Otherwise Engaged Page 5

  His eyes jumped back to mine, but instead of blushing as any decent man would, he raised an eyebrow.

  I grit my teeth together. Just when I’d begun to think him a decent sort of fellow. “Do excuse me, Lieutenant,” I said without any remorse at my harsh voice. “I’ve somewhere to be.”

  “Of course.” He stepped back, but to my irritation, a grin began toying at the corner of his mouth. “Although, perhaps you’ll allow me to offer you a word of warning before you go.”

  “Warning?”

  “If you don’t remove that note from its precarious position immediately, you’ll soon think every man in Millbury to be a scoundrel of the worst sort.”

  My mouth dropped like an anchor, and I immediately glanced down. Sure enough, my letter to Edward was sticking out rather inelegantly from the neckline of my bodice.

  Confound it. I spun, putting my back to Lieutenant Avery as I snatched the letter from my stays. Of course this would happen to me.

  “Good day, Miss Rowley,” he said from behind me, with no attempt to hide the laughter in his voice. His footsteps faded as he left the entryway and descended the front stairs.

  I clutched the letter in one hand, my face warm as a steaming kettle. How could he say something so . . . so . . .

  So what? He hadn’t said anything offensive or coarse. He’d only pointed out the reason why I had thought him a cad in the first place. I could hardly blame him for staring when I’d been at fault for using the worst possible hiding place.

  I turned as the sounds of horse hooves and carriage wheels floated back through the open door. Lieutenant Avery drove a high-perch phaeton, and Olivia’s little bonnet looked almost comical beside his broad shoulders. As I stepped to the open front door, the lieutenant spotted me. He raised a hand in farewell, all the while sporting a wicked grin.

  I couldn’t help it. I grinned, then I laughed out loud. The whole situation was so ridiculous I could hardly do anything but laugh. I offered a wave of my own as the phaeton hurried down the lane, and he touched the brim of his hat before disappearing out of sight behind the line of trees.

  At least I could say my return to Havenfield had not been boring. Lieutenant Avery and his sister had made certain it was anything but.

  I spotted the hat box on the sideboard as I turned back. The lieutenant must have put it down while I’d been so flustered. I went to it and pulled back the round lid. Rather unsurprisingly, inside sat a hat. A lovely little riding hat, dark blue instead of the black mine had been, and with a rounded crown instead of flat. But it had a generous plume of fluffy feathers and a band of cream velvet around its brim.

  I perched the hat on my head and stepped to the gilded mirror hanging in the hall. Lieutenant Avery had bought me a hat. And a pretty one at that. I would never have guessed he had any sense of style, but clearly, my first impression of him was about as wrong as I’d ever been about a person.

  Different, Mama’s voice whispered to me.

  I took off the hat and smoothed my light-brown locks. I should refuse such a gift, truly. It was not proper, even if I hadn’t been engaged. And yet, wasn’t Lieutenant Avery just replacing what had been ruined when I’d rescued Olivia? I needed a hat, and here one was. I shouldn’t worry beyond that.

  After all, I had a far more important problem to worry over and no idea how to solve it.

  Chapter Five

  I was never more relieved to see Marjorie’s handwriting than I was the next day when Mr. Banfield, the butler, brought the mail during breakfast. A letter from Marjorie meant a letter from Edward since she was the only way we were able to exchange letters at all. I excused myself from the table as soon as I could.

  I dashed upstairs to my room and nearly tore the letter in my haste to open it. I set Marjorie’s note aside to read later and immediately unfolded Edward’s letter. It wasn’t particularly long, and after scanning the entire page, I sat rather heavily on my bed. His words did not buoy me as much as I’d hoped.

  Mother will not tell me a thing about what happened. I have always known she and Father held a grudge against your family for whatever reason, but I never imagined it to be such a tightly kept secret. Mother insists I mind myself and leave the past in the past.

  I sighed, leaning my head on the carved wooden bedpost. Leave the past in the past. That was all anyone wished to do, but it was, unfortunately, not an option for Edward and me. The secrets of the past were very real obstacles for our future, ones I was determined to overcome.

  But at least Edward had included some optimism in his letter.

  But I will not give up, Rebecca. If Mother will not tell me what we need to know, I will find someone who can. I have written to a number of my father’s old friends and acquaintances in the hopes that one of them might shed some light on this situation. I am certain one of them will be willing to share information, and I will write to you when I have word.

  I lay back on my bed, holding the note to my chest. I will find someone who can, he’d written. Should I do the same? I’d attempted to pry the truth from Mama, and she’d been less than willing, but perhaps I had another source I could turn to.

  Asking William outright was a risky venture, but there were ways to find the answers I needed. When William had inherited Havenfield, he’d brought his entire London office here, settling into the study with all his records, ledger books, files, and copies of everything. If I could search through it all, back to the years of Papa’s partnership with Mr. Bainbridge, perhaps I could find some hint of what kept our families apart. But I could hardly search with William present. He wouldn’t take kindly to my snooping.

  I would have to wait for the right opportunity.

  Which was how I found myself creeping down the servants’ stairs three days later. I did not want to meet Mama or William, although I had it on good authority William had left for the afternoon to meet with a tenant. His study, where he normally spent all his waking hours, would be blessedly empty.

  I peered around the corner of the dim, low-ceilinged staircase, keeping an open ear for footsteps or voices. I heard nothing, so I slipped into Havenfield’s main corridor. The floor-to-ceiling windows announced a thoroughly gray day, the oppressive clouds keeping the warmth of the sun from me. It was difficult enough to keep from feeling discouraged without the weather taking part. I focused instead on remembering the rest of Edward’s letter, full of lovely, toe-curling sentiments.

  He missed me and could not wait until these weeks were mere memories to us. My steps lightened, and I resisted the urge to hum “Bonny Highland Laddie,” the song we’d danced to at my last ball in Brighton, a few days before my departure. Edward had been all that was sweet, kind, and attentive. When he’d whispered in my ear to meet him in the garden, I had not hesitated. In the shadow of an elm tree’s reaching branches, he’d proposed. He’d admitted that mountains lay before us, challenges we would have to face, but knowing he wished to face them with me, as my husband, made it all too easy to accept him with a kiss. My first kiss, and it was just as lovely as I’d imagined.

  Footsteps at the other end of the corridor snapped me back to attention. A maid strode toward me, a stack of linens under one arm. I had every right to be wherever I wanted in the house, yet my pulse sped to a trot.

  The maid spotted me and gave a curtsy. I nodded and continued down the corridor, not looking back as she hurried past me. No need to appear any guiltier.

  I reached the door to William’s study. Did he lock it? I sent a wary glance both ways to ensure I was alone, then turned the handle. It opened, and I breathed easier as I slipped into the study.

  Dark paneled walls were lined with bookshelves, cabinets, and paintings. The far side was dominated by an enormous stone fireplace. Unlit now in summer, it still exuded intimidation. Sir Charles, William’s predecessor, had been the same way when I’d met him in my youth. Cold, daunting. But William had bro
ught his own touches to the study. His large mahogany desk made use of the space, the leather chair askew as if he’d just left. The desk was nearly buried in deep but orderly piles: books, letters, maps. The narrow windows behind the desk allowed a lovely view over the east lawn, and William kept the curtains drawn at all times to allow as much light as possible into the room. I had been here several times to pry William from his desk to ride with me or to talk when I was bored. He never minded when I came by, setting aside tasks to focus on me.

  I swallowed. I should not feel guilty about this. I was rifling through a few papers, not ransacking his sanctuary. He would never know I’d been here.

  I hoped so anyway. I hardly knew where to start. William must have organized everything in a perfectly logical way, but as I peeked in cabinets and opened ledger books tucked away on the shelves, it soon became clear this might be a much larger chore than I’d anticipated. One ledger contained the shipping schedules, cargos, crew wages, prices of goods, and so on for one month in 1809. One month. How on earth could I find what I needed? I knew nothing about our family’s business, so it appeared I would be learning a great deal during this undertaking.

  I blew a lock of hair from my face. Fifteen years ago. That was what Mama had said at dinner a few days past, giving me a basic timeline of events. That meant I ought to be searching for information during the year 1807. Perhaps also a couple years earlier and later, if Mama had estimated wrong. A span of five years. Staring at the thick ledgers, I ran a finger across their spines and counted how many books I would have to examine. This was not the work of a quick hour. This could take months, if all I had was a stolen afternoon now and again.

  “Thinking of joining the family business, are we?”

  I jumped at William’s voice and spun. He stood in the doorway, hands at his waist.

  “No,” I said, quick and high-pitched. What was he doing here? “I was just looking.”

  “At boring old ledgers?” He moved to his desk and shuffled through the papers. “They’re not quite Shakespeare, you know.”

  He did not sound suspicious. I moved away from the bookshelves. “I was looking for you, actually.” The lie came too easily. “Fancy a ride?”

  William straightened his papers, glancing out the window. “Why not? The weather is holding, and my meeting was postponed.”

  “Excellent.” At least I would gain a ride from this failed attempt at snooping. And after seeing the amount of work it would take to sort through the ledgers, I was beginning to think that asking William might be the only way to gather the information I needed. Perhaps I might find a way to approach the topic of the Bainbridge family.

  Once my racing pulse had returned to normal, that was. My skin still felt hot and itchy after being caught in the act. This engagement was certainly not good for my complexion.

  We separated to change and then met in the stables. The day was still dull and gray, but it was better than the three days of rain we’d just endured. Stella danced when she saw me, and my spirits couldn’t help but lift. After leaving the stables, William and I allowed our horses to warm to the exercise with a walk and then a few minutes of trotting.

  “Shall we race?” William asked.

  “Are you sure?” I pulled on Stella’s reins, and he brought his mount to a halt beside me. “We trounced you rather badly last time. I should hate to cover you in dust once more.”

  “I think you would enjoy that more than anything,” he said dryly and quite accurately.

  “Yet you are willing to set aside your pride for my own enjoyment.” I held a gloved hand to my heart. “What a dear brother you are.”

  He chuckled. “You only won because Stowaway had a stone in his hoof. It was hardly a fair match.”

  “So you say.” I leaned forward conspiratorially. “Should we check for stones now so you do not have an excuse this time?”

  “Just like your excuse the time before that, claiming your hair blew into your eyes?”

  “It did!”

  “Very conveniently, as I was winning already.”

  “Oh hush.” I glanced around. We rode along the western edge of Havenfield’s property, with gentle sloping hills and thickets of aspen trees with their green leaves dancing. I pointed north. “To that tree there, atop the rise?”

  He nodded, reining in Stowaway as his hooves danced. “Shall we have a wager?”

  “Of course. There’s no use winning if I cannot lord it over you somehow.”

  He grinned. “I pity the man you marry. He shall need the patience of a saint.”

  “I would not oppose that idea,” I said, “so long as he has the face of a Greek god.”

  “Strange how you haven’t caught yourself a husband yet, with such a paltry list of requirements.”

  Though we jested, that familiar prick deep in my chest reminded me of my deception, but I forced it away. One day, William would meet Edward, and I knew they would like each other. Until then, I would have to bide my time and pray I did not mess it all up somehow.

  “What shall we wager?” I asked. “Let us make it good.”

  He rubbed his chin with a gloved hand. “When I win—”

  “If,” I interjected.

  “When I win,” he said louder, ignoring me, “you shall donate a month’s worth of pin money to the church poorhouse.”

  I drew back my head. “The poorhouse? Why?”

  “I daresay it would go a long way in improving your relationship with Mr. Porter,” he said with a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Though it might take a year of pin money for him to forget how you fell asleep during services last summer.”

  “That was hardly my fault,” I protested. “He must know he bores the congregation to tears every Sunday.”

  “Be that as it may, he is still the vicar. He has great influence in the community, and this is your home now, Rebecca.”

  Why did everyone insist this was my home? We’d lived in half a dozen houses during my twenty years of life. None had ever felt truly like home except for the first, our tiny townhouse with rickety stairs and a musty smell that never seemed to leave. But we’d been all together then—Mama and Papa, Rachel and William and I.

  “We have the London house still, William.” I tried to keep my tone indifferent, but he was too perceptive.

  He shot me a sidelong glance. “Do you not like it here? I thought—”

  “I do,” I said quickly. “I do like it here. But do you not sometimes feel as if you are simply visiting, living in someone else’s house?”

  He considered the question. “At first, I suppose. It was odd, thinking I now owned everything Sir Charles had worked his whole life to maintain.”

  “But?”

  His face softened. “But then I met Juliana, and it hardly mattered what house we lived in. Home became wherever she was.”

  I stared at him. I hadn’t expected such sincerity from my teasing older brother. My mind flashed back to my last night in Brighton, when Edward had proposed. I’d felt giddy, yes. Elated, of course. He was everything I’d hoped for in a match. But . . . but I could not quite recall feeling as William did. To me, home was all that was peaceful, safe, comfortable. Was Edward my home?

  I shook that doubt away. Of course he was. We had plans for the future, plans that made my stomach flip with anticipation. If he did not feel like home now, he surely would once we married.

  “Careful,” I told William. “Or I might accuse you of being a romantic.”

  “Oh, I am a romantic through and through,” he said. “How do you think I won over Juliana?”

  “Certainly not with your wits or looks.”

  He barked a laugh. “You could cut stone with a tongue that sharp. I would be kinder to the brother who is about to best you in a race.”

  “Except we’ve yet to set my prize,” I said.

  “And what
is it you want from me?”

  “When I win,” I said, stealing his word from earlier, “I want to jump the Hendersons’ hedge.”

  Any sign of joviality left his face. “The hedge? Why?”

  “To prove I can do it.”

  He sat back in his saddle. “I know you can do it, Rebecca.”

  “Then why do you not let me?”

  “You know very well why.”

  “It was five years ago,” I said stubbornly. “I fully recovered and have only improved in my abilities since then.”

  I was pretending more bravery than I felt. In truth, I was already regretting my impulsive words. I hadn’t jumped in years. Well, that wasn’t true. I’d jumped plenty of times on my unaccompanied rides, but I’d barely had the nerve to take smaller jumps, logs and the like. I could never quite convince myself to jump a bigger obstacle, like the hedge. Not alone. Not after what had happened.

  But I could not back away now. That would reveal far more of my fear than I wanted William to see. And a small part of me knew that I needed this. I needed to face that memory, conquer it, and never let it swallow me up again.

  “I do not like it,” William said, but he sounded less certain than before.

  I pried at the crack in his armor. “Please, William? Just once. Stella could do it in a heartbeat.”

  He exhaled a long breath. “Very well.”

  My heart rose into my throat like the hot-air balloons at Vauxhall. “Truly?”

  He raised a finger in warning. “But you’ll take it at the southern edge, where it is lower. And you’ll let me check the ground first to make certain it is not too muddy.”

  “Of course,” I said, though my mouth went dry. I hadn’t expected him to agree.

  “You still have to win, you know.” He patted his horse’s neck. “Stowaway and I have been riding every day while you’ve been eating too much in Brighton. Fawcett said she had to let out all your gowns.”

  I shot him a glare. “She never said that, you cad. Now take on the challenge like a proper gentleman and stop throwing about useless insults.”