“I like these events the best,” Edna said, “where the village and the manor meet on equal footing. I suspect they appeal to Nunn as well.”
“Because he knows the role he is to fulfill,” Hecate said slowly. “You are right. He can be the gracious host, welcoming all to his lovely property, and nobody will expect him to be more than polite.”
“I like Nunn,” Edna said. “He hasn’t succumbed to the family penchant for pouting, for all that he’s short on charm. His very lack of guile makes him a novelty among Brompton men. Will you marry Johnny?”
“I don’t want to. He has threatened scandal and worse if I balk. Claims I signed settlement agreements ten years ago, and Isaac supports that contention. They will doubtless produce documents with a credible facsimile of my signature on them, but, Edna…”
“It’s exhausting,” she said, “having to scheme and plot and plan simply to exercise the judgment an adult ought to enjoy regarding her own affairs. If I haven’t thanked you for your generosity before, I am thanking you now.”
Better late than never? “Isaac claims Johnny will be far more forthcoming with my fortune than I have been.”
“Then Isaac is blinded by ambition. Johnny has the look of a fellow returning from exile. He has scores to settle. I don’t recall him sporting such a prominent streak of ambition as a youth. He was always out of doors, watching birds and listening for their songs. He’s apparently outgrown his boyish pursuits.”
“Don’t they all?” Though Phillip hadn’t. He was still drawn to the out of doors, still fascinated by nature, horticulture, and wildlife. She suspected he would be even in great old age, when he’d become one of the fierce venerables who could fashion a stone wall that would stand for decades.
“Are you tempted by what Johnny offers?” Edna asked, an odd wistful note in her voice as the Earl of Nunn himself rang the bell drawing guests to the buffets under the tents.
“Of course not. Johnny offers nothing but misery. He’s arrogant, has a mean streak, and wants what he has not earned.” And yet, he was beautiful, charming, virile, confident, likely knew all the dance steps, and would be welcome in half a dozen clubs.
“Some people are like that,” Edna said. “The more they have, the more they want. Others earn an honest fortune and appreciate how much luck and timing determine any man’s fate. I must see that Portia and Flavia make a proper fuss over the Corviser boys.”
“They strike me as decent fellows.”
“Decent, though their prospects are humble. Portia could manage either of them blindfolded.”
Meaning Edna could manage either one with less effort than it took to tie on her slippers. “And Flavia?”
A wistful look came into Edna’s eye. “She is too sweet for her own good, when she isn’t purloining my fripperies in an effort to stand out from her sister. A wise man would be drawn to that sweetness, but when have we ever enjoyed an ample supply of wise men?”
On that philosophical note, Edna passed Hecate her field glasses and strode forward with a jaunty wave in Mrs. Roberts’s direction.
Phillip approached, looking windblown and delectable. “Miss Brompton, I hope you watched the battle for honor and glory?”
“I cheered only for you and Herne.”
“DeWitt has been conditioning his colt. Roland will earn him some coin this autumn and more in years to come. How are you?”
They could have this conversation out of doors, with a veritable crowd in attendance, but Hecate was desperately aware of how careful they had to be.
“Johnny behaved badly. Even Edna remarked it, and she is not one for speaking ill of handsome, wealthy, single men.”
Phillip aimed a look at the men’s punchbowl, where the jockeys had congregated, tankards and glasses in hand.
“Johnny has recovered his dignity, or what passes for it. I dread to think of him navigating the Canadian woods, if he’s that intemperate toward his horseflesh. Any halfway sensible mare would put him permanently into a ditch for behaving so badly.”
“And yet, he’s supposedly a successful fur trader. Perhaps he comports himself more prudently in the wilderness.”
“He must, or he’d be dead.”
The prospect did not engender much sorrow. “I wish he’d stayed in Canada.”
“As do I. Will you share a plate with me?”
She wanted to share the rest of her life with him. She set aside Edna’s field glasses. “Best not.”
Phillip nodded. “DeWitt suggested the riders repair to the swimming hole after they’ve eaten and enjoyed neighborly congratulations. DeWitt and I have been using it to spare the staff the bother of heating bathwater for the summer cottage.”
Precisely the sort of innate consideration and common sense Hecate could not expect from Johnny.
“Don’t drown him,” she said, “and don’t let him accidently drown you.”
“Sound advice.” Phillip should have offered her a slight bow and strolled off, a man who’d given a good account of himself in the saddle and offered suitable courtesies to the family antidote. Instead, he studied the sky.
“I miss you, Hecate. That the Canadian Conniver has laid his dastardly mischief at your feet makes me want to haul him bodily onto the nearest merchantman and see him kept below deck until the ship docks in Halifax.”
“Or in hell. If nothing else, Johnny’s scheme has made me realize that I am angry, Phillip.”
“With me?”
How could he think that, and where did he get the courage to ask such a question? “Never with you. With what I have allowed myself to become. I threatened to cut off Isaac’s allowance if he continues to collude with Johnny. He sneered at that sally and informed me he’s been saving in anticipation of Johnny’s arrival, or of my eventual comeuppance. He can save, and yet, I’ve been yielding to his importuning for years, thinking economies are beyond him. How typical of the Bromptons to manipulate me so easily into doing for them what they could do for themselves. How typical of me to capitulate.”
Phillip’s gaze shifted from the clouds to Hecate. “Isaac bamboozled you. I suspect Charlie might also be capable of pulling a greater share of an adult load, but between his mama’s boldness, his wife’s adoration, and Nunn’s inherent reticence, Charlie remains successfully immured in his randy youth.”
“You don’t think my anger is misplaced?”
Phillip touched her arm. “I think your anger might well be your salvation. Any other woman would have tossed the lot of them into the Channel long since.”
The old refrain—but they are all I have—came to mind. Hecate had been wrong about that. True, she had her Brompton connections, but she also had a fortune. She could well lose the fortune precisely because she’d been so tenacious about holding on to her Brompton connections.
“I have never regarded wealth as anything other than an obligation,” Hecate said. “I like my comforts within reason, but all that money… Have you ever longed for more acres to farm?”
Phillip offered his arm, an acceptable display of manners, and Hecate took it. “Not more acres, though I am considering adding a conservatory. Lark’s Nest is good land and more than enough for my needs. My challenge becomes to do the best possible job I can by the acres I have. That’s sufficient to occupy any man’s ambitions, or it should be.”