Earl of Ferrin had proved in the end that he was just such a man.
Thinking of him now, Cybelline felt another rush of heat flush her cheeks. She was aware that Lady Rivendale’s gaze had narrowed again and that she was the subject of further study. “I’m sorry,” she said, looking down for a moment. “You can appreciate, I think, that I am embarrassed to discuss these things. You believe my dreams to be unexceptional. They do not seem so to me. I agreed to attend last evening’s entertainment, but it has left me knowing that I want a different experience than parties and social circles and the ton during the Season. Sherry and Lily have invited me many times to Granville Hall, yet I cannot bring myself to spend more than a few days in their company when they are in town. They are so happy that my presence makes them feel guilty for it.”
“That is nonsense.”
“No, it’s not. They would deny it, of course, as you do, but I can feel there is always some strain. If it is not with them, then it is with me. The pretense of trying not to grieve openly is wearing, Aunt Georgia. It is enough for me that I must do it in Anna’s presence. I love my brother and do not wish him any unhappiness, so it is beyond everything I understand that I can resent him for having in his life what I no longer do. I do not think you can appreciate how deeply it hurts me to admit that aloud, or how it tears at my heart when it intrudes upon my thoughts and I remain silent. I cannot put Nicholas’s suicide in the past because I am as angry with him as I am sorry for myself. Sometimes I am frightened that it will never change. How shall I go on, then? What will I say to Anna that will ease her when I find no ease?”
Lady Rivendale used the serviette lying on her lap to dab at her damp eyes. “How I wish I could take this burden of yours upon my own shoulders. I have grieved, true, but little enough of it has been for Mr. Caldwell. I grieve for you, Cybelline, for the ache that has permanent residency in your heart.”
“I know you do,” Cybelline said quietly. “And I am sorry for that, though I do not know how it can be different. It is why I am prepared to accept your gracious offer. As you have remarked to me more than once, leaving London is just the thing. I should have done it months ago.” When the letters began to arrive, she told herself. She knew better than to share this last thought. It was odd that it was far easier to speak to her aunt about the dreams than it was to even hint at the letters. Removing herself from her momentary reverie, Cybelline added earnestly, “You have been everything patient to wait me out and not force my hand.”
Although the countess’s eyes no longer glistened with tears, her smile was a trifle watery. “I could hardly order you to go, now could I?”
“I trust that is a rhetorical question, because you certainly have been that managing before.”
“It has always worked better with your brother. He permits it, you know, to humor me. You do not.”
Cybelline nodded. “Sherry indulges me as well. He is the best of all of us, I think.” She took a small, steadying breath when tears threatened. “I will write to him, of course. I will even tell him what I have done to my hair. There was an invitation to spend Christmas at Granville. I did not know how I might graciously refuse it, but I think he will understand when I tell him that I mean to set up in your home at Penwyckham. If my explanation does not serve to allay his concerns for me, I hope you will help him understand.”
“I will do my best.”
“I have never doubted that, Aunt Georgia. You have always been our rock.”
“A pebble in your shoe, mayhap.”
“When you had to be.”
Lady Rivendale chuckled. “I should have expected that you would agree.” She replaced her serviette in her lap and absently smoothed the creases. “When will you want to leave?”
Cybelline wanted to tell her that tomorrow would not be soon enough, or even better, that she should have left before the masque. “It will not take long to arrange our departure. I was thinking that all could be made ready in three days.”
“Three days! That is no time at all. The house has been neglected, Cybelline. I thought I explained that. There is only Mr. and Mrs. Henley from the village who look after the property. I have not been there in four years. I cannot say that I even recall how many rooms you shall have use of.”
“More than enough, I should think,” Cybelline said confidently. “Can you not know that the home’s neglect is one of the attractions for me? Of course you do, you sly puss. That is why you suggested it and not one of your other properties. I will take such servants as I think I need and keep the Henleys on. There cannot be so much work in Penwyckham that I will have difficulty hiring gardeners and grooms should I have need of them.”
Lady Rivendale lifted one hand and massaged her temple with her fingertips. “This is not unfolding in quite the manner I had envisioned.” She raised her fingers and indicated the silver threads of hair. “Have I more? I do believe that I have more. It is astonishing to me that I will go to my bed tonight with more silver in my hair than I had upon rising from it this morning.”
“I highly recommend the henna.”
The countess’s humor asserted itself. She had a full-throated, husky laugh that filled the small breakfast room. Cybelline was immediately warmed by it.
“You are too clever by half,” Lady Rivendale said, still smiling. “You will always have the better of me. Very well. What is to be done, then? Shall I send a missive to the Henleys and hope it arrives before you do? It will give them perhaps as much as a day or two to prepare. The journey will require some three or four days of travel, much of it on roads that rarely do not cause a mishap. Penwyckham is not on the other side of the earth, but close enough.”
“Warning the Henleys of my imminent arrival is only fair to them. It is my experience that such surprises are generally unwelcome. I will be relying on them to assist my own servants and provide such information as I require about the village and the locals. They will be invaluable if I need to hire more help. You are satisfied, I collect, with their quarterly reports to you?”
“Yes. What repairs they have suggested have always seemed reasonable, though I have entertained fears they err on the side of doing too little. It was why you will be doing me a very great favor by going there.”
“Surely you’ve had your steward visit from time to time.”
The countess shook her head. “Matters at Rivendale keep him occupied. There is also the property at Trent and the one near Nottingham. I have stewards for each. The house at Penwyckham is not part of an estate that requires overseeing tenants and lands, collecting rents and the like. I hope I have not misled you in that regard. I have to trust that the Henleys were as they presented themselves to me when I engaged them. I encourage you to write to me and inform me if I was wrong.”
“I suspect I will write to you about all manner of things, though I doubt any one of them will be about your making an error of judgment.”
Lady Rivendale gave her a skeptical look. “Is it that you don’t think I can make such an error or that you shy from confronting me?”
“There is no answer to that poser that will not put me in Dutch with you.”
“Not if you tell the truth, there is not. Lying, however, will put you in my good graces.”
Cybelline laughed. She picked up a triangle of toast, now stone cold, and bit it delicately. “Why have you not visited
