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Authors: Mary Balogh
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the air out of it.
“My lord? Mr. Bowen?” Margaret said with admirable composure as she indicated the two chairs that flanked the fireplace. “Won’t you have a seat? Will you bring a tray of tea, please, Mrs. Thrush?”
They all seated themselves as Mrs. Thrush, looking decidedly relieved at being dismissed, whisked herself out of sight.
Mr. Bowen complimented them on the picturesque appearance of the cottage. He guessed that the garden was a picture of color and beauty during the summer. He commended the village on the success of last evening’s assembly. He had spent a decidedly agreeable evening, he assured them.
Viscount Lyngate spoke again after the tray had been brought in and the tea poured.
“I am the bearer of news that concerns all of you,” he said. “I am afraid it is my sad duty to inform you all of the recent demise of the Earl of Merton.”
They all stared at him for a moment.
“That is sad news indeed,” Margaret said, breaking the silence, “and I am much obliged to you for bringing it in person, my lord. I believe we do have a connection with the earl’s family, though we have never had any communication with them. Our father discouraged any talk of them. Nessie may be better acquainted with the exact relationship.” She looked inquiringly at her sister.
Vanessa had spent a great deal of time with her paternal grandparents as a child and had always listened enthralled to their endless stories of their younger years while Margaret had been less interested.
“Our grandfather was a younger son of the Earl of Merton,” she said. “He was cut off from the family when they objected to his wild ways and his choice of our grandmother as his bride. He never saw them again. He used to tell me that our papa was first cousin to the current earl. Is it he who has just died, my lord? That would make us his first cousins once removed.”
“I say,” Stephen said, “that really is quite a close relationship. I had no idea, though I knew there was some connection. We are indeed obliged to you, my lord, for coming. Did the new earl ask you to find us? Is there some question of a family reconciliation?” He had brightened considerably.
“I am not sure I would want one,” Katherine said with some feeling, “if they all turned their backs on Grandpapa because he married Grandmama. We would not even exist if he had not.”
“I shall nevertheless write a letter of condolence to the new earl and his family,” Margaret said. “It is the civil thing to do. Would you not agree, Nessie? Perhaps you would take it with you when you go, my lord.”
“The earl who recently died was a mere boy of sixteen,” Viscount Lyngate explained. “He survived his father by only three years. I was his guardian and the executor of his estates after the demise of my own father last year. Unfortunately the boy was always in precarious health and was never expected to live to adulthood.”
“Ah, poor boy,” Vanessa murmured.
His keen, unsettlingly blue eyes rested on her for a moment and she leaned farther back in her chair.
“The young earl had no son, of course,” he said, turning back to Stephen, “and no brothers who could succeed him. No uncles either. The search for his successor moved back to his grandfather and his brother—your grandfather—and his descendants.”
“Oh, I say,” Stephen said as Vanessa pressed even farther back into her chair and Katherine’s hands came up to cover her cheeks.
Grandpapa had had only the one son—their father.
“It alit upon you, in fact,” Viscount Lyngate said. “I have come here to inform you, Huxtable, that you are now the Earl of Merton and owner of Warren Hall in Hampshire among other properties, all of them prosperous, I am happy to report. My felicitations.”
Stephen merely stared at him. His face had turned a pasty white.
“An earl ?” Katherine whispered. “Stephen?”
Vanessa gripped the arms of her
“My lord? Mr. Bowen?” Margaret said with admirable composure as she indicated the two chairs that flanked the fireplace. “Won’t you have a seat? Will you bring a tray of tea, please, Mrs. Thrush?”
They all seated themselves as Mrs. Thrush, looking decidedly relieved at being dismissed, whisked herself out of sight.
Mr. Bowen complimented them on the picturesque appearance of the cottage. He guessed that the garden was a picture of color and beauty during the summer. He commended the village on the success of last evening’s assembly. He had spent a decidedly agreeable evening, he assured them.
Viscount Lyngate spoke again after the tray had been brought in and the tea poured.
“I am the bearer of news that concerns all of you,” he said. “I am afraid it is my sad duty to inform you all of the recent demise of the Earl of Merton.”
They all stared at him for a moment.
“That is sad news indeed,” Margaret said, breaking the silence, “and I am much obliged to you for bringing it in person, my lord. I believe we do have a connection with the earl’s family, though we have never had any communication with them. Our father discouraged any talk of them. Nessie may be better acquainted with the exact relationship.” She looked inquiringly at her sister.
Vanessa had spent a great deal of time with her paternal grandparents as a child and had always listened enthralled to their endless stories of their younger years while Margaret had been less interested.
“Our grandfather was a younger son of the Earl of Merton,” she said. “He was cut off from the family when they objected to his wild ways and his choice of our grandmother as his bride. He never saw them again. He used to tell me that our papa was first cousin to the current earl. Is it he who has just died, my lord? That would make us his first cousins once removed.”
“I say,” Stephen said, “that really is quite a close relationship. I had no idea, though I knew there was some connection. We are indeed obliged to you, my lord, for coming. Did the new earl ask you to find us? Is there some question of a family reconciliation?” He had brightened considerably.
“I am not sure I would want one,” Katherine said with some feeling, “if they all turned their backs on Grandpapa because he married Grandmama. We would not even exist if he had not.”
“I shall nevertheless write a letter of condolence to the new earl and his family,” Margaret said. “It is the civil thing to do. Would you not agree, Nessie? Perhaps you would take it with you when you go, my lord.”
“The earl who recently died was a mere boy of sixteen,” Viscount Lyngate explained. “He survived his father by only three years. I was his guardian and the executor of his estates after the demise of my own father last year. Unfortunately the boy was always in precarious health and was never expected to live to adulthood.”
“Ah, poor boy,” Vanessa murmured.
His keen, unsettlingly blue eyes rested on her for a moment and she leaned farther back in her chair.
“The young earl had no son, of course,” he said, turning back to Stephen, “and no brothers who could succeed him. No uncles either. The search for his successor moved back to his grandfather and his brother—your grandfather—and his descendants.”
“Oh, I say,” Stephen said as Vanessa pressed even farther back into her chair and Katherine’s hands came up to cover her cheeks.
Grandpapa had had only the one son—their father.
“It alit upon you, in fact,” Viscount Lyngate said. “I have come here to inform you, Huxtable, that you are now the Earl of Merton and owner of Warren Hall in Hampshire among other properties, all of them prosperous, I am happy to report. My felicitations.”
Stephen merely stared at him. His face had turned a pasty white.
“An earl ?” Katherine whispered. “Stephen?”
Vanessa gripped the arms of her
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