Page 6 of A Wicked Earl's Widow
“Yes, he was quite skilled with the opposite sex and the bottle. I’m thankful our similarities are only physical.” Nate’s features hardened and he took another long pull of ale.
“It wasn’t until after the wedding he turned to drink as a serious escape. We grew up together, you know. He spent more time in the village than he did on the grounds of Pendleton. Got more affection from my ma than his own family bein’ the youngest son doesn’t count for much. He had a generous heart too, I’ll give him that.” Maxwell locked a gaze on Nathaniel. “His allowance was often used for coal or some such when he was younger. ‘Max,’ he’d say, ‘make sure the Ludlows stay warm. Heard their pig died so they may be short this winter.’ He never took credit for those kind acts. You have more in common with him than you think.”
Nate shook his head, wondering if the excess ale had loosened Maxwell’s tongue. He’d never heard that story before. Then again, the steward had always defended the late viscount. “His one truly good deed was hiring you. He died leaving his title to a child and his widow neck high in debt and scandal. You had your hands full.”
“Lady Pendleton did not always appreciate my input. She also didn’t like you rubbing elbows with the villagers or being guided by a commoner.” He tore off a hunk of the crusty bread and popped it in his mouth. “Fortunately, she didn’t have much choice. I stayed on for practically nothing and no able body with good references would have been interested in working for a pittance with an outcast family.”
“Your service and loyalty will never be forgotten. Not many men would have stood by their word to a drunk and a spoiled boy.”
“I have been repaid thrice-fold, my lord. I originally did it for your father and then…” Maxwell smiled, embarrassment reddening his face. “I’m as proud of you as if you were my own son. It’s been a long road, but the properties are thriving, and your investments have doubled. That should help your sister along when Lady Pendleton takes her to London next season.”
“Speaking of seasons, Mother is hinting I go to town with them and look for a wife. She made it sound like I’m buying a horse at Tattersall’s. The mandatory heir, I suppose.” Nate shrugged. “Am I ready for leg-shackles?”
“You will have your hands full with Mistress Hannah. She’s a diamond of the first water, she is.” He took a huge bite of mutton then waved his fork as he continued. “But you are coming to an age for a wife. Twenty and five is a good time to begin looking. Do the pretty, just don’t be in a hurry.”
The barmaid sashayed past them, a smile turning up her rosebud lips and an invitation in her eyes. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Maxwell.”
“How was business in Durham?” Lady Pendleton tapped her violet hand-painted fan. It thumped softly against the arm of the forest green brocade chair. “Shall we consider another investment in cloth?”
Nate grinned, his back to his mother as he poured a snifter of brandy. He swirled the amber liquid, watching it cling and sparkle against the beveled crystal while he considered his response. She should have been a born a man. Her mind was quick, and she had a head for numbers. He remembered the first time they opened the accounts after his father died. Such unladylike language coming from this stiff and proper viscountess.
“I think not. Glasgow and Manchester have a stronghold on the weaving industry at this point. But the rugs are turning quite a profit. Everyone wants an Axminster or one that resembles it. I’ll increase the investment there and see what happens.” He turned to find her staring out the window, her mind obviously somewhere else. Very uncharacteristic. “Or we could import some elephants from India. I hear they plow a field faster than oxen but they eat more.”
“Yes, of course.” Her folded fan now made a steady beat against her knee. “I’m sure that will be fine.”
“Mother, what is it?” He sat down across from her and laid a hand on hers, stilling the soft tap of the fan’s blonde horn sticks against her thin muslin. “It’s not like you to be distracted.”
“It’s Hannah. I’m worried about finding an appropriate match in London next year. Willhisescapades be remembered? What if—”
“Now you sound like my sister. What if, what if, what if? What if Napoleon rises again, invades England, and we must all learn French?” He sighed and sat back against the lush velvet of the loveseat. “No good will come from worrying over things we have no control over. My sister is lovely and educated with a generous dowry. I cannot see her being a wallflower. Besides, there have been dozens of scandals in the last dozen years. No one cares anymore.”
“Yes. Yes, you are right. I was remembering my introduction into society.” Her gaze strayed to the window again. “Such a wonderful and hopeful time for me but I remember one girl who was the object of scandal. I started to befriend her but Mama insisted I keep my distance. And then I was swept away…”
“Mother,” he said, taking both her hands in his, “I will make sure whoever marries Hannah is beyond reproach. She will not fall to the same fate as you. I promise.”
Lady Pendleton closed her eyes, a wistful smile on her face, and pushed a thin hand through her ash-blonde hair. The afternoon sun slanted across the room, emphasizing the emerging lines forming around her eyes and mouth. When she looked at him, tears shone in her intelligent brown eyes. “What life might have been like if your father had not battled the bottle.”
Nate shrugged. It didn’t matter. “It’s water under the bridge now. We must look to the future, and it appears bright. Can we not be happy with that?”
“Of course,” she agreed, one knuckle dabbing at the corner of her eye. “Pour me some claret, would you?”
He went to the side table and filled a glass with the deep red wine. “Gideon arrives this week. It will be good to see him again.”
“Will he stay long?” She accepted the small cordial glass. “Now if he were to take an interest in Hannah, we would not need a season. We could avoid London all together.”
Nathaniel chuckled. Gideon had been a close companion since university. It had been his suggestion to invest in cloth. His father, the Earl of Stanfeld, owned a weaving factory in Glasgow. He owed his friend a great deal since those investments had brought the first profits to the account books. Shoving his sister at a man who was avoiding marriage would not be considered proper gratitude. “Let’s not scare him off as soon as he crosses our threshold, hmm? Besides, he’s as fond of her as a sister. I don’t see that changing.”
Supper was announced and he extended his arm to his mother. Her pale skin emphasized the dark circles under eyes. Her usually erect shoulders drooped slightly, suggesting weariness. It could be just the progressing years but he doubted it. Perhaps he’d invite the physician for a visit when Gideon arrived. He’d been a good friend of the family since before his father had passed. Dr. Goodman could discreetly observe Lady Pendleton and request an examination if he felt it necessary. It would put Nate’s mind at ease.
Nathaniel and Gideongalloped the horses across the meadow, jumped the hedge, and pulled up along the edge of a steep slope. They could see for miles at this vantage point, and the smell of freshly turned soil and pine wafted in the breeze. There hadn’t been a moment of silence since his friend had arrived that morning. His mother and Hannah had commandeered poor Gideon before he’d wiped the dust off his boots.
Their friendship was a perfect example of opposites attracting. Nate’s friendly, outgoing personality had opened up the serious and quiet nature of his friend. Gideon was dark with intense sapphire blue eyes. Nathaniel had his father’s dark blond hair streaked by the sun and brown eyes flecked with gold. Together, they had accumulated a string of conquests. Both men enjoyed any outdoor activity, though again, Gideon preferred horses and fencing where Nathaniel had a reputation as a boxer and an excellent shot.
Both men dismounted, looking over the vibrant green fields dotted with white fluffy sheep. The horses quietly munched on spring grass, occasionally pricking their ears at an errantbahfrom below. Nate removed a small flask from his saddlebag, took a long pull, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He offered it to his friend, who did the same.
“I saw your hesitation when Mother asked about the earl. I know what you told them, but I know you too well. His condition has not improved, has it?”
Gideon shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not. He’s bedridden at this point, and there doesn’t seem much hope for recovery. But what is the point in worrying the women?”
