Page 46 of Society's Most Disreputable Gentleman

His head understood all that. But for most of the long ride to Blenhem Hill, his heart resisted accepting it.

Other feelings surfaced as he neared the scene of his ill-fated employment. After the wrongs that had been visited upon the tenants while he sat in the manor house, arrogant self-indulgence blinding him to the abuse and embezzlement going on right under his nose, he suspected he might have been run out of Blenhen Hill, if Barksdale hadn’t knocked him over the head and whisked him away in the dead of night.

He doubted anyone around the estate would be pleased to see him. It would take determined effort, probably over a long period of time, to win back the respect of the people he’d failed to serve.

Such worthwhile and necessary work would keep his mind from drifting back to memories of Amanda Neville, he thought, ignoring the little voice that reminded him hard work had not yet produced that result. Some day, he trusted, he’d be able to think of her with an affection no longer laced with the acid of anguish.

After skirting the town of Hazelwick, he took the familiar road towards Blenhem Hill, noting with recently acquired expertise that many of the cottages were newly thatched, fences had been rebuilt of timber and stone, and most all of the fields were already ploughed. He passed several farms with workers about, a few even greeting him by name.

They hadn’t thrown rocks, at least.

Then he was pulling up his horse before the manor house. Somewhat to his surprise, the butler greeted him cordially, showed him to the parlour and promised to fetch his sister immediately. He barely had time to pace across the parlour, noting it was in its usual perfect order, when Joanna hurried in.

‘Greville!’ she cried, delight on her face. ‘How good it is to see you—and looking so well!’

‘All thanks to you, sister dear. I would otherwise still be painfully crawling back to health whilst holystoning the quarterdeck.’

‘Thanks to cousin Nicky as well. But, here comes Ned. I can’t wait for you to meet my husband!’

Not certain the man who’d had to repair Greville’s mistakes would be in any hurry to meet him, he prepared himself for some hard scrutiny.

Greaves had taken good care of his sister, too, Greville noted. Jo had always been a pretty lass, but now her pale skin and green eyes positively glowed. The tender look that passed between husband and wife as Sir Edward entered made him ache with longing and envy.

After the requisite introductions, Sir Edward said, ‘We’re delighted to see you, especially as it must mean you are feeling hale again.’

‘I am. More important than that, however, I understand congratulations are in order.’

‘Thank you,’ Joanna replied, her glow increasing as her husband pressed her hand. Greville suppressed another pang. Would he ever have a loving wife, a son to whom he could pass down the estate he planned to acquire? Such a prospect now seemed as remote as the moon.

‘Ned says Lord Englemere has sorted matters out with the Admiralty,’ his sister said. ‘I do hope that means the Coastal Brigade can spare you for a visit.’

‘I’m afraid not. Unfortunately, my kind host, Lord Bronning, recently suffered an attack and was ordered to bed.’

‘Good heavens!’ Sir Edward cried. ‘Is he doing better? He will recover, I trust.’

‘He is making steady progress, but in the interim, I’ve been assisting him on the estate. Learning a great deal…about things I should have known while I was here.’

He’d given Sir Edward a perfect opening, but his sister’s husband only said mildly, ‘There could be no better teacher.’

Some of Greville’s tension eased. Though Sir Edward was perfectly entitled to take Greville to task, apparently he did not intend to do so.

Despite Sir Edward’s forbearance, Greville felt compelled to continue, ‘Still, I must apologise—to you and especially the tenants. Barksdale might have inflicted the actual injuries, but I allowed it to happen.’

Sir Edward nodded. ‘It sounds as if you’ve experienced a sea change indeed.’

Greville smiled wryly. ‘After my time aboard the Illustrious, I’m as different now from the man who left these shores as the English Channel is from the Bay of Marrakesh.’

‘What will you do when you are released?’ Jo asked.

‘I hope you might help with that, Sir Edward. With the prize money coming to me and a bit I inherited, I’d like to purchase a place of my own. Lord Englemere told me that, as you own a number of properties, you might be persuaded to sell me Blenhem Hill.’

Sir Edward considered him for a long moment. ‘So you can make restitution to the tenants personally. I’ve enjoyed my time at Blenhem—how could I not, when it brought me my dear wife?’ he said, giving Joanna’s hand another squeeze. ‘But I do have extensive properties elsewhere I need to attend.’

‘Oh, my dear, having Greville take over the Blenhem would be the most marvellous solution!’ Joanna inserted. ‘You were saying just today that you should leave soon to tour your other holdings, and must find someone to take over here.’

‘So I was. Let me think on it, Mr Anders. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.’

‘You will stay a few days, Greville? For a visit, and so you and Ned can work out the details about Blenhem Hill?’

He’d intended to resume his journey the very next morning, but in the face of his sister’s appeal, that resolve faltered. ‘Two days, then,’ he replied.

‘You’re looking tired, sweetheart,’ Greaves said to his wife. ‘Why don’t you have Myles show your brother to his room, and then rest before dinner?’

Joanne tried, and failed, to stifle a yawn. ‘This business of making heirs is very fatiguing,’ she admitted. ‘Very well, I’ll go rest. Until dinner, Greville.’

Sir Edward returned to work while the butler showed Greville up to his chamber. Gazing out the window at the ploughed fields in the distance, Greville felt a glow of pride and anticipation.

It felt right, somehow, to begin anew here. He would work hard, learn well and some day soon, be able to look tenants in the eye, knowing he had made their tasks easier. He’d become a landlord like Jo’s husband Ned and Amanda’s father Lord Bronning, respected and admired for his expertise and his enlightened care of the land.

Maybe he’d even look for that borough to represent and serve in the Commons.

Might he some day sit down at Amanda’s table as a leader of government, working to better the nation?

If enough years passed—many, many years—perhaps he might some day gaze upon her lovely face again without the agonising sense of loss now scouring his heart.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The same afternoon Greville arrived at Blenhem Hill, Amanda found herself walking in the mild spring sunshine with Lord Trowbridge, who had prevailed upon her sponsor to allow him to escort her around her ladyship’s garden. Fearing she knew what he intended and desperate to avoid being forced to a decision, she’d tried to demur, only to have Lady Parnell, with a broad wink at Trowbridge, practically push her from the room.

Strolling on Trowbridge’s arm down well-tended gravel paths between bare-branched shrubs and bulbs that scattered a fairy dust of whites, yellows and pinks over the beds, Amanda tried to maintain a constant flow of amusing conversation. But by the time they’d made one full circuit, she’d run out of polite chat. Her heart thumping harder than a maid beating dust from a carpet, she fell silent, a rising panic tightening her chest and preventing her from managing another syllable.

Trowbridge reached for her hand. ‘I’m as nervous as you look,’ he confessed. ‘I’ve never before asked a lady to walk in the garden with me.’

She felt a little faint. ‘So you didn’t bring me here to discuss your concerns over the Royal Marriages?’

He laughed. ‘Not royal ones,’ he replied, sending another stab of anxiety through her.

Before she could try to forestall him with another light remark, he squeezed her hand. ‘You can’t tell me you’re surprised. My attentions have been too marked. Indeed, I understand wagers are being made about our wedding date in the betting books at White’s as we speak.’

Amanda felt as if the air were being squeezed out of her chest. ‘Don’t you think we should get to know each other better, before we have the talk I think you want to have?’

‘What else is there to know? What I’ve observed of you and I hope what you’ve observed of me shows we both possess good character and high ideals. You have a strong interest in the affairs of our nation—by no means a common concern for a young lady! To that useful trait, you add every attribute a man could wish for in a wife: beauty, intelligence, skill with people. In turn, I can offer you not just wealth and ease, but an opportunity to play an important part in the political life. You’ll command my respect, tenderness and devotion. I can’t think of another lady in London whom I’d be prouder to have on my arm as I welcome guests to my home.’

Respect…tenderness…devotion. Pride, to have her on his arm. She thought of Hillyard’s comment about trophies…and about the man she wanted coming to her at night.

‘What of…warmer feelings?’ she asked, her palms beginning to sweat.

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