Whitney, My Love (Westmoreland Saga 2)

By then, Alicia had not only overcome her childish trepidation, she had worked herself into a fine state of righteous indignation, instead. She had, after all, committed no inexcusable offense. In truth, she had merely offered shelter to her own daughter-in-law!

She took that tack as she turned to face her son. “Based on your frosty greeting to me last evening,” she primly informed him, “I assume you are displeased with me for my part in keeping Whitney here. I have no idea what you did to make her feel that she could not remain under your roof because Whitney is much too loyal a wife to discuss such a thing, even with me. Nevertheless, I feel very certain that whatever you did to drive her away from you must have been very bad indeed! In view of that, for me to have denied Whitney the shelter of my home would have been unthinkable, unjust and . . . and inhumane.”

Clayton had only asked for this private conversation so that he could inform his mother that her fondest wish was about to come true—that she was about to become a grandmother. Since he had magnanimously decided not to take her to task for her part in keeping Whitney from him, he was both startled and amused to find himself receiving a reprimand from her. Furthermore, he could not recall another time in his entire adult life when she had seemed not only defensive, but flustered. Biting back a smile, he said gravely, “I see your point.”

She faltered. “You do?”

“Indeed.”

She was so surprised that she promptly dropped all pretense of indignation. “Oh. That is”—she hesitated and then inclined her head in a gesture that managed to be both apologetic and regal—“very handsome of you. I rather expected some sort of argument.”

“I gathered that,” Clayton agreed wryly.

She stepped forward and gave him a quick, maternal hug. “I’m very pleased we had this little talk,” she said, “but I must return to the dining room.” Now that everything was settled, the smiling serenity for which she was universally admired was completely restored, and her concern returned to the well-being of her guests. “Langford will be so happy you’re here. He was asking for you. Oh, and you may not have seen Stephen yet, but he arrived a half hour ago with four other young people. They came to enjoy the fine weather and see my gardens while my roses are at their best.”

“Stephen dislikes the smell of roses,” Clayton pointed out.

Alicia knew perfectly well that Stephen had not come to Grand Oak to see her roses; he had come to see for himself how well their plot had succeeded, and he had brought friends with him to cloak his purpose. He had also come to do whatever he could to affect a reconciliation, if one hadn’t already occurred. Suddenly concerned that Clayton might somehow guess that Stephen and she had been plotting, she turned toward the door and launched into a rapid monologue. “I was completely surprised when Stephen arrived with his party, but I was vastly relieved as well, because Lansberry and his daughter, Lady Emily, paid an unexpected call this morning. If Stephen and his friends hadn’t been here, Lady Emily wouldn’t have had a soul under the age of fifty years with whom to converse. She is exquisitely lovely, by the way.”

She reached for the door handle and looked over her shoulder, belatedly realizing that her son and daughter-in-law were smiling broadly at her, but neither of them had taken a step. “Shall we go?” she suggested brightly.

“I think you ought to wait until I tell you why I wanted to speak with you,” Clayton suggested mildly.

She turned fully around, suddenly intent. “I naturally assumed you wanted to give me a trimming for not taking a more active role in reuniting Whitney with you,” she said, inadvertently demolishing her earlier stance of unassailable innocence.

“I probably should have done that,” Clayton said with a chuckle. “However, I thought it was more important to tell you that you are going to become a grandmother.”

A radiant smile lit Alicia Westmoreland’s entire face as she stretched her arms out and reached for Whitney’s hand with her left and Clayton’s with her right. “Oh, my darlings,” she began, and then, as if she couldn’t find any other words to express her happiness, she lifted their hands and held them pressed to her face, “Oh, my darlings!”

38

* * *

The Earl of Langford was a tall, frail man in his early eighties, and a cousin of Clayton’s father. He was hovering at the doorway of the dining room, with his left hand on the door frame for support and his right hand on an ebony cane. “Claymore,” he said as Clayton emerged from the dining room with Whitney on his arm, “I wonder if I could have a word with you.” He glanced apologetically at Whitney. “I realize your husband only arrived late last night, but if you could spare him for a short while, it’s rather an urgent matter.”

“Of course,” Whitney said with a fond smile at the elderly man. “I’d like to find Stephen and his party,” she added, as she started off to search for him in the garden.

Langford took his left hand from the doorway and placed it on Clayton’s arm for support. “Your lady wife is not only beautiful, she is also very kind. She spent several hours with me yesterday, listening to me prose on and on about my studies of the ancient philosophers.” With a quick wink, he added, “Not only that, she also did an admirable job of pretending she was fascinated with the topic and with me, too. Made me feel twenty years younger!”

“My wife has that same effect on me at times,” Clayton joked as he guided the old earl slowly to the only room on the main floor that he was certain wasn’t occupied.

“If you were twenty years younger, you’d still be an untried lad.”

“That’s exactly what I meant,” Clayton said good-naturedly.

After the earl was comfortably seated in the little ante-room where Clayton had met with his mother earlier, Clayton sat down across from him. When the earl seemed at a loss how to begin, Clayton prodded helpfully. “You said the matter was urgent?”

Langford gave him a rueful look. “At my age, Claymore, everything is urgent. Eternity could begin tomorrow,” he added, then he spared Clayton the need to utter untrue assurances that the earl still had many good years ahead of him, by going directly to the subject he wanted to discuss: “I’d like to talk to you about your brother.”

Clayton hid his surprise and nodded for him to begin.

“I have always regarded you as the bulwark of the family, and it is common knowledge amongst us that you have a flair for making sound financial investments, investments that have multiplied your wealth many times over.”

He paused, but Clayton merely lifted his brows, neither confirming nor denying.

“I already know my information in that regard is correct,” the earl said, looking profoundly apologetic for the vulgar subject he was forced to explore. With as much delicacy as possible, he said, “Until recently, it was my understanding that Stephen’s inheritance was also in your capable hands, so I naturally assumed that, like me, Stephen had no head for money. Is that correct?”

Had the earl not been a relative who also happened to be extremely old and very frail, Clayton would have put a permanent end to the offensive discussion then and there. “No it is not correct,” he said rather sternly.

The earl understood the reprimand in the other man’s voice, but persevered. “Is it true that, in the past year, Stephen has made a series of investments that on the surface appeared to be risky and flamboyant, but which ultimately paid off spectacularly well? I’ve heard bits of gossip at my club that would lead me to think this is true, but I need to hear it from you. Could you tell me whether this is fact or rumor?”

“Not without a very good reason to do so.”

“I would like to believe it is true, but I need to know for certain.”

“Then talk to Stephen.”

The earl shook his head. “I cannot do that, because I cannot tell him my reason for wanting to know.”

“In that case, it would appear that this discussion has reached an impasse,” Clayton said.

“Very well then, I shall explain the reaso

n for my questions, but this conversation must remain in strictest confidence.”

“I cannot think of anything you could say that could induce me to discuss Stephen’s private financial affairs with anyone, even you, my lord,” Clayton said firmly, and started to stand up.