Chapter Nine
The following day, Nate was obliged to take Adelia Eamont for a turn around the grounds.
Rather than joining them on the walk, Lady Eamont and a sour-faced Lydia insisted on trailing behind them to give the impression that they were chaperones, even though he had not asked Adelia to step out with him alone.
“You would have done better with Miss De Lacey. Her knowledge of these grounds is far superior to mine.”
“But it’s your garden, so it’s time you became more familiar with it, is it not?”
He shrugged. “We have a gardener for that purpose.” He nodded in the direction of the elderly man, clipping a hedge with enormous shears.
“Since you are so interested in botany, perhaps I should ask him to show you around the garden. He has extensive knowledge of all the plants, trees, and flowers.”
“How very thoughtful of you.” Miss Eamont twirled the white parasol she carried to shield her from the morning sun.
“I’m sure I will want to become well-acquainted with the gardener eventually.
But I’m really only interested in how pretty everything looks and how wonderful the flowers smell.
I don’t care to know much else. If the garden looks lovely, the gardener shall have my praise. ”
Nate frowned at this rather odd response to his attempt at rebuffing her. He hoped she wasn’t still harboring thoughts of becoming his wife.
“Lord Westerly told Papa that you were so eager to start tending to your new estate that you abandoned London immediately for Westmorland.” Miss Eamont peeked sideways at Nate.
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with her obvious attempt at flirtation. “Is that so?”
“Yes, I must say, I was surprised to hear it, but that is the explanation he gave Mama and Papa for your putting off our meeting in Hyde Park.”
“What meeting?” Nate asked, deliberately playing ignorant.
“The one Lord Westerly arranged with my papa. You must know your brother wants us to be married.”
Nate stopped, silently cursing Edward. “I am sorry if Lord Westerly misled you, Miss Eamont, but I long ago informed my brother that I have decided to remain a bachelor. Therefore, I will not be marrying anyone.”
To his surprise, she looked at him with sympathy rather than anger. “Is it because of what happened with Miss Morley—her abandoning you at the altar?”
Nate stiffened.
“Because—” she glanced at her mama and sister, who’d also stopped and appeared to be straining their ears to hear what was being said—“Mama says that it is only natural for you to be hesitant about marriage after suffering such treatment, but I can assure you that—”
“I can assure you that my reluctance has nothing to do with Miss Morley,” he said through gritted teeth. He could not believe that Lady Eamont, and perhaps many others in the ton, were still discussing his private affairs after two years!
“Good, because although I may not be as beautiful as she, I want to assure you that I would be quite willing and dutiful as a wife.” She locked her eyes on his. “Quite dutiful,” she repeated, “and very willing.”
Nate stepped back, hoping to break the awkward moment, but Adelia stayed steady and kept her eyes on his.
He turned to face the villa and said loudly enough for Lady Eamont and Lydia to hear, “I think it is time we returned to our rooms. I shall need to change for the boating excursion.” Then he bowed to the ladies and strode back to the villa.
*
Later that afternoon, James made several trips to carry six rowboats from the storage hut at the back of the house down to the shores of Lake Windermere, and two of the maids packed and delivered a picnic tea for the guests.
“Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had a boat race?” Lady Eamont said. “We can have a man to row and a woman as a passenger in each boat.”
“That sounds wonderful, Mama,” Adelia and Lydia exclaimed in unison.
Nate forced a smile. Was there no end to this woman’s scheming?
“A race sounds like a good idea,” Bridget said. “We will row to that rock at the edge of the lake, and whoever returns first will be the winner.”
“Very well,” Nate agreed. “Miss De Lacey and I will stay ashore to monitor the race.” He sneaked a look at Bridget, hoping she’d agree, but she was too busy watching Bijou through her spyglass as the terrier raced up and down the shoreline.
“Can she not monitor it on her own?” Adelia asked. “There won’t be enough participants.”
“Let’s consider that,” Nate said. “You two can pair up with Lord Dodsworth and Mr. Jefferson respectively.” He glanced at the sisters, bracing himself for some objection from Adelia, but their faces only brightened at his suggestion.
It seemed that it didn’t matter to them who they were paired with as long as it was to eligible bachelors.
“What about me?” Harley said. “My wife is still feeling rather poorly and stayed behind, so perhaps I can invite one of the servants to row with me.” He smiled at Abigail, who stood with Sarah by the picnic baskets.
“You will take your aunt, and you will win!” Lady Darby said. And the smile on Harley’s face faded.
“Then I shall take Abigail,” Frederick said, completely ignoring the warning Nate had given him the night before.
Nate frowned. “Where’s Madam Bouffant? Isn’t she with you?”
“No, I haven’t seen her since breakfast.”
“And Lord Eamont seems to be missing too.” Nate scanned the lakeshore. “It looks like you’ll be taking Lady Eamont, Frederick.” He smirked at his friend, but Frederick was no longer looking at him. He was staring at something behind Nate.
Nate was about to turn around when a familiar voice sounded behind him, making him freeze.
“Hello, everyone! Am I in time for the boat race?” He knew that voice. Even though it had been years since he’d heard it, he’d know it anywhere. But, no, it couldn’t be her. He had to be imagining things.
*
She looked as she had the last time he’d seen her—luxuriant, dark curls framing her heart-shaped face, and large dark eyes sheltered under long lashes. But it was her mouth he’d longed for the most—plump, red, and sweet like a ripe berry.
Enough! Nate scolded himself. That mouth may have tasted sweet once upon a time, but now the memory of it is nothing but bitter.
What is she doing here? And why didn’t I see her name on the guest list?
He turned to Bridget and frowned his question, but she seemed equally surprised to see their new guest.
“Lady Luxton.” Frederick broke the awkward silence. “What a pleasant surprise it is to see you here. What brings you to the Lake District?”
“Spontaneity! I heard such wonderful chatter about Mr. Squires’s new inn that I had to come see it for myself.”
I’ll wager you did.
“I hope you don’t mind my impulsive visit to your lovely home, Nate. It’s always wonderful to see old friends, is it not?”
He bristled at the use of her term “friend” and at her calling him by his Christian name. She’d lost both those privileges when she’d left him standing at the altar. “It’s an inn. It’s meant for guests,” he said bluntly.
“Of course, it is. But I can’t tell you my shock and delight when I heard you’d moved to an estate in Windermere. Why, it’s less than a full day’s carriage ride from our castle in Lochmaben.” She laughed. “Imagine that. We are practically neighbors.”
Good Lord, she was right. He hadn’t realized how close his new living arrangement put him to his once-betrothed.
“Have you come on your own, Lady Luxton?” Frederick inquired.
“I’ve come with my husband. He’s on his way down to the lake now.”
Of course. Her husband—the Earl of Luxton—the man she’d chosen over him. Why choose the spare when you can have an heir?
“Lady Luxton.” Bridget strode past Nate and introduced herself. “I am Bridget De Lacey, Mr. Squires’s hostess. You’ll need to get settled in your chambers, I presume.”
“Yes, we will need three. One for myself, and my husband requires an adjacent room to his for his manservant.”
Just then, a manservant, wheeling a frail man in a wooden chair, started down the hill toward them. Everyone watched as they made their way to the lake until the chair came to rest next to Lady Luxton.
“May I introduce my husband, Lord Luxton?”
Nate blinked. He’d known Lord Luxton was elderly, but this man looked to be ninety years old, and Helen was no more than three-and-twenty.
Had Helen abandoned him for a man old enough to be her great-grandfather?
And if so, why? Certainly not for love. So, it had to be for money. A bitter taste rose in his throat.
“Bring his lordship to the water.” She bent to kiss her husband on the forehead and then strolled down the bank toward them.
“Now,” she said, looking around at the other guests. “Whom am I to row with?”
“Well, I—” Nate frowned, finding he was at a loss for words.
“You shall go with Mr. Squires,” Bridget said. “I have my spyglass.” She waved the gadget in her hand. “I will monitor the race from the shore.”
Nate’s body tensed. Bridget was not to blame—she did not know his history with Helen—but he certainly would not be climbing into a rowboat with her.
“Excellent idea,” Lady Luxton said. “Shall we begin?”
“Not so fast,” Nate said. “Hand me the spyglass, Miss De Lacey. You will need to return to the villa and sort out Lord and Lady Luxton’s rooms. I will monitor the race.”
Bridget’s smile faded, and Nate silently cursed himself. His discomfort with the situation had caused him to speak to her like an underling.
“Yes, of course, sir,” she said tightly and handed him the spyglass. “Will Lord Luxton require a room downstairs?”
“No, that’s quite all right,” Lady Luxton said. “His manservant will carry him up and down the stairs as needed.”
Bridget nodded and then, without so much as a glance at Nate, walked away. Nate’s heart sank as he watched her go.
“Well then,” Frederick rubbed his hands together, “it appears that Lady Luxton will be accompanying me today.” He stepped away from Abigail, whose smile faded.
“Are you certain Madam Bouffant won’t be coming?” Nate said.
Frederick shrugged. “I don’t see her anywhere.”
“And where is Papa?” Adelia said. “Who is to row Mama today?”
“I say. Isn’t that Lord Eamont and Madam Bouffant over there?” Dodsworth pointed at two figures strolling together in the distance.
A momentary silence fell over the group. There was something about how the two walked together—a closeness that suggested a familiarity of some sort.
Frederick clapped his hands together, breaking the silence.
“Well then, Lady Eamont, it looks like you are the odd lady out. Perhaps you’d like to row with one of your daughters?
” Frederick looked from Lady Eamont to Lady Luxton.
“Allow me to escort you both to the boats. He held out his arms, indicating that each should take one. Shall we go then, ladies?”
Lady Eamont ignored him and focused her attention on the disappearing figures of Lord Eamont and Madam Bouffant, her eyes narrow and her lips curled downward into an angry frown.
Nate squinted against the sun as he tried to keep track of the two. What on earth was Frederick’s mistress doing with Lord Eamont? And why didn’t Frederick seem to care?