His Countess For A Week. Sarah Mallory
but it made no odds to them. It was more important to be on good terms with their exalted neighbour than to worry about his past.
‘Do you intend to make this a long visit to Devonshire, my lord?’ asked Lady Trewen, wife of the local squire.
‘I hardly know, ma’am. A week, perhaps.’
‘There is good sport, sir, if you are a hunting man,’ declared her husband. ‘Plenty of fish and fowl to be had. And of course, fox and stag hunting. If you haven’t brought your own horses, I’d be happy to mount you on one of mine. I believe I have a couple that would be up to your weight.’
The Earl inclined his head. ‘Thank you, but I doubt we shall be in the area long enough for that. I have business in London that requires my attention.’
‘And your good lady is pining for society, I don’t doubt,’ said a bewhiskered gentleman. ‘You should come back in the spring or summer, my lord. Lady Meon’s house parties would be very much in your line, I am sure. Any number of young bucks from town come down, and lords and ladies, too. Ain’t that so, ma’am?’ He gave another hearty laugh. ‘Then my lady doesn’t have to rely upon country dwellers like ourselves to fill her drawing room!’
Lady Meon smiled and shook her head at him. ‘It is always a pleasure to invite my neighbours here, Mr Lettaford.’
Beneath her drooping lids, Arabella watched the exchange. The bonhomie was slightly forced. She had the impression the local families were not welcome at the Meon House parties and they resented it. She sat up a little and reached for the cup of tea that had been placed on the table at her elbow.
‘Goodness, ma’am,’ she exclaimed, ‘do people come all the way from London for your parties?’
‘It is not such a long way, Lady Westray,’ replied Mrs Lettaford, bridling in defence of her home. ‘There is a good road as far as Plymouth, because of the mail, and the roads around here are not as bad as some in the county. I am sure there would no inconvenience at all in travelling to the capital.’
‘Not that we have had any call to make the journey,’ added her husband. ‘We can find everything we need in Tavistock, or if not there, then in Plymouth.’
Mrs Lettaford glared at him before giving an angry titter. ‘Now, now, sir, Lord and Lady Westray will think we are all rustics living here.’
‘I can assure His Lordship that is not the case at all,’ purred Lady Meon, quick to soothe the ruffled feathers of her guests. ‘And it is true the road from London is a good one. My brother often comes to stay, but I confess we rarely entertain our neighbours when he is here.’ She gave a placatory smile. ‘He often brings his young friends, you see, who enjoy the break away from the constant social whirl of the capital. This is something of a repairing lease for them. We keep very much to ourselves, nothing very exciting at all.’
Arabella remembered George telling her much the same thing.
‘It is only a few close friends, my sweet,’ he had said. ‘It will be all cards and sport, neither of which interest you. You had much better remain in Lincolnshire, for you would not enjoy their company and there will be no other wives to chatter with. You would be bored within a day. Imagine then how I would feel, knowing you were not happy.’
In vain had she pleaded with him. He had merely pinched her cheek, told her he knew best and gone off, leaving her with his parents at Revesby Hall. If only she had insisted. If only.
She looked up to find the Earl was watching her.
‘You look tired,’ he murmured. ‘If you have finished your tea, my dear, perhaps we should take our leave?’
Arabella suddenly did feel fatigued. She could think of no reason to stay longer and she rose from her chair. When she suggested she would slip upstairs to fetch her cloak, Lady Meon said quickly she would send a servant to fetch it.
‘I need to tell my maid what has occurred,’ Arabella protested, but the Earl shook his head at her.
‘I am sure my lady’s footman can explain everything.’ He glanced a question at their hostess, who nodded. He continued smoothly, ‘You must not exert yourself any more than necessary. As your husband, I must insist, my dear.’
His smile was gentle, but she saw the gleam of laughter in his eyes and fumed in silence until the footman came back with her fur-lined cloak. The Earl took leave of the company, saying all that was proper, and Lady Meon insisted upon accompanying them to the door. As they crossed the hall, she gave a little laugh and touched the Earl’s arm.
‘My parties here are not quite as uneventful as I made out, my lord, I assure you.’
The lady spoke very quietly and Arabella had to strain to hear.
‘I would not for the world wish to offend my neighbours,’ Lady Meon continued, ‘but as you have seen, they are not the sort one would wish to make known to more...er...worldly friends. They would be shocked by our late nights and deep play, so it is best that they do not come. However, if you should be at Beaumount the next time I have house guests, be assured you would be most welcome.’ Arabella did not miss the slight pause before her final words. ‘And your dear lady, of course.’
‘I thank you, madam,’ he replied easily. ‘We should be glad to join you. On our next visit.’
They had reached the door and Arabella could see a dusty travelling coach waiting on the drive. Another moment and she would be alone with the Earl in that confined, dark interior.
Don’t go, Arabella. Say something, now!
There was still time. She might throw herself upon Lady Meon’s mercy, but something held her back. The Earl had taken her hand, but his touch was light, supportive rather than keeping her a prisoner. Perhaps it was foolish, but Arabella trusted him far more than she trusted her hostess. She swallowed down her nerves and managed to mutter a word of thanks before he escorted her down the steps and into the waiting carriage.
Arabella pressed herself into one corner, clutching her cloak tightly about her. To her relief, Lord Westray made no attempt to question her, or even to touch her, for the short journey back to Beaumount. They travelled in silence, and when they arrived, he helped her down and pulled her hand firmly on to his arm to guide her up the steps and into the house.
Meavy opened the door and did not appear in the least surprised to see them. He beamed, bowed, and when His Lordship declared they would take refreshments before retiring, he sent a footman running to light the candles in the drawing room and to build up the fire.
To Arabella’s stretched nerves, the period since leaving Meon House and arriving at Beaumount had seemed interminable, yet it had not been long enough for her to gather her thoughts. It had been madness to come back here with the Earl. As they made their way to the drawing room, questions raced through her head. What was she going to do? What was she going to tell him?
The servant withdrew, closing the door behind him. Arabella walked across to the fire to warm her hands. The Earl poured a glass of wine and handed it to her.
‘Apart from meeting you, madam, I have to say I found nothing untoward at Meon House tonight. The lady’s guests appeared to be respectable people.’
‘I am sure they are,’ she replied. ‘It would seem Lady Meon is at pains to keep her neighbours and her house guests apart. No one would admit it outright, of course, but more than one of the ladies gave the impression that they disapproved of the house parties at Meon House.’
‘Unsurprising, if they were not invited,’ he remarked. ‘I suggest you sit down and tell me what this is all about.’
She subsided into a chair. Time to decide what to tell him, and how much.
The Earl sat down facing her and said, as if reading her thoughts, ‘It would be best if you told me everything.’
‘I did not know you were in England.’
‘I