My Brown-Eyed Earl Page 21

  He examined the IOU more closely. Beneath his father’s cursive, however, a few lines of unfamiliar handwriting were scrawled:

  In lieu of payment of the aforementioned sum, the debtor, Lord Castleton, may arrange for the marriage of his son and heir to my daughter, Miss Margaret Lacey. Upon consummation of the marriage, the debt shall be considered paid.

  G.L.

  Jesus. This was why his father had tried to force him to marry Meg all those years ago. And when her parents had died in that horrible coach accident, his father had not thought it necessary to honor his debt, much less mention it. He’d been content to stand by and watch as Meg and her sisters lost their childhood home. He’d remained silent as they were shipped off to live with their uncle, who could barely support himself.

  The discovery of the IOU answered many of Will’s long-held questions, but it raised a few, too. Had his mother been aware of the debt? Had the coach accident that killed Meg’s parents really been an accident? He dragged his hands down his face, unsure he wanted to know the answers.

  He’d spent years trying to fix his father’s mistakes, but how in hell could he ever begin to repay his father’s debt to Meg and her sisters?

  Will carefully folded the IOU and tucked it into his pocket next to the ring box. His mother was forever nagging him to visit more often.

  Her wish was about to come true.

  Chapter TWENTY-NINE

  An afternoon jaunt to the park had somehow become an elaborate production, partly due to the size of their party—five, including Meg, the twins, Mrs. Hopwood, and Harry—and partly due to the extravagant picnic that the nanny had suggested they ask Cook to pack. She reasoned that it would be easier for Meg to tell Charlotte about her ruined dress if everyone enjoyed a scone or two. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

  Meg spread out two large quilts. “Miss Winters and Abigail will be here soon,” she told the twins. “Shall we read a book until they come?”

  Valerie heaved a sigh. “If we must. But I’d rather play catch with Mr. Harry.”

  “It’s fine with me, Miss Lacey.” The footman threw a ball high into the air and easily caught it behind his back, causing the girls to cheer wildly.

  “How can I possibly compete with that?” Meg playfully shooed the girls away. “Go, have fun.”

  “Hooray!” They ran after Harry and the ball like hoydens.

  Meg sank onto the blanket, mentally rehearsing what she’d say to Charlotte, while Mrs. Hopwood sat on a nearby bench, plying her needle.

  “There they are now,” Meg murmured, spying her friend and her young charge strolling down the path.

  “Remember,” Mrs. Hopwood said sagely, “a dress is only a possession, an object. No matter how beautiful it is—”

  “Was,” Meg corrected.

  “—it can’t destroy a true friendship.”

  Several yards away, Charlotte waved cheerfully and pointed Abigail in the direction of Harry and the girls before joining Meg and Mrs. Hopwood.

  Meg introduced the nanny, and Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “I didn’t realize Lord Castleton was even interviewing for a nanny—how wonderful!”

  “He’s a decisive sort of gentleman,” Mrs. Hopwood mused. “Once he makes his mind up, he acts, which is how it should be, if you ask me.” She stood slowly, stretched, and set her needlework in her sewing basket. “I believe I’ll stroll for a bit and leave you young ladies to talk. You must have much to discuss after last night’s dinner party. I shan’t be gone long.” Giving Meg an encouraging wink, she toddled off.

  “I was so happy to receive your invitation.” Charlotte rubbed her hands together eagerly as she plopped herself onto the blanket. “I’m desperate to hear what you thought of the evening.”

  Meg swallowed hard. “Charlotte, there’s something I must tell you. The beautiful gown that you lent to me … Blast, there’s no easy way to say it. I … I ruined it. I’m so sorry. I’ll find a way to replace it or reimburse you, I pro—”

  “Meg, it’s really not—”

  “It may take me a while—”

  “Please do not fret. It’s only a dress.” Charlotte clasped her hand and gave it a firm squeeze.

  “A one-of-a-kind dress. You entrusted it to me, and now it’s destroyed.” Meg swiped at the tears that threatened.

  “Destroyed?” Charlotte repeated, incredulous. “What in heaven’s name happened to it?

  “There’s a stain on the bodice the size of a dinner plate,” she choked out. “Chocolate.”

  “Well, if a gown must be ruined, I can think of no better way than chocolate.” She shook her head solemnly, then giggled. “We should all be so lucky.”

  Meg let out a long breath and smiled, feeling inordinately better. “Honestly, I can’t imagine what I did to deserve a wonderful friend like you.”

  “Like me? I’m a horrid person. If you need proof, I was just going to indulge in a nasty bit of gossip about last night.”

  Bracing herself, Meg asked, “You were?”

  “I must confess that I did not care for Lady Rebecca or her father a whit. And though it’s uncharitable of me to say, it’s the truth.”

  “Oh, Charlotte. If you must know, I adore your uncharitable side.”

  “Good, for I feel the need to expound on the utter ridiculousness of Lady Rebecca’s gown. Honestly, have you ever seen anything so ghastly?”

  * * *

  After returning from the park, Mrs. Hopwood and Meg tucked the girls into their beds for a nap. The nanny settled into her rocking chair, declared she planned to rest her eyes, and suggested that Meg do the same.

  A nap sounded heavenly. Meg kissed the girls and headed toward her bedchamber but was intercepted in the corridor by Mrs. Lundy.

  “Ah, there you are,” the housekeeper said. “The earl wishes to see you in his study. He asked me to give you the message as soon as you’d returned.”

  Meg’s heart did a cartwheel, but she endeavored to look only mildly interested. “Oh? How odd. I shall go at once.”

  She found him in his study, not sitting behind his desk as she’d expected, but standing near the window, looking much more serious than he had last night. Alarms sounded in her head. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was about. “Will, is everything all right? Mrs. Lundy said you wanted to see me.”

  He waved her toward a seat and closed the door halfway, giving them some semblance of privacy without flouting convention entirely. He leaned on the corner of his desk, his expression softening. “I always want to see you. I can’t stop thinking about last night.”

  Her face heated. “Nor can I.”

  “There’s much we need to discuss—in another time and place, when we are truly alone.”

  Meg nodded. She and Will seemed destined to have two distinct relationships—their intimate one in secret, and their distant one in public. It wasn’t ideal, but she would rather have those few stolen moments with him than none at all.

  “There’s another reason we need to talk. This came today.” He pulled a folded paper from his jacket pocket and tapped it against his palm. “It’s a letter from Lila. She’s agreed to come visit the girls … tomorrow.”

  “That’s good news.” And yet her belly twisted at the mention of the twin’s mother. “The girls will be so pleased.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I do. They miss her, and they should spend time with her. You’re doing the right thing by bringing them together.”

  Will’s forehead creased, and if the door hadn’t been half open, Meg would have slipped her arms around his waist, pressed her head to his chest, and told him not to worry.

  “We haven’t a clue how the girls will react to seeing her, or what she’ll say to them. Hell, we don’t even know if she’ll show at the appointed time. I’d hate to tell Diana and Valerie, only to have their hopes dashed in the event she doesn’t come.”

  Meg pressed a finger to her bottom lip as she considered this. “Let’s not mention it to them.
Mrs. Hopwood and I will make sure the girls are prepared for company. Once Lila arrives, I’ll give them the news and they’ll be happily surprised.”

  He nodded his agreement. “I’d like you or Mrs. Hopwood to chaperone the visit—or at least remain within earshot. I know she’s their mother, but I don’t trust her.”

  His concern for the girls’ welfare warmed Meg’s heart. He was not the same callous man who’d interviewed her in this very room just a few weeks ago.

  “I’ll keep watch,” she assured him.

  “Good.” His gaze flicked to the doorway before returning to her. “I’m afraid I won’t see you tonight.”

  “Oh?” She tried not to let her disappointment show.

  “I need to pay a visit to my mother and attend to some other business.”

  How vexingly vague. “I understand.”

  “Do you?” he asked, his voice husky. He bent his head close to her neck and his lips brushed the skin just above her collar. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you. I’d suggest you sleep as much as you can tonight because tomorrow night you’ll be very, very busy.”

  A delicious shiver stole over her. With a few naughty words and the lightest of touches, he’d made her believe she was special.

  Had he charmed his ex-mistress the same way? And what of the countless women who’d no doubt come before her?

  One thing was for certain. As much as Meg cared for him, she couldn’t go on this way. Every night she spent under his roof tempted fate.

  They could be discovered.

  She could become pregnant.

  Or, she could lose her heart to the one man she had no right to love. To do so would amount to the ultimate betrayal of her parents’ memory.

  He searched her face like he suspected the direction of her thoughts. “Trust me, Meg.” It was both a demand and a plea.

  She gave him a weak smile. “I do.” It was true. The person she didn’t trust was herself.

  Chapter THIRTY

  “This is ancient history.” Will’s mother waved a bejeweled hand at the IOU he held. “I see no reason to revisit it.”

  He glared at her as she sipped tea in her sister’s elegant but cluttered drawing room. A man couldn’t walk two feet in his aunt’s house without bumping into some priceless but useless damned trinket.

  “It’s important to me,” he ground out. “I want the truth. Did you know that an arranged marriage to Miss Lacey was meant to be repayment of a gambling debt?”

  “Wasn’t her father a vicar?” She knew very well that he had been. “It seems wholly improper for a man of the cloth to indulge in cards.”

  “Do not attempt to change the subject. Were you aware that my father owed him ten thousand pounds?”

  She choked on a sip of tea and pressed a hand to her chest. “Ten thousand?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew your father owed the vicar a substantial amount … but I didn’t realize…”

  Will sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees. “And what did he think of Mr. Lacey’s proposal that I marry his daughter, Margaret, in order to have the debt forgiven?”

  The countess sighed dramatically. “I’m sure he thought to appease the vicar while he devised a way to extract you from the engagement. As it turned out, that wasn’t necessary.”

  Good God. He raked a hand through his hair and stalked across the room, unable to sit politely while she defended his father. “Do you hear yourself, Mother? You speak of the Laceys’ accident as though it were some fortunate twist of fate. It’s sickening.”

  “I did not say it was fortunate, but it did prevent you from having to marry a stubborn chit too proud for her own good.”

  “Don’t,” he warned.

  Her pale eyes narrowed. “Don’t what? Malign your governess? From what I’ve witnessed, she’s wholly incompetent. I cannot know what you were thinking to hire her.”

  “Maybe you should ask yourself why she accepted the position.”

  “I’m not certain I care,” she sniffed.

  “You should. If your husband—my father—had honored his debt, Miss Lacey and her sisters might not have been forced to leave their home. They certainly wouldn’t have found themselves in the precarious position they’re in today—poor relations to a elderly uncle who is also in dire financial straits.”

  She shrugged, raising his ire even further. “Your father was not a saint. Neither are you, incidentally, and it’s rather rich to pretend that you are.”

  “I’m no saint, it’s true. But I honor my debts, and I have tried to honor his.”

  Her powdered face paled. “You cannot mean to pay her the ten thousand pounds.”

  He snorted. “There is another option.”

  “William, no.” Her fingers fluttered at her throat. “I know I’ve pressured you to marry, but there’s really no need to rush. You are still a young man. You should not be required to pay for your father’s mistakes. Not in this way.”

  “I would not marry Miss Lacey out of a sense of obligation, but rather by choice.”

  “Do you hear yourself, William?” she asked, throwing his words back at him. “You are acting like an infatuated schoolboy. Margaret Lacey is not fit to be the next Countess of Castleton. We both know it. She could not even manage to behave appropriately at a small dinner party. Asking her to step into the role is hardly fair. It’s like asking a stray mutt to act as your prize hunting dog.”

  “I don’t like your analogy, Mother,” he said, his voice low and lethal. “Have a care.”

  “Forgive me,” she said, her chin trembling. “I only want what’s best for you, and I fear that your feelings and actions are being swayed by guilt.”

  He shook his head. “No, I’ve always admired Miss Lacey.”

  “If you care for her,” she said cautiously, “there is an option besides marriage. You could make her your mistress and marry someone respectable—someone like Lady Rebecca. If your father were alive today, it’s what he would advise.”

  “If I hadn’t already made up my mind, that fact alone would have been enough to dissuade me from that path.”

  He sat down again, directly across from his mother, and pinned her to the settee with his stare. “I’m going to ask you one more question. I’ll only ask it once, and I expect you to answer truthfully.”

  She raised her chin. “Are you sure you want to know the truth, William?”

  No, damn it. He wasn’t at all sure. “The carriage accident that took the Laceys’ lives—did Father or his agents have anything to do with it?”

  His mother recoiled as though he’d slapped her. “What are you implying?”

  “I’m asking whether he did anything that led to the accident. Maybe someone loosened the bolts on a wheel or persuaded the driver to take the turn too fast?”

  “The bridge was icy,” she ground out. “Surely you don’t blame your father for the weather.”

  Hell, he didn’t know what to think anymore. “Factors besides the weather might have contributed to the danger.”

  She leaned back onto the settee, too upset to be concerned with good posture, let alone pretense. “Whatever sins your father may have committed, I do not believe him guilty of murder.”

  Will sighed, relieved to know that his mother, at least, had not been complicit. He would have known if she were lying. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “If you are looking for someone to blame for the Laceys’ accident, you need look no further than their daughter, your dear Margaret. She’s the one who cruelly rejected you and forced her parents to brave the treacherous conditions so that they might apologize to us on her behalf. She has no one to blame for her sad situation—no one but herself.”

  Will stood, clenched his fists, and counted to ten in his head. “You will not disparage Miss Lacey in my presence. You will treat her cordially. And if you do not, I will cease to acknowledge you as my mother. I will not acknowledge you at all.”

  With that, he stormed out of the drawing r
oom, leaving his aunt’s collections of vases, sculptures, and ornaments shivering violently in his wake.

  * * *

  Meg had been on pins and needles all morning, and even Mrs. Hopwood seemed a bit nervous, nearly jumping out of her rocking chair when Valerie toppled a tower of blocks. But Diana and Valerie didn’t blink when Meg suggested they wear their pretty new dresses and neatly braid their hair.

  And Meg worried about more than Lila’s visit with the girls. She had to make a decision about her relationship with Will, soon. She hadn’t seen him since the day before, and the longer they were apart, the more she doubted his feelings for her—and her own good judgment. Thankfully, tomorrow was her afternoon off. Spending an evening with Beth and Julie would restore her confidence and give her much-needed perspective.

  The twins were practicing their penmanship when Mrs. Lundy popped into the nursery. “Miss Lacey,” she said breathlessly, “might I have a word?”

  Meg hurried to the corridor and closed the door behind her. “Is she here?”

  The housekeeper nodded. “She’s waiting for the girls in the drawing room. I told her they might be a few minutes, in case you need time to prepare them.”

  “Thank you. Does the earl know she’s here?”

  “Yes, he’s speaking with her now, although I do not think he means to stay for her visit. He said something about going out.”

  “I see. Thank you, Mrs. Lundy.”

  Meg paused before she returned to the nursery. For the twins’ sake, it was important that she handle this calmly. She went to the window seat and called them over. They both threw down their pens and raced for the same spot beside her.

  “I was here first,” Diana said.

  “But that’s my seat,” Valerie protested.

  “Just because you sat here once or twice doesn’t make it yours for all eternity.”

  Goodness. Meg scooted to the middle of the bench and patted the cushions on either side of her. “Both of you, sit.”

  They flopped themselves down, each of them steaming over the injustice.

  “I have some happy news for you,” she began, and the girls immediately perked up.