Chapter 16 #4
At least in Wealtha’s case, there was a bit more to the tale. “We socialize. We don’t entertain, and that’s primarily for budgetary reasons.”
“To host friends for tea costs little. To share a lady’s pint with a neighbor on market day even less.
Orla has set herself up here at the Glen as a grand dame in semi-seclusion, such that only the Mrs. Johnsons of the world—determined to have a peek at the new viscount in the role of host—will intrude. ”
“Daniela Johnson is something of a grand dame too. She would be the one to lead the charge. You acquitted yourself well, by the way. Genial, not too friendly, knowledgeable about agrarian matters.”
“Because you have been educating me and because Magnus Johnson was also being friendly. I invited Dingle to stop by.”
Oh dear. “Orla won’t like that.”
“Orla can go to perdition. I will dispatch her there in a comfortable coach and see that Wealtha’s needs are met in Orla’s absence. This house does not now and never has belonged to Orla. Dear Auntie needs to reconcile herself to that singular fact.”
“Be careful, Richard.”
“Dingle gave me the same advice, and I will follow it.” He studied the stack of ledgers on the table. “Orla’s finances interest me.”
As far as Mabel was aware, Orla’s finances consisted of her widow’s mite, the Fielding house, and any profit resulting from renting out that dwelling.
She had a splendid collection of jewels, all of which she claimed to have inherited.
She’d been wearing select pieces to supper, probably in deference to St. Didier’s discerning presence.
“Orla inherited the jewels you’ve seen her wear. Other than that, I believe Papa Joseph left her modest means.”
“Then perhaps it’s time she started living on them and ceased relying on the Glen to provide for her every need.”
That Richard would distance himself from his only extant blood relation suggested he was not merely annoyed, he was angry.
“Richard, Orla has exerted herself for years to ensure Wealtha did not find herself in awkward circumstances. In a sense, you owe her for that. Somebody owes her. She has provided proper chaperonage to me as well, though I’m approaching spinsterhood at a brisk canter.
She could have gone on extended visits to her old school chums—they are all still very close—or taken herself off to York and set up her own household.
In either case, Wealtha and I would have had to shift for ourselves. ”
Richard swung the landscape of the Glen in summer out from the wall, opened the safe behind it with a key, and deposited the ledgers inside. He closed the safe with a decisive snick of the lock.
“Had Orla been unavailable, Amabel, you would have hired a companion. You would have moved Granny Wexler or somebody equally formidable in here to appease the gossips. Perhaps your great-auntie on the Fielding side would have recommended a lady fallen on hard times. Somehow you would have created a way forward if Orla had jumped ship.”
“Great-Auntie has long since gone to her reward.”
He returned the landscape to its intended position and made an interesting picture standing by the rendering of what had become his birthright.
He and the Glen were of a piece. Impressive, handsome, complicated. Firelight suggested the man he’d become in later years, not much changed, but for an enhancement of dignity and wisdom, perhaps, and graying hair. He’d still be bold, shrewd, and attractive.
Mabel was abundantly aware that she wanted both the man and his estate in her future—she loved them both—and equally aware that her wishes were unlikely to come true.
Orla had told her, before that long-ago Season in Town, that Mabel would rue the day she set foot in Mayfair, and in that regard, Orla had been prescient.
“Perhaps I would have found a way forward,” she said, though no way forward without Orla had occurred to her at any point. Why not? Because Orla’s hovering presence had obscured such possibilities. “Right now, I intend to find my way to bed.”
“May I light you up?”
The sensation of Richard’s hands on Mabel’s shoulders returned, melting her bones and threatening to set fire to her common sense.
“Best not.”
He smiled a quicksilver flash of mischief. “Perhaps another time. Do we dare a good-night kiss?”
She was in his arms in the next half second and remained there for a delightful span of moments, then forced herself to beat retreat one, whole, entire step.
“You know things,” she said, hands braced on his arms, “that tempt me to be impulsive.”
“I have work to do, then. My objective is to tempt you to be recklessly demanding. I shall look forward to that day, or night.”
He was capable of flirtation, while Mabel was hard put to even catch her breath. “Good night, my lord, and we will resume our battle with the ledgers tomorrow.”
He bowed, blew her a kiss, and waited with his hands behind his back while Mabel attempted a dignified retreat.
She climbed the stairs, wondering if she would find a way forward for her and Richard. He had great confidence in her ingenuity and determination, though Mabel feared that his confidence was sadly misplaced.