Page 40 of Reforming Lord Neil

Clapham cleared his throat, lowering his eyes. Perhaps he had forgotten that Neil’s accent marked him as someone perhaps even above himself.

“Quite true. But I do believe we understand one another when it comes to matters of honor, and of a woman’s place in a family.”

“Do we?” Neil affected a bored expression. “Mr. Clapham, if there is something you wish to say, I do wish you would spit it out. I am not an idle conversant.”

Twin spots of red appeared on Clapham’s cheeks, but he cleared his throat and leaned closer. “I have wondered, Mr. Duncan, where you are from. I have asked here and there after your name, and no one knows a Mr. Duncan. You can see then, I am merely concerned for my dear sister-in-law’s reputation.”

Neil chuckled, somewhat darkly. “Mrs. Clapham has nothing to fear from me, sir. I am nothing if not her humble servant.” He did not lower his voice, did not lean closer, but spoke as though the topic were free for all to hear. “Mrs. Clapham is a fine lady. I honestly doubt you are truly concerned about her wellbeing. It is more likely, to my way of thinking, that you are concerned about your own. I gathered from our first meeting, and from what has been said of you by others, that you were all too happy to see her gone from your house. One must ask oneself, why? Why make her feel unwelcome, bid her farewell most happily, only to come back and insist she is not behaving as she ought? It is most curious behavior, Mr. Clapham.”

Clapham paled. Then took a big gulp of his tea. He grabbed a sandwich. “There is nothing curious about my interest. My departed brother would expect no less.”

That rubbed at Neil’s temper. How could the man claim to honor his late brother’s memory by turning out his widow? “I rather think any man would expect a great deal more of the person who is supposed to look after his wife.”

The other man snapped his mouth shut upon the sandwich, then choked. After a moment of gasping, during which Neil only raised his eyebrows and waited, Clapham took hold of himself. “I beg your pardon.”

“I do not give it.”

People thought Neil was conniving. This man was hiding something, and it involved Teresa.

“Mr. Duncan, I have done what is right for Mrs. Clapham. It is she who decided to leave my protection, to take up her pitiful inheritance.” Clapham squared his shoulders. “I am trying to keep my eye upon her, to make certain no one takes advantage of her innocence and naïveté. You are a man practically living at her property, from what I understand of the matter.”

“You understand very little.” Neil tapped his fingers on the table impatiently.

“What if I asked you to leave her alone?” Clapham asked at last. He attempted to sound sly and knowing. “To go your own way? Perhaps all that is keeping you here is the hope of funds. My sister-in-law has no money, as you must know.” The man reached into his coat and pulled forth a small bag, full and heavy with coins given the sound it made when it hit the table. “I can give you the means to get beyond this place and strike out elsewhere.”

Neil chuckled, thinking of his mother’s necklace, his own coins, the earring he had not even sold yet. “I have no need of such a paltry sum.”

Expression hardening, Mr. Clapham swiped the money up and tucked it back in his coat. “Then what will it take to be rid of you?”

Slowly, Neil rose to his feet. “I come and go at my will, Mr. Clapham. Before this meeting, I might have forgotten all about you. But now, you have made me curious.” Neil bared his teeth in a grin he knew would make Clapham shake in his boots. It was all a ploy, of course. He had no power on his own. No one who owed him favors. But Clapham did not know that.

“I can see we are not friends, Mr. Duncan.” The horrible excuse of a gentleman stood and offered an abbreviated bow. “I hope we will not become enemies.” He took his sandwich with him out the door.

Neil remained standing still, thinking.

“What was that about, lad?” Putnam asked from his chair across the room.

Higgins looked out the front window. “He’s headed south. Back to where he came from.”

Uncertain, Neil tapped his fist against his thigh. He had no one who owed him favors. But there were people in his life who were unfailingly good. At least two such men, who happened to be married to the only two women of Neil’s acquaintance who might actually like him the smallest bit. Those men also had a penchant for justice.

Even if it was Neil who presented them with the issue, they might help for no other reason than for their enjoyment of righting wrongs.

The chance was worth it, in this instance, if he could help Teresa.

Neil went to the kitchen, pushing through the door without preamble.

“Mr. Jones.” The startled proprietor jumped to his feet at the unexpected address. “I need paper and pen, sir.” Neil took several coins out of his pocket. “And the use of a quiet room to write a few letters.”

“Of course, Mr. Duncan.” Jones showed Neil to a staircase. “The family parlor is just upstairs. Follow me, sir.”

Chapter Seventeen

At first, Teresa had feared her candid conversation with Mr. Duncan would lead to unpleasantness between them. Instead, he behaved as he had from the first. He was cordial, a gentleman in every way, with his occasional witty turn of phrase.

Caroline had taken to following him about as he worked. The dog, christened Muse, followed them both. That made it easy enough to find where they were.

One afternoon, a few days after Teresa and Mr. Duncan’s conversation, she went in search of her daughter to insist upon a geography lesson. Mr. Duncan, with a wheelbarrow full of stone, was going about the irrigation trenches in the farm. The rain had abated, but water still stood in areas where it should not. At breakfast, he had informed everyone at the table of his intent to discover the reason for the blockages and get the water moving as it should.