Chapter 8 #2
The dining room looked lovely this evening, the candles bathing the room in a warm light whilst the fire crackled merrily in the hearth. As ever, Mrs Adie had done them proud, and a meal fit for a far grander table than that of a mere vicarage had been set before their illustrious guest.
Lord Alveston was a handsome fellow in his early thirties, with thick, dark, waving hair and an aristocratic profile, and didn’t he know it, Izzy thought with amusement, wishing she could abandon the man to her father’s less than politic ways and escape to the attic.
Boreas was certainly on the mend, yet he tired easily and was constantly hungry.
She had left him food enough to keep him going until she could escape to visit him later, which could not come soon enough.
Yet their guest was charming and attentive, regaling them with stories of the ton and giving them an impression of a life filled with pleasure-seeking and luxury.
He seemed to find everything delightful, including Izzy.
She knew most people would think she ought to be flattered by his attention and the admiration in his eyes, but it made her increasingly uncomfortable as the evening progressed. She had the unwelcome sensation that he was mentally undressing her, and it made her skin crawl.
“A splendid meal. The best I’ve had in a long time.
My compliments to your cook,” Lord Alveston said, raising a glass to Izzy and her father.
He set it down carefully, taking a moment to adjust his gold cufflinks.
His shirt collars were so high Izzy had noticed he had difficulty looking down at his plate and was reduced to eyeing it suspiciously, which she had found remarkably entertaining.
Yet he was rather fine for all that, fashionable she supposed, his dark hair elegantly windswept and his waistcoat an eye-catching shade of bright blue.
She smiled at him, warming a little in the light of his praise, for she knew what work it had taken to produce. “Mrs Adie will be pleased. She is a marvel and does not get enough credit just cooking for myself, Papa, and the little ones.”
Lord Alveston nodded and returned her smile, his expression indulgent. “And soon to be just your Papa and the children, I imagine.”
Izzy frowned, not understanding what he meant. “It will?”
He laughed, a sound she felt certain he believed to be melodious and appealing, but which suddenly sounded rather false to her ear. “But you’ll be coming out, will you not? Now your sisters are both married ladies, you’ll be wanting to take your turn and catch yourself a husband.”
Catch herself a husband? Good grief, he made it sound like she would set out with a fishing rod and hook the first passing male.
Izzy blushed, glancing at her father, who looked equally startled.
“No. I have no intention of doing so. I mean, Clementine did offer, but Papa needs me, and there’s really no rush.
I’m only nineteen. Not on the shelf yet. ”
Lord Alveston, however, did not agree and looked horrified.
“But this cannot be! A beauty like yourself cannot bury herself in this little backwater when the delights of the season are coming fast upon us. You are missing out on a world that you are now entitled to enter, as your sisters’ social standing has been elevated to such heights.
I’m quite certain your papa is not so selfish as to keep you all to himself. ”
“Papa is the least selfish person I’ve ever known,” Izzy retorted, too incensed to mind her manners.
“And I’m not the least bit interested in society.
” His Lordship chuckled, apparently unperturbed by her show of anger, his manner condescending and coaxing as if he were dealing with a stubborn five-year-old.
“Ah, now I know you are fibbing. All young ladies delight in society and long for the day they come out. All the parties and balls and dancing, and handsome young fellows vying for your attention. No, indeed, Miss Honeywell, you protest too much.”
Izzy forbore to point out that she had not yet begun to protest, and he’d know it when she did. The smug devil. Instead, she held her tongue, not trusting herself to speak.
“Did Clementine really invite you, Izzy? You never said so.”
Izzy looked around at her father, who appeared troubled. “Why, yes, Papa, but there’s no earthly reason I should go. I am perfectly content here in Little Valentine.”
Lord Alveston made a quiet scoffing sound, and she had to fight the temptation to kick him in the shin. As it was, she contented herself with glaring at him. How dare he come here, stirring things up?
“I imagine it must be difficult for a man who immerses himself in such gaiety at all hours of the day and night to understand that life can be filled with simpler and more down-to-earth pursuits, but I assure you it is possible. I expect you’ll wish to return to town as soon as you are able, but might I ask what brings you to our little backwater, sir?
” she demanded, with undisguised hostility.
Her father cleared his throat, sending her a warning glance, so Izzy pasted an insincere smile to her face as she waited for his reply.
The comment appeared to go over Lord Alveston’s head, for he replied earnestly.
“Ah, well, my life is not all gaiety, I am afraid, and my doctor recommended I come and take the waters. I have been rather busy of late, what with tending my estate and the social demands I am obliged to meet. Burning the candle at both ends, so I am told. A man of my stature has many calls upon his time, my dear.”
Izzy did not pull a face at this conceited description of his worth, but it was a struggle.
“Certainly, but why Little Valentine? Would a man of your stature not be better suited to Bath, or Harrogate?” Izzy enquired sweetly, aware of her father’s muffled snort of laughter which he deftly changed to a cough as he reached for his water.
Lord Alveston smiled, showing too many teeth. Though they were clean and even, they had a yellow tinge and made her think of an illustration in one of Caspar’s favourite books, of a crocodile.
“Ah, but I have visited both Bath and Harrogate, and Little Valentine is new to me, and has such a fascinating history. I believe there are smugglers too, which is vastly entertaining. Did I hear one was hunted through the woods outside your door just the other night?”
Izzy’s heart gave a hard thump behind her ribs, and she was aware of the colour leaching from her face. To her eternal relief her father replied, for she could not have said a word.
“Sadly, there was a disturbance, though I am relieved to report that there were no fatalities.”
“You sympathise with these outlaws, Reverend?” Lord Alveston enquired, his expression bland but a look in his eyes that made Izzy shiver.
“I sympathise with any man being hunted by armed men,” her father replied, appearing entirely unruffled, though Izzy knew better than to think the question did not annoy him. “Life is harder for some than others, and those of us who have would do well to consider the lives of those who do not.”
A snort of derision greeted this measured response. “But, sir, these men are villains! Murderers and blackguards who would sell their own grandmothers for a profit.”
“Are they now?” her father replied placidly, his blue eyes glinting shrewdly as he regarded their guest. “Then I pray you enlighten us, Lord Alveston, for you seem to have a greater knowledge of the situation that we do.”
Belatedly realising that Reverend Honeywell’s easy-going nature had limits and that he had reached them, Lord Alveston chuckled and denied knowing anything at all.
“But I am interested in the history of this charming little town. The castle on the hill, for instance. Is it inhabited?”
“No,” Izzy replied, wondering how much longer they had to be polite to this wretched fellow. There is a caretaker of sorts, but the family have not lived there for decades. Not in my lifetime, certainly.”
The reverend nodded his agreement. “No, indeed, not for nigh on thirty years, I should think. Though time flies by so fast, I cannot be sure. Why? Does the property interest you?”
Lord Alveston shrugged, but Izzy felt his nonchalance was as false as his laugh and decided she did not trust him an inch.
“It is a handsome building, and I am looking for a place to settle. I am of an age to marry and have a family, and it seems as if Little Valentine is on the cusp of becoming a fashionable place. It behoves a man to have an eye on the future, and to grab opportunities when they come up.”
His gaze settled on Izzy, his expression one of admiration, but there was no warmth there.
Indeed, everything about him set her nerves on edge.
Unbidden, the image of Boreas flickered behind her eyes: his powerful body reclined against the pillows, bared to the waist, his eyes lit with a smouldering heat that made her entire body turn to flame in response.
She blushed and looked away, hating that Lord Alveston might think it was his attention that made her react so, but unable to do a thing about it.
“Well, if you will excuse me, my lord. I am afraid I have not been well these past days, and my father is also very tired. He has been tending to a dying man and has slept little. I hope you will forgive us for bringing the evening to a close, delightful as it was.”
Izzy wondered how she could speak such a barefaced lie, but Lord Alveston swallowed it, no doubt believing it his due that the world and everyone in it found him delightful.
“Not at all. I quite understand. I hope I shall find you both rested and well the next time I call upon you.”
The next time? Izzy groaned inwardly and wished she’d been ruder after all.
Still, she rang for Polly, who was prompt fetching his coat and hat, and after the usual round of polite thank yous, she got the wretched man out of the door.
“Odious creature!” she exclaimed the moment he was safely out of the way.
Her father, not usually slow to reprimand her for making such harsh observations of her fellow man, said nothing, occupied with pouring himself a large measure of brandy.
She had noted he had offered none to their guest, keeping to an indifferent bottle of port that he reserved for people he did not like.
“Perhaps,” he said thoughtfully as he took a seat by the fire.
“Perhaps?” Izzy regarded him in astonishment. “Surely you cannot like him, Papa?”
Her father laughed, giving her a rueful smile.
“As much as I try to make myself find something to like in all of God’s creatures, I admit, Lord Alveston is a challenge.
However, I will say this, Izzy: he’s no fool, no matter that he might give the impression of being one.
If you see him again, be very careful how you treat him.
I suspect that is a man who holds a grudge and repays any who slight him tenfold. Mind that tongue of yours, my girl.”
Izzy pulled a face. “I have no intention of seeing him again, Papa. Certainly not if I have any say in the matter.”
“Ah, but we do not always have a say, Izzy. Sometimes challenges are placed in our path for a reason, though we may not always understand what those reasons are. Just have a care.”
“I will. I promise.”
He nodded, regarding her thoughtfully. “Go to bed, child. You look worn to a thread.”
“As do you,” Izzy retorted.
“And I shall follow you shortly, have no fear.”
Izzy smiled and bent down to kiss his cheek. “Good night then, Papa. Sleep well.”