The Heir's Proposal Page 6

  “Not so far.”

  She nodded, relieved. Was she being selfish? She’d heard they weren’t always good tenants.

  “Some mansions are being used to store valuable artworks,” she said.

  “Yes. And others turned into hospitals.”

  “Would you object to any of that?”

  “No. Not if it helped save lives.”

  Their meals arrived. How she had missed Mrs. Miller’s cooking. Addie spooned up the cauliflower soup with relish as Maisy brought in plates of cold chicken and vegetables. “This soup is wonderful” she said. “Our meals are thrown together in London.”

  “I don’t dine here often, and when I do it’s humble fare, because most of the produce gets sent where it’s needed,” Bryce said. “We plan to grow twice as many crops and do our bit to contribute to the country’s agriculture to keep people fed.”

  “I’m pleased. You’ve given Mr. Bellamy one of the empty cottages?” she asked.

  “Yes, your butler was keen to retire. He’s growing his own vegetables.”

  “I missed Grace and Lionel’s wedding. Grace wrote to me to tell me after the event. It was just a Registry office affair. I’ll see them before I leave.”

  “Although he isn’t young anymore, Lionel’s knowledge is invaluable. He has taken the four new lads under his wing; teaches them skills they can use after the war. If the war doesn’t take them first,” Bryce said with a hint of bitterness. “The stables are empty except for Columbine who is valuable for transport. I put Poppy and Major out to grass in the north paddock, they’re too old to be of use. We have surrendered the carriage horses to the army. The stable hands have enlisted, but for young Josh, who’s only fifteen. Your head groom, William’s knowledge of horses will be indispensable in the cavalry. All their jobs will remain open for them when they return, should they want them. And I’ll pay an income to their wives and children.”

  Addie nodded. She expected no less from Bryce. “Country Life magazine urged those with country estates to tell their staff to enlist; grooms, chauffeurs, gardeners and gamekeepers should serve King and Country.”

  “Yes, I saw the article. ‘A man serving your table should be serving a gun.’” He rubbed his jaw. “Men from all walks of life filled with patriotic fervor line up outside the recruiting offices to take the King’s shilling. They fear the war will be over before they get there.”

  “And might it?” she asked hopefully.

  He shook his head.

  Addie nibbled one of Cook’s delicious buttered scones. “The dairy is still fully operational?”

  “It supplies the army.”

  Addie felt her taut limbs ease as Langley cast its magic over her. It was wonderful to be here, but she must not become too comfortable. She reminded herself of the important work she was doing, and how much she liked Diana’s company. If she’d stayed here after Bryce left, she’d soon be suffering inertia. She cradled her teacup in her hands. “You can’t give me even a rough idea of where they’ll send you?”

  “No. I don’t know myself, yet.”

  “Diana and I worry about the direction the war is taking. There isn’t much confidence in Asquith after he was forced into a coalition government with the Conservatives. What have you heard?”

  “Asquith is increasingly sidelined in strategic decision making. He’s outmaneuvered by Lloyd George.” Bryce raked his dark hair back with his fingers in an impatient gesture, his blue gaze fixed on the woods beyond the window. “There are reports of munitions shortages on the Western Front, and squabbles between Lord Fisher and Winston Churchill at the Admiralty.”

  “It sounds very depressing,” Addie said in a low voice.

  Bryce met her gaze. “It is. But doing your bit toward the war effort makes one feel a little better.”

  Was that a criticism? “I think the magazine is important.” She reached into her bag and took out a folded copy, handing it to him.

  He smoothed it out and bent his dark head over it, reading. Finally, he looked up. “It’s very good, Addie. Professional. I like what you and Diana have done with it.”

  She realized how tense she’d become. His opinion was important to her. “I’m considering doing more.”

  “Country house ladies are organizing clothing and food parcels for the troops and for prisoners of war. They hold knitting parties and run canteens at railway stations where troops are leaving for the front.” He raised his eyebrows. “You could become part of that as my wife, Addie.”

  It surprised her that he still wanted to marry her. But for the wrong reasons. Did he think the work she and Diana did was unimportant? Addie crumbled the last of her scone on the plate. “I need not be your wife to assist the war effort. Some women are crossing over to France with the troops. Lady Angela Forbes runs a military canteen at Boulogne, while the Duchess of Sutherland organizes an ambulance unit in Belgium. And there are many others.”

  “Brave women. But there is much you can do right here in England.”

  “Diana plans to publish soldiers’ letters, and war poetry. Men will enjoy reading them as well the articles aimed at women. Our readership is growing.”

  He nodded. “That’s good.”

  But he didn’t sound convinced. Could she do more? She didn’t want him to go away thinking badly of her. She could do more for her country.

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  After their tea, Bryce and Addie walked down to the two horses in the paddock. The pair galloped over to the fence to claim the carrots and apples Addie brought with her. Bryce leaned on the fence and watched them chew. He hoped he could keep the two old horses alive for the duration of the war.

  He and Addie wandered toward the orchard where buds had appeared on the trees, the air sweet. The extravagant spring display they’d always taken for granted made him take a deep, unsteady breath. Whatever man did to the world, nature would go on as before, producing growth and life and infinite beauty.

  They strolled beneath the trees, each with their own thoughts.

  “Friends and associates of mine have lost family members,” Bryce said, breaking the silence. “Sons and brothers. I was present at the Home Office when one telegram arrived. Horribly shocked Giles Corbet rushed home to his wife. I could only imagine how he felt.” His steps faltered, he swallowed at the pain in the back of his throat, hating to sound weak. “I locked up my files and left the building. I can’t remember crossing Horse Guards Parade before plunging into the plane trees in the mall.”

  “Bryce.” Addie put a hand on his arm. She gazed sorrowfully up at him; her eyes filled with tears.

  I knew his son, Anthony. A fine young man, barely old enough to enlist.” He couldn’t bear to look at her and walked on beneath the trees. “Once I was out of sight of anyone I knew, I sank onto a bench,” he confessed, drawing in a ragged breath. “And sobbed my heart out.” He stooped and stared down at the petal-strewn ground without seeing it. “I never cry. I hope you don’t think me an infernal baby.” He wondered why he’d confessed it to her. Maybe Addie was the only one on earth he could tell.

  “I don’t. Oh, Bryce. I don’t.” Her voice shaking, Addie stepped closer. She put her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest.

  He put a hand on her soft hair. “People walking past cast me sympathetic glances, I suddenly felt a fraud. I wiped my eyes, came to my senses and went back to work.”

  Her brown eyes were soft. “Why a fraud? What nonsense.”

  “While I’ve lost too many friends, I haven’t lost a son. Or a father or brother. It’s been heartbreaking to watch my colleagues shattered by grief and plunged into despair, their families broken by this dreadful war. I’ve attended too many funerals of soldiers who had died in London hospitals. I always held such hopes for the future, Addie, but I’m struggling to believe in it now.”

  She reached up and stroked his cheek with such affection that he wrapped his arms tight around her. Her soft body molded to his and he breathed in her feminine scent. He
bent his head to kiss her hair.

  Addie moved away. She silently took his hand and they walked on.

  “Thank you. I needed that hug.”

  “We all do,” she said soberly.

  Suddenly consumed with a terrible anger, he said, “Those men dying in droves; little more than boys, many of them.”

  “They were patriotic and wanted to help their country.” She kept hold of his hand as they walked back to the house. “I’ve been thinking, perhaps you’re right I should do more. I could train with the VAD and become a nurse.”

  His equilibrium restored; he fought a grin. “Are you ready to do what your servants have always done? Emptying chamber pots, changing soiled sheets and dressings, and washing the wounded?”

  She bit her lip. “That sounded patronizing.”

  “Not meant to be. I was merely injecting a little humor into this serious conversation.” Which was admittedly his fault. What had got into him? “I know you would do anything you tackled well,” he hastened to say. “But please give it some thought. You enjoy working for the magazine so there’s no reason to change.”

  They continued their walk. Well, at least he’d vanquished his earlier soppy display. He was sure Addie wasn’t thinking of it now. She must never learn he’d offered his services to the Secret Intelligent Service when they called for volunteers for an important mission. And because he needed to prove something to himself, he’d just decided he would go.

  “I’ll visit Grace and Lionel,” she said glancing at her watch. “I’d better hurry if I’m to get the four o’clock.”

  “I’ll hitch up the trap and drive you to the station.”

  “Thank you.”

  He watched her hurry away. He had wanted to explain how he felt about her. Instead, he’d blubbered like a baby. Better perhaps not to burden her when he might not survive. No one came home wounded or maimed from a mission for the SIS. They simply disappeared. He had done as much as he could. She would inherit all that he had, although Langley would be lost.

  Chapter Six

  Monty’s sleek, moss green automobile, its chrome gleaming in the spring sunshine, was as elegant as he was in his black suit, crisp white linen, and black silk topper. He helped Diana and Addie into the vehicle, explaining that since British cars first raced in Ireland in 1903, green had remained the British color.

  The roof down, he drove them furiously but with expertise along the road. “Our cars can do up to eighty miles an hour,” he shouted above the noise of the wind and the engine.

  As Addie watched the speedometer rise, he pointed out to them how well the Standford handled the curves in the road.

  Addie was relieved to hear it. She had never traveled so fast.

  “Your family’s company made this car?” Diana yelled from the back seat, holding onto her wide-brimmed black velvet hat decorated with the grosgrain ribbons. Her scarf flapped about her a splash of crimson on the wind.

  “Yes.” Monty. gazed ahead, his leather gloved hands gripping the wheel. Big square hands, Addie noted, sitting beside him. Something she always noticed about a man. Bryce had well shaped hands with long tapering fingers.

  The wind threatened to snatch Addie’s hat. She remembered what Bryce had told her about Monty’s family company, but not what they were to make for the government. Was it to do with the war?

  She felt thoroughly ruffled by the time Monty pulled the car into Ascot’s parking area. He assisted them out and they joined the procession of well-dressed people entering the enclosure.

  The Greencoats, the ceremonial guards for the reigning monarch for the previous two centuries at Ascot, stood at the gate with their prickers.

  “There’s a rumor that they originally made the Greencoat’s velvet uniforms from material left over from curtains in Windsor Castle,” Diana said, smiling at one. The stoical gentleman did not return her smile.

  They entered the enclosure. The cool day and spring shower did little to dampen everyone’s spirits, although women shivered in their spring finery and dainty hats. Addie kept her sable shawl on while many others were slow to shed their fur coats and wraps.

  Perhaps because of the weather and the grim news from the front, the frivolity seemed over-bright, the cheering for each race too raucous, and some imbibing a little too much champagne.

  Addie had shed her blacks. She knew her father would approve. She’d chosen to wear a cherry red dress. Her long sable shawl had deep pockets at the hips and she gratefully thrust her hands inside. Her hat was a deep crowned cloche in the same bright cheery red with a sable trim.

  She left Diana cozily ensconced drinking champagne and went to the parade yard to watch the edgy thoroughbreds with their strappers prancing around the circle for the first race. She used to visit the horse boxes with her father when he owned racehorses, not so many years ago. Addie rubbed her arms and pushed the sad memory away allowing the excitement and anticipation to catch her up, as she made her way back to Diana. They watched gentlemen enter the Royal enclosure to greet King George and Queen Mary.

  “And because we are the wrong sex, they bar us from that pleasure,” Diana said fiercely as they went to meet Monty and Brian for luncheon in the dining room before the next race.

  Seated at the white linen-clothed table, Addie toyed with her wine glass while Brian told them about the entertainment’s racegoers enjoyed last century. “Prize-fighting, jugglers, ballad singers, ladies on stilts and freak shows, cockfighting,” he said, “Not to forget the gaming tents.”

  “Seems many didn’t come for the racing,” Diana observed.

  “Ascot always was a social event,” Brian said. “The Duke of Bedford was known to say after a less than successful Ascot that he could find no soul to dine or sup with.”

  Addie gazed across the room at the small group being shown to a table. Bryce with several friends including Julia Allen dressed in slim fitting cream dress with a low neckline and a feathery hat.

  As Bryce helped her into her seat he gazed across at Addie and nodded.

  “There’s Bryce,” Addie said.

  Diana turned. “So it is.” She waved. “We must say hello after lunch.”

  After their meal and several glasses of champagne, Diana went over to Bryce’s table and introduced Brian to them. “Do you have a tip for the next race, Bryce?”

  “I fancy Apothecary,” he said. “Will you join us to watch the race?”

  “Yes. We’ll see you in the stand,” Diana said.

  Addie wished she hadn’t agreed. Miss Allen looked sullen and clung to Bryce’s arm.

  They stood at the rail as the horses for the next race appeared below. As the jockey’s mounted, Monty, who had placed a bet for them on Apothecary, came to join them.

  They cheered Apothecary, who romped home.

  Addie and Diana each won five pounds. Addie turned to thank Bryce for the tip, but his head was bent over Miss Allen’s as they studied the form together.

  The men went off to place bets for the next race, and Miss Allen went with Bryce. They did not see them again.

  “That’s the gas bill taken care of,” Diana said, as they made their way out through the gate after the last race.

  The drive home was more leisurely. Monty deposited them outside their house. He promised to arrange another evening’s entertainment, before driving off in his noisy car. Addie joined Diana in the parlor. Diana tossed her hat onto a chair and flopped onto the sofa.

  “What a day!” Addie said, taking the armchair.

  “Splendid wasn’t it,” Diana said stretching out her arms. “The king and queen, only fancy!”

  Addie nodded. “It made me forget the war for a moment. Ascot doesn’t change much over the years.”

  Diana turned on the seat to face her. “That girl of Bryce’s is a sourpuss. What on earth does he see in her?”

  Addie pleated her skirt with her fingers and shrugged. “She’s pretty.”

  “She might be if she smiled.”

  “I don’t t
hink she wanted to share him with us.”

  “Monty’s family manufacture cars,” Diana said. “I’ve heard they’re wealthy.”

  “I imagine so.”

  “You could do worse.”

  “There’s no question of that. He is merely a friend.”

  Diana raised her eyebrows. “He doesn’t think so.”

  “Well, he’s mistaken.”

  “Why aren’t you interested? He’s attractive. Is it because of Bryce?”

  Addie shook her head. “I have too much going on in my life for men to distract me.”

  Diana put her feet on the velvet footstool. “What nonsense. You must enjoy a romantic interlude wherever you find it. Who knows how long any of us have on this earth?”