An Innocent Deceit

Unfortunately, Sebastian also knew that there was little to be gained by putting the man off. The business of the estate went on, no matter what his own particular frame of mind. ‘Very well.’ He downed the rest of the brandy in one mouthful. ‘Show him up.’

The butler bowed, and in a few moments, returned with the late-night caller. ‘Mr Bingham, my lord.’

‘Come in, Paddy.’ Sebastian’s tone was brusque as he turned to address the steward by name—one of the few people who warranted such treatment. ‘Will you have a drink?’

Padrick Douglas Bingham, steward of Ashdean, shook his head as he advanced into the room. He was an ordinary-looking man; tall, with rugged features, a thatch of thick, sandy-coloured hair that styled after no fashion but its own, and green eyes that seemed to sparkle with perpetual mirth. Certainly there was nothing to distinguish him from the hundreds of other men who worked for the Earl.

But there was a difference. Paddy Bingham was one of the few men with whom Carlyle felt truly at ease. He was one of the fewer still who had earned Sebastian’s trust.

‘Sorry to be stopping by so late, my lord,’ Bingham said now as he set a handful of letters on the desk.

Sebastian dismissed the apology with a casual wave of his hand. ‘The fault is not yours. No doubt you called earlier and did not find me at home.’

‘I would have been surprised if I had.’ A knowing smile briefly touched the older man’s face. ‘You’re a very popular gentleman about Town these days.’

Sebastian’s face relaxed, as it did when in the company of people he genuinely cared about. ‘So I have heard, though for the life of me I cannot think why. My own company is beginning to bore me dreadfully. Sure I cannot tempt you to join me?’ he offered, holding up the decanter of brandy again.

‘Thank you, my lord, but I stopped at the Crown and Anchor on my way in.’

‘The Crown and Anchor.’ Sebastian poured himself another brandy. ‘Is the fair Mariette still waiting tables there?’

‘Aye. With a face that could melt a sailor’s heart, and a tongue that could put him to the blush.’ Bingham winked knowingly. ‘She was asking about you.’

Sebastian smiled but made no reply. He was not surprised that Mariette remembered him. He had spent many a night in her bed since Violet’s death, losing himself in the softness of her body and in the forgiving warmth of her arms. But of late, even that had failed to eradicate the blackness which had taken possession of his soul.

He gestured for the steward to sit down. ‘So, what brings you out on such a foul night, Paddy? Matters of grave importance?’

‘Hardly grave, my lord, though not without some import. I believe I have found a suitable master for the Lady Clara.’

Sebastian stared at him blankly. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘A riding master. You asked me to hire one for your daughter.’

Abruptly aware that his latest undertaking had all but slipped his mind, Sebastian’s mouth tightened. ‘Yes, of course. What have you to tell me?’

‘That I received a number of letters in response to the advertisement, and after whittling out the unsuitable ones, I was left with two possibilities.’

‘Good God, only two? What was wrong with the rest of them?’

‘Any number of things. Dubious work background, not enough experience, suspect reasons for prior dismissals. It doesn’t pay to be too careful when it comes to the well-being of the Lady Clara, my lord.’

Sebastian glanced at his man sharply, not sure whether Bingham wasn’t bamming him. But one look at the steward’s face was enough to assure him that his doubts were both unworthy and unnecessary. Paddy Bingham genuinely cared for the child—which was more than many were willing to say for him, Sebastian reflected guiltily. ‘Go on, Paddy, you said you had it down to two gentlemen.’

‘Yes, a Mr Henry Huddlesworth and a Mr Tony Davlin. I have both their letters here.’

Sebastian glanced at the letters, but made no move to read them. ‘Have you a recommendation?’

‘Of the two it would appear that Mr Huddlesworth has more experience in teaching young men and women the skills of riding. However, he is at present living with his ailing mother in Yorkshire.’

Sebastian frowned. ‘Rather a long way to come for work, isn’t it?’

‘It seems that Mr Huddlesworth is quite prepared to move,’ Bingham said, ‘but I admit I had some concerns as to how often he might need to return to Yorkshire to see to the old lady’s health.’

‘A valid concern,’ Sebastian acknowledged. ‘What of Mr Davlin?’

‘While Mr Davlin does not seem to have had as much actual teaching experience, I get the impression that he enjoys working with young children a good deal more than does Mr Huddlesworth. And he certainly knows his horses.’

Sebastian glanced at his steward in amusement. ‘You gleaned all of that from a letter, Paddy? Upon my word, you are even more astute than I gave you credit for. Very well, this Mr…Davlin,’ Sebastian said, wondering why the name should sound vaguely familiar to him. ‘Where does he live?’

‘In the area,’ Bingham informed the Earl. ‘He mentions the use of a cottage on Lord Shand’s estate.’

‘I see. And how would you like to proceed?’

‘With your permission, I would like to bring both gentlemen to Ashdean, and have them spend some time with Lady Clara. Once I see how they handle themselves with the little girl, I shall be able to give you a more accurate recommendation.’

‘As you will, Paddy. When can they start?’

‘Whenever is convenient for you, my lord.’ Bingham duly retrieved the letters. ‘Neither gentleman is currently employed.’

Sebastian briefly inclined his head, as though weary of the conversation. ‘Fine. Make the arrangements. Whichever one you choose may commence as soon as possible.’

Bingham glanced at the Earl in surprise. ‘You will not wish to interview them yourself?’

‘I hardly think it necessary. Your judgement in matters concerning the estate has always been faultless, Paddy. I am sure that whichever man you choose will be fine with me.’

Bingham flushed at the unexpected compliment. ‘It is good of you to say so, my lord.’

‘In any event, I have no doubt that I shall see Mr Huddlesworth or Mr Davlin eventually,’ Sebastian said carelessly. ‘I think it is time that I went down to the country for a while.’

It was difficult to tell who was the more surprised by the unexpected announcement: Mr Bingham upon hearing it, or Sebastian upon uttering it. For, in truth, he had not known that he was even contemplating such an idea until he had heard the words leave his lips. But, once said, the idea began to take hold in his mind.

Yes, perhaps a sojourn in the country was just what he needed. It certainly couldn’t be any worse than remaining in Town, Sebastian reflected dimly. And he had always loved Ashdean, the rambling Elizabethan house set in the gently rolling countryside of Kent. Indeed, some of his fondest memories were of growing up in that house. As a child, he had ridden over every hill and explored every valley, coming to love the land which had belonged to his family for centuries. He had even taken his new bride there in the early weeks of their marriage.

Granted, Violet had complained bitterly nearly the entire time they were there until, guilt-ridden, he had dutifully driven her back to Town, but at least there were no memories of bitter fights and long cold silences. Those had come later.

But there was one memory at Ashdean which Sebastian would never be able to forget.

Clara.

Sebastian closed his eyes as he dropped his head forward and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and his forefinger. Good God, was it really a year since he had last visited his daughter? It must be. She had been approaching her sixth birthday at the time, and only two days ago, Bingham had informed him that her seventh birthday was fast approaching. Where had the time gone?

Of course, it wasn’t just the time, Sebastian admitted guiltily. He had stayed away, not because he had been reluctant to see Clara, but for reasons which none but himself knew. Reasons which even Paddy had not been privy to. Added to that was the fact that he simply didn’t know how to behave around the child. He was not used to children of any age, let alone a six-year-old. Very few of his friends had offspring Clara’s age, and those who did were more than happy to leave them to the care of their mothers or nannies.

It was ironic really. For all his adeptness at court, Sebastian found himself painfully at a loss when it came to dealing with the wide-eyed stare of his own child. But then, was it any wonder? He’d had no brothers or sisters of his own, and he had seen Clara less than ten times since she had been born, due mainly to Violet’s outright refusal to share the child with him in the early years of her life. She had begun to smother Clara, perhaps in a pathetic attempt to make up for the love that had been missing in her own relationship. It had grown so bad that just the sight of her father was enough to make Clara burst into tears.

Hardly the kind of welcome any new father looked for.

For that reason, and for…others, Sebastian had had virtually nothing to do with the child. After Violet’s death, he had seen to it that the nursery at Ashdean had been luxuriously appointed, and had even hired a governess to look after her. But beyond that, the best Sebastian had been able to do was send Clara expensive toys for her birthday and a special box at Christmas; presents usually chosen by Bingham, and sent from an unknown man who called himself her father…