Page 6 of The Earl Next Door
“I was going to open a claret for you. I know you prefer it.”
“That not necessary,” she said, lifting her chin and giving him a genuine smile. “I won’t be here that long, dearest, and you know I won’t have more than a sip or two of it, anyway. You’d have to finish off the bottle or let it go to waste. Not much tastes worse than day-old claret.”
Maybe for her.
Lyon downed a generous swallow of the strong liquor and breathed in long and heavily, letting it settle in his stomach before adding a splash of the fortified wine to the dainty crystal he kept on the tray just forhis aunt’s visits. He then added another ounce to his glass. After his meeting with Lady Wake, he needed it to help him put the entire incident out of his thoughts.
For good he hoped.
Having a late afternoon drink with his aunt was nothing new. Mrs. Cordelia Carbonall was his late mother’s only living sibling, probably the reason he was so patient with her. That, and the fact she had a bold streak he’d admired and sometimes appreciated. It had always seemed strange to him that his aunt had more the nature, wit, and strength of his father than of her sister, Lyon’s mother. As best he could remember her, anyway.
His mother had been gone close to twenty years, and time had started taking its toll on his once-vibrant memories of her. She had been a beautiful lady with a softly sweet voice. He could no longer hear her singing to him in the evenings before his governess took him off to bed, but he knew she had. Time had erased the feeling of the smooth touch of her hand when she cupped his chin in her palm so she could make sure he was listening to her, but he knew she’d done it.
Cordelia wasn’t a classic beauty as his mother had been, but she had sparkling, playful blue eyes and a smile that matched her quick drollness and even temperament. Cordelia’s husband had passed away only two years after Lyon’s mother. Over the years, she’d attracted the attention of several gentlemen. At least two of them had offered for her hand, and more than once. But she’d remained a childless widow, and from all Lyon could tell she was happy with her choices.
Much to his father’s liking, Cordelia had never triedto be a mother to Lyon. That had actually suited all three of them. It didn’t mean she hadn’t been a part of his life. For as long as Lyon could remember, his aunt hadn’t been shy about asking for whatever she wanted from him or his father, be it monetary or a social favor. The only difference was that the Marquis of Marksworth wasn’t nearly as accommodating to her as Lyon had always been. Mostly because Marksworth had bestowed a generous allowance on Cordelia after her husband passed. No doubt thinking that would be the end of his duty to her and she would quietly fade away from Society.
He’d been wrong.
Ever since Cordelia had moved to the neighborhood three years ago, she’d made it a point to visit her friend Mrs. Feversham once a week and fill her in on the latest gossip. And of course, Mrs. Feversham, who lived across the street from Lyon, always had plenty to tell his aunt about the neighbors she could see from her first-floor chambers. Cordelia considered it her duty to occasionally stop by for a visit with Lyon, when he was in Town, and share all she’d heard. Lyon listened patiently to every sentence. She was considerate of his privacy and never stayed very long.
Today, her troubled chatter of gossip had led to his barging in on the countess thinking he was going to be keeping the neighborhood safe from being invaded by a bevy of the lesser sort.
“It’s curious that a school is going to be next door,” his aunt said, taking the drink from him. Not giving him time to answer, she continued by saying, “In my day, a girl was taught in the home with a highly qualified and proper governess. Tutors for French and pianoforte lessons were sometimes brought into the house, but a good governess could handle it all. Dancing, too.” She sighed as she put her nose to the glass and sniffed its content indulgently. “I’ve always enjoyed the smell better than the taste.”
“As do most ladies, I’ve heard,” Lyon said, swinging the brown velvet wing chair away from the warmth of the fireplace so that he could face his aunt from the end of the settee.
“I suppose times are changing—though not too keenly by some of us, and certainly not for the better. A boarding school for girls is highly irregular.” She shook her head as if forgetting her train of thought for a moment and asked, “Why did you say the school is opening in our neighborhood?”
“I didn’t, Aunt,” he answered making himself comfortable in his chair. “I have no idea.”
He didn’t want to mention Lady Wake by name to his aunt. Cordelia could find out about the countess living there on her own.
Lyon had known when he left London last November that his elderly neighbor, Mr. Bottles, was in poor health and grumbling that his daughter never came to see him. Perhaps the man had passed and the new Earl of Wake had bought the house for the countess as part of her allowance. Not that it mattered to Lyon what the spirited lady did or who occupied the building at the back of her house, he reminded himself again. Right now, he wasn’t interested in getting better acquainted with her.
He sipped his brandy again. All he wanted to dowas forget about her and their meeting, but he was finding that difficult to do.
“Why didn’t you ask more questions about the school? I would think you’d have great interest since it’s so close to you.”
“I arrived at an inconvenient time and, quite frankly, I’m not as inquisitive as you and Mrs. Feversham. I had no reason to ask many questions after it was made clear to me the neighborhood was not in jeopardy.”
“I can’t fault you for that. Men have never been as prying—” She stopped and smiled knowingly at him. “I mean as curious as ladies. I suppose there’s nothing wrong with teaching deserving, decorous young ladies how to be proper, as well as enhancing their skills with a needle and quill. It sounds quite admirable. Perhaps they’ll have a French tutor as well. Do you know?”
“I’ll leave it to you to find that out, Aunt,” he said patiently. At least Cordelia was now curious instead of upset. “I only returned from Lyonwood late in the evening yesterday. I spent the entire day meeting with my solicitor, who didn’t have all the account books in his possession that I’d requested to see. Most of the ones he put before me had pages that had somehow gotten damp and were unreadable. The man had all winter to get them in order and hadn’t. I arrived back home to find you here and in a fit of concern thinking something dastardly was happening next door. I erased that fear. It’s all I can do.”
“And you did it quite well. I do thank you for asking Brewster to let me know you were back in Town. I’m sure you didn’t expect me to come over on yourfirst day back, but I couldn’t ignore Mrs. Feversham’s pleas this afternoon.”
“I’m always happy to see you, Aunt,” Lyon said, and meant it. “I never mind you stopping for a visit.” He couldn’t take out his frustration on his aunt for an unsuccessful visit with his solicitor or his disastrous meeting with Lady Wake.
“Still, I shouldn’t have burdened you with our concerns. Mrs. Feversham was really quite unsettled and I’m afraid I let that influence me. I mean what else were we to think after what she saw?”
Lyon smiled. “Perhaps that she shouldn’t spend all her days and nights looking out the window in hopes of seeing something her neighbors are doing.”
“Now, don’t be harsh. It’s really a shame she couldn’t walk after her fall last spring.”
“I’m not trying to be insensitive. Why don’t I walk you next door so you can explain to her there is nothing unsavory going on and ease her mind.”
Cordelia gave him a wry smile. “Are you not going to let me finish my drink?”
