[Previously: Professeur Le Mersurer and his daughter, Lavinia, are waylayed by highway robbers on their way to visit the Earl of Kentham at his country estate. Lavinia bravely defends her father and their possessions but is overpowered by the robbers. Unexpectedly, they are rescued by a young man who appears to be just another highwayman, but is in fact a gentleman masquerading as a robber to defeat the bad guys at their own game. A woman of intelligence and resource, Lavinia is intrigued by and drawn to the young "highwayman" and tosses her handkerchief to him as their coach is driving off. He picks up her token and places it next to his heart before riding off--he, too, felt drawn to her.]
Chapter Two
The next morning was clear and cool but Tobias, the weather-wise gardener of Kentham, was prophesising rain before nightfall. This aged, but still remarkably robust gentleman had been born and spent his boyhood during the tenure of the sixth Earl. He'd begun his career as an undergardener with the blessing of the seventh Earl and had served his lordship season after season, until the Earl's death. Now the eighth in the long line of Laneworth men was ruling over Kentham, and Tobias was fond of saying, to his cronies at the Bull and Pen, that, "Earls was even more changeable than the weather. Ay," he could often be heard exclaiming over his evening glass of Mr. Smallett's home-brewed ale, "give me a good old-fashioned thunderstorm any day over the ways of the Quality!"
In the breakfast room at Kentham sat two men. Each had the colouring and deep blue eyes so typical of Laneworth men, but there the resemblance ended. The older of the two, Lucius, eighth Earl of Kentham, was exquisitely dressed, as befitted a man of fashion and wealth. From his curled and styled wig to the shine on his shoe buckles, he easily cast into the shade his companion at the board.
The Honourable Cedric Laneworth, Lucius' nephew, had no aspirations towards fashion, or indeed anything else, if his appearance was anything to go by. A well-enough-looking young man, Cedric nevertheless seemed to fade into the background, especially when his magnificent uncle was around.
Only grandson of the seventh Earl, he had been brought up on the estate after the untimely deaths of his parents had left him orphaned when he was six years old. Some might have pitied him, a boy as young as he was, being brought to the seclusion of the country to be raised by a grandfather whose main interests were for his estate and his books. However, Cedric had thrived in that quiet, but loving atmosphere for the old man had opened not only his home to the orphan, but also his heart.
They'd been wonderful companions for one another, and the Earl had taught his grandson everything about the estate that he'd wanted to teach his own sons. Their situation had been as near to an ideal as it was possible to find anywhere, until a stroke had put a sudden and cruel end to it all.
Now Lucius, Cedric's only living uncle, was the eighth Earl and Cedric had remained at Kentham, not as a privileged and much-loved grandson, but as its steward, and Lucius' employee.
This morning, along with his ham and eggs, he was getting an account of the near-robbery which had occurred the previous evening.
"The Le Mersurers were, of course, shaken up by their ordeal. It's a pity you'd had to retire early with one of your sick turns, Cedric. Your assistance might have been useful."
"I'm sorry, uncle," Cedric replied meekly.
"You're always sorry, aren't you, my dear nephew," Lucius said in a drawling, biting tone which he reserved for those moments when he was alone with Cedric.
Cedric's cheeks turned a dull red, and he gripped his lower lip between his teeth as he strove to keep his composure. His uncle interpreted these signs as embarrassment and was pleased with himself.
Two years ago, when he'd taken control of his inheritance, Lucius had encountered a younger and more stiff-necked Cedric who had openly challenged his new lord's every decision regarding the estate. It had taken time, but the Earl was proud of the changes he'd wrought, both in his nephew and around Kentham. Because the estate had been entailed, the old Earl hadn't been able to will it away from his son and bestow it upon his grandson, as Lucius was fully aware he'd wanted to do. Cedric had been left a few trinkets, a horse, some books, and other small items that the old man had considered his own to dispose of as he wished. Those minor bits of property and the few thousand francs remaining from his mother's dowry were all that Cedric had in the world.
Lucius, knowing of Cedric's love of Kentham, had made it very clear from the outset that if his nephew wanted to continue living there he'd have to do so under different circumstances than those he'd known during his grandfather's time. Lucius had then proceeded to make the kinds of changes he'd known would be most galling to the younger man, including firing several of the seventh Earl's most trusted household servants, some of whom, he'd asserted, were getting past the age of usefulness. Rather than see the estate and its people defenceless against Lucius' thoughtless ways, Cedric had agreed to stay on as his steward.
Subsequently, Lucius had heard rumours that his sentimental nephew had squandered his mother's money on those fired servants, in effect pensioning them off. Whether it was true or not, Lucius had no notion because he would have felt it beneath him to worry about such matters. However, if it were true, it would certainly explain, at least partially, why young Cedric had continued to remain on the estate rather than trying his fortune elsewhere.
For the moment, that nephew seemed to have swallowed his spleen yet again because he turned to his uncle with the air of someone who is trying to change the subject, and said, "Perhaps, my lord, you would want to raise the question of travellers' safety in Parliament?"
"Trying to get rid of me by sending me to London, my dear nephew?" Lucius asked sardonically, his mocking eyes enjoying his companion's discomfiture.
Whatever Cedric might have said was lost, for at that moment the door of the breakfast room opened and the elder of their two guests was ushered in by a footman.
After a night's repose, Monsieur Le Mersurer had regained some of his usual placidity, and came forward to greet his host with an apology for the previous evening's disruption stumbling off his tongue. The Earl graciously waved aside this prepared speech and, with his charming smile, introduced his nephew to the professor's notice.
"It is a pleasure to meet the nephew of my kind host, monsieur."
"The pleasure is mine, monsieur. I apologise that I was unable to greet you when you arrived."
"Ah, oui. Your uncle explained ... the headache, non?"
"Oui, monsieur," Cedric replied, his stilted French lacking the polish that characterized his uncle's command of that language. Nevertheless, the professor looked upon him kindly and Cedric smiled in response.
"My daughter will join us shortly, messieurs. La toilette, you understand."
"Of course, monsieur," the Earl replied, with an indulgent smile. "Won't you join us?" Portman, the butler, was holding a chair out. "You would prefer coffee or hot chocolate ... tea, perhaps? Cedric, see to our guest's wants, if you please. Portman, more toast!"
Cedric obeyed, despite the professor's protestations that he could well serve himself from the dishes set out upon the sideboard. Once Cedric was seated again, Lucius took charge of the conversation, asking questions about mutual friends in London, including Lord and Lady Fordney at whose mansion the Le Mersurers had been staying, and through whom they had met the Earl. The professor could see that this line of conversation excluded Cedric but, try as he might to introduce another topic, the Earl would always steer him to some other facet of his stay in the City.
Cedric was the only person at the table who was facing the door, and so to him was granted the privilege of witnessing Mademoiselle Lavinia's entrance. Charmingly, if rather simply gowned and with a pink satin ribbon woven through her shining dark curls, he thought her the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She had a presence and self-assurance, quite remarkable in someone so young. Her figure was slender, but well-proportioned, her movements graceful, and the sight of her nearly took his breath away.
