Chapter Seven #2
“I’ve heard it said that some young women marry wealthy men to save their family fortune, but Papa never pressed me to marry.
He talked of my having a Season in London, but I kept putting it off because the thought of leaving him and Villa De Lacey distressed me so.
This year, I turned one-and-twenty and hinted that I might finally be ready for a Season in London, but he seemed less enthusiastic.
He was distracted. I didn’t understand it at the time, but now I realize that he didn’t have the money to fund a Season for me.
And I’m afraid that his frequent trips to London were made in order to raise money to do so.
” She swallowed the rising lump in her throat.
“Instead, he ended up losing everything.”
“It’s not your fault. If anyone is to blame, it’s my brother. He is merciless.”
“At least you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” Bridget pointed at two more carriages coming up the long pathway that snaked from Villa De Lacey’s gated entrance toward the house.
“We shall see, but let’s hope so.” Nate narrowed his eyes as he peered at the approaching vehicles. “Who remains on the guest list?” he asked.
Bridget consulted her list. “Only the Eamont family. It’s Lord and Lady Eamont, and Miss Adelia—” she stopped. Nate was no longer by her side.
She turned to see him walking backward toward the house, his face pale.
“Where are you going?” she called out to him.
But he only shook his head at the arriving carriages while muttering something she couldn’t hear. Then he turned and disappeared into the villa.
*
“Lord and Lady Eamont,” the driver of the coach announced as he opened the carriage door.
A short and somewhat stocky gentleman with a generous head of salt-and-pepper hair and long, bushy sideburns stepped out of the coach.
He wore a smart navy-blue tailcoat over a cream waistcoat, which had been paired with cream trousers and black boots.
He was followed by his much taller, sharp-faced wife, who wore an emerald-green traveling dress.
After she stepped out, two young ladies, the image of Lady Eamont, both with their tight brown curls secured in a top-knot bun, emerged from the carriage. They wore identical travel dresses. One in sapphire blue and the other in burgundy.
“The Honorable Miss Adelia Eamont and the Honorable Miss Lydia Eamont,” the driver announced.
Out of the second carriage, the Eamont’s lady’s maid and valet emerged.
Bridget stepped forward to greet the family.
“Lord and Lady Eamont, welcome to Villa De Lacey. I’m Miss De Lacey, your hostess.”
“Our hostess?” Lady Eamont gave Bridget a cold stare. “I thought Mr. Squires, the Earl of Westerly’s brother, owns this place.”
“Yes,” the two young ladies spoke in unison, “we thought the same. It’s the reason we agreed to this arduous journey.”
Bridget forced a smile. “You are correct. Mr. Squires does indeed”—she cleared her throat, finding that she had to force the words out—“own Villa De Lacey, and he is currently upstairs entertaining some of his guests. He has appointed me as hostess of the inn to see to the comfort of his guests. So please do not hesitate to ask me if there is anything you need during your stay with us.”
Lord Eamont merely frowned in response, as if Bridget’s presence continued to confuse him.
“We will relay any concerns we have to our servants as always,” Lady Eamon said haughtily. “They will be the ones to address any problems or requests with you.”
“Oh, but I’m not a servant,” Bridget tried to explain, but Lady Eamont and her two daughters turned up their noses as if breathing the same air as Bridget offended them.
Bridget’s chest flamed. She may not be part of the ton, but she was as much a lady as they were. Could they not see the size of the house in which she’d been raised?
As though reading her thoughts, Lady Eamont turned to look at the sprawling garden and the magnificent view of Lake Windermere nestled amongst the green hills of Westmorland.
“Do you know, girls, now that Mr. Squires has his own, rather magnificent, estate, I imagine it won’t be long before he takes a wife.”
“Not long at all, Mama. We are practically betrothed, as it is,” Adelia said.
Bridget frowned. Practically betrothed? Was Nate somehow involved with this woman? Had he made promises to her that he no longer wished to keep? Is that why he ran away when he saw their carriage approaching?
“Well, my dear, you have the Earl of Westerly’s blessing, so I should think that in a short while you could be mistress of this magnificent villa. How wonderful it will be to spend our summers out here.”
Bridget blinked back her shock. Had they been sent here by the earl? Were any of their visitors actual paying guests?
“Oh, the first thing I shall do is remove these hideous blue shutters for something more modern like white sash windows. Not to mention that ghastly fleur-de-lis railing. It will have to go.”
“Excuse me?” Bridget could not stop the words from escaping her lips.
“In fact,” Adelia continued, ignoring Bridget altogether, “the entire house is rather too French for my liking. When I am the lady of the villa, I shall redo everything.”
A fire ignited in Bridget’s chest, but she forced herself to remain calm and said, “This is a French villa, built from Lutetian limestone by my French grandfather—the very same stone used to build much of Paris itself.”
Miss Eamont glared at Bridget as though she were an annoying buzzard that had flown into her line of sight. Then she turned to face the garden and said, “How lovely this garden is, Mama. I do so adore flowers.”
“Oh, yes,” Mrs. Eamont said, turning to the garden, “you must ask Mr. Squires to give you a tour of the grounds tomorrow. I am sure he doesn’t realize that you are quite the botanist.”
“I adore flowers too, Mama!” Lydia Eamont said, and her sister turned to give her a scathing look.
“Perhaps, all of you would like a tour of the garden tomorrow.” Bridget swallowed her fury, wanting to be a polite hostess. “I too am quite the botanist, so there is much I can explain.”
The two Miss Eamonts looked to their mother in horror. Lady Eamont stiffened. “I’m sure we’d prefer for Mr. Squires to show us the garden,” she said, “he is the owner after all.”
“And I’m sure you will not want to come, Mama,” Adelia said. “You know how flowers make you sneeze. And dear Papa cannot tolerate grass.”
“Ey?” Lord Eamont seemed surprised to hear his name being spoken. He’d been distracted as if he had other priorities on his mind.
“Perhaps your sister and I will follow behind, if only as chaperones,” Lady Eamont said, making Lydia scowl. Then she turned back to Bridget and snapped, “Are you going to show us to our rooms, or are we to stand here all day?”
Bridget’s cheeks flushed, but she straightened her shoulders and beckoned Eliza and James, who’d just returned to their stations.
“Show Lord and Lady Eamont and the Miss Eamonts to their rooms, please, Eliza. Then take their servants to their quarters.”
“Of course, Miss,” Eliza said, a flash of distaste passing over her features as she looked at the party of four.
Bridget couldn’t blame her. She’d thought it would be delightful to host the ton at Villa De Lacey, but that was before she realized they’d view her as nothing more than a servant and her home as something to criticize.
*
Once again, Bridget sighed her relief when the guests left and disappeared into the villa behind Eliza.
Who knew that life as an innkeeper could be so exhausting?
She rubbed the back of her aching neck and wondered if turning Villa De Lacey into an inn had indeed been a good idea.
Instead of welcoming gracious guests, it felt as if her home had been invaded.
Then again, Villa De Lacey no longer belonged to her, and perhaps the sooner she accepted that, the better. But, no, she decided, looking toward Lake Windermere. She couldn’t let it go. She’d do what she had to, put up with whomever she had to, in order to stay in her home.
“I see the Eamont clan left you feeling a little overworked.” Nate’s voice sounded behind Bridget, and she turned to face him.
“Coward,” she scolded playfully.
“You’re right. I was being a coward.”
“Adelia Eamont seems to think she is about to be betrothed to you—with your brother’s blessing. Is that true?”
“Good Lord, no. Lady Eamont has been trying to unload her daughters for years. Adelia is older by two minutes, and so her mama insists she must marry first. She made Lydia debut a year after his sister. Absurd woman.”
That didn’t exactly answer her question. “And how did you become entangled in their plans for marriage?”
“My pompous brother took it upon himself to try and force me into a marriage with Adelia Eamont. I refused, but it seems neither he, nor she, has given up.”
“Aah, so she’s the reason you were banished to this nether region of England. You poor soul.”
He took a deep breath and gazed out at the horizon. “As it turns out, not so poor after all.”
A warmth flowed through Bridget, and she smiled. She liked that Nate was starting to appreciate the Lake District and all it had to offer.
“You may have temporarily escaped Adelia Eamont, but she expects you to take her for a tour of the garden tomorrow. And I think her sister is a little jealous and might want her own tour, too.”
“Surely, you’re far better equipped to give guests a tour of the garden.”
“I am, but it seems that they don’t want me. They want you.”
Nate groaned. “I shall have to spend the next month in hiding.”
“Oh, it won’t be all that bad. If I can be gracious to our guests, then so can you.” She smiled at the pained look on his face. At least she didn’t have to worry about Adelia Eamont becoming the lady of the house at Villa De Lacey.