Janice Preston - Scandal And Miss Markham

‘He is,’ she said. ‘And you are?’

He frowned, clearly put out by such a brusque demand. Well, Thea had more pressing concerns than a strange gentleman’s sense of his own importance.

‘I am Lord Vernon Beauchamp, here to speak to your brother.’

‘A lord? What on earth do you want with Daniel?’

A muscle leapt at the side of his jaw. ‘Bickling, hold the horses.’

He tied off the reins and the groom jumped down and ran to the horses’ heads. Lord Vernon Beauchamp climbed in a leisurely fashion from his curricle and walked across the gravel to Thea, not stopping until he was so close he towered over her, radiating confidence and power. Thea set her jaw and stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated even though his commanding air and his raw masculinity rattled her from her head to her toes.

‘I suggest that is a matter between your brother and me, madam. Am I to understand he is not here?’

‘No, he is not.’

She glanced back at the house. No sign of her mother. Good...no doubt she was with Papa; she often read to him in the morning after he awoke. Heaven knew how much longer Thea could protect them from knowing the full truth of Daniel’s absence. She looked up at Lord Vernon.

‘If it concerns Stour Crystal, I assure you that I am perfectly able either to assist you myself, or to refer any query to the appropriate individual at the manufactory.’

‘Stour Crystal?’ Lord Vernon surveyed the frontage of Stourwell Court before looking back along the carriageway, to the wrought-iron entrance gates in the distance. Thea bridled as she fancied she detected a slight curl of his upper lip as he stripped off his driving gloves. ‘Your family manufacture lead-crystal glassware?’

‘We do.’

And I am proud of it.

Her father had built the business from scratch, manufacturing some of the finest quality cut lead crystal in the land. His Lordship might have been born into the aristocracy but that did not give him the right to look down upon her. But with that defiant pride came the realisation that she had not offered her visitor the customary hospitality due a visitor. She had allowed her disappointment he was not Daniel to override her manners and that would surely only add to his lordship’s low impression of her and her family. She bit back any further comment and moved away from Lord Vernon to smooth her hand over the haunch of the nearest horse. She smiled at the groom.

‘He is hot,’ she said, ‘and you must be tired and in need of refreshment.’ After the heavy rains of a week ago, the weather had turned unseasonably warm. ‘Take the horses around the back—you will see the way to the stable yard and you may care for them there. Come to the kitchen afterwards. Cook will give you some food and something to drink.’

The groom waited until his master gave him permission—granted by a flick of the head—to proceed before leading the horses away. Lord Vernon, a look of irritation on his face, swished his driving gloves against his palm. No doubt he was unhappy at his groom and horses’ needs being considered before his own: yet more evidence of his sense of entitlement. Mentally, Thea shrugged but she took care to conceal her scorn. She had neither the strength nor the heart to engage in a verbal sparring session.

‘You, too, must be weary, my lord. Shall we continue this discussion indoors?’

As the scrunch of hooves faded, his lordship inscribed an arc through the air with his arm and then bowed.

‘After you.’

Thea marched to the front porch, feeling much like a cat whose fur had been rubbed the wrong way, but she vowed to remain polite; she had no wish to reinforce his prejudices. The man had been neither rude nor derogatory, but—she pictured again that subtle curl of his lip—she knew how his sort viewed ordinary business folk who must work for their living.

She led him across the hall and into the study.

‘Would you prefer ale or wine, sir?’

‘Tea,’ he said.

She was certain he was being deliberately awkward. Their aversion was mutual then. So be it. She had more pressing concerns than how some spoilt aristocrat viewed her and a handsome face and a manly physique meant nothing to a woman who had forsworn all men. She jerked at the bell and a footman soon attended.

‘Bring tea for the gentleman, please, George, and a glass of Madeira for me. And some of Cook’s fruit cake.’

As George turned to leave, Thea said, ‘Is Mama with Papa?’

‘She is, miss. Shall I inform her we have a visitor?’

Thea glanced at Lord Vernon, who had removed his hat to reveal a full head of auburn hair that curled around his ears. A little flutter deep in her stomach taunted her: perhaps she wasn’t as immune to an attractive man as she thought. She wrenched her attention away from her treacherous body.

‘No. That will not be necessary, George.’

‘Very well, miss.’

Thea then sat in a chair by the window and gestured to a nearby chair.

‘Please, take a seat, sir.’

She waited until he was settled, her thoughts whirling. She knew from past experience, through her dealings with other men, that he would be reluctant to discuss business with her simply because of her sex. If she were to learn the truth of his visit, she must try to annoy him into indiscretion and she knew the perfect way to aggravate him: men often found it hard to deal with females who were direct.

‘Is it money?’

His brows lowered into a thunderous frown. ‘Is what money?’ His question almost a growl.

‘Does Daniel owe you money? Are you here to collect on a debt?’

‘I do not—’ He snapped his jaw shut, abruptly cutting off his heated response. His eyes—an arresting shade of green that sparkled in the light of a stray sunbeam filtering through the window pane—narrowed. When he spoke again, his voice was level. ‘Why should you jump to such a conclusion? Is your Daniel a gambler?’

Thea frowned in her turn. This man was clearly not to be easily manipulated.

‘He is not.’

‘Then I ask again, why do you jump to the conclusion I am here to collect on a debt?’

Thea shrugged, stood up and paced to the fireplace. She swung around, to see that her visitor had risen to his feet. She huffed a silent laugh. A lord and a gentleman, trained from birth in correct etiquette. When a lady stands—even a lowly born lady such as she—a gentleman, too, must stand.

‘Please. Sit down.’ She crossed the room to sit in her own chair and his lordship—with a supercilious lift of one brow—followed suit.

He folded his arms. ‘I am waiting.’

His voice was soft. Almost menacing. Thea shivered at her sudden mental image of a wolf: crouching, watching, patient. She thrust aside that picture, silently castigating herself for such a fanciful thought. He was a man...a powerful lord, maybe, but a man none the less.

His question...what was it again? About debt. ‘We are in business, my lord. I wondered if Daniel had overlooked a bill.’

His lips twitched. Thea searched his expression and felt her tension ease and her sense of foreboding lift as she realised he was trying not to laugh. No sign of a menacing predator now. She really must try to curtail her imagination.

‘I cannot decide whether to be amused or offended that you could even suspect I am a debt collector,’ he said. His smile now surfaced fully, his lips parting to reveal white, even teeth.

Heavens, he is a handsome devil.

She quashed that thought and dismissed the accompanying trip of her pulse.

‘Might we, do you think, start this conversation anew and dispense with the suspicion on both sides?’

Thea inclined her head by way of reply. A truce would speed this meeting along and give her the opportunity to discover if Lord Vernon Beauchamp knew anything that might shed light on Daniel’s disappearance.