Page 97 of An Inconvenient Vow

If he returned to Ganford Chase this eve, to confer with Sir Charles about this new development, he would avoid this disaster. Then tomorrow he could devote to riding to Flyford Parvell and seeking out this confederate of Hendry’s. After that, he would have breathing space to consider anew what next should be done. Did they not say, after all, that absence made the heart grow fonder? Mayhap if he absented himself, then this wife of his would realize his love was not to be despised after all. It was worth a shot in any case.

20

Sabina had finally relaxed when the Duke of Bethencourt departed, for all he had been so affable a guest. Then her relief had quickly turned to ire when she realized that Jeffree had left with the others.

“He definitely left?” she echoed as Penny nodded. Well! Sabina plunked her hands on her hips. What a hypocrite! She had seen how he had bridled when he realized she had not been sleeping in his ridiculously large bed. If he had no intention of using it either, then pray, what cause did he have to be so put out about it?

Sabina had pursed her lips and started up the stairs when the sound of more cartwheels in the courtyard had sent her wheeling about and rushing back down them again. Her disappointment on realizing it was her family and not her recalcitrant husband had been palpable.

“I’ll fetch more of those Bethencourt tarts,” Penny had said, hurrying back toward the kitchen as Sabina had composed herself to receive a second lot of visitors.

Luckily, her mother was voluble enough to make up for Sabina’s lack of spirits. Thora Burrell hurried from room to room exclaiming over the new furnishings with delight and excitement. “Such excellent material,” she said feeling the fabric of a wall-hanging between her fingers. “And there’s still a good deal of wear left to it. How good of His Grace to let you have it and what a shame we only just missed him!” She sighed gustily and sent a meaningful look at Isemay. “I daresay he is still quite cast down by your sister’s refusal.”

Sabina glanced at Isemay who was unusually quiet. “The duke seemed in excellent spirits,” she said repressively. Isemay flashed her a grateful smile, but their mother could not let this stand.

“Nonsense! He must be broken-hearted, poor man! And so generous always. You know,” she lowered her voice conspiratorially, “he did not demand the return of the monies he paid over to your father before the wedding day, though he would have been quite within his rights to do so. I do not say that your father was not expecting more assistance in that quarter, but it stands to reason. It is such a relief now that your own husband has stepped into the breach. We are apparently out of harm’s way.”

“My own husband?” Sabina echoed, lowering her strawberry tart.

Thora Burrell tipped her head to one side. “I will own, he does not have that easiness of manner to immediately draw one in. In truth, he can seem a little… aloof at times, but I assure you he has been kindness itself to your father.”

Sabina blinked. “He has?”

“Yes, indeed.” Her mother colored faintly. “But do not press me for more details for that is men’s business and not for us to know about.

“Men’s business?” Sabina echoed. “What are you speaking of?”

“Well, if you must know,” her mother said, avoiding her eye and drifting about the room picking up a carved wooden box to examine it, “I refer to money matters.”

Not one word more could Sabina extract from her mother about it, but when her father finally came in from the stable, she was a little more successful. She waited until her mother and sister were on the far side of the room examining some finely wrought silver candlesticks Jeffree had brought over from Ganford Chase, before broaching the subject.

Wilfred Burrell wiped the foam from his ale that had caught in his moustache and lowered his voice. “I will admit,” he confided in a quiet voice that did not reach his wife. “It is not such a blow to lose Bethencourt’s support now I have your husband’s. He has been most generous, though.” He mopped his brow. “I do not think he will be the disinterested benefactor his uncle would have been.”

“What makes you say that?” Sabina asked, still reeling from the news that Jeffree was her family’s benefactor at all.

Her father winced. “He expects to be kept fully updated and supplied with rationales for how I spend the money when it comes to the farm and the planting.”

Instead of wondering aloud if Jeffree knew much of such things, Sabina held her tongue. She supposed he could always confer with Bethencourt’s steward and estate managers. Besides, Father had shown himself to throw good money after bad in the past. Likely it would not do him any harm to be held accountable now for his decisions.

“Sir Jeffree has pledged the money to hire workers for this autumn’s harvest,” her father added, stroking his fluffy whiskers. “A great relief as Samuel could not have managed it alone, poor fellow, and I knew not where to look for the money once your sister made it plain she would no longer accept Bethencourt’s suit.”

Sabina shot another look at Isemay who stood so meekly by their mother’s side. “Isemay seems a little distracted. Is she quite well?”

Wilfred Burrell looked surprised by her words. “It is only natural her change in circumstances should make her grave. If you had not stepped in to save her…” He let his words trail off and cleared his throat. “She is aware of the risk you ran, daughter. The jeopardy in which you placed your own skin, and naturally, this weighs down on her. On all of us, save your mother who remains in perfect ignorance on the matter.”

Sabina nodded. Her mother had accepted things on face value however unlikely a clandestine relationship between herself and Sir Jeffree should appear to anyone who knew her.

“You have not lived to—er—rue the day as it were,” her father continued uncomfortably, only able to meet her eyes for the briefest of moments. “He does not make you an unkind husband, I hope.”

“No,” Sabina answered at once, lifting her chin. “Indeed, he…” She hesitated. “He tells me that he loves me.” She did know why she said it, and the note of wonder in her own voice was clear, for she spoke out far louder than she had intended.

“Of course, he loves you!” her mother said, looking up sharply. “A proud man like Sir Jeffree would never have gone to such lengths as to climb through your window if ‘twas not so. Why my own sister, your Aunt Mabel, said ‘twas plain to see that Sir Jeffree admired you greatly when she took you to the Bishop’s Palace last year.”

Sabina lifted an incredulous brow, but before she could argue, her mother rattled on. “Doubtless, that was where you caught his fancy; we are both convinced of it, but there, you will not confide in your poor mother!” Thora Burrell sighed and shook her head. “I declare I have no notion why my daughters are so hard on their wooers. Was I not generosity itself when you courted me, Wilfred?” she demanded of her spouse.

Their father made some reply and Sabina waited for her heated cheeks to cool as she realized she should have expected her mother and aunt to gossip. Indeed, it was quite natural they should have put their heads together and spun their own yarn about how she and Jeffree’s liaison had started. Aunt Mabel had an imagination almost as vivid as her sister. Sabina almost laughed aloud at the notion Jeffree had been struck with her on that occasion, for he had nary given her a glance and did not even remember it!

Something was definitely amiss with Isemay though, she reflected, for by rights, such a subject would have had her fanciful sister instantly clamoring for more information. Instead, Isemay merely nodded and smiled, her eyes glazed and absent. What was going on with her? Sabina wondered uneasily. It was not like her.