take long.’
‘I am flattered that you should trust me with your precious horses,’ Beth chuckled.
‘More to the point,’ he responded with a grin, ‘I am trusting my horses with my precious wife.’
They both laughed, though Beth was blushing, too.
Jon climbed down. ‘Go with her ladyship, Sam. She is going to drive around the lanes for a short while.’ He watched until the curricle was out of sight before marching up the path and knocking on the cottage door.
‘Lord Portbury!’ Miss Mountjoy gasped as she opened the door.
‘May I come in, ma’am?’
‘I-’ She stood back and dropped a polite curtsy. ‘Very well. It is, after all, your house.’
Jon ignored that and walked into the neat parlour. ‘Miss Mountjoy, I have come to enquire about your future plans.’
She drew herself up very straight. ‘Our meeting at the Abbey was to be our last, you said. Or have I misremembered?’
‘Forgive me, Miss Mountjoy, I should much prefer it if we did not repeat the substance of that last interview. Harsh words were spoken, on both sides. And on both sides they are better forgotten.’
She frowned, puzzled.
‘Miss Mountjoy, much has happened since our last meeting. I have come to realise, and to regret, the cruel way I treated you then. I do still think that you should leave King’s Portbury-partly for my family’s sake, but for your own sake also, since there must be many unhappy memories here for you. I cannot comprehend your feelings for Alicia, nor hers for you, but I do understand-now-that they were sincerely felt. I know that love is a gift, wherever it strikes. I should like to change the terms of our agreement.’
A slight shudder ran through her frame. She was afraid.
‘For the better, Miss Mountjoy.’ He drew out a sealed document and offered it to her. ‘This is the lease on a cottage by the sea. It is on the south coast, a long way from King’s Portbury, but it is a delightful house. If you wish, you may have it for the rest of your life for a peppercorn rent. I ask for nothing else. I am certain that you will respect Alicia’s memory and keep her counsel, for I know the bond between you was very strong. I do not suppose that death can break it.’
‘There are no other conditions?’ she whispered, in disbelief.
‘None.’ He set the lease down on the table.
‘Lord Portbury, this is more than I deserve after what I tried to do to you. In return, I…I should warn you to beware of your brother. He…it was he who encouraged me to poison your wife’s reputation. He hoped that you and she would part. That there would be no heir. I am sorry.’ She hung her head.
Jon took a deep breath. George had been the cause of all this? His brother? Jon knew he had every right to have George thrown into the gutter for such wickedness. But he knew, too, that he could not do such a thing. Not any more. He would threaten George with penury, and make sure he believed it, too, but that would be all. ‘Thank you, Miss Mountjoy.’ She looked up, surprised by his tone. He smiled at her. ‘I wish you a long and contented life in your new home. Let everything else that has passed between us be forgotten.’
She did not speak but her face cleared. As she picked up the lease that guaranteed her future, Jon fancied that her eyes were shining. There was nothing more to be done now. He bowed.
She sank into a deep curtsy.
‘I will show myself out. Goodbye, ma’am.’ Jon closed the parlour door gently and made his way out into the fresh, crisp air of the winter morning. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders by an unseen hand. Alicia was gone. And all the heartache that had been part of his first marriage was gone, too, washed away by Beth’s love and the generosity she showed to everyone around her. Jon would never have a fraction of his wife’s goodness, but he would try to learn from her example. Today’s gift to Miss Mountjoy had been his first small step on that hard road. Dealing with George would be the second.
He walked through the cottage gate to see his curricle approaching at a fast trot. He held up his hand, waiting to judge how well Beth was handling the ribbons. She halted her pair very successfully, but not before they had gone a good thirty yards beyond him. He marched down the lane until he stood at the side of the curricle, arms akimbo, and shaking his head. ‘Dear, dear. Is that the best you can do, Lady Portbury?’ He climbed up beside her and held out his hands for the reins.
She ignored him, smiling wickedly. ‘You were clearly much in need of the exercise, sir. As to what I can do…’ She rearranged the reins in her gloved fingers and tightened her grip on the whip. Then she grinned. ‘Watch!’
Seconds later, the Countess of Portbury was springing her horses with such vigour that her husband was thrown back in his seat and robbed of the power of speech.
His laughter was echoing round the lane as the curricle disappeared from sight.
Joanna Maitland
