A Woman of True Honor: True Gentlemen Book Eight Page 17

  “Shall I bring a tea tray, sir?”

  “Is that how these things are done in the country? Tea trays at dawn?”

  “As far as I know, a tea tray is always considered good manners.” The butler paused to dab his handkerchief at an imaginary smudge on the face of a longcase clock.

  Eleven o’clock already. Where had the day gone? Where had the decades gone? “Very well, then. Young men are bottomless pits when free food is on offer. Send along some comestibles with the tea. I like Mr. Valerian Dorning, you know.”

  “Sir?”

  “He as good as told me to go to hell, and he was polite about it. One values honesty in one’s old age. Honesty and health.”

  “If you say so, sir.” The butler shuffled away, still carrying his fussy little tray.

  Osgood took a moment to assess his reflection in the pier glass outside the formal parlor. “I’m an old man.” Which didn’t particularly matter if he was a healthy old man. More to the point, he was an old man looking forward to putting a young man in his place. He liked Dorning, and he didn’t want to offend the Dorning family, but if Dorning had come with courting on his mind, he was due for a serious set-down.

  How long had it been since Osgood had had the pleasure of putting a dashing swain in his place?

  Too long. Too damned long.

  Chapter Eleven

  Valerian chose a chair with a view of the gardens in hopes that Emily might be strolling out of doors. His seat likely dated from the time of Queen Anne and was a handsome piece of furniture, though the cabriole legs weren’t quite even, and the pink velvet of the cushion showed signs of wear.

  Why had Pepper set Emily to refurbishing the master suite when a public room such as this so clearly needed attention?

  “Mr. Dorning.” Osgood Pepper stalked in, his eyes alight with something other than welcome.

  Valerian rose and bowed. “Sir, you’re looking well.”

  Pepper closed the door. “I am, aren’t I? I intend to stay that way, too, but my illness left me with much business to catch up on. While I am always happy to greet a neighbor, I’ll ask you to state your business and be on your way.”

  As an opening salvo, that move—declaring oneself to be in a hurry—was rather unsophisticated.

  “I won’t keep you long, sir, though Emily did tell me just the other day how relieved she is that you’ve put a higher priority on rest and repose. This season of the year, between planting and harvest, is when time in the country can be the most enjoyable, don’t you think?”

  Pepper took the seat Valerian had vacated. “Emily has time to rest and repose, but if I’m to keep the girl in the style she’s come to expect, the same cannot be said for me.”

  Valerian was a guest, but he was not a supplicant. He availed himself of the sofa, sitting on the end closest to Pepper’s chair.

  “Is Emily a girl, sir, or has she earned the right to be referred to as a grown woman?”

  Pepper’s chin came up. “What business of yours is that?”

  The question required a choice, between tact and indirection on the one hand and blunt honesty on the other.

  “Your time is precious,” Valerian said, “therefore I will be forthright. Emily has agreed to become my wife. She is of age, and I have the means to support her. Your blessing is unnecessary, but it would mean much to both Emily and me.”

  Valerian was reminded in the next instant that Pepper’s health had truly been delicate not long ago. The older man put a hand to his chest and leaned forward as if somebody had delivered a blow to his back.

  “Who the hell do you think you are, Dorning? Apologize for your presumption this instant, or I’ll have you thrown from the premises.”

  Threats of violence were also an unimpressive negotiating tactic. “I do not think, I know I am the man fortunate enough to have earned your daughter’s esteem, as she has surely gained mine. In the normal course, I would have first asked your permission to court Emily, after having secured her assent to such a measure. Emily has indicated that she’d rather dispense with such protocols. She knows her own mind, and she has asked me to procure a special license.”

  Pepper opened his mouth as if to speak—or perhaps shout—then snapped it shut. A fraught moment passed, the silence broken by a tap on the door.

  “Begone!” Pepper barked. “Damned servants and their damned tea trays, and damn you too, Dorning. If you think I’ll permit my only daughter to elope with some pockets-to-let bounder in fancy breeches, you are sadly mistaken. You barely know my daughter. Take yourself off, and don’t come back.”

  Valerian stayed right where he was. “Mr. Pepper, you have had a shock, but I beg you to consider the facts. Emily has made her choice based on several months’ acquaintance with me. She is not a schoolgirl who can be banished to some auntie in the north for kissing the footman. I have standing in this community and have been introduced at court. My family is titled, and I can support Emily adequately. On what basis do you object to the match?”

  Beneath Pepper’s ire, Valerian detected a note of true dismay. Emily grasped that her father regarded her as a strategic asset, but Osgood was also an aging papa with only the one child under his roof. He would miss Emily, though he’d likely never admit that to her.

  “You damned puppy. She’s all I have left, and you think to spirit her away, then live on her money. You turned her head with your flattery and fine manners, and you took advantage of her kind nature. I’ll not have it.”

  Of all the accusations, the notion that Emily would leave her father’s side never to be seen again was doubtless the charge of greatest substance. Pepper’s admission also, however, suggested that he and his son were on quite bad terms.

  “Emily and I plan to dwell at Abbotsford, my estate. The manor lies not three miles from the front door of Pepper Ridge if you take the bridle paths. In addition to sizable acreage attached to the home farm, Abbotsford has five tenancies of a hundred acres each. I will happily show you the estate books and the property itself if you like. Emily deemed the house an adequate place to begin married life.”

  “You’d put my Emily in a farmhouse? A girl who has danced with dukes, had the best tutors, gone to the best school, and you’d have her hoeing peas and feeding chickens.”

  Pepper was truly upset, which might be why he had conveniently forgotten that his plan had been for Emily to marry into an influential gentry family.

  “I would have Emily be happy, sir. She is not happy here. She has little purpose now that your health is restored, and though she would bring much to your business endeavors, there’s apparently no place for her there.”

  “Damned right there isn’t. I’ll not have it said she bears the taint of the shop.”

  Of course Emily bore the taint of the shop, and of course that slight had already been directed at her. Pepper, a merchant to his bones, could have no notion of the viciousness Society gossips turned on an heiress with new money.

  “She was supposed to put this house to rights.” An element of lament had entered Pepper’s voice, an element of defeat.

  “But you didn’t let her choose the crew, didn’t allow her to develop the renovation plans, schedules, or budgets. You are alive today, very likely because Emily was stubborn enough to seek help for you after the doctors told you all hope was lost. She has been loyal to you, and I gather that’s despite areas of significant contention. She is of age, sir, and you cannot stop this wedding, but you can make it a happier occasion for her.”

  Had Valerian not thrashed through a thousand arguments with his siblings, had he not spent hours teaching farmhands how to dance, had he not known how dearly Emily valued her father’s regard, he would have excused himself and planned to be estranged from his papa-in-law.

  But family mattered, and Emily had so little of it.

  Pepper’s bony finger traced the claws carved into the arms of the chair. “She did a damned sight more than kiss a footman. That girl led me such a chase as no father wants to endu
re.”

  “Ancient history, sir. I was no saint at university, which I gather is half the point of sending young men to such institutions. Emily saved your life.”

  “Did she see my heart repaired only to break it? Emily thinks you are what she wants, but she’s merely bored with country life and at loose ends. I’ll take her back to Town and have done with playing the country squire. Wretched lot of nonsense anyway. Name your price, Dorning.”

  Valerian had dreaded this aspect of the conversation most of all, but he’d thought through his reply and remained at his ease on the somewhat lumpy sofa.

  “I haven’t a price. I have offered Emily marriage, and she has accepted. She is my heart’s desire, and I am apparently hers.”

  Pepper snorted. “I’ve heard that before. Cost me a bit, but I ran the young scoundrel off, and he promptly married some wealthy widow. You can use a bit of blunt, no shame in that, but you will agree to leave Emily in peace for the rest of your days. What do you say to five thousand pounds? You can leave here with the signed bank draft in your hand.”

  No wonder Emily was exasperated with her father. “What you have that I value, sir, is the ability to send Emily into married life with your blessing. Your money will gain you nothing in this discussion, and Emily would be disappointed to learn of your offer.”

  “Emily’s disappointment is bearable. I will not have her endless misery on my conscience, though, and that is all you can promise her. You doubtless do like her—who wouldn’t?—but it’s easy to like a young woman awash in money. Ten thousand pounds should console you on your failed marital aspirations.”

  Valerian had never been destitute, but he’d never been rich either. Perhaps that was an ideal perspective from which to approach life, for obviously Pepper’s wealth hadn’t made him happy or wise.

  “Is Emily so content here at Pepper Ridge?” Valerian asked, rising. “She’s dwelled in Dorset now for several months. Is she calling on friends? Involved with the social committees at church? Helping to plan the next assembly? Are her friends visiting her here? Has she a few investments she likes to manage for her own amusement? Has she earned the regard of the staff at Pepper Ridge and taken on the redecoration scheme like a woman settling into her lifelong home?

  “No,” Valerian said, answering his own questions. “No, no, no, and no. She’s restless, bored, lonely, and ignored by the man who now claims to have her interests so very much on his mind. My family has called on her. My sister-in-law in particular keeps an eye on you, the better to safeguard your health, and that is at Emily’s request.”

  Pepper gazed off into the garden, though Valerian knew by the way the older man gripped the chair arms that he was listening.

  “You are not concerned with her happiness, Mr. Pepper, you are concerned with your own. Emily has for once put her wishes before yours, and I am the fortunate recipient of her decision. You can either be a gracious and loving father about our engagement, or you can destroy what warm feeling Emily yet harbors for you. I’ll bid you good day and hope to see you at the wedding.”

  “Twenty-five thousand pounds, and that’s my final offer.”

  Emily’s stubbornness had apparently been learned at her father’s knee. “Mr. Pepper, your commercial experience vastly eclipses my own, but I beg leave to inform you that this is not an auction, and neither my honor nor your daughter’s happiness is for sale.”

  Pepper came out of his chair like a man half his age. “Dammit, Dorning, you have no idea of Emily’s situation. She can’t marry into a titled family. They’ll eat her alive.”

  “My titled family will not, or they will have me to deal with.”

  A longcase clock bonged the quarter hour. Valerian waited, for the true issue, the true reason for Pepper’s intransigence, had yet to be broached. Perhaps Pepper was much poorer than he let on—business reverses had brought down many a new fortune. Perhaps his heart was troubling him again. Perhaps he was simply a tired, lonely old man with too many regrets and only one child left to love.

  “Has she told you about the boy?”

  “Emily has a child?” Valerian would rather have learned of that situation from Emily, if so.

  “And if she does?”

  “My brother has a by-blow. Tabitha is a delight to us all, and we miss her when she’s off at school. Emily’s wishes regarding her offspring must control on this issue, but I would hardly cry off over such a matter.”

  Pepper ran a hand through thinning hair. “No child, thank the Almighty. She has a brother.” The admission seemed to cost Pepper all of his bluster. “You will have my blessing, Dorning, but you won’t get a penny to go with it. Insist that Emily tell you of her wayward sibling before you speak your vows, and if you are still willing to marry her, I will attend the wedding.”

  No man should consent to his daughter’s nuptials with such an air of sadness. “Sir, are you well?” But then, Pepper hadn’t admitted to having a son. He’d referred to Emily having a brother.

  “I am as well as a man can be when he contemplates his daughter’s broken heart.”

  “I will not abandon Emily over another family member’s errors, any more than she would hold my siblings’ indiscretions against me.”

  Pepper headed for the door, his step considerably slower than when he’d made his entrance. “Talk to her about her brother. Tell her she’s not getting a single groat from me in settlements, and if the pair of you are still determined to marry, I will lend my paternal imprimatur to the resulting farce.”

  He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving Valerian alone in the faded splendor of the formal parlor. The negotiation had concluded successfully, the primary objective achieved. Emily would have her father’s approval, which was all she’d claimed to want.

  The lady chose then to emerge from the terrace into the garden, and the sight of her in a plain straw hat, a frilly blue parasol over her shoulder, should have filled Valerian with elation.

  The prospect of marrying Emily did fill him with joy, and the knowledge that he had secured Osgood Pepper’s blessing was greater cause for happiness. The absence of settlements was either a test or an old man’s stinginess, but of no matter to Valerian. He was confident Emily would eventually forgive the slight.

  That Emily was concealing some material information from him regarding her brother was troubling, though, and the notion that she’d done more than kiss a footman—long ago, doubtless, and in the heat of youthful intemperance—was not exactly cheering news either.

  * * *

  “Mr. Pepper.” The butler, minus his tray, paused at the foot of the stairs. “Sir, are you well?”

  Dorning had asked the same thing, and Osgood’s sense was that the impudent puppy’s concern had been real. “I am in fine health, thank you.”

  Though did a man in fine health sit on the footman’s chair, staring blindly into a past that included so many regrets?

  “Shall I help you up, sir?”

  Osgood rose, feeling decades older than he had an hour ago. “You shall not get above your presuming self. When’s luncheon to be served?”

  “Miss Emily usually has the kitchen bring up luncheon at one of the clock. We can move that forward, if you’d—”

  Osgood waved a hand. He wasn’t hungry, for all he’d just gone toe-to-toe with a man half his age. “And where is Miss Emily?”

  “Walking in the garden, Mr. Pepper.”

  Wasting no time, clearly. “Mr. Dorning will doubtless join her. They are to be left undisturbed, do you hear me?”

  “Quite well.”

  Was the old fellow smiling? Osgood felt a reluctant urge to smile too. He’d been trounced, utterly, and by nothing more than romantic foolishness. Perhaps Dorning would cry off when he learned of the family scandal, but for Emily’s sake, Osgood hoped not.

  “I spared Dorning’s manly dignity, let him strut about and make sentimental declarations. Young fellows enjoy that sort of display.”

  “They assuredly do, sir.”
<
br />   Osgood had also tested Valerian Dorning, to the tune of twenty-five thousand pounds, and Dorning had passed easily. Emily might take some consolation from that news if Dorning deserted her over the scandal involving Adam.

  A gentry family could have absorbed that scandal, the countryside having better things to do than circulate gossip and dig up old news. A titled family, though, constantly traveling to and from London, overly concerned with appearances and tattle… Emily would not fare well in such a situation.

  Dorning faced a hard choice for an earl’s son, and by taking Emily’s inheritance out of the equation, Osgood hoped to make the choice less difficult—for Dorning. If Emily was about to yoke herself to a penniless prig who valued gossip more highly than Emily’s happiness, she needed to know that now, and her old papa would be on hand to console her if Dorning abandoned her.

  Osgood started in the direction of the office, considering how severely to castigate Caleb and Tobias for their folly over the merchantman, when the butler’s voice called to him.

  “Miss Briggs has requested a moment of your time, Mr. Pepper, if that’s convenient.”

  “Veronica Briggs does not request a moment of any man’s time,” Osgood retorted. “She issues a parliamentary summons. She can join me for luncheon in the breakfast parlor.”

  The butler glanced up the steps, then down the corridor. “I gather the nature of the discussion is private, sir.”

  “No matter. My loyal henchmen will be plotting another means of wasting my money, and Miss Briggs and I will be undisturbed at our meal.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  * * *

  Emily hadn’t heard any shouting coming from the formal parlor, but then, the windows were kept closed in there, for the room was seldom used.

  Why was that? Why, after several months of biding at Pepper Ridge, did so few people call on her? The vicar had promised to drop by and look in on Papa, but yesterday’s entire discussion in the cluttered, book-filled study at the parsonage had been awkward.