told me, old Belvoir and Carstairs were falling all over themselves with encomiums. You’ll get that generalship
you place so high on your priorities. Just see if you don’t.”
Straeford regarded his friend thoughtfully. “There’s a lot of truth in what you say, Ed. I came out of this one amazingly
well, didn’t I? Wonder if this augurs a change in luck for me. Could it be Dame Fortune is tired of the cudgel and will reveal
the softer side of her perfidious nature to me for once in my life?”
“I say, old man, this is no time for disrespect! Dame Fortune has just winked your way and I, for one, think a celebration
is called for. Another round of master Ruben’s stout will fortify us nicely. Hey boy, over here,” Ed called loudly to the
potboy. “Look to your business and fill these disgracefully empty glasses with dispatch. We have some serious drinking to
attend to this night.” Harding’s mood was verging on hilarity.
“Much more of old Ruben’s stout and it will be bellows to mend, for you my friend.” Straeford laughed, catching Harding’s
infectious mood of gaiety.
“A little more of old Ruben’s stout and mayhaps you’ll gain some proper perspective, old man. Life is not the constant call
to arms you believe it to be. I drink to your future success—both in marriage and your career.” Harding raised his glass.
“There. Did I not tell you it would go well with you in this matter, old man?”
“Damn your hide, Harding, you need not have brought the marriage business to mind at present. I thought to enjoy this evening.”
“Don’t be such a sorehead, Just.”
“If you only knew what a trial this marriage contract entails. The boy must be given a commission; the younger daughter a
London season…”
“It’s well worth it if Straeford Park is renovated.”
“Yes,” the earl agreed reluctantly.
“And you say your intended is a handsome wench. Wait till you get to know her better. I am anxious to meet her.”
“And so you shall. This weekend Loftus and his daughter are to inspect the Park. I could not endure the whole time in their
company without support. You must bring Ann to supper and see me through this ordeal.”
“Somehow I feel the ordeal falls more to Miss Loftus than to you, my friend. Have some pity.” Harding laughed.
“There’s not a female that walks this earth who is deserving of
my
pity,” Justin claimed ruefully.
“You’ll change your tune one day, Just. I predict it with certainty.”
“To blazes with you and your maundering, you simpleton,” Justin replied with affection for his long-time friend.
From a hilltop vantage point hidden behind a cluster of trees, the earl could observe the manor house without himself being
seen. Sitting atop his slender black stallion, he watched the slow arrival of the carriage carrying Loftus and his daughter.
A sense of personal embarrassment was quickly followed by a sudden welling of anger as they stepped down from the coach to
examine the austere and neglected residence. From such a distance he could not discern their conversation, but from Angus’s
gesticulations directed at various points of the house, it was clear he was evaluating his investment.
Annoyed, the earl decided not to ride down the hillside to meet his guests. Instead he swung his horse around and thundered
off in the opposite direction.
It was left to Lady Maxwell to welcome her grandson’s guests and explain that his absence was due to estate business. The
visitors accepted her information, and she quickly ushered them into the drawing room where she launched into a rambling discourse
concerning the heritage of the estate and the house itself.
The regal lady provided extensive details regarding
the historical background and the Significance of the few furnishings that had not gone to pay some debt. A small oak table
at the far side of the room, for example, had been part of the estate for over two hundred years. Its rococo design provided
a hint of the glory which the house’s former occupants must have known. Lady Maxwell pointed first to a small, ancient, threadbare
tapestry depicting a faded pastoral scene and then to the family crest—a half moon with two dragonlike creatures locked in
ferocious combat—which was engraved on the fireplace.
A long moment of silence followed Lady Maxwell’s recitation, making Loftus uneasy, and he blurted out his intentions to have
the Park renovated before the marriage took place.
“Ye needn’t fret one bit about the property, madam. I’ll see to it that it’s put back in shape as it was meant to be. I mean
to stand by my gentleman’s agreement with the earl and make right certain that he and his wife-to-be will live in style and
grace, just the way it should be.”
Her father’s pointed boastfulness embarrassed his daughter, who sought desperately to change the discussion. Her attention
had been focused on the striking face that appeared in the portrait above the fireplace mantel and she seized the opportunity
to make an inquiry regarding it. “The lady in the portrait…”
“The earl’s mother,” Lady Maxwell cut in and seemed oddly offended by such an innocent comment, but Marisa could not stem
her interest. She was impressed with the great inner strength emanating from the woman’s penetrating green eyes. This was
not the face of a passive, domestic creature but of one who bore an almost ruthless vitality. It was not hard to detect many
of the physical qualities in her son—the aquiline nose, the sculptured cheekbones, and the luxuriant black hair.
“She must have been a captivating person.”
Lady Maxwell did not reply at once but fixed her gaze on the portrait for what seemed like an interminable time. The Loftuses
exchanged puzzled glances as they waited for a response.
“Captivating? Is that the word you used?” She stopped to fidget with the black lace ruffle of her high-necked
dress. “My dear, perhaps I should warn you about Lady Marian. The less said…” Lady Maxwell’s voice stopped abruptly as she
raised her startled eyes to acknowledge the fact that the earl had entered the room.
In an uncomfortable moment of silence, he presented himself to the trio with a sweeping gaze before making a polite but half-hearted
bow to Miss Loftus. She nodded with a smile and he found himself looking directly into her large blue eyes. Even though she
wore a simple morning dress of green chintz and her honey-colored hair was plainly coiffed in a smooth knot at the top of
her head, he felt strangely attracted to her in a way he could not clearly fathom. This was a source of annoyance to him,
but he attempted to cloak his irritation and exchanged pleasantries with the merchant and his daughter.
Through occasional glimpses she dared to make in his direction, Marisa studied the man who had been designated to become her
husband. His presence in the room was a commanding one, and she could not help admiring this black-browed stranger’s handsome
appearance. A taut, lean, muscular body was plainly evident to her as she stole glances at his gleaming Hessians, buff pantaloons,
and dark green jacket. Standing erectly in front of them, he seemed a towering figure of strength. He was truly a magnificent
specimen of masculinity, Marisa thought. But under Straeford’s steady regard she felt uncertain of herself, and despite her
determination not to reveal her nervousness she stammered whenever she addressed him directly. It was those penetrating green
eyes, his hand placed squarely on his hip, his defiantly confident pose that caused her to wonder whether she was capable
of any speech at all in his presence.
Mustering her courage, Marisa struggled for any conversation that would relieve the tension she felt. “My father and I were
admiring your property as we rode in, my lord. It’s magnificence is still quite apparent.”
One of Straeford’s eyebrows arched sharply as he mocked her with his reply. “Yes, it is not unlike a beautiful virgin who
has long since lost her innocence, wouldn’t you agree?”
The Loftuses, as well as Lady Maxwell, stiffened,
but it was Marisa, goaded by his sarcasm, who replied. “I am sorry to say that I find your comparison vulgar, and I do not
understand the inference you are making by such a statement.”
“You may make whatever inference you wish from what I have said, my dear lady; however, I do believe we are all aware of the
true significance of your visit here today. We meet simply for one purpose, and that is to permit you and your father the
opportunity to assess the worth of my estate and current holdings in order to determine whether a profitable business arrangement
can be consummated through the coming nuptials. Now that should leave no one in this room with any misunderstandings concerning
the matter.”
Loftus’s face contorted in disbelief at this outburst. “My lord!” he exclaimed crossly as he observed his daughter crimson
with emotion. But it was Lady Maxwell who reproached her grandson soundly for his unwarranted tirade. “Justin! Please remember
that the Loftuses are our guests. This is totally uncalled for.”
The dark fierce look faded at her reprimand. Perhaps he had gone too far. But it had helped to relieve some of the frustrations
he was feeling. Did he or didn’t he want to go through with this bargain? His personal pride was being torn in two different
directions; on the one hand stood the restoration of his family’s holdings, and on the other his betrothal to this merchant’s
daughter. What was the correct course of action, he wondered, as he met Lady Maxwell’s indignant glare. He knew his remarks
had embarrassed her.
“Your reprimand is well deserved, my dear Grandmother,” he said, bowing deeply in her direction. “I do apologize to my visitors
and hope that they were not unduly upset by my intemperate remarks. Now let me demonstrate that I can be civil. I believe
luncheon awaits us. Miss Loftus.” He held out his arm to her, which she accepted reluctantly, and escorted her across the
hall where a cold meal was served.
The tense climate which Straeford’s remarks had created was alleviated only slightly during the luncheon by the gallant efforts
of Lady Maxwell, who amused
Loftus with some frivolous tales of her childhood. The earl, for his part, lapsed into silence while Marisa pushed her food
about her plate and spoke in polite monosyllables when she was required to do so. She could not help but feel the lingering
hurt of his earlier comments, and was truly worried about her future in the hands of such a man.
Quite unexpectedly Straeford interrupted Marisa’s thoughts with an invitation to inspect the manor house. He had barely spoken
to her at all during the meal and now this attempt at… what was it? she pondered.
The earl’s hand rested under her arm as he guided her down lengthy corridors and passageways. His closeness to her caused
Marisa to experience strange and conflicting sensations. Feelings of attraction warred with feelings of anxiety toward this
temperamental man. A tightening of her stomach muscles confirmed her stressful state. She feared further antagonism from him
and wanted to avoid it at all cost.