An Innocent Deceit. Gail Whitiker
glanced at the letters, but made no move to read them. ‘Have you a recommendation?’
‘Of the two it would appear that Mr Huddlesworth has more experience in teaching young men and women the skills of riding. However, he is at present living with his ailing mother in Yorkshire.’
Sebastian frowned. ‘Rather a long way to come for work, isn’t it?’
‘It seems that Mr Huddlesworth is quite prepared to move,’ Bingham said, ‘but I admit I had some concerns as to how often he might need to return to Yorkshire to see to the old lady’s health.’
‘A valid concern,’ Sebastian acknowledged. ‘What of Mr Davlin?’
‘While Mr Davlin does not seem to have had as much actual teaching experience, I get the impression that he enjoys working with young children a good deal more than does Mr Huddlesworth. And he certainly knows his horses.’
Sebastian glanced at his steward in amusement. ‘You gleaned all of that from a letter, Paddy? Upon my word, you are even more astute than I gave you credit for. Very well, this Mr…Davlin,’ Sebastian said, wondering why the name should sound vaguely familiar to him. ‘Where does he live?’
‘In the area,’ Bingham informed the Earl. ‘He mentions the use of a cottage on Lord Shand’s estate.’
‘I see. And how would you like to proceed?’
‘With your permission, I would like to bring both gentlemen to Ashdean, and have them spend some time with Lady Clara. Once I see how they handle themselves with the little girl, I shall be able to give you a more accurate recommendation.’
‘As you will, Paddy. When can they start?’
‘Whenever is convenient for you, my lord.’ Bingham duly retrieved the letters. ‘Neither gentleman is currently employed.’
Sebastian briefly inclined his head, as though weary of the conversation. ‘Fine. Make the arrangements. Whichever one you choose may commence as soon as possible.’
Bingham glanced at the Earl in surprise. ‘You will not wish to interview them yourself?’
‘I hardly think it necessary. Your judgement in matters concerning the estate has always been faultless, Paddy. I am sure that whichever man you choose will be fine with me.’
Bingham flushed at the unexpected compliment. ‘It is good of you to say so, my lord.’
‘In any event, I have no doubt that I shall see Mr Huddlesworth or Mr Davlin eventually,’ Sebastian said carelessly. ‘I think it is time that I went down to the country for a while.’
It was difficult to tell who was the more surprised by the unexpected announcement: Mr Bingham upon hearing it, or Sebastian upon uttering it. For, in truth, he had not known that he was even contemplating such an idea until he had heard the words leave his lips. But, once said, the idea began to take hold in his mind.
Yes, perhaps a sojourn in the country was just what he needed. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than remaining in Town, Sebastian reflected dimly. And he had always loved Ashdean, the rambling Elizabethan house set in the gently rolling countryside of Kent. Indeed, some of his fondest memories were of growing up in that house. As a child, he had ridden over every hill and explored every valley, coming to love the land which had belonged to his family for centuries. He had even taken his new bride there in the early weeks of their marriage.
Granted, Violet had complained bitterly nearly the entire time they were there until, guilt-ridden, he had dutifully driven her back to Town, but at least there were no memories of bitter fights and long cold silences. Those had come later.
But there was one memory at Ashdean which Sebastian would never be able to forget.
Clara.
Sebastian closed his eyes as he dropped his head forward and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. Good God, was it really a year since he had last visited his daughter? It must be. She had been approaching her sixth birthday at the time, and only two days ago, Bingham had informed him that her seventh birthday was fast approaching. Where had the time gone?
Of course, it wasn’t just the time, Sebastian admitted guiltily. He had stayed away, not because he had been reluctant to see Clara, but for reasons which none but himself knew. Reasons which even Paddy had not been privy to. Added to that was the fact that he simply didn’t know how to behave around the child. He was not used to children of any age, let alone a six-year-old. Very few of his friends had offspring Clara’s age, and those who did were more than happy to leave them to the care of their mothers or nannies.
It was ironic really. For all his adeptness at court, Sebastian found himself painfully at a loss when it came to dealing with the wide-eyed stare of his own child. But then, was it any wonder? He’d had no brothers or sisters of his own, and he had seen Clara less than ten times since she had been born, due mainly to Violet’s outright refusal to share the child with him in the early years of her life. She had begun to smother Clara, perhaps in a pathetic attempt to make up for the love that had been missing in her own relationship. It had grown so bad that just the sight of her father was enough to make Clara burst into tears.
Hardly the kind of welcome any new father looked for.
For that reason, and for…others, Sebastian had had virtually nothing to do with the child. After Violet’s death, he had seen to it that the nursery at Ashdean had been luxuriously appointed, and had even hired a governess to look after her. But beyond that, the best Sebastian had been able to do was send Clara expensive toys for her birthday and a special box at Christmas; presents usually chosen by Bingham, and sent from an unknown man who called himself her father…
‘Yes, I shall go down to the country. Just for a few days, mind,’ Sebastian added, aware of a tightness in his throat which had nothing to do with the brandy. ‘You may expect me…within the week.’
Taking care to conceal his surprise, Bingham nodded and slowly got to his feet. ‘Very good, my lord. I shall inform the household of your impending arrival. And I shall contact Mr Huddlesworth and Mr Davlin to set up interviews.’ He paused to glance at the averted face of his employer. ‘You are quite sure you do not wish to meet with either of them?’
‘Quite sure. There will be many other pressing concerns to which I must address myself.’
‘As you wish, my lord. Will there be anything else?’
Sebastian shook his head, his mind already on other matters. ‘I think not. Goodnight, Paddy.’
‘Goodnight, my lord.’
Alone again, Sebastian sat down at the writing table and stared at the neat pile of papers which dotted its top. A trip to the country? He must be mad. No one travelled to the country when there were still so many things to do in London. And yet, what exactly was there for him to do in London? When was the last time he had actually looked forward to going to a ball, or to spending an evening at the theatre? When had he ever anticipated an afternoon filled with nothing more exciting than going aimlessly from one at-home to the next?
What was there in London that he was truly going to miss?
Nothing. And as the reality of that hit home, Sebastian’s mouth began to curve in the first real smile he had experienced in weeks. There was absolutely nothing in London that he was going to miss. In fact, the mere thought of getting out of it for a few days was enough to lift him out of the dismals. He summoned Royce and informed him of his intentions.
Sebastian did not miss the nearly imperceptible quirk of his servant’s left eyebrow. Nor did he fail to recognise that Royce was almost as surprised as Bingham had been. That, if anything, served to convince Sebastian that his actions were long overdue. He had been living the life of a man about Town for too long. It was time he found something else upon which to focus his attention; time he tried to develop some kind of relationship with that little girl in the country—even if he was late in getting started.
He may have failed