His Countess For A Week. Sarah Mallory

Chapter Two

      Randolph spent the day going over the paperwork Chislett had left him, putting it away only when it was time to change for dinner. He went off to dine with Lord and Lady Gilmorton at the King’s Arms, the hostelry that was enjoying their patronage.

      Apart from the lawyer, whom he had sworn to secrecy, Ran had told only his sister, Deborah, and her husband that he was bound for England, and he was not surprised to receive a message that they planned to meet him at Portsmouth. He was delighted they should come so far, but slightly apprehensive, too, and he could not help putting a hand up to his neckcloth before he entered the inn.

      As the tap boy showed him into the private parlour, Ran looked over the man’s shoulder to catch his first glimpse of his sister in six years. His heart swelled. He would have known her anywhere, neat as a pin in her Pomona-green gown and her brown hair swept up.

      ‘Deborah.’

      She barely waited for the servant to close the door before she flew across the room, her green eyes over-bright with tears.

      ‘Oh, Ran, Ran. Is it really you?’

      He caught her to him, laughing. ‘Well, I hope you wouldn’t throw yourself like this at a stranger!’ Keeping his arms tightly about her, he nodded to his brother-in-law. ‘How are you, Gilmorton?’

      The Viscount came forward to meet him, a smile lightening his rather serious countenance, made all the more sombre by the scar running down his left cheek.

      ‘Very well, Randolph, thank you. If you put my wife down, I will shake hands with you!’

      The tension melted away. Between laughter and tears he was dragged to the settle close to the fire while Deborah bombarded him with questions.

      ‘My love, give the poor fellow a chance to catch his breath,’ murmured Gil. He added, with a glint of humour, ‘She has been in alt ever since you wrote to say you were coming home.’

      ‘Then I pity you,’ replied Ran, dodging a playful blow from his sister.

      ‘Your letters were always so cheerful,’ she said now, clinging still to his hand and her eyes searching his face. ‘And you are well, now. Really well?’

      He squeezed her hand, knowing what was behind the question.

      ‘Yes, truly. I avoid laudanum, never drink spirits and partake sparingly of wine. I have never felt better.’

      Her eyes misted. ‘Then you were telling the truth in your letters, when you said transportation saved your life.’

      ‘Aye. I believe it did.’

      He had told them nothing of the arduous months he’d spent aboard the transport ship to Sydney Cove. All the prisoners suffered from the harsh conditions, the sickness and deprivation, but he had also had to endure the unbearable craving for laudanum. There had been periods of delirium, even longer stretches of dark despair. He knew he was lucky to be alive and how much he owed to his valet. It had been Joseph’s diligent care that had saved him. His valet had given up his freedom to accompany him and it was a debt Ran could never repay.

      ‘Is Miller still with you?’ asked Gil, as if reading his thoughts.

      ‘Aye. I suggested he might remain and run the farm for me, but he preferred to come back. Mayhap he thought I would be as ill on this journey as the first time, but apart from a few days of seasickness at the start, the voyage was uneventful. Even enjoyable.’

      ‘So Joseph Miller has returned with you,’ murmured Deborah, her eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘My maid, Elsie, will be pleased to hear that.’

      ‘Do not tell me she has been pining for him all these years!’ exclaimed Ran, alarmed.

      Deborah laughed. ‘No, no, of course not. But they were very friendly, at one time, and I did wonder—’

      ‘My wife is an inveterate matchmaker,’ the Viscount interrupted her, shaking his head. ‘Let it be, Deb. Give your brother and his man time to settle into their new life!’

      Dinner was brought in and they moved to the dining table, where the talk continued, Ran describing his life in Airds, where he had been granted land following his pardon. He made light of the hardships leading up to that time, knowing that as an educated man he had received far better treatment than many of his fellow prisoners.

      ‘And what are your plans now?’ asked Deb.

      ‘He is going to transform himself into an earl,’ put in Gil. ‘Why else did he send us his measurements and ask that we have some fashionable clothes made up?’

      Ran laughed. ‘That was Joseph’s idea. He knows I own nothing suitable.’

      ‘No, I regret I must agree,’ drawled his brother-in-law, casting an eye over him. ‘In that coat you would at best pass for a gentleman farmer. Thankfully, we have fulfilled your commission and you may carry away the trunk with you when you leave us tonight. Next time we meet I hope I shall not be ashamed to own you as my brother.’

      ‘Mighty good of you!’ retorted Ran, grinning.

      ‘But where will you go?’ asked Deb. ‘Why not come back with us to Gilmorton? Little James and Randolph would like to meet their uncle, I am sure, and you might remain with us for the winter.’

      ‘Aye, but do not come merely for your nephews’ sake,’ added her husband. ‘We’d be delighted to have you stay. For as long as you wish.’

      ‘Thank you, but that must wait, I am afraid. I have estates of my own that I need to visit first.’

      ‘Ah, yes. You are a wealthy man now, Ran.’ Gil sat back, cradling his glass between his hands. ‘A fortune and a title—you have become something of a catch!’

      ‘Gil!’ Deb gasped, half-laughing, half-outraged. ‘And you said I was a matchmaker!’

      The Viscount raised his brows at her.

      ‘What have I said that is not true? The society pages may be agog with the fact that the new Lord Westray is a pardoned felon, but let me tell you, Ran, it does not diminish your attraction with scheming mothers one jot!’

      ‘We do not know...’ Deborah glanced shyly at her brother. ‘Perhaps there is a lady, back in Australia.’

      Ran shook his head. ‘There was little opportunity to meet ladies in Sydney Cove, or Airds. Besides, I was too busy making a life for myself. Now, I suppose, I must consider the idea of marriage.’

      ‘By heaven, Ran, you are taking your duties seriously indeed!’ exclaimed the Viscount.

      ‘There is the succession to be considered.’ He shrugged. ‘It should not be difficult. There must be any number of eligible ladies who would suit. I am not that particular. I only need someone who will make me a comfortable wife.’

      Gil snorted. ‘There is nothing comfortable about falling in love, my friend. It can be joyous, but it is also painful.’ He grinned at his wife. ‘Believe me, it is anything but comfortable.’

      ‘Then I shall not fall in love,’ said Ran simply. ‘I am too old for that nonsense.’

      ‘At eight-and-twenty?’ Deborah gave a little trill of laughter. ‘You are perfectly poised to make a great fool of yourself over a woman!’

      Ran was unoffended. ‘Perhaps, but I doubt I shall have much time for that sort of thing for a while, at least. I have told Chislett he may now write to the steward at the Earl’s—that is, at my principal seat, Westray Priors in Oxfordshire, telling him I am in England and that I intend to travel there in a few weeks. However, from the papers Chislett left with me yesterday, I realise there is a