Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

D aniel stood at the window, gazing out at the vast grounds of the estate, trying to focus his thoughts. Everything was muddled—like the sea on a gray day when it was impossible to distinguish the line where the water met the sky.

"Is now a good time?" Mr. Barnaby asked.

Daniel turned to his steward, who stood in the doorway, a bundle under his arms. "Now is a fine time," Daniel said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the bite out of his tone. His thoughts still lingered on the memory of Miss Eliza Montrose's crestfallen face when he'd thoughtlessly dismissed her work.

Mr. Barnaby moved to sit in front of Daniel's desk, placing his bundle on the surface. "These are all letters that have come to you over the last four years. "

Daniel looked at the mountain of them. "Have they required replies?"

Mr. Barnaby shook his head, his small wisps of hair on the top of his balding head moving ever so slightly with the motion. "They are mostly from the families …" His sentence trailed off.

Daniel nodded. "I shall read them and reply if needed." He'd gotten a few letters during the war, but nothing to this extent. This was what was important—helping the families of his soldiers. It was what gave weight and meaning to life in a very real way. Miss Montrose and her important flowers, indeed. Such a waste of time that he shouldn't still be thinking of her.

"Is there something else I can help you with before we talk more about your estate?" Mr. Barnaby asked, raising his bushy eyebrows above his spectacles.

"I am in need of a gardener," he said. "Several of them. This land has been allowed to run wild for too long." He flexed his jaw. Why should he care about such things? He didn't. It was not life or death. It was not a war on his property. It was decorative, ornamental—completely unnecessary. Hadn't he said those words to Miss Montrose? So, why did he care now after making such a show in front of his neighbor? The memory of his neighbor tending to his roses came unbidden to his mind. Her long, dark hair had hung nearly to her waist, curly and a little untamed. Daniel shook his head, wishing to dismiss the beautiful woman, but the look in Miss Montrose's bright blue eyes when he'd said the thoughtless words still lingered with him. He knew that look—pain and sorrow. He'd wounded her.

"Understood, Captain. I will see to it personally."

He looked out his window. From his study, he could just see the edges of Miss Montrose's well-manicured gardens. "Who does my neighbor employ for such a task? Perhaps they will have ideas on who to hire."

Mr. Barnaby raised an eyebrow. "Miss Montrose is very particular about her gardens. She has one groundskeeper that also helps with any other manual labor, but she tends to the gardens herself."

"That's impossible," he said. He'd seen the land from his upper window—true, it was not as vast as his own, but how could one woman do so much, with the help of only one other?

Mr. Barnaby shook his head. "The cottage was in disarray when she purchased it only a few months ago. She spends most of her time in the garden."

"It shows. She's done a meticulous job," he said, feeling worse that he'd dismissed her so easily.

"She came asking about your property only a few weeks ago," the steward said.

Daniel startled at the revelation. "She wanted to buy Blackwood Manor?" This property was not for sale. Especially not to her .

"No, no. She is content with her own purchase. She merely wondered about the property and if it would be occupied this summer. It was only a day or two before you'd decided to make preparations to come from London, so I had no way to know that you'd be here so quickly. I told her it was unlikely that it would be occupied, but that it wasn't for sale."

"Thank you for clarifying," Daniel said.

Mr. Barnaby nodded. "Of course. Then she asked if she could be granted access to make some improvements."

"What kind of improvements? I hope you told her no."

Mr. Barnaby raised an eyebrow. "I didn't see a reason to tell her no. As you've said, this property is in desperate need of care. But funds have not been allocated to such things while you've been away. She expressed her concern about some of the flower bushes and wondered if she might help them."

"And what was her reasoning for overstepping in such a way?"

Mr. Barnaby laughed. "Overstepping?"

Daniel glared. "There's a border between our properties."

"Borders are different in England than at war," Mr. Barnaby said. "I believe her true motive was so that she wouldn't see an eyesore when she looked at her own garden. She's worked hard this spring. It hasn't been easy for her."

"So you gave her permission to trespass?" He folded his arms. Such a thing would have never happened when he was at war. No one gave commands—except him .

Mr. Barnaby's mouth twitched. "I suppose I did. I apologize for the inconvenience if any was caused. Of all the pressing things to discuss with you, this one didn't seem to register in my mind. I will see that you have a proper gardener by the end of the week."

"That sounds like an excellent plan," Daniel said, feeling frustrated at himself for being so accusatory to Miss Montrose when she'd been given permission to be on his estate. How could he have been so callous? So quick to assume the worst of her intentions? Eliza's fierce spirit and passion over a few plants intrigued him. And yet it had also irritated him to no end, especially when she'd refused to be intimidated by him. Mr. Barnaby's revelation clarified some of the missing pieces from this morning.

Daniel sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. He knew what he must do. Groveling apologies did not come naturally to a man of his temperament. However, for Eliza, he would swallow his pride. He would go to her and make amends for his deplorable behavior. It was what he needed to do. Rank, duty, humility. He would take it in stride. That's what a soldier did.

"I have several other matters of business to discuss with you," Mr. Barnaby said. "There is an Assembly tonight, and—"

"No." The very idea was absurd.

"You need to begin socializing, and—"

"No."

"But I think if you consider your standing in Brighton—"

"Mr. Barnaby. I appreciate your efforts to helping me acclimatize back into Brighton Society. But I'm not here for Society. I cannot think of any inducement that would get me to change my mind on this subject. I hope that you will understand my meaning." He would not go to the Assemblies. He would not go to the theatre. He would not go to The Royal Pavilion. He'd played all those games once upon a time, and it hadn't gotten him anywhere. No. It was better to forget that entire portion of his life before the War.

"Understood, Captain. I shall not bring it up again."

"Thank you. I do not wish to socialize." The stares from his fellow soldiers when they saw his scars held admiration. The stares from Society while he was in London had held nothing but repulsion.

"Surely you do not mean all socializing?" Mr. Barnaby asked in a tentative voice.

"I do," Daniel said, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Mr. Barnaby nodded. "I see. One thing you should know is that your cousin wishes to come for a visit."

Daniel groaned. "I hope you told him no." He was not in the mood for visitors, even if he did enjoy the company of his cousin. His cousin would bring his wife and their children. He knew they'd had at least a couple while he'd been gone. But seeing them would be painful—revealing everything he could have had.

Mr. Barnaby's eyebrows rose. "I shouldn't like to upset the Earl of Devon for no reason. There's no need to go to war on the home front, is there?"

"We were both at the same place at one point in our lives," Daniel said, trying to push the painful memories that surfaced from beyond the war. "Reminders like that are painful."

Mr. Barnaby picked up a few of the letters that were stacked on top of Daniel's desk. "I imagine pain will be part of your life for a long time. But your cousin is not your enemy."

"That is true. When did you tell him I should expect him?" Daniel asked, guessing that Mr. Barnaby had already made the arrangements. He pushed aside the feeling that he was not used to taking orders. He was the one in charge. But he was no longer on the battlefield. His every command was no longer followed blindly. And perhaps that wasn't a bad thing.

"He will be here in a fortnight."

"That isn't much time."

"No, it isn't," Mr. Barnaby admitted.

"Then we have a lot of work to do before then."

It was quite late when Mr. Barnaby exited Daniel's study. Thankfully, meals had been brought to them throughout the day. Daniel was used to quick, decisive meetings, where every precious moment spent talking frivolously could cost lives. He was restless from the hours of conversation, though it was all things he needed to know.

Daniel summoned his valet and changed into evening attire. It wasn't quite the fashion for making a house call on his neighbor, but then, he wasn't sure he had a particular jacket for apologizing in. Though it was faster to cut through their properties, he decided to take the long way around. The extended walk down his drive gave him time to rehearse what he would say to Miss Montrose at least a dozen times. He wanted to make sure that his apology was sincere.

A nervous energy filled the pit of his stomach, reminding him of his first day on the battlefield. He raised his hand to knock on the door, but it swung open before he could, revealing a housekeeper.

She jumped back. "I wasn't expecting anyone," she said.

Daniel knew that the scars on his face and neck were frightening. He was grateful that a cravat hid most of the ugliness from sight. He smiled at the housekeeper, not taking offense at the look on her face. "I am here to see Miss Montrose."

"I'm sorry, sir. She is not at home. "

Daniel knew he needed to talk to Miss Montrose this evening. It couldn't wait. "I don't suppose you could tell me where she is." Perhaps she was out in her garden, or perhaps only gone for a walk.

She eyed him warily. "I do not give out personal information to strangers."

"I'm her neighbor, Captain Daniel Blackwood. I arrived yesterday, and I should very much like to tell her something. I don't want to wait until tomorrow if it can be helped.

The woman's features softened. "It's nice to meet you, Captain," she said, falling into a curtsy.

"So I can see her?"

"She is not here, Captain Blackwood. I was not deceiving you. She has gone to the Assembly with Lady Margaret, not a quarter of an hour ago. I believe she and Lady Margaret intend to meet with some friends there."

Daniel suppressed what was running through his head when the housekeeper gave him the information. "Thank you very much for the information."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" the woman asked, her voice kind.

"In case I do not see her tonight, would you please inform her that I called?"

The woman nodded. "Of course, Captain. Good day."

Daniel turned back down the drive. It seemed if he wanted to speak with Eliza tonight, he would have to brave the dreaded Assembly after all .

Daniel set his jaw in determination. Purposefully attending a bustling social scene like that of the Assembly Hall filled him with dread, but the thought of setting things right with Eliza overpowered his reluctance. Squaring his shoulders, he hurried back to his estate, ordering the carriage to be readied to take him into the center of town. If facing Society was what it took to make things right, so be it.