Page 21 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

‘Perhaps,’ Miss Holton said, sounding unconvinced. ‘In any event…’ she looked away, her voice dropping to a gruff murmur ‘…I expect Mama never asked for me. She always liked Amanda better. The whole time I was growing up, all I ever heard was how pretty my cousin was, how well she played the pianoforte and how beautifully she painted. Her behaviour was always the standard Mama held up for me to copy.’

Unsure how or whether he ought to halt the stream of words, Greville remained silent as she rushed on, ‘It wasn’t so bad while Papa was still alive. He took me riding, let me jump all the fences, even promised to teach me to shoot, until Mama found out and forbade it. I was already too “unnatural” a female without him encouraging me, she said.

‘They didn’t let me see Mama until the night she died, and then only for a moment,’ she continued, abruptly shifting back to her first narrative. ‘She was already beyond recognising anyone. They rushed me out before I could try to make p-peace with her, though Amanda and Aunt Lydia stayed until the end,’ the girl concluded bitterly.

Even the old Greville, before his experiences had given him a keener appreciation for the suffering of his fellows, couldn’t have failed to be moved by her grief and regret. ‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmured, curling his fingers to resist the urge to pat her on the back or gather her in his arms.

With the speed of a jack rabbit darting away from a pursuing hound, her face cleared and she put on a determined smile. ‘But heavens, why am I nattering on to you, who can have no interest in those events? It’s all in past, anyway. With Amanda leaving soon, I intend to stay here with Uncle James. He’ll not make me return to school or try to turn me into someone I’m not. Now, the castle ruins are just around the next turn.’

He had to admire her quick recovery, accomplished, praise Heaven, without any clumsily offered assistance from him. During the misery of days he’d spent aboard the prison hulk, confined with the other impressed men while they awaited transport to the Illustrious, he’d experienced the awful sense of being powerless and absolutely alone in world. Miss Holton’s situation was by no means as dire, but losing the support of those nearest to you and being forced into a position you did not want was something he understood only too well. If her behaviour sometimes bordered on the churlish, perhaps she had cause.

Leaving Billy with the horses by the remains of the old curtain wall, Miss Holton led him inside. ‘This was the bailey,’ she said, indicating a large, oval open space. ‘You can see the remnants of what were stables and storehouses, and over there, the keep.’ She gestured towards the square stone tower at the cliffside end of the expanse. ‘Being as useful as a lookout point during the centuries as it was at its construction, it has remained in remarkably good repair. Shall we look within?’

Nodding, he followed her across the open space towards the arched entryway. ‘Duke William gave the first Lord de Bronnaut all the land along the coast, with orders to build a fortification and hold it against attacks by wild Cornishmen or resurgent groups of Angles and Saxons,’ she said, pacing through the doorway. ‘Supplies were kept below, so the defenders could hold out for quite some time, even if the bailey wall was—’

She stopped abruptly, frowning. Looking over her shoulder, Greville saw the remnants of a stamped-out fire on the stone floor.

‘The tower has never been secured, but Uncle James wouldn’t like someone trespassing,’ Miss Holton said. ‘Do you think a poacher was here?’

‘Probably not—the heights are barren, with no cover to entice game. Probably some farm lads or shepherds took refuge from a storm.’ Greville didn’t believe that, but he had no intention of voicing to Miss Holton the suspicion that had sprung immediately to mind as soon as he saw the remains of the fire.

Neville Tour, with its unimpeded view down the coast and convenient storage areas below, would make as perfect a spot for signalling a vessel to land its cargo as it was a secure, dry place to stash it.

Indeed, something about the whole area, from the bailey into the tower, set the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Might someone be watching them?

All his protective instincts at high alert, Greville said, ‘I believe I’m a bit weary, Miss Holton. Shall we head back?’

‘You don’t wish to see the cellars?’

‘Another time, perhaps.’ If smugglers were making use of the place, he had no intention of descending to the storage areas and letting Miss Holton discover contraband—or be knocked over the head by a free-trader anxious to protect his cargo. Not when he had not even a knife on him with which to defend her.

The ploy worked; instantly solicitous, Miss Holton took his arm and walked with him back across the bailey. The itch between his shoulder blades didn’t abate until they left the castle enclosure to meet the groom with their horses.

Billy helped Miss Holton mount and they set off. After their return, Greville thought as they trotted back towards Ashton Grove, he’d report his findings to Lord Bronning and suggest he send a party—a large, armed party—back to investigate.

The sunshine and mild breeze had made the ride back as delightful as the journey out. After they’d reached the stables and turned their horses back over to the staff, Greville walked Althea back to the manor.

‘Thank you, Miss Holton. The ride was quite refreshing, and Neville Tour is a fascinating place.’

‘Isn’t it? When you’ve fully recovered, we must go there again. The view from the paths along the cliff edge is breathtaking. And please call me Althea. We are friends now, aren’t we?’

‘Friends,’ he agreed. ‘You can call me Greville—though probably not when your uncle or cousin can overhear.’

She sniffed. ‘No, Amanda would chide me about the impropriety for sure.’

Though it was certainly no business of his to become involved, it did seem to him that the cousins were working at cross-purposes. ‘Have you ever spoken with Miss Neville about what happened at the time of your mother’s death? I suspect she may not be aware of how shut out and ignored you felt.’

Althea shrugged. ‘She’d just fob me off with some excuse, or give me a lecture about not knowing my place.’

‘She might. But she might also apologise and say it had never been her intention to slight you. Family is important—a truth I’ve only recently come to fully appreciate. One shouldn’t remain estranged without making a push to heal the breach. Consider it, anyway.’

At least she didn’t cut him off this time. After a moment, she nodded. ‘Perhaps I will.’

Encouraged, Greville nodded back. And then had to bite his lips to keep from smiling as it suddenly hit him what an enormous transformation had taken place.

The old Greville’s hosts would have taken care to keep him far away from any fourteen-year-old daughter of the house lest he attempt to debauch her. Somehow the new Greville had gone from dangerous rake to confidant and confessor.

He wasn’t sure whether the change was a tribute to his evolving improvement or a great joke being perpetrated by the Almighty to whom he’d made that heartfelt promise to reform his character. But if any of his former companions in wenching and gaming could see him now, they’d laugh themselves silly.

They had just reached the steps leading to the entryway when, in a reverse of the previous afternoon, Miss Neville walked out and stopped short. Irritation registered in her eyes as she took in Althea in her habit, both of them carrying whip and gloves.

‘I didn’t know you were riding out,’ Miss Neville said.

‘Why shouldn’t I?’ Althea shot back, immediately defensive.

‘I don’t mean to criticise,’ Miss Neville replied, ‘but I didn’t know where you were. It took me some time to piece together that you’d set off on horseback—with Mr Anders as your escort.’ She sent him an accusing look over Miss Holton’s averted face.

‘Why should he not accompany me? You don’t need Mr Anders to flirt with now, not since that ever-so-elegant Lord Trowbridge has arrived. Why don’t you practise for your début by charming him? Though he seems impressed enough with his own company, he probably doesn’t need anyone else’s flattery.’

Miss Neville’s face flushed, as if she were controlling her reply with an effort. Finally she said, ‘It’s hardly fair to disparage a gentleman we hardly know after one short meeting.’

Althea tossed her head. ‘I know from listening to him once that I’m not interested in his company. Or is that what annoys you—that Mr Anders enjoys my company, when you clearly do not?’

Not wishing to be in the middle of the storm that looked to be breaking between the two and hoping somewhat guiltily that it hadn’t been his speaking about her cousin that had set Althea on the defensive, Greville was trying to find a way to excuse himself when Miss Neville responded, ‘That’s not true! I’m sure Mr Anders appreciates your energy and enthusiasm, as we used to appreciate each other, once upon a time. But our guest isn’t yet fully recovered. You shouldn’t tease him to go on excursions that will tire him—as, forgive me for saying so, Mr Anders—he appears to be now.’

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