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‘I was just driving past and remembered that you thought you might have located the original bills submitted for the wheels made for the earlier Lord Stanton’s curricle…’
‘Ah, yes… now where did I put them?’
Adam waited patiently while the older man searched through the mound of papers on his desk.
It had been a comment he had overhead Fern make which had alerted him to the fact that Lord Stanton felt very much alone since his wife’s death… not a comment to him, of course. He grimaced to himself. It was a rare occurrence indeed for Fern to make any kind of comment directly to him. What did she think he might do? Insult her… assault her? His mouth twisted again. No, he had overheard her saying something to Nick some months ago, and since then he had tried to make a point of calling round to see the older man when he could.
He was always careful to disguise his visits as being for his own benefit rather than his host’s, and now, as he waited for Lord Stanton to unearth the bill, a record of a long-ago transaction between their mutual ancestors, he heard him saying conversationally, ‘Fern was here earlier. You just missed her.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Adam agreed.
‘Ah… you passed her on the lane, did you?’
‘No, I…’
Automatically Adam checked, cursing himself under his breath. It was unlike him to forget, to let down his guard… to make that kind of mistake.
‘I… remembered Nick saying she was coming to visit you,’ he lied, wondering grimly what on earth the older man would have thought had he said that he had known Fern had been here because he could still smell her perfume in the air.
Not that Lord Stanton would have said anything. He was too much of the old school for that. But, even so, a seed would have been sown which could ultimately have resulted in someone leaping to the wrong conclusion… in Fern’s being hurt… His mouth thinned, so that when Lord Stanton turned round and saw his expression he asked with some concern, ‘My dear chap, is there something wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Adam assured him.
‘Actually it’s a pity you didn’t arrive while Fern was here. You could have put her mind at rest.’ He paused and Adam forced his body into tense control, watching and waiting. If Nick had done something, anything to hurt or harm her… but, when Lord Stanton continued, Adam realised that it was not his stepbrother who had upset her but himself.
‘She seemed to believe that Broughton House is to be destroyed, to make room for—a supermarket, I believe she said.’
Long, long ago Adam had thought he had taught himself to accept reality, to live with it and endure it, but now, listening to Lord Stanton, knowing that Fern had judged him guilty of what to her would be an aesthetic crime, and that she had done so without allowing him to defend or explain his actions, caused such a sharp flaring of pain and bitterness within him that he had to clench his teeth to stop himself from betraying what he was feeling.
‘Needless to say, I assured her that she must be wrong.’
‘I am working on a commission for a client,’ Adam told him.
‘You need say no more,’ Lord Stanton assured him. ‘Ah, here it is: “Four wheels for Lord Stanton’s racing curricle, to be painted with yellow spokes and black rims.” There is a family story that my ancestor, who was a notorious gamester, bet ten thousand guineas that he could beat an opponent in a London to Brighton race in the curricle carried by those wheels.’
‘Did he win?’ Adam asked him.
‘Yes. Otherwise I doubt I would be living here today to tell this tale. It was on the strength of winning that bet that he was able to propose to the rich mill-owner’s daughter whose fortune saved the estate. I often wonder what will happen to this place after I am gone. It’s too small to be of any interest to the National Trust. I have no direct heir…
‘In fact, I have been meaning to discuss it with you for some time, Adam. Beavers, my solicitor, seems to think something could be arranged whereby I could leave it in trust to the town. Eugenie would have liked that,’ he added gruffly.
‘That would be a very generous gesture, Lord Stanton,’ Adam told him quietly.
‘Nonsense. Know too well that the burden of all the damned paperwork and the like would fall on your shoulders. Told Beavers you’d already got enough on your plate, without taking on another responsibility. Wouldn’t want to do it, though—unless you could be one of the trustees, Adam. Know I can rely on you to see that it is kept as Eugenie would have wanted. Loved this house, she did… right from being a small girl.
‘Often used to say that it was the house she wanted to marry and not me…
‘Still miss her dreadfully, you know, and won’t be sorry when my time comes to “shuffle off this mortal coil”. Have to keep going, though, for Phillips’ sake.’ He gave Adam a thoughtful look. ‘Hear you’ve been seeing quite a lot of young Lily.’
‘Her father and I are old friends,’ Adam said firmly, adding pointedly, ‘She’s a nice child. Only just nineteen.’
‘My Eugenie was only seventeen when we married.’
‘Well, if Lily were my daughter I should be advising her to wait at least another ten years before she considered that kind of commitment,’ Adam said easily.
Did Lord Stanton really think he could contemplate marriage to a girl… a teenager like Lily? He was thirty-four, almost thirty-five, and there had only ever been one woman whom he had wanted as his wife, whom he had loved enough to want to spend his whole life with.
Had loved?
