news,’ added Sophie brightly. ‘He took one look at Beth and fell violently in love!’
‘Indeed?’ The earl’s grey eyes rested on Beth.
‘Yes.’ Sophie nodded. ‘And they are to be married.’
‘Then I offer you my congratulations, Mrs Forrester.’
‘Thank you.’ Beth uttered the words quietly, keeping her eyes lowered.
‘You and your friend are quite far from home, I believe,’ remarked Lady Arabella.
‘Yes, Davies has a hunting lodge at Highridge. I am staying there as his guest.’
‘You must consider yourself a guest here,’ came the gracious reply, ‘until your friend is fit enough to return to Highridge.’
‘No!’ Beth coloured, and added quickly. ‘What I mean is, surely there can be no need for Lord Darrington to stay. We can look after Mr Davies perfectly well.’
‘But I should like to remain with my friend, if Lady Arabella permits,’ the earl responded.
‘But it is only a few miles to Highridge, and I am sure you would be much more comfortable there.’
‘Nonsense, it is more than ten miles.’ replied Lady Arabella. ‘Lord Darrington must stay here, if he wishes. We have room to spare.’
‘But … but we do not have so many staff—certainly not as many as an earl is accustomed to.’
‘Oh, this earl is not at all high in the instep, I assure you,’ came the mild reply. ‘And I am quite undemanding.’
Again that amused glint in his eyes. Beth found it quite infuriating.
‘To have you in the house as well as an invalid will create a great deal of extra work, no matter how undemanding you may be,’ she ground out.
‘I shall send to Highridge for Davies’s valet to join us,’ replied the earl, smiling in a way that made Beth long to hit him. ‘He will be able to nurse his master and look after my very minor requirements. And I am sure that some of the other staff from Highridge would come, too, if they could be of use.’
‘There is not the least need for anyone to come,’ retorted Lady Arabella briskly. ‘Really, Elizabeth, you are behaving very oddly this evening. My lord, I assure you we have sufficient servants to deal with everything that is required. You catch us at a disadvantage today because I gave some of my people permission to go to the market, leaving only a couple of maids and one footman to attend us. I have no doubt the rest are all returned now, but by all means bring your friend’s manservant—and your own, for that matter, if you wish—we will find room for them all.’
‘Since you do not object, ma’am, I shall summon Peters, who is Mr Davies’s valet, and Holt, my groom. I shall not require my own man to attend me, although I will ask him to pack up my clothes and send them over.’
‘That will be perfectly acceptable, my lord,’ Lady Arabella responded regally, her frowning gaze fixed upon Beth. ‘As the daughter of a marquess,’ she said pointedly, ‘I think I may be expected to know how to entertain an earl.’
‘Yes, Grandmama.’ Beth looked down at her plate and acknowledged herself beaten. ‘I beg your pardon.’
Guy said little for the remainder of the meal; when Lady Arabella announced that the ladies would retire to the drawing room and leave him to enjoy a glass of brandy alone, he bent his mind once more to Beth Forrester’s outburst. She had been quite determined that he should not stay. It could only be that she was uneasy with his presence. They lived very isolated here, but perhaps she was aware of his dubious reputation. Perhaps he should not have teased her so. Certainly it had been wrong of him to keep her talking alone in the bedroom, but she was a married woman, or at least a widow, not an ingenuous schoolgirl. He sipped at his brandy. One thing was certain, he wanted to remain at Malpass Priory at least until he knew that Davey was recovering well. He would apologise to Mrs Forrester and assure her that he would in future be the model of propriety. That should ease her mind.
Having made his resolve, Guy drained his glass and made his way to the drawing room, where he was disappointed to find only Lady Arabella waiting for him, the younger ladies having retired. However, she assured him that his room had been prepared and beckoned to the hovering footman to show him the way. With an inward smile Guy bowed over the beringed hand held out to him and prepared to leave. He had been dismissed for the evening.
Chapter Three
Martin the footman showed Guy to his room, a comfortable chamber that bore all the signs of having been a gentleman’s bedroom.
‘Was this Mr Forrester’s room?’ he enquired, glancing around him.
‘No, my lord, this was Mr Simon’s room,’ offered the footman. ‘My lady wouldn’t have anything changed in here after she heard he was drowned and you will find the press still full of his clothes. But Mr Simon was much smaller than your lordship, so the mistress has searched out one o’ Mr Forrester’s nightgowns for you. And Mrs Forrester said to tell you that your own clothes will be brought to you in the morning.’
Nodding, Guy dismissed the servant. He removed his coat and draped it over the back of a chair, glad to be free of the restriction about his shoulders. He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was not yet midnight and, despite the excitement of the day, he did not feel sleepy. He prowled around the room, inspecting the sporting prints upon the walls and idly flicking through the few books that were stacked carelessly on the mantelshelf. The room had a cluttered, lived-in look, as if its master was expected to return at any time. The only exception to this was the dressing table, which was bare of the brushes and combs that one would expect to find in a gentleman’s room. He supposed that Simon Wakeford had taken these items with him when he went travelling and they would have been lost at sea. He felt a sudden sympathy for Beth Forrester. His own brother, Nick, was a sailor and Guy could well imagine the pain of losing him. How much worse must it be for a widow, left to shoulder the burdens of running this old house and at the same time looking after her grandmother and her younger sister?
‘Not that it is any of your business,’ he told himself, coming back to the fire and throwing himself down into the chair. ‘She has made it very plain that you are here on sufferance, so do not waste your sympathy where it is not wanted.’
He began to unbutton his waistcoat, but stopped when he heard a faint cry break the silence. Before he undressed he should look in on Davey and make sure he was comfortable. Picking up his bedroom candle, he let himself quietly out of the room. The borrowed shoes he had worn at supper were too loose to walk without tapping noisily on the polished boards of the corridor and he left them behind, padding silently through the darkened house until he came to the door at the top of the stairs.
There was a faint line of light beneath the door and as he entered the room he saw that a single lamp glowed on a side table, illuminating the curtained bed, but leaving the corners of the room in deep shadow. A movement beside the fire brought him to a stand.
‘Mrs Forrester!’ She rose as he whispered her name, the dim light muting her fiery hair to a deep auburn. He continued, ‘I heard someone cry out and thought perhaps he might be …’
Guy waved towards the figure in the bed. She looked discomposed and took a step as if she would leave the room, then thought
