The city of London was a mere ten miles away, and George could not have been more weary or grateful to be back. He had been gone an entire month, half of which had been spent traveling—and this on horseback, for it was faster than the carriage. He still could not believe he had consented to leave in the middle of the Season just to see to the affairs of his estate when such an idea would have been foreign to him a mere month ago. But he could not have done otherwise. For the first time since reaching his majority, George had personally cared for the land he had always known belonged to him. And to his surprise, he had found that he liked doing it.
The couple that ran the estate as butler and head housekeeper, Mr. and Mrs. Kettering, had welcomed him in proper style. Although they had not had more than a day’s notice of his arrival, they had been ready to receive him with a clean and warm bed in the master’s bedroom and a hot meal with several removes, despite his being the only one to sit at the table. The house needed refurbishing, but the bones were good, and the rooms were well kept. He wasted no time in praising them for their faithful service.
For Mr. Hertzel, the steward, however, he had no such praise. It was clear that Hertzel was attempting to siphon money from the estate into his own hands. George had given him no notice of his arrival, and the steward’s obvious discomfort at his sudden appearance and demand to see the books would have made George wary had he not already had his suspicions. Within a day, he gave the steward his leave and wrote to his banker to ask for recommendations.
At first, George continued to bemoan having to leave London right in the middle of the Season, but it was obvious he could not leave his estate until he had replaced Mr. Hertzel. So he stayed. And while he was there, he rode those few miles to the coast, where he stood looking out over the cliff. A crisp wind embraced him and filled his nostrils, and he could hear the surf pounding below. It settled something in his soul.
On his return trip to the estate, he admired the silvery, almost bluish tone to the long grass on the sides of the path, so unlike London or Hertfordshire. Then he turned onto his property and left the wilds of Cornish scenery for the sedate, well-kept English garden that framed a charming house. His hands resting on the pommel, he paused to look up at the ten windows visible on the second story and could almost imagine having children to fill some of those rooms.
As he waited to receive word from his banker, George followed one of the more outspoken tenants around, visiting the land and learning what needed to be done. The man had no hesitation in listing the repairs that George would need to take care of; and in the end, George was able to leave some of them in the man’s hands. He took notes as Mrs. Kettering listed the needs of the household and followed Mr. Kettering into the attic to inspect a leak in one area of the roof that was causing some damp.
A few months ago, George would have been anxious to leave it all and hope that someone else would take care of it. But he supposed he had changed. The topics grew in interest as he applied his mind to finding economical ways to resolve them. There was something satisfying about improving a property that belonged to him—something that was his own. And for the first time, he could understand Lucius’s charge to leave something behind for his heirs.
Throughout the course of the visit, George rode around his land and familiarized himself with the tenants, who began to greet him more warmly as some of the improvements had already begun. Every day, he found himself wandering through the big, empty house to examine the rooms, and for the first time, imagined himself here, surrounded by a family. He would even have room for guests to come. George wondered if Lady Alice’s family would ever visit such an out-of-the-way estate.
No sooner had that thought barreled through his mind than he pulled himself up short. He had been standing in the stillness of the bedroom that adjoined his master suite and was staring absently at the large looking glass that hung above the fireplace. He walked over to it and pointed to himself in the mirror. That is not an option, he scolded himself severely.
The idea, once it took hold, did not leave easily, and he began to think that maybe it was just a question of finding a wife. It did not have to be Lady Alice, who, as she had made perfectly clear, was not available.
As soon as the new steward was put in place—another Cornish man from Truro, whom the banker had found through one of his contacts—George left with the promise to return over the summer to see how the repairs were going. One fortunate thing was that his land was good for farming, and his tenants brought in enough in the way of crops to sustain the estate. George found time to be thankful his father’s godmother had not bequeathed him a mine, for running an estate was complicated enough as it was.
He packed up his few belongings and bid farewell to the Ketterings, promising not to be so long in visiting them the next time. As he started on his journey homeward, he wondered whether Duck and Miss Chauncey had advanced in their courtship. For the first time since the notion had taken root, George did not begrudge Duck his happiness.
The same night he returned, George walked into White’s, hoping to surprise his friends. What he would have liked to have done was to attend some event where Lady Alice was certain to be found, if only to get a glimpse of her. He could not deny that he had thought of her more than once over the month, even after he had taken himself to task for considering her in the role as wife and mistress of his estate. Was she still set on putting distance between them, or would the fact that he had been gone a month be sufficient for them to pick up where they had left off?
He found Whitmore and Amos sitting with Taylor and Filbert, and he took a seat at their table to the sounds of their greetings and claps on his shoulder. After they had drunk to his health and the conversation settled down, George looked around. “Where’s Duck?”
Whitmore and Amos exchanged a look. “He has suffered a disappointment.”
George furrowed his brows. “What disappointment?” What could have happened in the month he had been gone? The only thing that came to mind was that his affection for Miss Chauncey had come to nothing. But surely that could not be the case when Miss Chauncey was clearly as enamored as he was. If Duck had gone so far as to make an offer, she would never turn him down. She would have to be mad to do so. The girl could never get a better man than Duck.
Amos shook his head. “Miss Chauncey is engaged to Lord Hicks.”
“Which means I have won my bet,” Filbert announced. When everyone looked at him with a mixture of surprise and indignation, he raised his hands. “Don’t misunderstand me. I am very sorry for Duck, of course. But I knew there would be some young lady who would be after Hicks’s title and who would accept the man on those terms. Or, in Miss Chauncey’s case, someone whose mother would accept the terms.”
“Engaged,” George said. “I would not have thought it of her. That is—I do not know the girl, but I had formed the impression that she was not after a title. Has it been announced?”
“For some reason I cannot fathom, it has not been announced,” Whitmore said. “But I understand the banns have been read. I tried to tell Duck that some other worthy young lady would come around soon enough and so not to fall into despair. He didn’t listen.”
George nodded. “Where is he now? His lodgings?”
“He’s at Evans’s place, I believe. Go see him. He’ll listen to you,” Amos said. “I’m sure you’ll be able to talk some sense into him.”
George pulled out his pocket watch. It wanted a few minutes to midnight. “Evans is a married man. I shan’t go tonight. However, I believe I will leave you. I’ve been traveling for days, and if I want to wake up in time for breakfast, I will have to make an early night of it.”
Filbert exchanged an amused glance with Taylor. “The fellow has come back from his estate and already so changed. A slave to his duties. Will we be betting on your marriage next?”
“Better wait until there is a lady,” George shot back, and he walked out the door to the sound of laughter.
The next day, just after noon, George went to Matthew Evans’s house, wondering if Duck had spent the night there. He would try here first, and if he had no luck, he would head to Duck’s lodgings. It would be good to see how Matthew and his wife were doing anyway.
When he was admitted into the drawing room, he faltered on the threshold. The comfortable room was full by their usual standards of entertaining. Matthew and Susan Evans were there, of course. And with them were Duck, and George’s sister Philippa. Sitting next to Philippa was Lady Alice. Her mouth dropped just slightly, then she glanced away. She looked just as surprised to see him.
“You’re home, George,” Philippa said, her face showing delight.
“Please have a seat.” Susan stood, indicating the only remaining chair in their small circle placed close to the fire. It was directly across from Lady Alice.
George remembered his manners and bowed before Susan. Then he went to Lady Alice, who stood. “I hope you are well, my lady.” When he lifted his head, he could not refrain from holding her hand a fraction longer than necessary. It was good to see her.
Before sitting, George remembered the purpose of his visit and glanced at Duck. “I was at White’s last night, and Amos told me I might find you here.”
Duck nodded, an uncharacteristically gloomy expression on his face.
“It is so good to have you back, George. I sent a letter to you that must have crossed paths. It will be waiting for you if ever you return,” Philippa said with a humorous tone in her voice.
“I will need to. There are many things to see to on the estate,” he replied. “I want to be more of a support to Mr. and Mrs. Kettering, who have held the estate together despite the fact that there has been no master there for years.”
Duck pulled out of his brown study to examine George. “You’ve changed. The month away appears to have done you some good.”
George, self-conscious from the attention, glanced at Lady Alice. “I suppose in some ways it did. But—if you’ll forgive my coming to the matter at hand—what is this news about Miss Chauncey accepting Lord Hicks’s suit? How could something like this have happened? I am assuming everyone here is aware of the situation and hope I have not erred in that assessment.”
“We all know,” Lady Alice said quietly. “Your sister brought me here to speak with Mr. Duckworth, as he knows I have a friendship with Miss Chauncey, no matter how new.”
“What happened?” George asked again. He allowed himself the luxury of looking at Lady Alice while he waited for her answer.
“From what I gather—and I must clarify that my one conversation with Miss Chauncey was brief and under public scrutiny—her mother has forced her to accept Lord Hicks’s suit.”
“Over yours?” George asked, turning to Duck incredulously. He couldn’t believe Miss Chauncey could turn down Duck’s suit for Lord Hicks’s. He knew she was not title-hungry. And she was of age. Her mother could not push her to do something she did not wish to do.
Duck shifted in his chair. He didn’t answer right away, so Philippa spoke for him, her voice full of compassion.
“Duck hadn’t exactly offered for her. Their courtship was of an unofficial nature, but he did not give her anything in the way of a promise. I believe it was too difficult for Miss Chauncey to resist her mother when she had nothing else to fall back on.”
“But you have since told her how you felt, have you not?” George asked. A woman could not easily break a betrothal, at least not without scandal. But something must be done.
“I believe it’s too late for that,” Evans said.
Duck dropped his chin in his hand without answering, and George turned to stare at him, surprise again pulling at his brow. He had not seen Duck with so little resolve since that escapade with Mary Morgan. He wanted to shake him.
“If you love her, you need to let her know how you feel. She accepted a proposal on false pretenses.” George spoke earnestly and with a vague suspicion that his exhortation to Duck had taken on a personal significance. “She should at least know.”
Lady Alice turned her face to his, and he caught the look of surprise on her features. Here, he was not only conceding the bet to Lady Alice by his words, he was actually working on her behalf, despite his not proposing any sort of practical solution.
“There is nothing she can do now, though, Mr. Clavering.” When Lady Alice spoke, he had trouble focusing on her words. Her voice was like ambrosia after his not having heard it for a month.
“Maybe not. But I still think you should tell her what you feel. That’s my advice,” George said firmly. This somewhat futile proposition was met with silence, apart from the shuffle of servants moving about in a nearby room.
Lady Alice looked around. “Mrs. Evans, I fear I cannot stay. I have been away longer than I intended as it is. Philippa, do not trouble yourself to accompany me, for I know you are to meet your husband. I can send word to have my father’s carriage brought here.”
George stood. “Please allow me to escort you, my lady. I came by phaeton and had my footman bring it to the mews. It will be quicker than waiting for your carriage.”
Lady Alice hesitated long enough that he knew she was reflecting on the gossip it might cause if anyone were to see them. He found himself holding his breath.
At last, she glanced around the room. “Very well. I thank you.”
“I’ll be by later to visit you, Duck,” George said before escorting Lady Alice to the hall, where word was sent to the mews. The carriage was brought around without delay. George thanked his footman as he helped Lady Alice into the phaeton, then climbed up himself. “James, you can find your own way home, can you not?”
“Yes, sir,” his footman responded and took off at a casual pace, not in the least perturbed by the change of plans. George could have let him ride on the back, but he preferred to have Lady Alice to himself.
He gave a click of the reins, and the horses started forward. With Lady Alice at his side, he was conscious of every movement either of them made. Their legs were close enough to share warmth, though they were not actually touching.
“You have an estate in Cornwall, I am told,” Lady Alice said.
“Yes, do you know the area?” George kept his eyes trained on the road, grateful for the distraction from her presence.
“Not Cornwall, no. But our family visited Brighton twice, and it was one of my favorite places to be. There is something so bracing and beautiful about the seaside. The tall brown grass that grows in the dunes, the cliffs, the wind and crashing waves. I have always wanted to live in a seaside town.”
George smiled. She had revealed much of herself in those few words, and he found himself in sympathy with what she said. “My estate is not on the sea, but it’s not far from it. It’s an easy ride to get to all those sights you spoke of.”
From his periphery, he saw Lady Alice send him a piercing look that was accompanied by a flush to her cheeks. It was only then that George realized he had been dangling his property before her as a way of enticing her to consider him as a suitor. It was too late now, though. The words were out.
Lady Alice remained silent, and George searched for something to say—anything that might reestablish them on the footing they seemed to have lost. There had been an easy banter between them, but it was so stiff now. In the end, it was Lady Alice who picked up another thread of conversation.
“You have won your wager. Mr. Duckworth did not make a match with Miss Chauncey. He did not have time to do so. Or he did not do so quickly enough for it to bear any fruit. I wouldn’t wish Lord Hicks on anyone, but—”
Lady Alice stopped suddenly, and he glanced at her, curious as to what had made her pause. He put his eyes quickly back on the road.
“But I cannot say I blame Miss Chauncey for buckling under pressure from her mother when she had nothing more than flirtation to go on from Mr. Duckworth’s side. Perhaps if he had known there was such focused interest elsewhere, he would have acted more quickly.”
“I’m sure he would have,” he assured her. “He was hurt in the past, and I believe it has made him shy to reveal his feelings.” He darted a glance at her again, then trained his gaze forward. “I cannot express my surprise upon seeing you in the Evanses’ drawing room when I arrived.”
She chuckled and looked down. “And I upon seeing you. Your sister asked me to come and speak to Mr. Duckworth. She thought I could explain the circumstances behind Miss Chauncey’s acceptance of Lord Hicks’s suit.”
“And were you able to?” George frowned. “It does seem rather hen-hearted of her to accept a man’s suit when she is clearly in love with another man.”
“That is because you are a man, Mr. Clavering.” Lady Alice’s tone was a chastisement. “You may do whatever you wish. You need only propose to a woman when you feel like doing so. If you don’t feel like it, you need not. We women must simply wait. We have no control over our destiny other than to say no at one moment or yes at another—and even that decision is sometimes wrested from us. If Mr. Duckworth was slow to offer his hand, then it is no one’s fault but his own. Although, of course, I do not mean to be severe.”
George paused before answering, focusing again on the road. Grateful for something to do with his hands. “We take risks, too. For we do not know if the woman will say yes. And besides that, we cannot rush into the thing based on emotion. Imagine if we did that? We would be sentenced to a life of being married to the wrong woman. Or—if we performed the jilt—be treated even more harshly than a woman for such a thing and lose our honor in the process. There are two sides to a coin, Lady Alice.”
“Perhaps.” There was silence again, and a small smile played on her lips. “As I said, you have won the bet, Mr. Clavering. You must give me your terms.”
George smiled, relief coursing through him at the slight shift in the atmosphere surrounding their conversation. The return to their wager called to mind the lighter days of their early acquaintance. “I will not seek terms until I see what Duck does. For his sake, I hope he will speak to Miss Chauncey. To give you credit, I believe Duck would be very well suited to Miss Chauncey.” He pulled the phaeton onto the street where the Duke of Carr’s London house stood at the end.
Lady Alice smiled. “Thank you for that admission. It is big of you.” She dropped her gaze to her hands. “You will have to give me the terms soon, however, if you wish to claim them.”
He brought the carriage to a standstill outside her residence and turned to her. She looked at him squarely, and his breath caught in the warm regard that he found in the brown eyes and sweet rosebud lips that were tilted up to him. He was caught by her gaze. Entrapped.
“And why is that?” he managed to say. “We are in no rush but might think of terms at our leisure. It is not even May yet.”
“Yes, the Season is not half over,” she said, looking down at her hands. “But my mother is sending me to Cumbria to live with my sister Ann.”