Chapter Five

A t Verwood at four, a stable boy came running to take Raven's horse while William the footman led Raven through a courtyard on the west side of the house. A wide vista of lawn and gardens opened up, and Raven imagined strolling the grounds with Amabel on his arm. Somewhere in this garden he would find a place to ask for her hand in marriage. He simply needed to secure the lease to bring his plan to completion. William pointed to a path, and Raven set out.

This afternoon was some kind of test. He believed he was ready for objections to his birth and background, objections he understood all too well. Her Grace had a value for rank, for keeping property in the hands of those who inherited it, not those who currently moved the nation forward by their energy and exertion.

The path skirted a line of trees and looked out over a sunken Italianate garden of clipped hedges and tall blooms. Beyond the garden with its central fountain, the ladies, in bonnets and pale gowns, sat in wicker chairs around a linen-draped table laid out for tea. A breeze ruffled the edges of the tablecloth and scattered drops from the fountain. The splash of water and drone of bees mingled with female voices.

He was conscious of their scrutiny as he approached. The duchess, with her rigid posture, had rallied her troops for battle. They might not wear the red jackets of Wellington's army, but they were as close a rank as any square of infantry that faced Napoleon. In their finery, dove gray for the duchess, lavender for the aunt, and that eggshell blue for Lady Cassandra, the ladies made a pastoral portrait of ease and elegance. He reminded himself that gardens where ladies' hat ribbons could flutter in a gentle breeze existed because men of vision and energy once shaped England as his generation would shape it now. He slowed his pace. The duchess had chosen her ground well.

At the tea table Raven bowed. "Good afternoon, ma'am, Miss Honoria, Lady Cassandra."

The duchess waved him into a chair next to Lady Cassandra and across from Honoria. "Where did you get such airs and pretty ways? They won't get you your lease, young man."

"Grandmama," Lady Cassandra chided.

"I hope," said Raven, taking a seat, "that plain dealing will bring us to terms."

"Tea, Sir Adrian?" asked Honoria. She began to pour.

"Not tea, Honoria," said the duchess. "Wine."

"Oh dear," said Honoria, rattling the teacup, "we did say we would serve wine, didn't we? Wine, Sir Adrian?"

"Tea suits me." Raven smiled at Honoria and took the cup from her trembling hand.

"Cream?" asked Lady Cassandra.

Raven turned and accepted her steady pour. It was plain that she was a calming influence on her companions. He swallowed some tea and put the cup aside. He would fire the first salvo in the battle. "Actually, your grace," he said to the duchess, "I am willing to lease Verwood only if I may be permitted to make some improvements."

"Improvements?" The duchess scoffed. "That's hardly your business, young man."

"I believe, ma'am, that you've made improvements to the stables. I will bring the hall up to your standards."

"Who are you to speak of the standards of a noble hall like Verwood?"

Raven met her fierce gaze. "A man who knows what damp and dry rot, crumbling mortar and failing glazing can do."

"You get ahead of yourself. What are your intentions for the hall? I suppose you mean to play the grand host. I must tell you that Verwood has welcomed royal visitors."

"Has it? As I understand it, the most frequent visitor to Verwood is Dick Crockett, a humble blacksmith's son."

"Dick is a man who knows his place. I won't have some upstart mushroom coming and going from my stables at all hours."

Raven's jaw tightened at the term mushroom . It was a slight his grandfather particularly disliked. "You wish me to send notice in advance when I require a horse or a vehicle."

"I wish my horses not to be disturbed," the duchess snapped.

"Cake?" said Honoria, offering Raven a delicate plate with a large slab of golden-yellow sponge.

Raven took the offered cake. "It is difficult to introduce new horses into an established group. My dealers, Kydd Brothers, have experience in these matters. They can smooth the way."

A little pause followed. On Raven's left, Lady Cassandra tried to subdue the fluttering ribbons of her bonnet.

Her grace spoke again. "I know Kydd, but we stray from the point, young man. How do you mean to comport yourself in the hall?"

"As a gentleman." Raven stuck his fork into the cake and pried off a corner piece.

"Hah! A gentleman you say! Cole is no surname of dignity. A bit of metal and ribbon pinned to your chest hardly raises you from obscurity. Who are your people?"

"My grandfather, Jedediah Cole, is an alderman in London." Raven's grandfather took great pride in being a city man, active in London affairs. He had an open contempt for aristocratic layabouts who spent their days in clubs gaming away fortunes acquired by their ancestors. Raven had yet to tell the old man about Lady Amabel. But once he made something of Verwood, it would be the perfect setting to introduce his love to his grandfather.

"An alderman, is he? Then I'm sure he won't wish to quit his sphere," began the duchess. "I won't have you polluting the house with… brash London types. Who are your mother's people?"

Next to Raven, Lady Cassandra failed to subdue her bonnet ribbons, and the bonnet tumbled to the grass. A sudden gust lifted it and sent it scudding over the lawn. A look passed between the lady and her aunt.

"Oh dear, Cassie," her aunt cried, "your bonnet is heading for the water."

Raven almost laughed. The ploy was hardly subtle. He wasn't sure whether the lady wished to protect him from the duchess's insults or to stop him from making a rash reply.

Lady Cassandra tried to rise from her chair. Raven put a hand over hers. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "I believe that's my cue." In a louder voice, he said, "Let me." He rose and strode across the lawn. A fitful gust lifted the straw hat and sent it over the low lip of the sunken fountain into the water. He looked for a stick or a rake, something with which to snag the floating bonnet before it went under.

Lady Cassandra appeared beside him. She handed him a thin pole. "A stake from the foxgloves. I don't expect you to sacrifice your boots for a very old bonnet."

He took the pole and braced himself, leaning out over the water to catch the bonnet. Cold spray hit his face. He blinked, steadied his grip and slid the tip of the stake under the crown of the bonnet. With a quick tilt of the stake, he secured the hat and drew it to the fountain's edge.

Lady Cassandra knelt and took hold of one of the drowned ribbons, pulling the hat from the water. She started to rise, but her leg buckled under her, pitching her forward. She gripped the stone edge of the fountain. Raven caught her elbow, and helped her to her feet.

"Thank you," she said. "For saving my hat."

"Was it necessary to risk it? Are you afraid your grandmother's insults will drive me off?"

She raised a brow. The breeze molded her gown to her figure and whipped strands of dark hair across her cheeks. "Hardly, though you seem to have a knack for drawing her fire. I just prefer that no actual blood be shed."

He laughed. "What do you advise then?"

She took a deep breath. "Tell her that she may revoke the lease at any time if you violate its terms."

Raven sobered. It wasn't a game he played. His plans depended upon securing Verwood, and he would not be driven off by a woman who insisted on the ancient privileges of her birth. "That would be most inconvenient."

"She won't do it. She won't pay the least attention to the hall once… you're in residence. She simply wants to… hold onto a certain sort of power in her world."

If Lady Cassandra wanted him to sympathize with her domineering grandmother, she would be disappointed. "The power of rank? If I invite my grandfather to pollute the hall, will that violate her terms?"

"I hope you will invite him. The terms can be… managed. Try not to be stiff-necked about it."

"You think I'm stiff-necked!" He glanced over at the dowager duchess.

She laughed, and her eyes brightened. "Exactly. And do try the sponge."

He offered his arm, and this time she took it. They returned to the tea table. The duchess was standing. Honoria was stabbing a large piece of sponge with a tiny fork.

"What have you two been talking about?"

"Lady Cassandra has pointed out some terms that may make the lease more acceptable to you, ma'am."

"Has she?" The duchess shot a sharp glance at her granddaughter. "Don't imagine, young man, that I don't know my way around a covenant. You will occupy Verwood by permission and under such terms as I approve."

Raven's jaw was tight, but the dowager's pride wouldn't matter next to Amabel's delight. "I would not have it otherwise."

"Very well. Have your man make the additions to the agreement."

"Once Trimley has modified the covenant, and once you've had a chance to read it over and sign—"

The duchess waved away his words. "Just remember, young man, that Verwood will never make you a gentleman. And you must get Cassie's approval for any renovations. I want that in the covenant."

"Grandmama, are you sure?"

The duchess turned back. "Of course, I'm sure. I'll be off now. You've kept me from my horses long enough." She turned to Honoria. "And you have had quite enough cake, Honoria. Come with me. "

Honoria dropped her fork and rose to follow the duchess.

When the other two were out of earshot, Lady Cassandra turned to Raven. The breeze still tugged at her skirts and blew her dark hair about. "Satisfied?"

"Impatient."

Her gaze flashed up to his. "When do you expect to occupy the hall?"

"First, you want to be settled in the dower house. I can have people begin work on it by Tuesday next."

"And the papers?"

"Will tomorrow suit?"

"So soon?"

"You need funds, don't you?"

She nodded, her eyes searching his. He supposed his impatience made no sense. Maybe she'd never been in love. He looked out over the garden, already seeing Amabel there.

"Tomorrow then." He bowed and offered his arm.

"You needn't, you know. We're not… friends."

"Perhaps, but I won't be browbeaten out of gentlemanly behavior by your grandmother."

She turned to the table and wrapped a piece of cake in a bit of linen. "Have some cake then, a first taste of Verwood."