Page 7 of An Amiable Foe
“The truth is, Papa, if I leave this castle, I will be leaving you.” The rest came out in a quieter, resigned voice, but he could not miss them. “And then I will truly be orphaned.”
Perry had steeled himself against having any emotion for so long, the unfamiliar sensation struck him like a small blow upon the heart. Miss Edgewood sounded particularly forlorn. The last thing he wanted to do was burst in upon such a scene, as he could hardly have words of comfort to give to a young woman who was being displaced because of him. He turned to go, which was when he knocked over the large pile of books that had escaped his notice, thereby giving away his presence in a most unmistakable way. Dismayed at the disaster he had created, he quickly stepped over them in the urgency of his escape, stumbling as his foot caught the edge of one of the covers.
Surely the sleeping companion had now awakened. He would be well and truly trapped, since she blocked his access to the front hall. Nonetheless, Perry took his chances and retraced his steps as quickly as his need for stealth would allow. To his infinite relief, the woman slept still. It was time to stop his exploration of the castle and begin dressing for dinner.
Miss Edgewood’s words haunted him as he reached the main hall, still empty, and found the staircase leading to the bedrooms above. Just as he reached the bottom step, a maid entered from a door on his left and, after exclaiming in surprise at the sight of him, offered him her candle. He thanked her and continued his journey upward. Word must have reached the other servants that he was here. He wondered how many there were of them.
Miss Edgewood had been talking to her dead father. She seemed to truly grieve for her parents, even after so many years, and he began to wonder what her life had been like at the castle after their death. That she had at least one friend in the local squire’s son let him know she was not completely isolated. And she had a companion. But the resolve grew to find out more about her; he could not otherwise advise her on a good situation. And she most certainly could not remain here, now that he had come to take possession of her home.
Perry found his room upstairs only by incorrectly entering the southern wing, which he recognized from its refurbished state. From there, he was able to figure out which direction he should go to find the eastern wing. Then, he passed through a succession of rooms in his search, one after the other, each one appearing more neglected than the one he’d just quit.
At last, he stumbled on the room that contained his effects—the room that had been assigned to him. His perusal of it did not make him want to linger. The meager fire let out unencouraging puffs of smoke, although he was relieved to see that a fire was burning in the hearth. He went over to call for some hot water, only to realize that the bell was broken. Letting out a groan of exasperation, he went to face his worst fears and tested the bed.
He had slept on patches of ground more comfortable than this. It seemed there were boulders of straw lumped in various places most designed to torment his bones. However, the sheets were crisp and clean, so he would not have to fear soiled linens. He changed his clothes, grateful that his valet would arrive in a couple of days. He was not a vain man, but he would not be able to bear such conditions for very long. Matley would set everything to rights.
Having an idea that the dinner hour had been reached—or if it had not, that he might enjoy a glass of sherry while he waited—he made his way down a nearby circular staircase, set in what must be one of the towers. This led to a square hall on the first floor, with several doors that were all closed. He opened one and found the billiard room. At least the castle had that, although it appeared the green baize, propped on its side on the floor, had been nibbled on by rodents. He returned to the hall and was about to open another door when the footman who had first admitted him into the castle came upon him. He had introduced himself as Charlie.
“If yer wanting the dining room, Mr. Osborne, ye ’ull find it right through this door.”
Charlie led him back through the billiard room and opened a door on the opposite end, then stood back to allow Perry to enter a small sitting room. It was adjacent to the dining room that was visible on his right, confirming what a labyrinth Brindale was. Here was another room that could potentially be used to entertain guests. The sitting room had been designed with an emphasis on gothic elements but it did not appear in need of repairs. He turned slowly to examine all four walls, and only then did he discover Miss Edgewood seated on the row of chairs behind the door where he’d entered. He gave a start. Were women forever popping up from unexpected places in this castle?
After their unusual beginning, he’d had a difficult time imagining that Miss Edgewood would make an appearance for dinner, but here she was. He went over to her and bowed. “Miss Edgewood.”
She stood and dipped into a light curtsy. “Mr. Osborne.” Gone was the forlorn sound of her voice from her private monologue. Back was that nagging feeling that she belonged to this castle more than he did.
Charlie went ahead into the dining room as Sarah stepped out and curtsied. “Dinner is ready, if ye’ll care to take yer places.” The maid waited until they had both entered before following them in.
The footman helped Miss Edgewood into her seat before addressing Perry. “If ye care for it, sir, I’ve brought up one of the bottles of Burgundy from the wine cellar. The late Mr. Edgewood—Miss Edgewood’s uncle, ’tis to say—bought a case in India, and he had ’em shipped here.”
With England’s war with France, true Burgundy was a rarity, and Perry began to look more cheerfully upon his inheritance. At last, Brindale had given him something to rejoice over that would undoubtedly impress his friends. He remained standing until Miss Edgewood had taken her seat.
“Water for me, Charlie.” She smiled at the footman, and he returned it with a deferential nod. It seemed there was both affection and respect from the servants toward their mistress.
When the wine had been poured and Sarah handed them their napkins, she opened the door for Annabel to bring in the first course. Perry had to own that—pressing need for repairs aside—the castle ran smoothly, despite having a young woman at its current head and engaging, it appeared, only one indoor male servant. It was a shame the Edgewoods had not tackled the larger domestic projects of restoring the castle’s elegance and making it fit for visitors. Perhaps her uncle had been tight-fisted in handing over the money needed for castle repairs.
When the food had been served, the maid moved to stand behind them near the wall, and Perry supposed it was to protect Miss Edgewood. He was grateful for that since the companion was nowhere in sight. This was a most unusual situation, and he did not wish to be forced to marry Miss Edgewood for lack of chaperonage. Although he had no idea if she even had a protector who would force the point.
Ah, yes. She has one—Vernon.
As though in rebellion against the neighbor’s threats and innuendos, Perry’s mind began to wander on its own path, and a rogue vision of kissing Miss Edgewood senseless with no one the wiser seized him. His neck began to heat, and he reached up to loosen his cravat with a discreet gesture. Despite not having the most spotless reputation, he was not the sort to kiss an unprotected, genteel woman, and he would do better to banish such thoughts. Where was her companion, anyway? One look atherought to remove any temptation.
Miss Edgewood picked up her spoon and took a quiet sip of the soup and he did the same. He searched his mind for something agreeable to say, but it was not needed. Miss Edgewood spoke first.
“Mr. Osborne, there are not a great number of servants at Brindale Castle. You will, perhaps, wish to rectify that fact and hire some more. There is, at present, our cook, one footman, a gardener, and a groom who helps with outdoor work, and only two maids.”
“Is that so?” he asked politely.
“It is. Therefore, if you have the misfortune to knock over a pile of books again, you may find it expedient to pick them up, for you will be hard-pressed to find someone else to do it.”
CHAPTERFIVE
Marianne peeked at Mr. Osborne from under her lashes and took wicked pleasure in the flush that crept over his cheeks at her words. It afforded her some satisfaction to let him know she had outed him for snooping, and it had taken only a discreet inquiry of the servants to be sure it was not one of them. She had so few weapons in her arsenal. After all, he was the official proprietor of Brindale Castle. He had upset her peace by arriving on the doorstep without a word in advance and had taken her entirely by surprise by revealing that he was the new owner. Now, in her own small way, she had the upper hand.
Mr. Osborne regarded her for a moment and reached for his glass. “I see now that I should have contacted the steward before coming. I might have learned of the castle’s needs ahead of time and been better able to meet them.” He had sidestepped her comment neatly.
So, he would not admit to eavesdropping. Marianne took another sip of the cream soup, contemplating how best she should answer and whether she might put him in his place. Nothing came as she lifted her eyes to him. “Why did you not?”
“When my uncle informed me that he’d had the deed to Brindale put in my name, he expressed his expectation that I should waste no time in seeing to castle renovations. I am afraid I took his instructions to heart and came without delay, not thinking through the implications—that the castle might not be ready for me.”
