The Landlocked Baron (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 1) Page 2

  “We count for something, don’t we, dear sister?” Hecate quietly asked the question from the depths of an overstuffed chair, into which she’d curled herself.

  “Of course, love. I didn’t mean that to sound dismissive.” Kitty smiled at her half-sister. “But with just you two girls and Edmund…? This is an awfully large house. You’ll be rattling around like peas in an extra-large pod.”

  There was silence for a few moments while everyone considered the vegetable metaphor.

  “The doctor has been summoned, hasn’t he?” Simon looked around. “I forgot to ask. By the time I’d managed to seat everyone, Edmund had been taken upstairs.”

  “I believe that woman is still attending him. The one who took over so promptly after the…the…accident.” Letitia stumbled over the words.

  “You mean after Papa’s final gesture of annoyance,” sighed Hecate. “It was just the sort of thing he’d do.”

  “I should reprove you, I suppose. But in all fairness, you speak nothing but the truth.” Simon’s voice was dry. “I propose we all share a drop of champagne, not to celebrate our parent’s passing, but to celebrate our lives and—with luck—the more positive direction they will be taking now that the old man has gone on to his just reward. I think there should be a bottle or two left.”

  “Hear! Hear!” Richard rang the bell and placed the order when Chidwell arrived.

  So, a little later, when a knock came at the door and a woman entered, her gaze fixed on the five Ridlington siblings clinking champagne glasses on a rousing toast.

  “I do beg your pardon.”

  Everyone’s head turned. The slender blonde stepped forward. “Oh please don’t. We should be thanking you for your care of our brother.” She put down her glass and came forward. “I’m Letitia Ridlington.”

  “Miss Ridlington.” The woman curtseyed. “I’m happy to say that your brother is doing well. He has a headache, which is to be expected. But he sustained no other injury than a nasty knock on the head and the doctor expects him to make a full recovery.”

  “You managed to reach Dr. Fisher, then?” Simon inquired.

  “I did, sir. He had planned to attend the funeral, but said a local woman was in the throes of childbirth. The arrival delayed him, and he could only stay for a few moments, before hurrying back to the mother and babe.”

  “One life ends and another begins.” Hecate sipped her champagne. “I’m Hecate. The last Ridlington. I don’t believe we’ve met?”

  “Forgive me.” The woman paused. “I should introduce myself. I am Rosaline Henry, currently employed as companion to Lady Fincham.”

  “We owe you an enormous debt of gratitude, Miss Henry,” said Kitty. “You handled all the confusion so well and with such an air of command. Everyone obeyed you without question and what could have been a terrible disaster was utterly averted. I was astounded.”

  Rosaline felt the color rise in her cheeks, but kept her voice level. “You are too kind.” She stepped a little further into the room. “To be accurate, I am Mrs. Henry. My husband passed away last year which circumstance forced me into the position I have now with Lady Fincham.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Hecate moved to her side and touched her arm in sympathy.

  “Thank you. But we must move on with our lives.” It was a practical and appropriate response, but Rosaline was moved, all the same.

  “Our brother is doing well, you said, Mrs. Henry. That is good news indeed. Do you have medical skills?” Simon beckoned her to a chair and seated her, his voice kind.

  “Not as such, sir. But I nursed my husband for several years. He sustained an injury during his service with Lord Nelson and our brave fleet. It left him unable to assume his duties, and quite unwell. It was that which claimed him after an extended period of pain. A sad time.”

  “One learns a lot from such an experience, Ma’am.” Simon’s eyes were gentle. “Your fortitude is to be commended.”

  “I appreciate your words, Vicar.” She dipped her head. “I believe you have the Ridlington living? You minister to its flock?”

  Simon nodded. “I do. And it is quite gratifying work. Although,” he paused, his hand to his chin, “I can’t say that I recall seeing the Finchams in church of a Sunday…”

  Noting his quiet grin, Rosaline smiled. “I’m afraid the Finchams aren’t of a religious turn, sir. I had suggested we attend services, but was overruled.”

  “I hear that being overruled goes hand in hand with anything to do with Lady Fincham.” A younger man spoke, his voice full of laughter. “I’m Richard Ridlington, Mrs. Henry. And this is my twin, Kitty.” He waved his hand at his sister. “Now you’ve met us all. Not on the happiest of occasions…” he lifted his champagne glass, “but we are, in fact, celebrating our continued existence. And now, thanks to you, we can also celebrate our oldest brother’s recovery from what could have been a fatal injury.”

  “Indeed, Mrs. Henry. We are truly in your debt.”

  Rosaline found a glass of champagne in her hand, placed there by Letitia Ridlington.

  “Please join us? To life and living and new opportunities…” She raised her glass as everyone echoed her sentiments.

  Rosaline joined them, somewhat amazed at the concentration of diverse but equally powerful personalities all in one room. And all in one family.

  The Ridlingtons were certainly a force to be reckoned with. She wondered if Edmund, the eldest brother and now the Baron, was equally dynamic. He would have to be if he was going to take this lot in hand.

  *~~*~~*

  The door opened onto a blast of laughter, which faded into silence as the occupants of the room observed the newcomer.

  “Baron Ridlington.” A stern voice addressed him. “What the devil are you doing out of bed? Were you not told under no circumstances were you to get up?”

  She was bearing down on him like a hundred-gun ship of the line.

  He held out his hand to halt her progress. “Madam. This is my house and I am, to the best of my recollection, in charge here. I cannot say I know who you are, although you seem familiar.” He looked around. “The rest of you…well, I know you. And I suppose the champagne fits the moment. Where’s my glass?”

  He walked carefully to a chair which the stranger had vacated upon his arrival. “I shall sit here, Ma’am, and hear no more about it.”

  Although it took a great deal of effort, he managed to sink nonchalantly into the soft seat, with a tiny sigh of relief. He took the blanket that was offered with gratitude, only realizing a moment later that it was that woman who had passed it over. He sighed. “Who the devil are you?”

  She smiled. “I think that’s the second time you’ve asked me that question.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes. Although to be fair, you were incapacitated the first time.” She intercepted the champagne, walked to a side table and substituted tea, which she poured efficiently and without any fuss.

  Edmund glanced around to see everyone else watching her curiously. “Did you answer me the first time?”

  She returned with his tea. “No, but I will now, since I have already introduced myself to your family. I am Rosaline Henry, currently companion to Lady Fincham.”

  “Oh yes, that battleaxe.” Edmund sipped his tea and watched her try not to grin at his comment. “Now I remember. You were the one who assured me I wasn’t dead.”

  Letitia chuckled. “You thought you were dead?”

  Edmund grinned at her. “You try waking up from a whack on the head in a hearse and see what conclusions you come up with.”

  “Good point,” mused Simon. “But I’d rather like to think heaven will be a tad more attractive than the inside of the Ridlington Vale hearse.”

  “Me too,” nodded Kitty. “That sounds like a miserable experience, Edmund.”

  He shrugged. “’Twas an unfortunate accident. And a fortunate circumstance that Miss Henry was on the scene at that moment.”

  There was a brief silence. Then
Rosaline sighed. “It’s Mrs. Henry, my Lord. Just for the sake of accuracy.”

  Edmund opened his mouth, but was forestalled by Kitty. “She’s a widow, brother dear. Her husband passed from injuries received at Trafalgar. She’s now Lady Fincham’s companion, as she said. We’ve discussed this and expressed our sympathies, so you can consider that conversation over.”

  “Kitty, you can be a dratted nuisance at times.” Edmund glared at her. “I’m perfectly capable of asking my own questions and making my own responses.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “If you please.” Rosaline’s voice was firm. “I appreciate the sentiments you all have felt it necessary to express. But as Miss Kitty Ridlington has stated, we can safely move on to another topic. And I have a question if you will forgive my curiosity…” She turned to Edmund. “You are Baron Ridlington now, sir. But shouldn’t all your siblings still be Holburys?”

  His eyebrows rose a little at her inquiry. Then he nodded. “In the usual course of things, yes. But you never met our father while he was alive.”

  “For which you should be eternally grateful, by the way. Of course, even dead he’s a dratted nuisance.” Richard grinned unapologetically.

  “Hush.” Edmund shot a disapproving glance at his irrepressible brother. “Our father, Mrs. Henry, was very aware of his rank within the county. So he not only followed the custom of address for himself—Jack Holbury, Baron Ridlington—but he required us all to assume the Ridlington surname at birth. He wanted all his children to be known as Ridlingtons right from the start. What he wanted, he got.”

  “A man of singular determination, it would seem.”

  “You have no idea.” Simon shook his head. “Stubborn and inflexible. Once determined on a course of action, there was no gainsaying him. Right or wrong, that was how it was going to be.”

  Once again the room fell silent.

  Then Edmund spoke. “However, he has left this earthly existence, while we are still here. Put another log on the fire, Richard. I believe we can now relax the rules about how much wood to use to heat this dismal place.” He looked at his teacup. “And I thought I was getting a glass of champagne.”

  “You might have thought it, sir, but I can assure you that you are not.” Rosaline moved to take a seat near the Baron. “You have contravened your physician’s orders sufficiently for one day. Champagne is out of the question.”

  “You display a certain amount of inflexibility yourself, Ma’am,” muttered Edmund.

  “Only when absolutely required,” she shot back.

  “Henry,” he mused. “Henry. Trafalgar. It seems I know that name from somewhere.”

  “’Tis a common enough appellation, my Lord. I doubt that it would be familiar to you otherwise.”

  The others were filling up their glasses and stoking the fire and the atmosphere in the room had lightened, Edmund realized. This was what a family gathering should be. Conversation, a little laughter now and again, and the warmth of genuine affection.

  He wondered how long it would last.

  Then something stirred in his memory, and he turned to Mrs. Henry. “Would your husband have served on board the Belleisle? Under Captain Hargood?”

  She stilled as the others turned to listen to her answer. “Yes, my Lord. That is indeed where my husband served.”

  Edmund watched her face. “So your husband…he was Lieutenant Lord Frobisher Henry?”

  She blinked. Once. “Yes.”

  “Well, well.” Edmund leaned back in his chair, ignoring the throbbing ache behind his right ear. “A distinguished name indeed, Ma’am. One has to wonder what eventuality brought you here to Ridlington Vale and the Finchams.”

  “One may wonder all one wishes, sir.” She straightened in her chair. “But that, I regret to inform you, is none of your business.”

  The almost audible gasp from the others made Edmund want to grin, but he stopped himself. “Opinionated too. You could well have come from Ridlington stock.”

  “Edmund.” Simon sounded shocked.

  The others chimed in as well, a cacophony of protests and appalled comments at his questioning of Mrs. Henry.

  “Stop. All of you. At once.” Rosaline held up her hand. “There is absolutely no need for such a hubbub. The questions your brother has asked are valid and he has every right to express his opinions.”

  “Yes, but…” Ever-argumentative, Kitty frowned terribly, only to be stopped in her tracks by a single look.

  From Rosaline.

  Edmund stilled in his chair, while a daring and interesting idea germinated, rooted and poked its head up through the soil in his brain.

  Then he grasped the arms and eased himself to his feet, managing not to groan as he did so. The others moved slightly but he noticed they were looking to Rosaline for guidance, and she—with the slightest shake of her head—let them know their help was not necessary.

  That brief moment sealed his intentions.

  “Lady Henry—which is I believe your correct form of address—may I ask you to accompany me to my study for a few moments? There is a matter of particular urgency which I would like to discuss with you.”

  She looked as stunned as the rest of the Ridlingtons. “With me, my Lord?”

  “Yes, my Lady. With you.”

  “And not with any other family members present?”

  He lifted his eyebrow and favored her with the look he’d perfected on the quarterdeck when anyone challenged his orders.

  She was apparently immune. “Surely it cannot be anything of major import. We have only just met.”

  “Must I ask again?” He resorted to subterfuge. “I do find a headache growing stronger, so I would prefer to limit my afternoon’s activities. If you would do me this honor, then I can retire and rest with a clear mind.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “A tad convenient, one might say. But nevertheless, I will do as you ask.” She gathered her shawl. “If you will lead the way, sir?”

  He walked to the door and opened it, looking over his shoulder at the five other occupants of the room. “Don’t get too drunk, brothers and sisters. At least not until we know how much champagne our late unlamented Papa left us.” He turned to Rosaline. “This way, Ma’am.”

  Together they walked from the room and down the hall to Edmund’s study. Where he was about to discuss a rather surprising idea that could profoundly change life at Ridlington Chase for all of them.

  Chapter Three

  Rosaline looked around with interest as she entered the Baron’s private sanctum. It smelled faintly of leather and wood smoke, with a slight tang of the brandy she saw on the side table. All very masculine and exactly what a Baron’s study should look like.

  “This isn’t yours at all, is it?” She looked at him steadily.

  “No.” He shook his head. “It was my father’s. It is mine now, of course, but I haven’t had time to…to…”

  “To make it personal.” She finished his thought.

  “Yes, exactly.” He smiled. “I need to make it mine.”

  He was very attractive when he smiled, noted Rosaline. Far more so than one would expect if one met him under the usual social circumstances. A real smile crinkled the corners of his eyes and changed his countenance from the stern and self-controlled Captain to the intriguing man beneath. A little shiver of purely feminine awareness danced down her spine and she drew her shawl more closely around her arms

  “You’re cold. I’m not surprised.” The Baron moved to the fireplace. “Damn. No embers. Or even a sign that a fire has been lit here in ages.”

  “I understand your father was unwell for some time. One should not be surprised at the lack of attention to his study.”

  He sighed. “I have been here, at Ridlington Chase, for the last five months. I tried to assume some of the estate matters as the old man sank into a sad state, but it’s all in a terrible muddle. Even at death’s door, he was still the head of the household, which made any decisions on my part a challenge, to say th
e least. And then there’s the matter of my siblings.”

  Giving up on the fire, he sank into the chair behind the desk and motioned Rosaline to a leather seat on the other side.

  “I see no problem with your siblings, my Lord,” she said. “They all seem in fine fettle to me.”

  “I wish that were true.” The Baron leaned back and ran a hand around his cravat, as if it were irritating him. “Simon is mostly settled, I think. But Letitia—she keeps herself so closed. The twins want to leave for London at the first opportunity, and Hecate? Well, she’s unique and I think she’ll be the greatest handful of all of ‘em.” He looked at Rosaline. “I can manage a ship of the line. I can engage the enemy in battle. I can even load a cannon or fight hand to hand if I need to. But I cannot manage my family. Especially the girls. It has become increasingly clear that they need a firm hand, but for some reason they won’t respect mine.”

  Rosaline thought for a minute. “Have you given them enough time? You said you’d only been here a matter of months. Where were you before that? Did you see them often?”

  He was silent for a few moments. “I see I must explain matters a little.”

  “You don’t need to, sir.”

  “I do, Ma’am. And if you’ll bear with me, you’ll see why.” He shifted in his seat and it creaked loudly, making them both jump.

  “Very well, sir. But I wouldn’t lean back too much further if I were you. It’s likely you have more of a…presence than your late father, and the springs are suffering because of it.”

  He shot her a glance. ”Quite.”

  She bit her lip against a chuckle. “But please. You were going to explain matters.”

  “I left Ridlington nearly fifteen years ago and went to sea.”

  Rosaline blinked. “Fifteen years? Were you not the heir?”

  “’Tis not done, I know. But I could no longer live here, with…with my father. A more detestable parent you would be hard pressed to find. Things were bad enough that I told him, in somewhat blunt terms, that I was not interested in ever inheriting Ridlington and I would be grateful if he did as he threatened, and disowned me. I walked away, leaving Simon to assume the position of heir-apparent.”