Chapter Twelve

NICOLE ACTUALLY SLEPT in the next morning, the sun already shining by the time she opened her eyes. She'd not been able to find rest for quite some time last night, playing over and over in her mind the events of the day. But for all the time spent mulling over her present circumstances, as it regarded Trevor's visitation to Lesser House, she was no further ahead in knowing exactly what was happening or why.

She would today make a fuss to Mrs. Abercorn over the fine dinner she'd presented last evening, though truth be told, Nicole could recall little of it. She would commend Charlie and Henry on their upstanding occupation, for she had after some time forgotten about their presence, which was a true testament to their successful employment. She wouldn't exactly say that she had much enjoyed the evening spent with her husband, this being near impossible with so much unanswered and unknown between them, and with her being so constantly wary of the intent of each word he spoke, but it had proved so much less awful than she'd imagined.

At the end of the evening, Trevor had only said goodnight to her at the bottom of the stairs. She'd insisted to herself then, and several more times while she'd lain awake, that it was relief she felt, having staunchly struck down the disappointment she felt that he'd not even attempted to steal a kiss of any kind.

She pulled back the bed covers to rise just now when the door opened, and Lorelei peeked her head in. "Oh, very good, you're awake, my lady." And she entered the bedroom fully then and placed the ewer and basin on the low cupboard. "We'll get you dressed for breakfast."

Nicole's initial reaction was to balk at this, and remind the maid that she'd been successfully dressing herself since coming to the abbey, but Lorelei's cheerful dancing around the room, humming as she swung open the wardrobe doors, precluded this, and the maid's next words had Nicole feeling a bit guilty for having denied Lorelei her desired purpose over the past year.

"Oh, my lady, it's all I've ever dreamed of doing, since I was little, being the attendant to a kind lady in a great house. I didn't want to force myself on you, but I'm ever so grateful his lordship has come and set this to rights."

With as much grace as she could muster now, indeed feeling particularly chastised, Nicole rose and allowed Lorelei to attend her.

Half an hour later, Nicole entered the rarely used morning room, as Lorelei had told her breakfast would henceforth be served here. She found her husband already helping himself at the sideboard, piling bacon and eggs and breads and cheeses onto his plate. He turned as she entered and bid her a good morning with a generous smile and a glance that raked her head to toe and brightened her cheeks.

Nicole smiled stiffly, one hand worrying the collar of her gown as she approached the round table, curiously set for three. She said good morning to Franklin, who nodded with a fond smile and met her at the table, just in time to pull out her chair. "I'll bring your chocolate, my lady."

She was really starting to believe if she heard one more ‘my lady' she might scream.

"Good morning, my lord, my lady," said Ian as he walked into the room.

God's wounds! Ian, too?

"Mr. Wendell," Trevor said in greeting, just now regaining his chair, his plate full.

Nicole sat mute, watching as Ian then sat at the third place setting and helped himself to the coffee pot in the center of the table while Trevor announced matter-of-factly, his eyes on Nicole, "I thought it a good idea to start our day with all the business of the abbey. Later, Mr. Wendell will give a tour that I might reacquaint myself with the entire property."

Nicole's eyes met Ian's, saw just the flicker of unease—or was that guilt for this defection? —before he steeled his expression in such a way that Nicole read into it, this is the right way to proceed.

She schooled her own features, and her mind as well, into acceptance. She wasn't so petty as to eschew the needs and administration of the abbey for the sake of her own satisfaction, or rather for any desire to thwart her own husband that he might then depart. She rose and attended her own plate at the sideboard, choosing only a bit of eggs and some pastry. "Where shall we begin?" she asked.

Trevor answered as Nicole regained her seat and Franklin just then set down a delicate cup and saucer, the chocolate steaming. "You both, having spent more time here in the past year than I have in my entire life, would have a fair idea about how things go along." He sipped from his own cup and then tapped the stack of books he'd brought to the table. "It occurs to me that with all the information I've been handed since my father died, never have I ever been shown anything, not one piece of information or paperwork, about Hyndman Abbey. So, let's start at the beginning."

Ian sighed and considered this, where to start. "The abbey is just over six thousand acres, with the manor house and parkland residing on fifty-five of these. The village, Hornfield, only stretches about two square miles, being, as you know, directly adjacent to the edge of the parkland. There are 26 tenant farmers leasing 100-acre plots and 33 farmers leasing 50 acre plots. There is a 500-acre woodland—give or take—which serves well for hunting. Now, inside the village, there are 27 buildings and 17 residences, with a total of seven being vacant."

Nicole found her seat again and set her plate down before her. "But that doesn't include Mr. Newson's horse-trading plot, several acres at the north end of Hornfield. He doesn't exactly lease it but gives a percentage of his income four times a year, when he holds the auctions. And then there's gypsum mine, though that has been shuttered for at least a decade, we are told."

"The mine was shuttered?" Trevor asked. "Was it tapped?"

Ian and Nicole shook their heads. Ian said, "The consensus around here is that the mine—like the sawmill and the brewery—have only fallen away due to disregard."

Nicole explained, "When the estate began to neglect necessary repairs and upkeep, the mine was forced to shut down and the workers moved on or away. When the small lake near the sawmill dried up, there was no water to power the mill and that, too, was abandoned."

"Hmmm. Even Wentworth Manor, which is three times the size of the abbey, hasn't a mill or mine," Trevor mused.

Nicole added, "The records show that in 1800, there was more than twice the number of tenant farms and the estate, as a whole, consisted of over 500 persons. Presently, there are less than 300 people who live within the boundaries."

"And what income does the estate provide now, at these numbers?"

Ian flipped through the pages of his ledger. "Last year, the abbey grossed almost a thousand pounds." He pushed the book over to Trevor. "But you can see the expenses, for the house and staff, and what few repairs and maintenance we allowed, puts only about 700 pounds into the Leven coffers."

"Putting aside any costs related to opening the mill again and the mine—I imagine those would involve larger expenditures—what other monies need to be spent now to upgrade all the existing farms and tenancies?"

Nicole said, "We are re-thatching the cottage roofs, but that is less money out—it requires that we withhold wheat that might go to market, but then we have to accept a proportionate rate for a tenant's lease as we've taken away some of his farmed profit. A huge expense would be the drainage around the farmlands, this hasn't been addressed in any local's recent memory."

"We've had some surveyors out here earlier this year," Ian chimed in, "and they concluded that the enclosure—that stone wall along the north ridge which was built in 1797—interrupted the natural drainage. But then, it's not so simple as demolishing the wall now, as nature has learned a new course."

"But as nothing is impossible, I am guessing it is only a matter of the availability of funds to see the job done properly," Trevor concluded.

Ian shrugged, allowing that this might well be true.

"What else needs immediate attention?" Trevor wanted to know.

"The church," Nicole answered.

Ian concurred. "The building needs extensive repair and hasn't seen a rector in many years."

"We've contracted with Mr. Adams' minister that he comes once a week just to give a mass, but there is none to administer to the spiritual needs of the abbey as a whole and the church and the parsonage rather sit empty. We had advertised to fill the position, but to no avail."

Nicole could see her husband's mind churning and imagined that he only wondered how his father before him could have neglected this estate so shamefully, and so unwisely—if it had been managed properly, it would be a very profitable entity.

Nicole left the morning room a while later, unsure of the earl's sudden interest in Lesser House and unwilling as of yet to assign any emotion to it, neither suspicion nor enthusiasm. Truth be known, she also wasn't sure if Trevor and Ian's seeming agreeableness boded well or ill for her.

She shook her head and headed to the kitchens, giving brief life to the thought that she liked her life so much better only one week ago.

And when she entered the library only a few minutes after three in the afternoon and found her husband at the desk from which he'd read the newspaper yesterday, Nicole thought she might very well prefer to spend more time in her chambers. But she cast her eyes about the room, finding Franklin and Abby in their usual chairs by the hearth and Ian at the long table where he liked to spread out his books and papers. Lorelei sat near the tea table, and promptly poured a cup for Nicole as she slowly stepped into the room. Charlie and Henry were upon the settee once again, though she thought Charlie's eyes seemed to stray from Robinson Crusoe every other second.

When Trevor realized her presence, he stood, which then had all the other men in the room doing the same, though they had never done so before. Nicole ignored them all, taking the cup from Lorelei, who had in her lap some fashion plates, though from where they'd come, Nicole could not guess. She tucked herself up in the window seat, now quite far away from Trevor at the other side of the room. Her fingers touched the book she'd left there several days ago, but she did not open it.

In a rather longsuffering tone, Lorelei said, "Might we please get on with plans for the dance, milady?"

Nicole did laugh at this, "Yes, dear Lorelei."

"What dance is this?" Trevor asked, and while his gaze fixed on Nicole, it was Lorelei who answered.

Excitedly, Lorelei said, pivoting in her chair to face the earl fully. "The countess has said we could instigate the annual Hyndman Abbey Harvest Ball." With a pretty smile, she added, "It's where my mother and father met twenty years ago, right here."

With a thoughtful frown, perhaps trying to draw forth memories, Trevor said, "I think I remember that, from when I was a boy." To Franklin, he wondered, "Why did this not continue?"

Franklin only shrugged, perhaps not wanting to share his opinion that the former Lady Leven might have been behind the cancellation of so well-received an event.

Assuming he would find some reason to refuse them, Nicole spoke up. "We can make it happen with minimal cost. Hopefully, the people of Leven will be happy for the return of the assembly and focus less on how frugal we will have to be to actually pull it off."

But Trevor surprised her by nodding, and adding, "Send up to London, to Wentworth Manor, and to the dowager's home, for extra staffing for that week. They're already being paid, so that will save you having to hire locals for all the extra work."

Lorelei clapped her hands together at this contribution—meaning that he would not gainsay their plans—while Nicole stared at him with a curious frown for his easy consent.

And then a man stood in the doorway, drawing everyone's attention as he cleared his throat and showed each and every one of them a horrified and pained expression.

"Ah, Timsby," said Trevor, rising from behind the desk. He waved the man inside the library.

Timsby, Nicole noticed, stepped carefully within the room, his narrowed eyes taking in the footmen sprawled upon the settee with books in hand, the petite Lorelei in her maid's gown and mop cap, sitting pretty with a fine cup and saucer in hand, and of course at Franklin and Abby near the hearth, the latter snoring softly.

Nicole stood, as lady of the house, to greet their guest, whomever he might be. He was about her height and slim, with a long face and not unpleasant blue eyes, she thought, if they'd but lose the look of horror.

Trevor clarified for Nicole and the others, "Timsby is my valet."

Nicole was about to bid him a cheery good day, but the man spoke first.

"I don't understand—my lord, what is happening here?"

"We are having tea, Timsby? Will you join us?" Nicole asked politely, imagining the natty man might need a few minutes to become accustomed to the earl taking tea with the servants.

Nicole hid a smile as his eyes bulged when Lorelei indicated the empty chair next to the tea table and asked him how he preferred his tea.

In a starchy tone, he advised, "I prefer my tea in the servants hall, and only when his lordship and lady have finished with theirs."

Dear Lorelei's face fell, and she glanced quickly to Nicole, but it was Trevor who said, his own tone making it very clear that dissention was not an option, "We are much less formal here in the country, Timsby. You'll get used to it."

"Indeed," said the man, adjusting his perfectly unwrinkled collar.

Trevor lifted his hand to bring his valet's eye toward Nicole. "This is my wife, her ladyship, Countess Leven."

Timsby seemed then to notice Nicole for the first time, his eyes lighting only briefly at the pretty smile she gave him. He bowed his head in a servile manner and then attended the earl once again.

Trevor tipped his head to the man and looked pointedly at Lorelei. Nicole waited and finally the man, flustered and unsure, approached Lorelei and advised, "One lump, one drop."

It was almost humorous then to see him take the chair opposite the little maid, looking around at all the other servants, as if he suspected this was only some trap laid for an unwary employee. Nicole and Ian exchanged grinning glances.

Everyone sat then, and conversation carried on, while Timsby sipped from the dainty cup and continued to cast cautious glances around the room. Nicole bit back her smirk when she saw him reach for one of Abby's soft almond cakes from the plate, and take little bites as he took it all in.

"But my lady," Lorelei said then, reverting back to what they'd been in the middle of discussing, and which was ever-present on her mind, "what will we do about the dancing? It would be dreadful to only be able to watch, just because I do not know the steps."

"Actually, I have given this some thought," Nicole said. "Luckily, as we will hire the musicians, we can control what dances will be necessary to learn. I should think we can manage to teach you at least three between now and then."

Lorelei's receipt of this news was a wonderful thing to see, her eyes glossy with delight. Until she wondered, "Who is we? Who will teach us?"

"Um, well, I can teach you," Nicole offered. "But we'll need someone to play the piano to learn the steps to the time of the music. Does anyone play?" She glanced around. Ian gave a quick shake of his head. Charlie and Henry stared blankly at her. She moved her gaze around the room, about to raise her brow at Trevor, sure he must have had some basic tutoring, when she saw Timsby just lifting his hand, though not his arm, drawing her attention.

Nicole smiled at the valet. "Do you play, Timsby?"

"Passably, my lady," he allowed, his eyes darting between Nicole and Trevor and Lorelei, still unsure, but seemingly pleased to be able to contribute.

TWO DAYS LATER, WHEN time permitted, Timsby sat down to the ancient pianoforte in the far corner of the second floor ballroom. He tapped a few keys experimentally, creating a sound that forced Lorelei to cover her ears and send him a wounded look.

Franklin commented, when his own cringe lessened, "Of course, it hasn't been used or serviced in a decade, possibly more. I daresay the smaller piece in the music room might serve us better."

Abby stood close, waving a duster casually, idly over the piano.

"But we cannot dance in the music room," Lorelei protested.

Timsby offered, "If a tuning lever were available, I could tune it reasonably well enough to see us through the lessons."

Nicole liked that he had, after his initial shock, settled right in to lesser House, as if he'd been here for years as the others. Abby had told Nicole just this morning that Timsby had been quite entertaining at the servants dinner last evening, once his early shyness had worn.

"We could likely scrounge up a wrench or a hammer, but I'm not sure about a tuning lever," Nicole said.

"Unless..." Timsby said, lifting a finger as an idea struck him. He shimmied off the stool and onto the floor, crawling actually underneath the large instrument.

Lorelei and Nicole shared matching curious frowns.

"Aha," said Timsby, while Henry had dropped to his haunches to see what had brought the proper man to his knees. Timsby scooched backwards, out from under the piano, having retrieved something that had been attached to the underside. He stood before the interested group, waving a covered wooden box at everyone. He set this on the top of the piano, and announced, "Of course, in the city, piano tuning is a fine art, and those men are amply and regularly employed, running from house to house on a monthly basis." He lifted the lid of the box, showing a set of wooden and metal tools, felt strips, and several pieces of a long tool that resembled tweezers, made to fit the hammers and other parts. "But at the country houses, it was usually up to the household staff to see to this task." He lifted a few of the tools from the box, and then faced Nicole, "Give me a half hour, my lady?"

Cheerily, Nicole nodded, thankful for Timsby's presence and quick thinking. "Perfect. While you figure that out, we can start with some basic steps."

Charlie and Henry lugged in comfortable chairs from the unused music room down the hall, so that Franklin and Abby might sit and know some ease while they watched.

"We'll start with the Scotch reel," Nicole was saying, as this was likely the easiest to teach, and might find itself well received as a country dance. She hoped. She moved to the center of the ballroom and said, "The reel is danced in set formations, usually in four sets—which is to say, four couples, but we can practice with two couples." She moved Henry and Charlie to stand, several feet apart, but seemingly in a line. "Now Lorelei, you stand across from Charlie." And Nicole took her place, next to Lorelei, across from Henry. She demonstrated first the beginning steps, moving forward with her right foot and closing with her left. She stepped forward again with her right, showing then the small hop with the same foot. "And then we repeat those same motions, starting with the left foot." She demonstrated twice more, aware of three different expressions watching her; Lorelei could barely contain the animated smile that lit her face, even as she stared so intently at Nicole's feet as they moved; Charlie certainly looked as if he'd rather be anywhere but here, though his serious gaze did also follow Nicole's moving feet; Henry's face seemed only scrunched up in confusion, as if the timing and order of the steps was lost to him already.

Half an hour later, when Timsby had made some strides with the piano, at least managing to create sounds that did not cause harm to anyone, Nicole was sure her three students had a basic grasp of the sketch of the dance. She'd shown them how the reel progressed, trying not to laugh at Henry's never-before-noticed ill grace. When the hop step was required, it was advised to swing the free foot forward in the air, toe gracefully pointed down, but Henry turned it such a way that might suggest he only required a brace to straighten out the appendage, as it appeared he was lame at that moment of the hop.

They had set up to practice for the first time with music, as Timsby had just seated himself, and waited Nicole's nod, when Ian and Trevor walked into the room.

Nicole was surprised to see the two men laughing together. This heartened her though she could not fathom why it should. Trevor would be gone soon, she hoped. What did she care if he got on well with her steward? Still, she liked it, that despite their very hostile beginning, these two men had found not only common ground, apparently, but amusements to share. She smiled at them, not really knowing that she did so, until Trevor turned his gaze onto her.

And then she forgot to breathe. While a smile still hovered about him, while his beautiful eyes were crinkled so brilliantly at the corners, he looked at her and Nicole's last words of instruction trailed off. Unaccountably, her belly twisted, and her breath caught. Truly, it was a shame that he was so damnably handsome. Her present circumstance might be so much more easy to bear if he were possessed of, say, scaly warts or a persistent rash, maybe a third eye or leg—anything at all to lessen the powerful effect his very appearance had on her.

Ian clapped his hands together when he realized what they were about. "Am I in time yet?"

"Y-you are," Nicole recovered. "But you have to wait your turn, as we haven't enough females to make for even lines."

Unperturbed, Ian stood on the sidelines, he and Trevor next to the chairs on which sat Franklin and Abby.

Nicole nodded to Timsby, and the music started.

"You and I are first, Charlie," she reminded him and set off toward him. "Join hands and advance with steps," she said, as she'd shown earlier. Charlie had surprised her, being both charming and sure in his step, even as he remained fairly tight-lipped, as if displeased to have been rather forced into this. "Oh, the girls are going to love you, Charlie," she teased as they spun and then parted, and Lorelei and Henry stepped up, taking hands and performing the same steps. "Perfect," she praised the pair. They repeated this several times, only the two sets being able to move along, then Nicole called to Timsby to pause for a moment.

Facing her husband and Ian, she decided, "Actually, you can both help us." She waved them forward, ignoring Trevor's lifted brow. "Doesn't matter that you're both male. I just want to show them the progression down the line."

The two men strode forward, happy to be of assistance. Trevor stepped into the line, standing next to Henry, while Ian took the place next to Nicole. With a broad grin, Ian said to Trevor, "Guess I'm your date for the evening, boss."

"I've had worse," Trevor said with a wry grin, and Charlie and Henry smirked at this.

Nicole shook her head at this foolishness. "All right, Timsby. From the top, if you please."

They went through it several times, and with several missteps, but Nicole was fairly pleased with their progress after only one instruction and a mere ten minutes of actual footwork thus far. Lorelei's darling face was flushed red with exertion and excitement, her giggles infectious. Perhaps seeing the earl apply himself with some seriousness to the task, Charlie lost most of his displeasure, and some of his embarrassment.

Ian teased Henry, "Lift those feet, boy! We're high-stepping here!" and he clapped in time to Timsby's play, obviously being not untutored at all, that he also proved a good model for the lads to emulate.

When Timsby ended the music with a high flourish, they dissolved into laughter, Nicole and Lorelei hugging each other with shiny eyes and cheeks, spinning around one more time, while Franklin and Abby applauded from the sidelines. Trevor ruffled Henry's short hair, telling him well done. Even Charlie smiled, looking between Nicole and Trevor with no small amount of delight for this occurrence.

Lorelei clapped her hands together. "Oh, please say you'll teach us to waltz as well," she begged of Nicole.

"I'm not sure we'll have need of a waltz at a country dance," Nicole demurred. Though it was by far her favorite dance, it was attached to Trevor with some poignant remembrance, and likely would be for all her days, having been the only dance she'd ever shared with him. It dawned on her then, sadly, that she could not recall having danced with him on their wedding day. They must not have, she decided, believing she'd not have been able to scrap that from her mind, as so much of that day was burned so horribly into her memory.

A quick glance to her husband now showed him staring at her with some unfathomable expression, and she wondered if he, too, were recalling the waltz they'd shared.

While he held her gaze, he uttered, "No reason not to include a waltz. Is it to be reserved only for the elite?" With his hands on his hips, he twisted to Timsby. "Can you assist, my good man?"

His valet nodded, with a fine smile, while Lorelei pressed her hands over her mouth in some excitement.

Trevor then approached Nicole, the gleam in his eye nothing short of appreciative, extending his hand to her. "Let's start with a demonstration, shall we?"

No, we definitely should not. Her breath caught once again. She seemed unable to lift her eyes from his chest, settling her troubled gaze onto the buttons of his shirt. The last thing she wanted—or thought prudent—was to be held in Trevor's arms again.

He waited, while Nicole toyed nervously with the scrap of lace at the top of her bodice and now considered his outstretched hand.

Oh, but this was a bad idea. With a grimace, she briefly considered those around her, Lorelei's visible excitement and Ian's encouraging nod. Franklin, sitting straighter in the chair near the wall, had lifted one brow.

Slowly, Nicole placed her hand in Trevor's and finally met his gaze, swallowing hard. Still, she could read nothing in her husband's eyes, and only belatedly, as he led her toward the center of the room, noticed the pulsating twitch in his cheek.

Timsby began to play as Trevor spun her slowly around to face him. He dropped her hand to make a bow at her, which bade Nicole offer a brief dip of a curtsy. While their eyes were locked once again, Trevor lifted his left arm and opened his hand. Nicole stepped forward, setting her hand into his, trying in vain to keep her breathing even. As soon as her fingers touched him, he shortened the distance and lifted his other arm even as Nicole did the same. His hand settled high on her back and her fingers touched the very top of his hard arm, just shy of his shoulder.

And then he moved, stepping forward into her, propelling her backward as they traced the very simple but delicate steps of the waltz. They made no sound, spoke not one word, but spun around the room, in time to Timsby's moderately timed and credibly plucked out tune. One by one, the watchers and the setting and the purpose fell away from Nicole's awareness, her gaze riveted onto Trevor's wildly magnetic stare as he deftly maneuvered her around the dance floor. So attuned was she to only him that when the slightest hint of a smile curved his gorgeous lips, she responded naturally and offered her own wispy, tremulous smile.

Heat fused into her back where his hand touched. A warmth permeated her chest and face, likely pinkening her cheeks, while a fairly wistful peacefulness settled over her. Timsby alerted them of the coming end with a bit of a crescendo, so that Trevor directed their turns back toward the watching group.

Applause followed their display, but Nicole could only manage a half-hearted smile for the praise. As they stood before the others, she pulled her hand from his, not daring to look at him now. It was unfair and unfortunate. She could so easily read promise and hope in his gaze if she but allowed herself such a luxury. She could not, though. She would not.

And when Lorelei suggested they repeat the waltz, this time with untutored partners to teach them the dance, Nicole objected, dampening the smiles around her with the insistence that the hour they'd just spent on the dancing lessons was truly all the time she could spare for today.

Intentionally ignoring Lorelei's crestfallen expression, Nicole scurried from the room then, thanking everyone for their time, determined that the next lesson needed to take place when her husband was nowhere around. She refused to subject herself to that tangled and bittersweet circumstance again. She just couldn't do it. She absolutely could not allow herself to crave his touch, or heaven forbid, fall in love with her husband again.

She found solitude in her own chambers and did not show her face again until dinner. By then, she had fortified herself with a minute-by-minute recounting of her wedding day, and precisely how unbearably cruel Trevor had been to her. It served as a fine and much needed reminder of the power he held over her, and just how much pain she would know when he left her again.