“Your relationship was of long standing, however,” her aunt continued, undaunted.
“It was not Edward’s fault, Aunt.” Laura’s face grew heated. “His father insisted.”
Fortunately, her aunt appeared to have said as much as she cared to. She tapped the seat beside her with her fan. “Well, don’t stand there as if you’re growing roots, Mr. Ryland. Sit down and tell me about yourself.”
Edward obeyed and Laura breathed more easily. Perhaps he was nervous. She certainly couldn’t blame him, for he spoke fulsomely of his estate in York.
When he drew breath, Aunt Gertrude turned to Laura. “Very impressive, don’t you agree, niece? I seem to recall you saying how much you liked York after you visited there.”
Laura cringed. “York is a fascinating old town: York Minster, the Roman ruins and the Shambles.” Now she rambled. When she felt brave enough to meet Edward’s eyes, she saw him smiling.
After Edward had excused himself and left them, Aunt Gertrude turned her full attention on Laura. “If you have any sense at all, my girl, and don’t look to your brother, who is in short supply of it, you will grab Mr. Ryland before someone else does, and the chance of a good marriage slips by you.”
“I doubt he is still interested, Aunt.”
“It’s as plain as the nose on your face that he is. And there won’t be many more of his ilk coming along.”
Laura had to agree with the last bit. “But I no longer feel the same way about him.”
“Of course you don’t. Not after what his wretched family did to you. But you were a silly chit then, barely out of the schoolroom. You’ve matured and are better for it. You used to get on well, and you will again. A marriage based on mutual interests is to be wished for.”
Laura smiled. Despite everything, she was fond of the irascible old lady. And grateful to her for going to the trouble in helping her. Her father’s sister had never married, and Laura wondered why. Was she in danger of becoming a lonely, old spinster like her aunt? It made her slightly ill to think about it. Women depended upon men so much. Without a husband, there would be no children. That possibility stirred her on to find, if not love, then a companion in life and a father for her children.
As the night passed, Laura danced several times, while Edward partnered with different women. He had smiled at her from across the dance floor. Although he’d been complimentary, it was unlikely he would want to marry her. But what if he did? Her throat tightened. To consider him, she would finally have to accept she and Debnam would never be together.
*
On Sunday, Brendanattended church. It was the first time he’d been in the building since he’d been a lad. As he took his seat on the family box, the parishioners’ interest in him burned the back of his neck. As the vicar’s voice droned on, the meaning of his message evaded Brendan. He felt uncomfortable and missed the thrust of the vicar’s rather rambling sermon. When the service ended and everyone filed out of the church, the vicar warmly shook his hand and welcomed him back into the fold. Others from the area gathered around him to follow suit. It was pleasant to be among friendly faces and that made Brendan feel a little less guilty at having been absent for years.
In a burgundy, silk pelisse and a floral hat, Mrs. Gould, the wealthy banker’s widow who lived in one of the big houses in the district, came up to him as he prepared to leave.
The brunette had an attractive smile. She offered her gloved hand. “How good to see you here, my lord. You have satisfied our rampant curiosity. How unfair it was of you to return these four years past and then leave us wondering how you fare.” She studied his face, then looked down before meeting his gaze. “But I see you fare exceptionally well.”
Brendan laughed. “You have praised and condemned me in the same sentence, Mrs. Gould.”
Her smile became flirtatious. “I warn you, Lord Debnam, that you shall not be allowed to disappear again. I believe invitations to dinner and card parties are being organized among your neighbors as we speak.”
He drove the curricle home, surprised he’d enjoyed the morning. Mrs. Gould was charming. In her early to mid-thirties, he guessed. Would the widow want to marry again? Or did she merely seek a lover? An affair might suit them both. But he felt no eagerness or rush of excitement at the possibility. He wondered why that was. Dash it all, he knew. Laura refused to leave his thoughts, but that was because he didn’t want to let her go.
In his library chair, Brendon gazed out of the window at the night sky. He mulled over his new social activities. As Mrs. Gould had predicted, by mid-week, several invitations to dinner and a card party had arrived in the post, including another from Mrs. Gould. He had ordered Thornton, his secretary, to send acceptances. Being around people helped to lift his mood, so perhaps he needed the company more than West Sussex society needed him.
He would have to host himself at some point, perhaps a dinner, or a shooting party in autumn. Mrs. Brandt would know if they needed to hire more servants for the occasion. Might a servant feel some loyalty or have a connection to Gaylord? His jaw tightened to think that a member of his staff might be disloyal to him. But someone had informed Gaylord that Netterfield had hired Wagstaff. There had been no time for gossip to spread about the butler. But who had it been and what could have been their reason?
Movement in the gardens drew his gaze to a spare figure kneeling in a flower bed. The head gardener, Fenchurch. He’d been at Beechley Park back when Brendan’s father had been alive. But it could have been anyone. It was impossible to discover what had taken place here during the years he’d been away.
The trustees had forwarded a list of new employees who’d replaced the skeleton staff when Brendan had first arrived. So cast down was he to return to the home of his parents, he’d left it to his secretary. He would get Thornton to ferret it out.
Any newly employed servants would not know Gaylord. And Brendan found it difficult to believe any of the older servants could be capable of such disloyalty. What relationship could any of them have with Gaylord? Would Gaylord have offered them money? While it seemed unlikely, something drew Brendan from his chair. He left the library and went to speak to Fenchurch.
The old gardener climbed as quickly as he was able to his feet. He removed his hat. “Milord?”
“I wanted to offer praise for the rose garden, Fenchurch, a fine display this year.”
Fenchurch’s craggy face broadened into a smile. “Thank you, milord. I believe it is the best for some years.”
“Good man.” Brendan nodded and left him. Fenchurch had been with them since Brendan had been a boy. He struggled to suspect a loyal servant with no obvious reason to turn against his employer. But if it could not have been Fenchurch, who the devil was it?
Chapter Sixteen