“It is most unfortunate you injured your shoulder the day we arrived. I was looking forward to riding with you, Minerva. My son has been most effusive about your equestrian talents.”
Olivia—the informality of that name still didn’t feel right on Minerva’s lips—was doing a very good job of separating the pair of them from the gentlemen as they strolled along the meandering garden path in search of the elusive cave. “As in all things, I fear your son has greatly embellished my talents.”
“I don’t doubt it. So far, his version of things leaves a lot to be desired—although I am glad you had the good sense to make the scoundrel wait and court you properly. Everything comes to Hugh too easily.” Something Minerva couldn’t argue with. “Do you know, he neglected to mention you had siblings? Not once did I hear about Diana or Vee, yet I knew the quartet at the local assembly in Chipping Norton played so ill during your first waltz the pair of you struggled to dance through your laughter.” A charming image that made Minerva smile. “And whilst that is a perfectly lovely anecdote which I enjoyed, I should have thought the details of a pair of sisters might have featured in at least one of his extensive paragraphs. Especially as the three of you are obviously so close and Hugh has always been such an enthusiastic and entertaining letter writer with an eye for minute details.”
“Their omission was very careless of him.” What else could she say? Thank goodness he hadn’t described her sisters, else they would all have three complicated stories to learn.
“Careless? That is one way to describe it. ‘Thoughtless’ is better. I was dumbstruck when I encountered them in the hallway. I didn’t even know their names. It was embarrassing.” The older woman slowed her pace to thoroughly scrutinize Minerva. “Although, now I have seen you, I understand why you consume him so. He often raved about your beauty. No pertinent details, of course, despite his love of them. I imagined you to be one of those blond and ethereal sorts the ton favors. So fragile and delicate you’d evaporate in high wind. I could not, for the life of me, conceive of how you survived your illness. Yet now I see you…”
“It all makes perfect sense? As you can plainly see, I am not the least bit fragile—although I wouldn’t mind being a little more delicate. Even Hugh struggles to lift me.” Minerva had felt the large muscles in his shoulders bunch as he had heaved her onto that horse. “He hides it politely, though.” She had seen the strain on his face as he had hastily stepped away.
“Men in love see little fault in the women they have given their hearts to, whereas women are always much more pragmatic, don’t you think? We see the faults clearly, but learn to live with them. Not all women, of course. Some ladies, I am sorry to say, have little more than fluff between their ears. I am heartily relieved to discover you are not one of them. I should have loathed a silly daughter-in-law, and I suspect, had he picked such a woman to spend eternity with, Hugh would have come to loathe her, too. He has always been a deep thinker—not that he chooses to show that particular side of his character often—and those who think deep thoughts need an intelligent spouse to discuss things with. If he ever deigns to drop the charming rogue façade long enough for a deep discussion, of course. He does like to appear irritatingly superficial most of the time.”
“Why is that, do you suppose?” Because of all the things that intrigued her about Hugh, it was this which interested her the most. He was happy for people to think him shallow, lazy, and selfish yet became coy to the point of guarded, which contradicted the image he was at pains to portray.
“Hard to say … He’s always had a mischievous side and has always had the ability to see the humor in everything. Yet as a boy, he was also incredibly academic, with a tremendous thirst for knowledge. That studiousness drove him to learn as much from his father and his tutors as he could. There is no denying my son is exceptionally clever, although nowadays only those closest to him would ever realize it. He never used to hide his intelligence.”
“Then why does he?”
“I first noticed the change in him after his father died. He worshiped his father. His death really hit him hard. It was so tragic, you see, and so pointless. Thirty-seven is no age for a man to be struck down and the decline was unbelievably quick. Cruelly quick. One day he was striding around the estate much as Hugh is now—the next he was wasting away.” Olivia’s expression was sad.
“He had a cancer.” Her gloved hand brushed her throat below one ear. “Just a tiny lump in his neck. So tiny we all thought it insignificant. Then it grew. The physician tried to cut it away, but it had already spread and there was nothing to be done. It seems staggering to think such a small thing in such a robust man could wreak such extensive damage so fast. None of us expected it, but for Hugh it was a dreadful blow. At just seventeen, he had to watch the man he believed invincible die in front of him over a matter of months. He emerged from his grief a very different young man to the boy he was.”
“Seventeen is such a difficult age at the best of times.”
“It is indeed, as I am sure you well know.” Olivia slid her a loaded sidelong glance. “Your sister seems to particularly struggle with it.” Another reminder this tiny woman was a formidable one who was cannier than Minerva could have imagined. “I couldn’t help but notice she chafes a little against your mother. Or notice that it is you who tries to mediate.”
“My sister is shy and awkward in her skin. More so since she has needed to wear spectacles this past year. Whereas my mother does not possess an introverted bone in her body.” She hoped her smile didn’t appear as brittle as it felt. If Lucretia’s constant attempts at motherly nagging continued unabated, Minerva feared for the worst. Vee would only tolerate so much when her emotions were so very close to the surface, although she was trying to behave. Which was more than could be said for the actress, who at best was trying and at worst drove all three of the Merriwells quite mad. “They are as different as chalk and cheese. I am afraid the pair of them do not understand one another at all.”
“All parents are doomed to clash with their offspring. That is the way of things. Neither will ever fully understand the other despite the invisible bonds which bind them. I despair of Hugh constantly—and doubtless he despairs of me.” Another pointed look was accompanied with a wry smile. “I’ll bet he painted me quite the harridan.”
“No … not at all.” It was probably safer to stick to the topic of her sister. “He is much fonder of you than my sister presently is of our mother. It also doesn’t help familial relations that poor Vee hates the name my parents saddled her with, and I cannot say I blame her. Venus is a dreadful name with unmistakably awkward connotations. I hope she grows into it one day.”
“Oh, she will!” The older woman patted her arm. “All her awkwardness will pass soon enough, then she will blossom like you and Diana. Even the most beautiful butterflies start as caterpillars first. It is character building. I daresay you were a caterpillar not so long ago yourself, Minerva. What were you like at the tender age of seventeen?”
“Very awkward and not the least bit even-tempered. I believe I did my fair share of chafing against my parents, too.” At seventeen, she and her useless father had had some blazing rows. And eighteen and nineteen, for that matter—until he abandoned her. “Girls, in particular, are more belligerent at that age, I think.”
“Oh, my son was belligerent at that age, too! Belligerent and stubborn. He is still as stubborn as an ox, only nowadays he does it with a rakish smile rather than a sulky snarl. He was also a sorry-looking specimen. His features were too large for his face. He was a painfully gangly thing with rounded shoulders, big feet, and even bigger hands. For the longest time I feared he would never fill out enough for those excessive appendages to be in proportion.”
Minerva cast a glance at the man in question a few yards ahead of her. There was nothing rounded about his broad shoulders now, and while there was no denying his hands were big as they had easily held her entire bottom, he was perfectly in proportion. If anything, he was too perfectly proportioned.
“He is a handsome devil, isn’t he?” His mother had caught her looking and was smiling knowingly. “Too handsome by far.”
“He is.” Although, to his credit, he really didn’t display any of the narcissistic tendencies that plagued other perfect specimens. “It is hardly a surprise he has been so popular with the ladies.” But it was his relationship with his father that intrigued her more. And perhaps Mrs. Peters? Although much as Minerva wanted to ask about the woman who had left Hugh monosyllabic, shaken, and angry, she wasn’t sure a past sweetheart was something she should ask his mother about.
“But he has clearly met his match.” Olivia scrutinized her again. “Between the pair of you, I should have the best-looking grandchildren in the entire county.” Minerva managed a smile despite suddenly feeling very uncomfortable with the abrupt change in topic. “And doubtless all will tower over me, too.… Do you plan to start a family straight after the wedding?”
“Er … um…” Allowing herself to consider the statement, even superficially for the benefit of formulating a reply, instantly reminded her that to make any children with Hugh would require a greater level of intimacy than she had engaged in already. A level of intimacy her needy body had been scandalously only too willing to accept then, and still hankered after now.
“Why do I suddenly feel my ears burning?” Hugh couldn’t have heard his mother’s question, but he had turned around at precisely the same moment as Minerva’s cheeks exploded crimson—he must have somehow sensed it.
“I was asking your fiancée if you planned to start a family immediately after the wedding? If the pair of you get cracking straightaway, I could have a grandchild by Michaelmas.”
“Olivia!” Next to Hugh, Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “That is none of your business, woman!”
“Whyever not? Hugh is my only child, and therefore my only chance at grandchildren. I am not getting any younger and should like to enjoy them before my dotage. Minerva will soon be his wife, so it stands to reason she will have a say in the matter, too.” She looked toward her son expectantly, not the least bit contrite. “Minerva only has so many childbearing years left and it’s long past time Hugh did his duty.”
“Have you not seen my ravishing fiancée?” His gaze suddenly locked with Minerva’s, as the flirty Hugh decided to make an unexpected reappearance. Those twinkling blue eyes raked the length of her slowly. Possessively even. She could feel the heat of his gaze through all the thick layers of winter clothing to her sensitive, wanton bare skin, which still craved his touch. “For I would hardly call it a duty, Mother.”
“There is no need to be crude, Hugh. You’re embarrassing Minerva.”
“You brought the subject up.”
“In a proper manner. You decided to make it improper.”
“That’s because I am improper and always have been.”
“You are both embarrassing Minerva!” Jeremiah came to her rescue, offering his arm and pinning them both with his glare. “Walk with me, my dear, and save yourself. Then I can list all the reasons why only a fool would want to marry into this family.” Then he set off at a brisk pace, putting some welcome distance between the pair of them.
“I’m very sorry.… She means well.… She just cannot stop herself from interfering. And Hugh is reliably Hugh and loves to vex her when she does.” He patted her hand. “You will get used to it.”
“It is lovely she cares.” Minerva doubted her father gave two figs about her life. “I know Hugh loves his mother, too. It’s funny—we were just discussing parental relationships with children and how fractious they can be.”
“Then they gave you a proper display of it to prove the point. They’re always the same. Always butting heads and trying to outdo one another in who can be the more outrageous. I am trying to run interference—but Olivia is not easily swayed. Inexcusable grandchild questions aside, I hope she hasn’t been too ferocious on her quest to discover all there is to know about you. She’s been desperate to meet you for nearly two years.”
“If Hugh had done a better job of informing his mother about my family and me, and not thwarting your previous attempts at visiting, then she wouldn’t have so many questions.”
“There is that.” Jeremiah tossed a glance over his shoulder to where Hugh and his mother were now bickering several yards away. “Can I entrust you with a secret, Minerva?”
“Of course.”
“Between you and me, my wife has been convinced for several months he’d been making you up entirely.” He said it with a chuckle, but it confirmed her suspicions. Olivia had her son’s measure, and Minerva would have to be careful. “Because it is such a convoluted tale…”
“They do say the truth is always stranger than fiction.” She hoped her own smile appeared natural and not as tight as it felt. “And let’s not forget, Hugh can embellish a story better than Aesop, with scant regard to the truth.”
“That he can. He has a way with words.”
“And uses them selfishly to distract everyone from whatever he wants to distract them from.”
“Indeed, he does.” Jeremiah looked back at his stepson affectionately, who was now pointing to something while his mother smiled. “But not always selfishly. He’s always had a talent for using the right words to pour oil on troubled waters. A second ago they were arguing—but now his mother is laughing. Another potentially awkward moment already ironed over. He always hated confrontation, even as a boy, and went to ridiculous lengths to avoid being the cause of it.”
“Did you know Hugh as a child?”
“Since about the age of ten. His father and I were friends. Good friends. He befriended me at a time when Englishmen hated Americans and vice versa, and we remained friends forever after.”
“How?”
“Diplomacy, my dear. After the War of Independence and before the War of 1812, relations between our countries were hostile. For my sins, I was sent here as part of the United States Legation to London when tensions still ran high. It was a difficult time. Hugh was one of the peers assigned to the Foreign Office and he held out an olive branch.”
“Hugh? Worked for the Foreign Office? When?”
“Not your Hugh. His father. Didn’t you know he’s named after his daddy?”
“I didn’t.”
“Now he’s older, sometimes I swear it’s like looking at the old Hugh in a mirror. Peas in a pod, the pair of them.” He smiled, remembering. “Both had a way with words. Both thoroughly charming. Both born diplomats. Both worried too much about others.”
“He never told me…” More pieces of the difficult puzzle that was Hugh slotted into place. She had sensed those qualities, knew they drew her, but had no proof. “Not any of it.”
Jeremiah nodded, then sighed. “I’m not surprised. He doesn’t like to talk about his father any more than he likes to talk about himself. I think it’s still too raw.” That certainly explained his reluctance to talk about him when she had asked.
“It’s hard to lose a parent.”
“Yes … of course.” Jeremiah’s expression was suddenly filled with sympathy. “You recently lost your own father. My sincerest commiserations. I should have said that before.”
“We were not close in the way Hugh was with his father.” Something about Jeremiah made her spill the truth without thinking. “The sad truth is, he was a selfish man who always put himself first and never really cared about the feelings of others.”
She caught him studying her with interest and realized she was in grave danger of deviating from the original plan, because she was discussing her real father. “His solitary walk in the Cairngorms is a perfect example of his selfishness. His Scottish relations begged him not to go out, but he thought he knew best and lived to rue the day.” A thoroughly stupid thing to say. “Or didn’t … as it turned out.” In case the flagrant lie was apparent in her eyes, she looked down at her feet. “It really is a convoluted story, isn’t it? Consumption and the Cairngorms. No wonder Olivia had her doubts about it?”
His deep chuckle rumbled, and she looked up to see him nodding in agreement. “She came here determined to catch Hugh out—and caught your entire family instead. Her face was a picture, I can tell you.”
“I’ll wager it was. Perhaps almost as stunned as Hugh’s was to find her in the drawing room a good two weeks before she had told him she would arrive. I suppose she took that earlier ship on purpose.”
“Already you know my wife so well. I believe the pair of you will get on famously. Once she’s ascertained you are worthy, of course.” He winked, and Minerva was suddenly uncomfortable. Because she wasn’t worthy. She was lying to two lovely people for money.
They rounded a copse of trees, and she saw a cluster of thatched roofs in the distance, their matching chimney pots puffing out cheerful smoke. In case her crushing guilt leaked and made Jeremiah suspicious, too, Minerva decided to change the subject. “Another village? I didn’t realize.”
“Not a village at all. It’s much too small. That’s Hugh’s Hamlet. Or at least that’s what the locals have taken to calling it.”
“Hugh’s Hamlet?”
“Your fiancé’s revolutionary solution to the aging or widowed tenants on the estate?” At her genuinely baffled expression, he shook his head. “Most landlords kick those who can no longer work off their land. The good ones pay them a small pension to ensure they can afford to live somewhere else. Hugh decided to build them their own little cottages so they can stay here till the end of their days rent-free alongside their pensions.”
“What a lovely thing to do.” Something odd happened beneath Minerva’s ribs. A little thud, like a bolt sliding into place, then her heart seemed to grow and swell. Hugh really was a nice man. Perhaps one of the nicest.
“I’m guessing by that stunned look, he never mentioned it?”
“Of course he didn’t. And I sincerely doubt he’d have taken any credit for it if I had asked him, so thank you for enlightening me.” The more she learned about her fake fiancé, the more she liked him—when already there was so much she liked. A dangerous state of affairs when they had no future.
“He wanted to reward them for their years of loyalty. Like his father, Hugh is also an unfashionably liberal man. And just like his daddy, he doesn’t brag about it either. If anything, he’s cagier about his philanthropic work than his day-to-day work and that’s saying something when the whole of London thinks all he does is enjoy himself.”
“I knew he is diligent with estate matters … but I had no idea he was philanthropic.”
“Then, my dear, it would be my pleasure to enlighten you. Just don’t tell Hugh I let slip his dirty little secret. He’d never forgive me for telling you the shocking truth.”