Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Ryland was torn between questioning Miss Beswick further on the carriage ride to Tilton and waiting until they were alone. Chivalry prevailed and he bit his tongue. It had quickly grown dark after leaving the Red Lion, and he would have needed more light to read whatever references she had brought with her, anyway.

When the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Tilton Manor, it was late and Ryland could sense Miss Beswick's weariness. He helped her from the carriage, her skin glowing orange from the conveyance's lantern. One of his footmen, Christopher, stepped from the house upon their arrival. Ryland directed him to retrieve her portmanteau and carry it to the governess's room.

"I hope to have the pleasure of your company again, Miss Beswick," Wycliffe said.

She smiled kindly at him, dipping a curtsy. "As do I."

"Once you are settled, I will send my daughter for a visit. I think you would get on splendidly."

Was it possible to signal the man to be quiet without alerting the governess? No. Likely not. Ryland bit his tongue and hoped his stepfather would leave. He was uncertain how long Miss Beswick would be remaining at Tilton. There was no sense in helping her to create relationships and feel a sense of home here, not when she would likely be searching for a new position within a month.

Ryland would give her time to find one, of course, and assistance where he may. But he speculated that, despite agreeing to a trial period of employment, he would not be able to stay in the same house as her for long—not unless she changed her hair color and nose shape and eyes and the general way she carried herself. It would be agony to live for too long with someone who brought Jane to his mind with regularity. No one should expect such a sacrifice of him.

He was faintly aware of Wycliffe bidding farewell to Miss Beswick—no, Aurelia . That was much more pleasant than forever hearing the name of his prime adversary during his school years.

He glanced at her, wondering again if there was any relation, but he did not recall whether Nathaniel had a sister. Despite the false friendship Nathaniel had orchestrated between them in their youth, Ryland had never learned much about Nathaniel or his family. It was clear later he'd only been using Ryland to curry favor with the teachers, but once he'd discovered Ryland's title to be useless at school, he'd flipped the table and done everything in his power to bring the earl down.

Ryland shoved away thoughts of Nathaniel Beswick. They were never pleasant.

Paul, his groom, hastened to the carriage and untied his stallion.

"The chestnut, too," Ryland told him. Paul untied the new mare Ryland had bought from the breeder that morning, then led both horses toward the stables.

Wycliffe watched the horses leave. "Thank you for coming with me today."

"I cannot refuse a new horse."

"Edmund will like her, I think." Wycliffe's voice softened at the mention of Ryland's son. He climbed again into the rented carriage and tapped on the roof. It rolled away through the iron gate.

Aurelia stood on the gravel drive, her hands folded primly in front of her. In the light of the moon, she seemed younger than she had earlier. Her posture was stiff and nervous. Gads, he was going to make a mull of things, wasn't he?

Ryland cleared his throat. "I will have my housekeeper show you to your room. It is late, and you are undoubtedly tired. We can meet in the morning and discuss your employment."

"And your son?" she asked, a glimmer in her eyes he could not quite place. Was she nervous or excited?

"We will discuss him after we agree on the particulars." He did not inform her there was no sense in introductions if she was not going to remain at Tilton Manor, but he sensed she understood that. Perhaps once she was informed of the trial employment, she would choose to leave immediately.

"I've brought a reference directly from Mrs. Hoskins' hand," she said softly.

They were going to discuss it now, then. "Did you also bring an explanation for why it is you standing in my drive and not Mrs. Hoskins herself?"

Her eyes widened. "Were you not expecting me?"

Thunder and turf! He hadn't meant to incite panic. "Of course I was expecting a governess," he lied. He had been expecting a reply from Mrs. Hoskins. She, evidently, had sent the expected reply with a woman attached. As loath as he was to admit it, this was not Aurelia's fault. Clearing his throat, Ryland searched for the best thing to say to put her at ease.

Christopher had gone inside with the portmanteau minutes ago, leaving them alone. The groom had taken his horses to the stables. Wycliffe's borrowed carriage had left nothing but dust settling in its wake on the other side of the gate. The sun had long since disappeared, the birds now slept, and the drive was empty, save for Ryland and Aurelia. Cool autumn wind brushed through the trees, dropping leaves over the drive and crinkling along the branches.

He wondered if he would hear her heart beating if he leaned any closer. They felt entirely secluded. The solitude and the darkness combined to give him a sense that they were alone in the world—never mind the fact that his entire household was only a few paces away on the other side of the thick oak door.

He was tempted to ask Aurelia if she was any relation to Nathaniel Beswick, but he did not wish to taint his opinion of her prematurely. Besides, she could not be closely related to the man and find herself in this position. Nathaniel was wealthy beyond reason. Though Beswick did not seem a common name, Aurelia could not help it if her distant relative was an imbecile.

"I understand nothing is promised," she said quietly, her tone resolute, "but?—"

Ryland's ears perked to the sound of hooves pounding the lane toward his house. "It is late, Miss Beswick. We can save this conversation for tomorrow," he advised. "I think we may have a visitor."

A horse and rider came around the bend, slowing at the gate long enough for the man to lean forward and push it open. Even in the darkness, Ryland could make out the familiar features of his friend Oliver Rose—dark hair beneath his hat, straight nose, wide shoulders. They had been close friends for the duration of their lives, having grown up in Harewood together. Ryland and Oliver, along with Oliver's cousin, Samuel, had been nearly inseparable as boys, and Eton had done nothing to weaken their friendship. Now close to thirty years old, each of them lived separate lives, but each remained in Harewood and visits were frequent.

An unscheduled visit so late at night meant one of two things, however: Oliver needed consolation or advice, neither of which should be had in the company of his new governess. Potential new governess.

Oliver reached them and swung down from the saddle, his boots hitting the gravel. "Good evening, Ry—" He seemed to notice Aurelia and paused, gripping the reins of his horse. "Forgive my intrusion. I can return another time."

"Oliver, come meet Miss Beswick. She is to be Edmund's governess." Ryland swallowed, aware he was potentially spreading a falsehood. If he could trust anyone to keep quiet until the situation sorted itself out, it would be one of his closest friends. He faced Aurelia, noting her slightly wary expression. "Miss Beswick, allow me the honor of introducing Mr. Oliver Rose of Boone Park."

Oliver turned interested eyes on her and bowed, removing his hat to reveal neatly combed dark hair. He had a straight nose, the shadows defining his sharp jawline and concealing the plain colors of his well-cut clothes. "Welcome to Harewood, Miss Beswick."

"Thank you," she said meekly, dropping into a curtsy.

"Come. You are probably tired." Ryland mounted the steps and held the front door open, then caught his friend's eye. "Paul is busy brushing my horses down. You might have to walk your stallion back yourself."

Oliver looked at his horse. "I am happy to do just that."

"Come to my library directly. Do not let my new mare distract you for long."

A smile curved Oliver's lips. He gave Ryland a salute before bowing in farewell to Aurelia. "It was lovely to meet you, Miss Beswick."

Ryland held the door for Aurelia to step through. Mrs. Pike appeared, her breathing heavy as though she had run clear from the cellars. She did not look surprised when she noticed Aurelia, which proved one servant or another had warned her of the addition to their household. The servants would all know of the new governess by breakfast. Ryland hoped they had the presence of mind not to mention it to Edmund yet.

"Miss Beswick has come about the governess position," he said. "Will you have Tilly make up a room for her?"

"It is already being done, my lord."

Of course it was. His household was nothing if not efficient, and Mrs. Pike was half of the reason for that—Mr. Pike, his butler, was the other half. Ryland took none of the credit.

"Nurse must be informed as well," he said.

"I will take care of it, sir."

"Thank you. Mrs. Pike, allow me to introduce Miss Beswick." He faced the governess and finished the introductions. "Mrs. Pike will be able to provide anything you need. Shall we set a meeting for eight o'clock tomorrow? My study is just at the end of the corridor there. If you find the library, then you've opened the wrong door." He gestured in the right direction. It was best for them to talk early so they didn't risk a meeting between her and Edmund before Ryland could speak to his son.

Aurelia dipped her head. "Of course, my lord."

"You will forgo your morning ride tomorrow?" Mrs. Pike asked.

"Yes, but I shall move it to the afternoon. Edmund will wish to meet the new mare, anyway."

Ryland stood at the base of the stairs, his hands clasped behind his back, and watched Mrs. Pike lead Aurelia away. He assumed she would be put in the chamber near the schoolroom. It had previously been used as Nurse's room when Edmund was a babe, but Nurse's knees precluded her from being able to use the stairs around the same time Edmund outgrew a need for her, so she was moved to the housekeeper's salon near the kitchen. Ryland was fortunate Mrs. Pike was willing to sacrifice her space, and glad she was married to the butler so he could advise them to share a sitting room instead.

Aurelia glanced back over her shoulder, concern etched into the lines on her brow. Ryland wanted to send her a reassuring glance, but instead found himself watching her, considering how similar her walk was to Jane's. Tall, slender, and blonde. When she directed her attention up the stairs again, he could have mistaken her for his deceased wife. Oh, how he missed Jane.

It made discomfort bubble in his gut.

When the women disappeared, Ryland took himself down the corridor to the library and uncapped the decanter of brandy, pouring himself a generous helping. He tipped back the glass, letting the warmth burn down his throat. Oliver let himself into the room.

Ryland lifted the glass. "Drink?"

"A small one," Oliver said, crossing the room and lowering himself onto a burgundy wingback chair near the low-burning fire. "It's been a long week."

"I thought you were in Bath."

"Brighton."

His brow furrowed. "In September?"

"The weather started out promising, but my grandmother received more sea air than she bargained for." He accepted the glass. "Thank you."

Ryland took the seat opposite, slouching and swirling the drink. "Was it terribly windy?"

"Extraordinarily. We lost a good parasol to the sea." He leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. Being the sole companion to his crotchety old grandmother wearied him more often than not. "The travel seemed to do her constitution more harm than good."

Ryland sat up. Consolation it was. "How is your grandmother's health?"

"Deteriorating," Oliver said quietly. The word floated between them momentarily, dangling from the edge of a harrowing cliff. "I have the unpleasant feeling we will not be leaving Boone Park again."

Since Oliver had been raised by his grandmother, had never known his mother, and hardly saw his Navy captain father, it was fair to assume the impending death of his grandmother—the only active parent in his life—would be particularly grievous, however crotchety she seemed. Oliver had spent a good deal of time these last few years traveling with her to various ports and restorative towns, forever searching for a way to ease her discomfort and ailments. The family was well aware of her failing health, but Ryland had been under the assumption she was not so near death. This news surprised him. "What can I do?"

Oliver tipped back the glass and emptied it. He swallowed, looking at the fire, his eyes glowing orange as the flames danced in their reflection. He set his glass gently on the little table beside his chair. "This might be insensitive. I'm not sure how to word my question."

Ryland stiffened. He was no stranger to grief. Having lost his wife—the love of his life—a few years ago, he had clawed his way through the heavy, mucky grief. He'd learned to cope again, to continue to live . He was not accustomed to speaking of Jane openly, as it brought him pain. Generally, he did his best to enjoy his days without dwelling on her absence, but meeting Aurelia today and the way she put Jane in the forefront of his thoughts made his mind and emotions feel raw.

But Oliver wouldn't be here asking for help if he didn't trust Ryland to provide it. "You will not offend me," he promised. "Speak plainly."

"I do not know what to do," Oliver said softly. "My grandmother has taken to her bed. She is nearing the end. How will I face it?"

"The loss?"

"The future," Oliver said, running his finger around the top of his glass. He lifted the cup and set it down again, crossing his legs, then uncrossing them and sitting up. He didn't seem to know what to do with himself now , and he was generally quite self-possessed.

Ryland retrieved the brandy and filled Oliver's glass again. He stood at the chair, looking down at his friend. "You needn't worry about how you will manage the future until it is upon you." Had he known Jane would contract an illness of the lungs and die before the end of the year, he would have remained by her side through every moment in those final months. "Enjoy the time you have, or you may regret spending your focus and energy on things out of your control.''

Oliver gave a brief nod and tipped back the drink, draining it in one swallow. "True." He stared at the glass. "Thank you."

Ryland clapped him on the shoulder. "You may come to me for anything." When it came to Oliver, he meant it.

Silence wrapped over them, broken only by the popping fire. Oliver looked away from the glass. "Your governess is very pretty."

Ryland cursed under his breath and moved back to his seat. "Blonde, as well. Blue eyes, tall, slender."

Oliver grew still. "She reminds you of Jane."

"On more than one occasion during our travels today, I briefly thought Jane stood in my peripheral vision. The turmoil of my emotions gives me reason to believe I could never abide living in the same house as Miss Beswick."

"What will you do?"

Ryland looked at the fire, watching the flames lick the stone hearth and dance along the charred logs. What would he do?

He did not know.