A Most Unusual Earl Read online

  Lord, her thinking was a complete muddle. Susan looked at the blue gown she had worn the previous evening, still surrounded with an aura of enchantment even as it lay slung over a chair, and shook her head with a sigh.

  No blue today. No enchantment for anyone, least of all herself. Picking up her old day-gown, thanking the Lord that it required no intervention from a maid to help her clamber into it, Susan dressed as quickly as she could.

  She had hoped to feel more comfortable in her usual clothes,but the feeling of oddness remained. With a shrug, casting a slightly baleful look at the mirror, Susan went downstairs for breakfast.

  Her current living situation couldn’t last long. It was a miracle that it had lasted as long as it had. Ever since her father’s death, leaving her alone in the rambling Withersham residence, any number of overbearing aunts had crawled out of the woodwork and all but insisted that Susan come to live with them in various far-flung parts of England. Susan had managed to fend them off by agreeing with all of them, never responding to any of their letters, and hiding in the kitchen with Mary the housekeeper whenever any of them tried to visit unannounced—but that couldn’t last forever. None of it could.

  What little money her parents had left her was vanishing. Adam had offered to help, of course, and she had always refused. Women attained money through marriage, and so marriage was what she had to do. That was why, when Diana and Mary had both introduced the idea of Lord Walcote as a suitor, she had seized upon it with both hands.

  She should feel happy about her decision. Ecstatically happy. She had been ecstatically happy until yesterday evening, when she had put on her new gown and felt like a new woman… until she had told Adam that Lord Walcote was interested in her.

  She had been going to tell him at some point, of course. If anything, it was strange that she hadn’t told him before. But the morning was already strange, sad and tense in equal measure, and if she started thinking about everything it would only become atrocious.

  At least the kitchen was as warm and luminous as it usually was, full of the sounds of a well-run household: the crackling range, the sound of something bubbling on top of it. Susan, who had always eaten like a bird, wondered faintly where all of the food went—she was fairly sure it fed many of the seasonal labourers and passing tramps that passed over the small scrap of Withersham land on the way to greater economic opportunity. If her hunch was correct, she could only be happy that her food was going to good use.

  ‘Mary.’ She smiled at the housekeeper, relieved at the woman’s presence. Mary made her feel better by breathing, by talking—by all of the little things she did in the morning, from boiling the water to whistling to the birds outside.

  ‘Well.’ Mary smiled at her, putting her needlework down as she beckoned Susan into the kitchen. The housekeeper had weathered the tragic deaths of Susan’s mother and father just as Susan had, and had been a constant source of comfort and support. ‘How was the ball?’

  ‘As most balls are. Pleasant, but I would have much preferred a cup of tea with Diana and her friends without having to dance.’

  ‘I see, dear.’ If Mary was disappointed, she didn’t show it—but Susan did catch a glimpse of something in her face, a slightly knowing air. The same anticipation she had seen in Diana’s face the previous night, before she had beckoned Susan into the ballroom. ‘Nothing of interest?’

  ‘Dancing and drinking champagne aren’t complex interests, but they were nice enough.’

  ‘Such a scold, dear.’ Mary winked. ‘Romantic interests?’

  ‘Mary!’ Susan bit her lip, trying to conceal a scandalised smile. The old woman had championed the cause of Lord Walcote so very much when the man had first appeared on the scene—and now, when they had frequented one another on two or three occasions, she seemed determined to widen the field of suitors. She couldn’t possibly know how stridently unpopular the Withersham name remained outside of the tight confines of her current social life. ‘You know full well that my only romantic interest returns to the area in three days. The ball was his last stop in the Merston region before his business in London.’

  ‘Well, dear. Nothing’s been decided yet. No proposals have been given, no banns have been read.’

  ‘I’m well aware of that, Mary.’ Susan looked carefully at the housekeeper, trying to decide if the old woman was criticising her or attempting to communicate something else. Everyone was beginning to behave so strangely—as if everyone had an enormous secret, and had decided to keep her in the dark. ‘But weren’t we all supposed to be happy if they did occur?’

  For a moment it looked at if Mary was about to say something of great import. With a sigh, and a stir of her tea with her teaspoon, she appeared to put the thought aside in favour of something more palatable.

  ‘Well. Watching for birds again on the Merston estate this morning, are we?’

  ‘Yes.’ Susan nodded, relieved to be on firmer ground. ‘There’s been a sighting of a woodpecker. They haven’t been seen in those woods for at least five years—it’s more than worth an inspection.’

  ‘I see.’ Mary’s gaze grew a little harder as it took in Susan’s old grey gown, scuffed with the wear and tear of at least three or four summers. ‘And are you going to change your gown?’

  ‘Why should I change my gown? The birds don’t care what gown I wear.’

  ‘But there’ll be guests, dear. There’ll be the duchess, and the viscount and marquess, won’t there? You told me as much a few days ago.’ Mary took a sip of tea. ‘Won’t they be well-dressed, to show how happy they are to see you?’

  ‘Are you saying I’m badly dressed?’

  ‘No, dear. I’m saying that there’s a perfectly lovely blue day-gown upstairs that you bought home with you when the evening gown was finished. When do you intend to wear it?’

  ‘I… I don’t know.’ She had been frightened of the gown, just as she had been frightened of the evening gown. But the evening gown had been beautiful, when she had finally summoned up the courage to put it on… and she had felt far away, so very far away, from the nickname that had dogged her during her first Season.

  ‘Now, now.’ Mary looked at her with infinite gentleness, setting her cup down. ‘I’m not saying you look anything other than lovely. I’m saying that the blue day gown would make you look spectacular.’

  Susan smiled. Mary had always told her that she looked beautiful, even if she had lacked the practical skills to make such an assertion true during the early days of her employment at the house. Even if the suggestion brushed against old wounds, it didn’t open them. ‘And why do I need to look spectacular?’

  ‘If a gown with a new colour and neckline can make you look spectacular, why not do it?’ Mary smiled. ‘I’m old, now. Spectacular is beyond me. But it isn’t beyond you, and you should take the opportunity when it comes.’

  If she married Lord Walcote, she probably wouldn’t be able to have cosy breakfast talks with Mary. The thought was curiously sad. ‘Understood. I bow to your greater wisdom.’

  ‘If only you did, my girl.’ Mary’s face still had that knowing air as Susan left the room. ‘If only you did.’

  As Susan went upstairs, Mary sat in careful silence with her teacup held aloft. Only when she heard Susan’s bedroom door close did she let out a sigh, taking a gulp of her tea with an irritated roll of her eyes.

  ‘I swear to all the angels in heaven, Boots.’ She looked archly at the enormous tabby cat that had slunk into the kitchen, rubbing himself against the leg of a chair with an expression that said fish. ‘If she doesn’t realise that she and that silly man are meant to be married, she’s going to end up marrying that awful Lord Walcote. If that comes to pass, I don’t know what we’re going to do.’

  Boots looked at her with a silence that suggested a complete lack of interest. Mary thought about aiming a kick at him, thought better of it, and gave him a deep scratch behind his ears that brought a chirrup from the depths of his considerable belly. She looked up at t
he ceiling, where an array of thumps and rattles announced the changing of Susan’s gown.

  ‘I’ll send Nora up to help.’ She shook her head. ‘The girl’s so stubborn she’ll try and dress without a maid. Lord knows how she’d behave if I told her to marry Adam Merricott.’

  If oddness didn’t vanish with dressing oneself in her old gown, dressing herself in the new one only made everything seem even more of a dream. Susan walked gingerly over the fields, wincing every time she drew too close to a patch of mud, sure that every brush of the grass blades and clover flowers against her hem would be ruining it beyond repair.

  It wasn’t oddness anymore. It was downright nervousness. But why would she be nervous, today of all days, with nothing of particular interest occurring?

  Watching birds had never made her nervous before. How could it—they were birds, for goodness’ sake! Susan shook herself, speaking sternly to her inner coward as she tramped determinedly over the field towards Merricott’s manor.

  ‘You’ve led Buttercup the cow around on a literal string before, you silly girl. You’ve helped birth lambs. You’ve done any manner of frightening, dangerous things involving the animal kingdom with no qualms whatsoever… and there is nothing different, nothing, about watching birds today.’

  Said firmly, in the absence of onlookers, it was quite convincing. But as she drew closer and closer to the rambling, ramshackle house, the roses around the windows as dear as those that bloomed upon her father’s property, Susan felt all her newfound courage draining away.

  Perhaps it was the idea of being married soon. Perhaps that was what was making her so nervous today—so ready to jump at the slightest provocation. But marrying Lord Walcote should only make her nervous in certain contexts—like walking through streets where men were known to be flirtatious with passing women, or attending a ball without an appropriate chaperone.

  Marrying a perfectly acceptable aristocrat was no reason to feel nervous while watching birds with Adam Merricott, her oldest and closest friend.

  Wasn’t it?

  Before Susan could investigate the troubling tail-end of her thought, there was a bark of joy. Pineapple, the exuberant terrier that rid the Merricott estate of mice and rats, came bounding up to her with his usual expression of foolish happiness.

  ‘Oh, goodness. Look at you!’ It was difficult to think of anything else with Pineapple looking at her with such ardent love. If anyone ever felt lonely, a dog was the best medicine one could wish for. ‘How happy you are to see me!’

  As she stood up, happily consigning the skirts of her gown to the dirt of Pineapple’s paws, she saw Adam looking at her from the threshold of the door.

  He couldn’t possibly have grown taller since the ball. That would be the silliest flight of fancy, to imagine him taller and more broad of shoulder. Or perhaps her eyes were simply tired, after the colour and excitement of the ball… yes, that had to be it. There was no other reason to see Adam’s hair as richer in colour, his eyes darker as she drew closer.

  He looked different. Did she look different too? As different as she had looked yesterday? Perhaps there would be the same light in his eyes, the same sense of shock that she had felt from him yesterday… but looking into his face as she reached the threshold of the door, Susan found nothing but a kind of guarded focus.

  Adam normally looked gentle. His usual kindness was there in his gaze, of course—but there was something different, more powerful, that stopped Susan in her tracks.

  ‘Good morning.’ They never normally bowed or curtsied when coming across one another in the countryside. It seemed too far a formality. But Susan found herself curtsying this morning, curtsying quite low—and as she rose, blinking with embarrassment, she realised that Adam had bowed.

  ‘Good morning. The others are here already.’ Adam’s voice lacked its usual cheer, but there was an energy in his words. A force that Susan couldn’t remember hearing before. ‘We’re going to set off in half an hour. We might see a woodpecker—I’ve heard them calling to one another this morning.’

  Before Susan could reply, he turned away. Susan watched his retreating back, exchanging a curious look with Alice the maid as she stepped inside.

  ‘Well.’ She gazed down at Pineapple, who barked as if enjoying the attention. ‘At least someone’s happy to see me.’

  Pineapple, fortunately, was not the only being happy to see Susan. Diana was happy to see her, of course, as was her husband Wesley—and Samuel Taunton and Reginald Parr seemed happy enough at her presence, as they always did, even if they never treated her with anything more than a distant politeness. Susan knew she had never been a fully-formed part of the group the men formed, a vibrant friendship that seemed to sustain all of them, and enjoyed watching it from afar.

  Today, however, it was slightly different. There was a knowing air to the looks and glances traded between the men of the group—apart from those in Merricott’s direction. Diana, while they were all preparing to make their way to the wood, approached Susan with an air of expectation.

  ‘Well, my dear. You look as beautiful today as you did at the ball.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Susan looked down at her gown, wondering anew at how a different shade of blue could make her look so much more alive than she normally did. ‘Mary insisted.’

  ‘She insisted?’ Diana laughed, a touch of that knowing air in her voice that the men had shared with their eyes. ‘My goodness. Why do you think she insisted?’

  ‘Because I am to be married, and must learn how to present myself in a pleasing fashion.’

  ‘Ah.’ The light faded from Diana’s eyes, although her gentle smile remained. ‘And is that the only reason you can possibly think of?’

  For some reason Susan found herself glancing at Adam, who was preparing a flask of tea. She watched his slow, considered movements, graceful as a dance, before turning away with a sigh.

  ‘Yes.’ She shrugged. ‘What other reason could there be?’

  Diana almost looked disappointed. Susan felt obscurely ashamed of herself, as if she had failed an esoteric test.

  Matters didn’t improve as they made their way towards the verdant stretch of woodland. Normally Susan lost herself in the symphony of birdsong and rustling leaves, along with whatever flying or creeping beast she came across—but today, for some infernal motive, she and Adam kept becoming separated from the rest of the group. Diana, William, Samuel and Reginald were either walking extremely slowly, had forgotten what the scope of their walk was supposed to be, or kept being distracted in a way designed to leave Susan and Adam stranded in the middle of the trees.

  It was annoying. Infuriating, in fact. But when Susan turned to Diana to ask her what on earth was happening, her friend was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Diana?’ It felt stupid, saying the name to the trees, but there was no alternative. ‘Diana?’

  ‘I haven’t seen her for a few minutes now.’ Adam’s voice, still full of the strange, charged energy from earlier. Susan turned to find him ten feet away, looking at the deserted undergrowth with the same confusion she felt spread all over her face. ‘I haven’t seen any of them.’

  ‘Do you think they misunderstood? But how can they have misunderstood—how many forked hazels are there in this wood? Only three, to my recollection, and the other two are leagues and leagues away from the house.’

  ‘We must allow them to have made an error.’ Gentleness flooded Adam’s voice again; Susan sighed, strangely relieved. She needed the softness he carried with him, especially with her own heart in quiet turmoil since she had woken up. ‘Not everyone knows the trees in this wood with quite the precision that you do.’

  ‘Well.’ Susan looked down, gently scuffing a fallen leaf with her shoe. Adam had said something of this nature to her many times, but this time it felt different. More heartfelt. ‘People need to learn how to listen to instructions.’

  ‘I don’t think Taunton’s ever listened to an instruction in his life.’

  ‘Yes.’
Susan laughed, glad for the brief moment of levity. Alas, it drained away quickly. ‘I suppose that’s true.’

  ‘We can attempt to locate them, if you want.’

  ‘We probably should.’ Susan swallowed. ‘That… that would be the wise thing to do.’

  It wasn’t only wise, it was necessary. The idea of Diana, Wesley, Reginald and Samuel lost in the woods of the Merricott estate was not to be borne. But… but they were all people of good sense, not likely to get into scrapes, and at most they could all go back to the house and wait…

  ‘I heard the woodpecker in this clump of trees.’ Adam pointed upward. ‘It was most distinct.’

  ‘I see.’ Susan paused. ‘Well—we could wait for it for a little while. A few minutes. It’ll only fly away if the rest of them come stamping back through the undergrowth.’

  ‘Yes. We wouldn’t want that.’ Adam was still looking at the tops of the trees, his voice lighter than before. Almost as if he were relieved. ‘Watching for a few minutes won’t do anyone any harm.’

  ‘Yes.’ Susan drew closer to him. Despite the strong scent of warm leaves and bark that surrounded her, she could still smell the clean Marseilles soap that Adam’s shirts had always smelled like. It seemed deeper now, the perfume, more powerful. ‘We wouldn’t want to waste any time.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Adam looked at her. ‘Time is a terrible thing to waste.’

  Setting up a viewing post for the potential woodpecker hadn’t taken long. They had watched so many birds together that hiding was the work of a moment. Susan gently sat on the flat, wide trunk of a long-dead tree, brushing away leaf litter and lichen as she peered out through the branches at their chosen tree.

  The hole the woodpecker used was clearly visible. Perhaps it had already built its nest, or maybe it was still under construction—either way, she and Adam would be able to see the bird clearly if it came or went. See it clearly, that is, if she managed to stop sneaking glances at Adam and feeling like a thief for doing so.