l with her, and Lydia and I are fine on our own. ”
“And your own father left you nothing? Unconscionable!”
She managed a wry smile. “Indeed, you’d know more about that than I do, sir. I gather the entire estate was entailed and there was nothing set aside for his children. ”
Cousin Marcus looked faintly uncomfortable. “In point of fact, I don’t believe your sister actually is…”
“My sister was born in wedlock to my mother and father, and by rule of law she’s a legitimate offspring,” Elinor said shortly, her temper getting the better of her.
“You know your law well. You’re an educated woman. I wonder at that, given your ramshackle upbringing. ”
He meant no disrespect, she reminded herself, even as she resisted the temptation to snap back. “I like to read,” she said stiffly.
“And you’re an intelligent woman. You cannot believe how admirable that is, in this day and age of silly young misses. I would much prefer the companionship of an older, plainer woman of sense than a pretty, shallow young thing. ”
She just barely managed a smile. “Too kind,” she said through her teeth. “I’m afraid Nanny’s too busy right now to make us tea. ” The screams were muffled but ongoing, and Cousin Marcus had a labored expression.
“This is clearly a difficult time. I’ll return when things are more settled…” He was already edging toward the door.
“But you haven’t told me of my father’s bequest. And your face is bleeding—at least let me see to your wounds before you go out in public,” she protested.
“We can discuss this all at a later date,” he said, dabbing at his face with a lacy handkerchief. “As Mr. Mitchum told you, it’s only a token, but I wish to do your father’s bidding as best as I can. ” He didn’t wait for Jacobs to reappear and open the door—he was already halfway out it. “Adieu, dear lady. ”
She watched him go. He walked well—he wore boots instead of the elegant shoes that Rohan favored, and if he had the trace of a swagger he was doubtless justified. He was a peer of the realm, a strong, handsome man in the prime of life. He had every reason to strut.
Author: Anne Stuart
She closed the door behind him. Her mother’s screams had finally quieted now that Cousin Marcus had left, and she moved quietly to Caroline’s bedroom, opening the door a crack.
Her mother had slipped back into a drugged sleep. “Shouldn’t we tie her to the bed again?” she whispered to Nanny Maude.
The old lady had a troubled expression on her face. “No need,” Nanny said. “These fits are followed by bouts of sleep. She won’t move or speak for days. Who was that gentleman again?” She changed subjects abruptly.
“I introduced you. He’s our cousin, Marcus Harriman. ”
“I don’t remember any Marcus, and I lived on that estate for the first fifty years of my life. ”
“He’s distant kin. The closest they could come up with, but I’m sure it’s all as it should be. ”
Nanny shook her head, still not satisfied. “I didn’t think there were any other branches of the family. ”
“Well, there’s no doubting he’s got the Harriman look. And if it wasn’t him, the estate would be going to someone else. At least he seems willing to meet with me. ”
“Indeed,” Nanny said, not sounding happy. “Next time he comes to visit we’ll have Jacobs stay with your mama. I want to ask him a few questions. ”
The thought of fierce little Nanny Maude interviewing the new Baron Tolliver was entertaining enough to lift the dark cloud that had settled around her heart. She was contriving as best she could—for now she could try to be patient.
She moved back to her seat by the fire and picked up her book. It was a collection of improving sermons by a zealot monk who’d spent time in the Americas, and whose notions concerning bathing, women and religion were extreme and uncompromising. The good brother was a proponent of the theory that women were an unpleasant necessity, and once they’d fulfilled their procreative duties they should be sent to convents to reside with other women and endure a vow of silence.
Rohan had sent it on purpose, just to annoy her, but the written word was scarce enough that she even read this wretched book, alternately cursing its giver.
And she tried not to think about Francis, Viscount Rohan or his Heavenly Host.
14
In the end Lydia didn’t buy the tripe, though not because of any lightening of her spirits. For all that she wanted to wallow in unhappiness, tripe was carrying it a bit too far, and Nanny was far from an inspired cook. It would be up to Lydia to prepare it, and she’d never had much of a fondness for offal. She bought fresh farm eggs, leeks and cheese as well as a loaf of the freshest bread. If Nanny Maude couldn’t conjure something delicious out of all that then Lydia could.
And would, once she’d gotten over her stupid fit of the sulks. It wasn’t as if Etienne would help. After a riveting, arousing, frustrating encounter with the man she was foolish enough to…to be interested in, she had no choice but to follow it up with three hours of listening to Etienne go on and on. He had only two subjects of conversation: his brilliance as he worked through medical cases that he recounted in stomach-turning detail, and the great injustice served him by his cousin.