The Yelverton Marriages

Alaric stopped frowning after the rebellious farmhand and frowned at the back of Owlet Manor instead. At least the narrow garden separating the house from the farmyards and the road was neat and newly planted with herbs and even one or two cottage-garden flowers to brighten it up. There was an old orchard to the side of the place that looked as if it had received some attention as well and a row of raspberry canes still glowed with the occasional red fruit the birds had not gobbled up. Mrs Turner’s concerns were obviously more about food than decoration. Understandable if her brother did not have funds for more than the basics despite his grand house. Miss Donne had told him the manor and estate had fallen into the man’s lap when he came home from the war.

Alaric eyed the narrow and mellowed Tudor brick on this side of the house and wondered how he would have felt if his grand heritage came with no money attached and years of neglect to make up for. Lucky that most Deffords had been careful landlords, then, and they never spent more than they could afford. It was no credit to him that he was a rich man and a lord, he decided as he noted the bricks needed pointing and the ancient oak porch was listing to one side like the farmhand who had done his best not to welcome Alaric to his master’s new home. Ah well, none of it was any of his business, he decided and stepped through the porch to rap on the door.

‘Yes, whatever is it this time?’ Mrs Turner opened the door and demanded impatiently before she took the trouble to see who was out here.

Alaric supposed she had an excuse with all those fools half-drunk and maybe a little bit dangerous and her brother occupied elsewhere. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said with a silly echo of the awe and wonder that shot through him the first time he laid eyes on her troubling him again. He had hoped she would be less lovely and desirable than he recalled, but if anything he had undershot the mark.

‘Oh, it is you,’ she said as if he was the last person she wanted to see on her brother’s doorstep even with a pack of half-cut rogues to be impatient with. ‘I am sorry. Good day to you, Lord Stratford,’ she said, sounding a lot more polite, but still not enthusiastic about their second doorstep of the day.

‘I have come to see my niece,’ he told her. She stood in the doorway as if trying to hide even the kitchen from his view and he was tempted to lift her aside and march in again, but could not bring himself to be so rude twice in a day.

‘She is very tired,’ she said and would not meet his eyes.

‘I dare say, but I need to see for myself Juno is safe and well,’ he insisted.

‘You do not trust my word, Lord Stratford?’

‘I do not know you, ma’am, and you seem to be determined to prevent me seeing my ward.’

‘It is not that,’ she said uneasily.

‘What is it, then?’ he barked, nearly at the end of his tether. He would invade her brother’s house to make sure Juno was whole and safe if he had to.

‘I am sorry, my lord,’ she said as if she really meant it, ‘but Miss Defford does not wish to see you.’

He put out a shaking hand to steady himself against the door jamb and wished he could lean on this noble old house, let exhaustion wash over him so he could sleep standing up and forget about those hurtful words. If he slept long enough, maybe this nightmare would end and he would wake to a world of sanity and order. ‘What do you expect me to do, then?’ he asked lamely at last.

‘Go back to Broadley and wait until you have both had a proper night’s sleep and are feeling less exhausted and more rational,’ Mrs Turner said as if she thought he could meekly ride back to that wretched little town without seeing for himself Juno was safe at last.

‘I cannot leave here without knowing she is unharmed,’ he allowed himself to plead.

Mrs Turner looked uneasy about keeping him standing out here like a beggar hoping for scraps. ‘No, of course you cannot,’ she murmured her agreement. ‘Juno, you must show yourself and reassure your uncle you are safe and well,’ she spoke up to his lurking niece and Alaric supposed he must be glad Juno did not bolt for the nearest attic to hide in when she realised he was coming. ‘We cannot let His Lordship think we are holding you to ransom or whatever nonsensical ideas he will think up if you refuse to come out. No need to say a word if you would rather not, but you must prove to him you are well and in one piece, even if you are footsore and rather oddly dressed.’

He thought he heard a soft whisper of a laugh in the cool shadows beyond the kitchen and gazed hungrily past Mrs Turner’s slender form, hoping for a glimpse of his niece. ‘Just let me see you are unharmed, Jojo, and I promise you I will go away again until you are feeling better,’ he said quietly and willed her to step forward. He loved his niece far more than he had ever been able to let her know, but he was the adult and he should have told her all through her lonely childhood if he wanted her to believe him now.

‘You used to call me that when Papa was alive,’ she said so softly he had to strain his ears for the words and he longed for her to come properly inside the room so he could catch a glimpse of her for the first time in far too long.

‘And how he would rip up at me for letting his little girl be so miserable in London that you felt you had to come so far to find Miss Grantham.’

‘You will not make me go back to live with Grandmama, will you?’ she said and finally found the courage to peer around the doorpost at him.

All he could see was two anxious blue eyes looking warily at him and her pale face looking thinner and even more worried than last time he had set eyes on her. Then he had been bidding her goodbye at his London home before he travelled on to Paris. ‘No, even if I wanted to I could not since the Dowager has left the country and will live overseas from now on. I will not make you go anywhere you do not want to go ever again, Jojo,’ he promised recklessly and with a wobble in his voice he wished Mrs Turner was not here to pick up on.

‘I want to stay here,’ Juno managed to say almost out loud.

Alaric’s heart sank as he realised it could be too late to put his relationship with his niece right. Maybe he had defended himself against loving anyone for so long it had become a habit. But how could he have refused it to a child who had lost her father so young she could barely remember him? It seemed feeble and self-pitying to admit he had felt so shaken and alone when he lost his brother that he had built a wall around himself. Perhaps George had been lonely as his parents’ only surviving child, but whatever the reason, he had taken to his baby brother and refused to hear their mother’s orders to let the brat go to the devil and come away. Even as a boy he had taken care Alaric was happy and well looked after when he had inherited their father’s title as a mere lad himself. George had always done his best to shield Alaric from the Dowager’s cold dislike and it had hit him like an Arctic blast when George was killed and Alaric had to step into his brother’s shoes. Within the new Viscount Stratford’s barricades he must have looked self-sufficient and composed instead of bereft and terrified. Men of power were certainly fooled and they began to use him for not quite official tasks like the one in Paris to help the Duke of Wellington through an awkward situation in any way he could. Little did they know there was a coward lurking behind all that lordly composure and now Juno had paid the price.

‘Then so you shall, if I can make arrangements for your board and lodging and any other expenses. And if Mrs Turner does not mind having such a demanding young lady about the place when she has a great deal to do?’

I will miss you like the devil, but that will serve me right, he did not add. It would not be fair, after all he had not done for his niece up to now, to put any pressure on her to try and get her to love him back. Serve him right if he never did after walling her out along with the rest of the world ever since her father died.

‘You really do not mind if I stay, then?’ Juno said and she was so eager to hear his reply she actually crept past the doorway and stood just inside the room like a feral kitten ready to bolt for cover if he made the slightest move towards her. ‘I promise not to get under your feet, Mrs Turner,’ she added earnestly. ‘I know you are very busy, but I would love to help you clean and sort through all the curious old things you have found. Miss Grantham made it sound such an adventure I feel as if I know you and the house already.’

‘I wonder if she knows how hard that work can be. It is rough and ready living here, Juno. I have a great deal to do before this old place even feels like a proper gentleman’s residence once again. If you really want to stay with us for a while and rough it and His Lordship is content for my brother and me to have you here until you have recovered from your long journey, then I am sure we would be very happy to have you stay here until you feel you are ready to face the world again.’

Mrs Turner was clearly waiting to hear whether he was resigned to his niece’s wishes, if not exactly delighted by them. He could see the knowledge that Miss Grantham would shortly be part of this household in her eyes as she met his with something like an apology because his niece seemed to prefer her company to his.

‘His Lordship must be content if that is what you really want, Juno,’ he said wearily. ‘I hope you will write to me now and again,’ he allowed himself to beg before he could make himself go away and leave her with strangers.

‘Yes,’ she said and seemed to hesitate, as if she wanted to say more, but was afraid he might try to change her mind if she risked it.

‘Good,’ he said hoarsely and fought back some unmanly feeling tears as he shook his head and managed to meet Mrs Turner’s gaze with a plea in his. ‘Look after her for me, please?’ he asked and he did trust her to do that, stranger as she was and not a particularly polite or respectful one either.

‘I will,’ she promised.

‘Very well, then. I wish you good day, Mrs Turner, Juno,’ he said gruffly and bowed, then turned on his heel before he lowered himself to beg her to trust him instead. Time to get on with the rest of his life without most of the things he thought he had when he left England on that disastrous errand to France, where it turned out nobody wanted him very much either.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.