A Rumored Engagement. Lily George
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what he’d done yesterday speared through him. Paul had dared him. Dared him to send something nice to his sweetheart. And he’d ordered a huge hamper of food to be delivered to the Siddons girls because Susy had been so hungry when he saw her last.
He groaned, rubbing his damp palms over his eyes—but as he drew them away, he could smell nothing but orange blossoms and could think of nothing but Susannah. Would she be offended by his gift? She would be if she’d known that it was done as a dare.
The sick feeling that had begun to ease over breakfast now hit him, full force, in the gut. He clenched the side of the basin and bowed his head.
When the room stopped spinning a bit, he trusted himself to make it over to the bellpull. In short order, Baxter entered the room. “Yes, sir?”
“Why do I have orange blossom soap?” Daniel jerked his head toward the basin and pitcher.
“The maid must have made a mistake. Usually we have your bay rum.” Baxter crossed over to the basin and picked up the offensive bar. “I’ll have it changed out.”
“See that you do. Orange blossom is far too feminine for a chap.” Daniel rubbed his brow. How best to broach the next subject?
“Donaldson is waiting, sir. Are you on your way down?” Baxter stood, soap tucked discreetly in his fist, beside the basin. “Is there anything else you need?”
Yes. He needed just a little more information—just some insight into how great of a fool he had been last night. “Did I order a hamper of food to be sent to the village?”
“You did. The basket was delivered by Nancy in time for supper.”
Daniel suppressed a groan. There was nothing he could do now. It was too late—the hamper had already made it to the Siddonsesʼ home. The girls had either partaken of its contents or—as was more likely—it was now floating in a nearby stream, chucked there by an angry and proud Susannah.
Fine. He would go meet with Donaldson and then he’d have to think of a way to make amends. He’d have to cut back on his drinking with Paul tonight, and he’d have to watch his friend closely from now on, when it came to accepting dares. After all, Paul thought it was a fantastic joke that he and Susannah had been engaged. But it was no laughing matter.
He shut off his thoughts with a click. After all, if he stood there brooding, he’d need a drink. And once he started drinking he lost all sense of reason. And he needed all his wits about him if he was going to find a way out of this mess. “I’m on my way out now,” he informed his butler, his tone rough and brusque.
He quit the room, striding down the stairs with purposeful steps. When he flung open the parlor door, Donaldson glanced up from a stack of books, an expectant look on his face.
“You must be Mr. Donaldson.” Daniel offered his hand. “Good to meet you in person. I’m afraid I haven’t had time before, but now...” He trailed off. He really had no excuse at the ready for his lack of interest in the Hall. Not when his head was pounding and his wits had flown.
“Yes, sir.” Donaldson shook his hand but then bowed respectfully. “I am grateful for the chance to meet with you at last.”
“Well, then. I see you’ve brought a library with you.” A little joke, but really—they must hasten the interview. He had to see Susannah, see if she was really furious with him—
“Yes, well, I had tried to talk to your brother about this, but he had fallen ill and could not make any decisions. The tenants are in need of some assistance, and there are some improvements that could be made on the farm. Improvements that could better the lives of your people here and can bring in more income. Make the place more prosperous.” Donaldson indicated his account books with a wave of his hand. “If you like, I can show you. I need your approval before I can start.”
Tenants. Improvements. Income. The old stifling feeling of obligation began to well inside Daniel, and he took a step back. By distancing himself from the account books, could he distance himself from his duties? “Yes, well, Goodwin Hall has always been reasonably profitable. We don’t want for much here.”
“I do understand, sir. But if you’ll allow me to speak frankly—I feel I would be remiss if I did not say anything. The tenants’ homes could use some repair, and the back fields could, if they lay fallow for a season, produce even better next summer. Or we could try planting a different crop there, to give the soil a rest...”
Donaldson nattered on, showing him a line of finely scripted numbers in a column in one of the account books. Daniel clenched his jaw and nodded, but even as he feigned interest, his gaze and his mind wandered. He could walk down to the village and try to speak to Susannah. Yes, that was the best plan. Speaking to her directly was the only way to address the matter. She always responded better to directness than to subterfuge.
“...and I believe all these improvements could be implemented over the course of the year.” Donaldson closed the account book and glanced at Daniel, an expectant smile on his face. “Well, sir? What do you think?”
“I...uh...” Daniel cast around for something intelligent to say. “I—I can see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“Well, it is my duty.” Donaldson stacked the books one on top of the other and shrugged. “So, I should, of course, prefer to have your thoughts on the matters, as well.”
He had no thoughts on any of these matters, beyond the growing feeling of dread that he would be chained to them forever. He had no mind for any of this, and yet these obligations were his. “I don’t know, really. Do I need to reach a decision on any of this today?”
“No, certainly not. I am sure you need time to think things over.” Donaldson stuffed the account ledgers into a worn leather satchel. “However, I would recommend implementing these improvements as quickly as possible, as we are nearing the end of summer. Shall I meet with you again next week?”
“No, not next week.” He needed to shake free of these duties. He was never meant to be the one in charge. That was his brother’s job—and he had been far better suited to the role than Daniel. “I may be out of town then. I shall have to see. I’ll contact you, and we can discuss matters at that point.”
Donaldson nodded, his youthful face wearing the expression of one resigned to the inevitable. “Of course, Mr. Hale. I shall wait to hear from you then.” He grasped the satchel and strode toward the door. “Thank you for your time.” He left without a second glance.
There was no trip out of town, of course. Living out as far as he did, a journey to Bath or London would be a rare excursion indeed. But it was the only way to get the man to stop talking—to leave. Daniel sighed and strolled over to the window, gazing out across the rolling pastures that surrounded Goodwin Hall. These were the pastures he’d played in as a child, the pastures that he’d cantered across on his favorite horse as a youth. And they undulated before him, like waves on a sea.
The sea had called to him, beckoning with promises of adventure. These lands rolled before him, reminding him of all he’d shirked. How he’d left his brother to die alone.
He needed a drink. Or he needed to fix one problem.
A choice, really—to drink oneself into oblivion again or to try to repair one bit of damage.
* * *
“Becky, those curtains are lovely. You’re really outdoing yourself this time.” Susannah glanced over at her sister with a smile as she rubbed at the windowpane. “Once we hang them up, the whole character of this room will change.”
“I’ve never seen this much dust in my life.” Nan gave a hearty sneeze. “When was the last time anyone lived here?”
“I don’t know,” Susannah admitted, stepping back to admire her handiwork. The panes of glass sparkled in the late-afternoon sunshine.
“Judging by the condition of these floors, I’d say it was at least ten years.” Nan sneezed again.