Read Online A Gamble on Love by Blair Bancroft - Free Book Online

Chippendale chair, exchanged a
significant look with Miss Trevor. A look Aurelia ignored, as she
and Gussie had found themselves in strong disagreement that
morning, with Miss Aldershot insisting that Mr. Lanning would not
let them down, and Miss Trevor insisting he would. And, besides,
they did not have time to wait on Mr. Lanning’s pleasure. Far
better Harry Stanton than cousin Twyford.
    “ Harry,” Relia burst out, “you will
recall the matter we discussed the last time you were
here?”
    For a moment Mr. Stanton looked puzzled, then
his gaze sharpened, focusing on Miss Trevor’s anxious face. “Is it
possible you have changed your mind?” he inquired, Lady Hubert’s
inimical presence forgotten.
    “ Indeed, I—”
    “ Ah, here you are!” declared Twyford
Trevor, striding into the room with the supreme confidence of the
grandson of a marquess defending his turf from the upstart son of a
squire. “Young Stanton, is it? Haven’t seen you in years, m’boy.
How are things in the countryside? As bucolic as ever, I
trust.”
    Once again, Harry bobbed to his feet.
“Trevor,” he said with a cool nod.
    “ Oh, do sit down, man. Mustn’t stand on
ceremony with old friends, what? Must make m’father’s apologies, I
fear. Too early for him. A two bottle man, don’t y’know,” Twyford
added, tapping the side of his nose.
    Harry, still stiffly erect, said, “No doubt
it takes a while to become accustomed to country hours.”
    “ Now what may we do for you?” Mr.
Trevor inquired, settling onto the striped gold and cream settee
next to his mother, where he leaned back and stretched out his
feet, very much the picture of the master of the house.
    “ I merely stopped by to pay my respects
to Re—Miss Trevor and Miss Aldershot. Now that I know your family
is visiting, Trevor, I will make the squire aware of your
presence.”
    “ We are not visiting,” Lady Hubert
pronounced with considerable emphasis. “We are here to provide the
proper background for Aurelia as she returns to society, now that
she is out of her blacks.”
    “ You are going to live here!” Harry exclaimed in a tone his dear
mama would have deplored.
    “ Indeed.” Twyford crossed his long legs
at the ankles. And smiled at Mr. Stanton.
    “ Mr. Thomas Lanning,” Biddeford
intoned.
    Thomas was never quite sure why he had
insisted on leaving London late the previous afternoon, thus
sentencing himself to a night at a hostelry which in no way met his
standards. But, somehow, there had been such a note of urgency in
Sir Gilbert’s communication . . . almost as if the cousin the
solicitor referred to as “The Terrible Twyford” would actually
stoop to coercion. Or worse. So he had set out immediately, even
though more than a little chagrined by his urge to charge to the
lady’s rescue. It was only as his coach drove through the vast
Pevensey acres, past the pointed cones of the oast houses, past
fields of fall vegetables and orchards full of fruit, and finally
turned into the long drive toward the great house itself, that Mr.
Lanning wondered if he was off on the most egregious wild goose
chase of his life. The owner of all this could not possibly need
his help, and, even if she did, he did not belong here. This was
not his milieu, by God. No, indeed!
    And then he saw the house. And groaned. It
was too much. If he married her, the arrogant young chit was
welcome to it. No wonder Pevensey Park had as many productive arms
as an octopus. It must take them all to support the blasted house
and grounds!
    Fortunately, the butler seemed to recognize a
man of substance when he saw him, even as his slight frown
indicated he could not quite place Mr. Thomas Lanning on the
customary ladder of precedence assigned to callers. But he had
heeded Thomas’s wave to silence as they stood in the doorway,
catching the last part of the conversation in the drawing room.
    Two suitors already on the scene, Thomas
noted. Perhaps Miss Trevor needed him, after all.