Counterfeit Earl. Anne Herries
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her a setdown, and knew that she had deserved it. Perhaps he imagined that she was setting her cap at him! It was her own fault. She had been forward, almost impertinent.
She walked away from him, her back very straight. What did it matter? She was sure she did not care whether he had thought her forward or not!
Beatrice was gazing out of the carriage window, looking anxious. She waved at her as she saw her, clearly relieved.
“Oh, there you are! I was just beginning to wonder if I should send someone to search for you, dearest.”
“I am sorry if I made you anxious. I went into the wood to—to, well, you know. There was a fierce dog. It snarled at me and would not let me pass. I dare not move in case it attacked me. Then a man came and called it off. I imagined at first that he was the gamekeeper, but I believe he may own the estate. He…looked odd.”
“How?” Beatrice stared at her in surprise. “I am not sure what you mean by odd?”
“I am not sure either,” Olivia said and laughed. “Perhaps odd is the wrong word. Yes, interesting might be more appropriate. I think he had been ill. His face looked thin, almost gaunt, and his eyes…” She shook her head. It was his eyes that had affected her most. “What ails thee, pale knight…?”
“What was that you said?” Beatrice asked.
“Oh, I was thinking of a verse I once read,” Olivia said. “It was about a knight wandering in a daze from the field of battle…pale of face and red of eye…”
“Oh, poetry!” Beatrice said and smiled. “What was his name, dearest? This man you met…”
“Denning…Captain Jack Denning.”
“Perhaps he was a soldier,” Beatrice said. “He may have been wounded in the Peninsula, and sent home to recover.”
“Yes…” Olivia was much struck by this. She had been shaken by the incident with the dog, and then a little annoyed with her rescuer for implying that she was foolish to have wandered into the woods alone, and had not given his title much consideration. “Yes, I think you may be right, Beatrice. That would account for his brusque manner. He did not strike me as someone accustomed to mixing in society often.”
“Are you saying he was not a gentleman?”
“No, of course not. He was definitely a gentleman, but his manner was a little harsh…or reserved might be a better word. I think he may well have been a soldier—and if he was wounded out there, it would account for his appearance.”
“Well, as long as he did not insult or harm you?”
“Oh, no,” Olivia said. “Quite the opposite. He seemed most concerned that I was alone in the woods, and insisted on seeing me safe to the road. His dog has been trained to attack gypsies. Apparently they are a nuisance in these woods…”
Beatrice nodded. Obviously a country gentleman, she thought, perhaps with some recent military service. Olivia was used to the refined manners and gentle flirtation offered by the gentlemen she had met in London drawing-rooms. She might well find the abrupt way of speaking some country squires had a little harsh.
“It seems there was no harm done,” she said. “Get into the coach now, my love. I think coachman is ready to go on.”
“Yes, of course,” Olivia said. She glanced back towards the wood but could see no sign of Captain Denning. Why should she want to? He was not handsome in a conventional way, nor charming. Yet there had been something about him. “Yes, of course, we should go on…”
She climbed into the coach and settled her gown about her. It was most unlikely that she would ever meet Captain Denning again.
Jack Denning stood amongst the trees, watching as the carriage moved off. He whistled to Brutus, then turned to continue his walk through the woods of his estate. All the land to both sides of the main highway had belonged to his maternal grandfather until a few months ago, when the very desirable estate and substantial property elsewhere had passed to him through Sir Joshua’s will.
Jack had been sad to learn of his grandfather’s death on his return to England. Sir Joshua was the one person ever to have shown Jack true love and affection, and he had been very fond of him.
“Sir Joshua was a very wealthy man,” the solicitor had told Jack when he at last answered Trussell’s repeated invitation to call at his offices. “His fortune was made from trade, Captain Denning. Ships, coal and iron—he had invested in a new foundry just a few months before his final illness. I do not know whether you would wish to sell? I do have buyers interested, should you wish to dispose of one or all of Sir Joshua’s assets.”
It was not usual for the aristocracy to be concerned in trade. Many young men in Captain Denning’s position would have instantly sold the flourishing businesses and invested their money in land or the five percents.
“Not for the moment,” Jack said, surprising the lawyer. “If Sir Joshua believed in them, I imagine they are good investments.”
“Your grandfather was an excellent businessman, sir.”
“Yes, I imagine he must have been. Tell his agents and managers to carry on as usual for the moment. I shall give myself time to think about the future before I do anything.”
Jack was not sure what he wished to do about any of the estate. There was sufficient money for him to live the life of a gentleman of leisure should he so wish, but he doubted it would suit him. He had loved the routine and bustle of army life—but that was over. His memories of comradeship had become tainted by those last hours at Badajoz.
He shut the pictures out of his mind resolutely. There were times now when he almost managed to forget…almost.
But there was no sense in remembering. He had failed, and his shame haunted him, most often at night when the dreams tortured him so that he woke sweating and crying out in pain and remorse.
He should have stopped it! Damn it! He should have done something. He had been so stunned, so disgusted by what he was seeing, that he had been slow to react…and then it had been too late. No, he could not go back, he must find a way to go forward, find a future for himself.
Jack frowned as he returned to the house at last and saw the old-fashioned, heavy travelling coach pulled up outside the front door of Briarwood House. The crest on the side panel would have told him who his visitor was had he needed to be told, which he did not. He had subconsciously been expecting this visitor for weeks, ever since his return to England.
“The Earl arrived half an hour since,” Jenkins told him as he entered the hall after scraping the mud from his boots outside the annexe door. “I asked his lordship to wait in the library, sir, and I took him some of the good Madeira Sir Joshua laid down.”
“Thank you,” Jack said and smiled. “You did exactly right.”
He glanced at himself in the mahogany-framed mirror in the main hall, brushing some debris from the sleeve of his coat. He was dressed in the simple garb of a country gentleman, but he must not appear careless. The Earl was a stickler for good manners, and it would not do to arrive looking as if he had come straight from the stables.
In the large, comfortable parlour, the Earl of Heggan was standing by the long French windows looking out on to the formal gardens. He was a tall man, silver-haired and impeccably dressed in knee-breeches and a frockcoat with wide tails, a style that had been fashionable some years back and was perhaps more formal than usual for the country. He turned as Jack entered, moving a little stiffly, his face showing no signs of the pain he suffered almost constantly.
Jack would not have expected anything else. Lord Heggan had never been known to show weakness of any kind.
“Forgive me for not being here to receive you,” Jack said. “You sent no word of your intention to visit today.”
“I imagined you would be expecting me?” Lord Heggan’s clipped tones spoke of his disapproval.