Page 34 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

Her father stirred and she came back to the present with a jolt. Heavens, if she couldn’t keep herself from lustful thoughts of Greville while seated beside her gravely ill father, how could she hope to hang on to prudence and discretion during the long slow weeks necessary for Papa to recover?

Even with the best of intentions, avoiding Greville’s company would be difficult if she remained here for any length of time. How was she to resist the desire that pulled her to him, the urge to deepen a friendship that should rather be curtailed, lest passion propel them into folly?

Before she could begin to sort out the tangle of anticipation, dread, confusion and uncertainty this new situation evoked, her father stirred again. As she clutched his hand tighter, he opened his eyes.

He focused on her, his face relaxing in a smile. ‘Hello, puss. I expect I gave you quite a scare.’

‘You did indeed,’ she replied, willing the tears away. ‘It was most unhandsome of you.’

Patting her hand, he chuckled softly. ‘I’m heartily sorry.’

The door opened softly and Althea peeped in. ‘Come in, my dear,’ Papa said. ‘I expect Dr Wendell told you how resourceful our girl was today. Before I’d barely realised what was happening, she knew just what to do.’

‘For which I will be eternally grateful,’ Amanda said emphatically.

Althea looked over quickly, as if doubting her sincerity. When she realised Amanda had meant every word, her cousin coloured a little. ‘I’m only glad I was nearby.’

‘So are we both,’ Amanda replied.

‘I told Mrs Pepys to ready a room for the doctor,’ Althea said. ‘Perhaps I should have waited for you to do it, but I didn’t know when you’d return. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Not at all! It’s one less thing I need attend to. Though my time shall be much less hectic now. Once I write Lady Parnell to tell her I shan’t be coming, we can settle in and—’

‘What’s that?’ her father interrupted. ‘Not going to London? Why ever not?’

Amanda looked at him blankly. ‘Of course I shall remain at Ashton until you are fully recovered. I mean to pamper you and make sure you follow every one of Dr Wendell’s directives. Since your return to health is not a process that can be hurried, and I don’t wish to leave Lady Parnell in uncertainty, it will be best just to cancel the journey outright.’

Her father shook his head. ‘No, you will not cancel it,’ he said firmly. ‘You will go to London as planned. There have been delays enough; I’ll not have you miss another Season.’

‘Well, I am getting rather on the shelf,’ she teased, trying to make him smile, ‘though it’s unkind of you to remind me. Since I’ve already passed the age of most hopeful young misses, waiting another year will not make much difference.’

‘It will to me,’ Lord Bronning replied. ‘The last thing I promised your dear mama was to let nothing else postpone the Season she’d wanted for you. If she didn’t wish even mourning her loss to delay it, I shall certainly not permit my infirmity to do so.’

‘But, Papa—’

‘No, my child,’ he interrupted again. ‘I insist that you go. And if you dig in your heels and say you won’t leave me, then you shall just have to pack me up and take me with you. Since leaving my beloved Ashton Grove would certainly send me into a decline, unless you want to have my death on your head—’

‘Papa!’ she cried. ‘Don’t even joke of such a thing!’

‘Very well, puss. But you must continue your preparations. I want you to have everything you desire, everything you and your mama always dreamed of. Nothing is more important to me…even if it means sending you away.’

‘I’ll be here,’ Althea inserted. ‘I can take care of Uncle James.’ She looked earnestly at Amanda. ‘I know you don’t think much of my abilities—’

‘That’s not true!’ Amanda protested.

‘But Uncle James is as dear to me as my own papa. I promise, I will care for him better than the best nurse. I’ll follow to the letter everything Dr Wendell recommends. You deserve to have your Season,’ she added gruffly. ‘You’ll be brilliant.’

It was as close to an apology as Althea was likely to come, Amanda thought, touched. ‘I do trust you to care for Papa. I know you’ll do whatever you can to help him regain his health.’

‘You see,’ Papa said, squeezing her hand and taking Althea’s. ‘She’ll watch my every step, scold me if I sit in draughts, bring me warmed soup and in general coddle me so much I shall have to improve just to get out of the house. By the way, while I am confined, I intend to ask Mr Anders to ride about Ashton Grove for me, since it doesn’t appear the Navy plans to make use of him. He has several times expressed an interest in learning more about managing an estate. Who better to teach him than a master like myself?’

‘I’m sure Mr Anders will be happy to assist, Uncle James,’ Althea said. ‘How could he not be an apt pupil with so excellent a professor? I’ll help him as well. And Mrs Pepys will aid me in managing the household, so you may be sure of it continuing to run smoothly.’

Looking at the two faces gazing at her earnestly, Amanda said, ‘I suppose I am going to London after all.’

Chapter Sixteen

The next two weeks flew by in a flurry of activity: letters to Lady Parnell to advise of her arrival, setting the schedule for Papa’s nursing, preparing gifts for staff and some to take to London, and final instructions for the household. For her last visit to the tenants, she took Althea along, presenting her as the mistress who would carry on in her stead.

When they returned to the carriage after their final stop, Althea said, ‘So you really do consider me a useful member of the family now.’

Impulsively, Amanda gave her a hug. ‘I always have! Do…do you think you could let go of that time last summer, so painful to us both, and let us move forwards?’

After a moment, Althea nodded. ‘I can try.’

‘Good,’ Amanda replied, squeezing her cousin’s hand, her heart lightening.

In all the bustle, one thing was missing. Seeming more determined than she to maintain the distance they’d both agreed was necessary, Greville Anders had made himself conspicuously absent.

Though she was rising early, he rose earlier still, and had already breakfasted and gone by the time she reached the morning room. He never returned to the hall for nuncheon and didn’t join them at night in the dining room, which seemed so empty and echoing with just she and Althea that by mutual consent, they gave up eating there and took their meals in the small back parlour, or with Papa in his chamber.

The one time she had met him by chance in the hall, he begged pardon for his frequent absences, telling her there was so much to learn, and he needed to do it all immediately. Though he kept his gaze averted, to the delight of her starved senses, he rested his hand for a moment on her arm, until he apparently realised what he was doing and jerked it away.

By the evening before her departure, as she helped Betsy pack the few gowns she’d need for the trip—very few, as she’d be acquiring a whole new wardrobe in London—she still hadn’t had a private word with Greville since returning from the Neville Tour. Was he really going to let her leave without any more than the few sentences they’d exchanged in the hallway? she wondered, restlessly pacing her chamber after sending Betsy off to bed.

Unless…being so often away from the house, perhaps he didn’t realise she’d be leaving on the morrow?

As an excuse, it was feeble. She stopped by the window, gazing out at the moonlit park, wrestling with the decision. This unconquerable compulsion to see him again defied logic; she didn’t even know what she wished to say.

But proper to seek him out or not, she simply couldn’t leave Ashton without speaking with him one more time.

Knowing he’d be in the estate office, where he went every evening, she walked there and paused outside the door, gathering her courage. Even now, she wasn’t sure what she was going to tell him. A small, nervous smile flitted to her lips: if she had observed Althea or of the housemaids behaving in so addle-pated a manner, she’d have laughed herself silly.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked briefly. The sound of his voice bidding her enter sent little eddies of alarm and delight through her.

He was writing in a ledger as she entered. Glancing up, Greville let his hand still and his eyes widened in surprise.

Once over the threshold, both courage and speech seemed to desert her. She halted, her feet stilling of their own accord. For a long moment, they stared silently at each other.

She made herself walk over to the desk, as he belatedly rose to acknowledge her. ‘Miss Neville.’

‘I’m leaving tomorrow, Mr Anders,’ she blurted.

Still standing, a ledger held before him like a shield, he said, ‘Yes, I know.’

As the frail illusion that he’d been ignorant of her plans crumbled, recognition of her brashness in seeking him out heated her cheeks, while something in her chest twisted painfully. ‘You knew…and weren’t even going to say goodbye?’

---