Page 13 of Beguiling the Baron

Chapter 8

A full two weeks had passed since Tia’s unpromising encounter with the reclusive Lord Ansford in his study, and neither she nor Mama had had more than a glimpse of him since.

He’d occasionally been seen striding across the lawns in the direction of his folly tower, not that she’d deliberately been trying to get a glimpse of him. Perhaps in view of the fact he now had two gentlewomen in the house, he no longer walked about shirtless which might—or might not—indicate some improvement in his character.

Seated in their snug sitting room, Tia and her mother shared a light supper. A summer shower had recently passed by, and the croquet lawn outside the window sparkled with fresh raindrops. The exotic rhododendrons lining the drive stood proudly in their freshly washed foliage, and fingers of sunlight picked out occasional droplets of water, filling them with a fiery gold.

It was a tranquil scene, entirely at odds with the one she had confronted earlier the same morning.

Tia cleared her throat. “I came upon his lordship’s folly this morning.” It was a hard admission to make—she’d breached The Rules and Mama would not approve.

“Did you, dear? I hope you were discreet.”

“Oh, but I bumped into Lynch, who told me Lord Ansford had an appointment in town, so I knew the coast was clear.”

Mama raised her eyebrows. “So, you didn’t exactly ‘come upon it,’ did you?”

Ignoring the taunt, Tia went on, “It’s in a clearing in the trees, but it must be visible from some of the windows in the east wing. There’s a huge mound of granite boulders glued together with mortar containing a good deal of dark ash, presumably to match the color of the stone.”

“It appears you made a close inspection of it.” Mama helped herself to another slice of almond tart and regarded Tia thoughtfully.

“It’s quite horrid,” Tia persisted. “As I looked up at the tower, it was as if someone had walked on my grave. The sun went in, and I had this awful presentiment of doom, as though I were being watched by someone, or something, with evil intent.”

“This place is melancholy when there’s no sunlight to cheer it. But I’m sure there’s nothing evil here. Lord Ansford would never allow it.”

Unless he’s a part of it, of course.

Tia had sensed the empty window embrasures as inimical eyes, watching her as she walked back to the abbey. An unwelcome crop of imaginings had crowded her mind at that moment. Could the folly tower be the spot where the late baroness had fallen to her doom? Did it hide a maze of tunnels or a secret room where Hellfire Clubbers held their abominably sinful, godless rituals?

She shook the ideas away. Mama would chide her for being fanciful if she said anything more. But now she’d seen the place, the folly lurked at the back of her mind, a mystery to be solved, an obstacle to overcome.

As was its owner.

Time to change the subject. “Polly and I are getting along quite comfortably now. I’m giving her work to stretch but not overwhelm her, as well as tasks so simple she has the instant satisfaction of achieving full marks. This will, I hope, increase her confidence. Why, we even managed some conversation yesterday. You know how fond I am of sketching birds? Well, there was a pair of long-tailed titmice in the orchard this morning. I identified them for her and commented on their pink and black and white plumage. She began asking me questions about them and why I liked birds and how was it possible to draw them when they would never stop moving? I won’t say we became fast friends as a result of that exchange, but I consider it progress.”

“You’d think Ansford would have been to the schoolroom by now, to ensure you are following his dictates.”

“Ah, but that would mean having to converse with me, an activity he utterly detests. However, for Polly’s sake, I have a plan to bring him forth. I’ll take books from his library he’s sure to consider most unsuitable for a young girl’s education and leave obvious gaps, so he’ll realize what’s gone. He’s sure to come stomping into the schoolroom, ready for a battle.”

Her mother put down her pastry fork with a clatter. “I sincerely hope you won’t fight in front of Polly. Tell me, do you think it wise to antagonize him when we are his dependents?”

“Trust me, Mama. Underneath the grim exterior, I believe Lord Ansford has a heart, and although it may be an awkward path to reach it, I’m prepared to try, for it will make him a better man.”

“You mean to reach his heart?”

The shock in Mama’s tone made Tia blush furiously. “You misunderstand me. I don’t wish to win his heart, merely to set it beating again, to arouse the sort of paternal affection he ought to have for his child. Once he loves her as he should, he’ll realize he mustn’t send her away to Miss Gates’s Academy. Polly divulged to me the other day she’d already been taken on an inspection visit of the place. She made no complaint, for Polly seldom shows her emotions, but I could tell she was terrified.”

“Oh no, please say you’re not going to make him one of your projects. You remember what happened last time. Poor Mr. Roach—he went around aping the Romantic poets for weeks after your interference, and let his hair grow so long all the young ladies looked at him askance.”

Tia knew a pang of distress at this reminder of the Wyndhams’ halcyon days. She was fifteen when she tried to ‘improve’ young Ralph Roach. Papa was alive, the wine import business flourished, and the family owned three ships, with additional ones on charter.

But in the ‘Year Without a Summer’ the vintages had been poor, the weather worse, the charters were let go, and two years later, in October 1818, a cruel gale had dashed her father and the ‘Sarah Gay’ onto rocks off the Cornish coast.

And afterward had come their removal to that hideous institution, the poorhouse, where husbands were separated from wives, where children were sundered from their parents—

“Don’t be so downcast—I’m only teasing you. Mr. Roach is surely quite recovered—he must have reached his majority by now and will be well set up indeed and attractive to all the matchmaking mamas.”

Tia forced herself to look amused, but her thoughts were no longer on Mr. Roach. Lord Ansford must see that sending Polly away would be wrong. She’d have to appeal to his finer feelings, if he had any. Surely, all the kindnesses bestowed on the Wyndhams could not have come from a man with no heart?

Unless they had his steward, Josiah Lynch, to thank for it all. She could well imagine Lord Ansford saying to him, “See to it, will you?” and taking no further interest.

Why the devil should she not try to reform the baron? He was desperately in need of it. He was only flesh and blood after all and must have some weakness she could exploit. If she could determine what his Achilles heel was, she’d soon have him behaving like a loving father toward Polly, hugely benefitting the child.

And it would make her own existence a good deal less uncomfortable.