Free Virtue's Reward by Jean R. Ewing

dignity.”
    “To leave you without funds would be worse, I assure you. Had your father been alive, there would have been marriage settlements. He wouldn’t have sold you for any less.”
    “Yes, but as my husband, you would have gained Trethaerin. Do you think it would have been a fair exchange? Under the circumstances, how can I even the score?”
    He smiled. “You think that I can’t drive a decent bargain, like poor Esau who sold his birthright for a pottage of lentils?”
    “ ‘And Esau was a cunning hunter, a man of the field,’ ” she quoted.
    “Not cunning enough,” Richard said with a laugh. “He let himself be outwitted and replaced in his father’s affections by his younger brother, Jacob. Hardly a reasonable exchange.”
    “How can I know? Do you care for your birthright?”
    “Passionately, as it happens.”
    So it meant a great deal to him to be earl one day. Could she live up to it? He was offering her financial security and a more assured place in society than she had any right to expect. What could she give in return?
    “I shall try to make you a good wife,” she said.
    “I don’t want a good wife and the blunt means nothing. Forget it.”
    “Then what do you want?”
    She had no idea if he was serious or not.
    “I want Acton Mead, of course,” he said.
    * * *
    It was late evening when they arrived at Acton Mead, and the house was shadowed in the failing light. It lay in a fold of hills, and the grounds ran down to the water meadows of the Thames. Part of the façade was lost in a thick growth of ivy, but the grounds appeared to have been kept up, even if not quite to the standard of King’s Acton. There were sheep instead of roe deer grazing the lawn.
    Richard hammered at the door, and in a few moments it was opened and an elderly butler peered out.
    “Master Richard? Bless my soul!”
    “Are you going to let me in, Hood? Or must I stand in the dark like a beggar at my own door?”
    “Well, you gave me a turn, my lord, and that’s a fact,” Hood said, throwing open the door. “We have most of the house in dust sheets.”
    “Devil take the dust sheets! All I require tonight is the preparation of two bedchambers and a simple meal. How is Mrs. Hood?”
    They were ushered into the hallway and Richard began to peel off his coat.
    “You will find her in the pink, my lord, as always. There’s not much rattles my Mistress Hood.”
    The butler’s expression was torn between his delight at seeing the viscount and the furtive glances he was casting at Helena.
    “Then go and fetch her, sir. I would like her to meet Lady Lenwood.”
    Hood gaped, and his wrinkled face broke into smiles. “Lady Lenwood! Then you’re a married man, my lord.”
    “Indeed, and I have come to claim my home.”
    “Master Richard! Well, bless us all!” A round-faced woman had bustled into the hallway. It was obviously Mrs. Hood, for she gave the butler a buffet in the ribs. “Now, what on earth are you thinking of, Mr. Hood, to let them stand in the hallway like this? We don’t have the house open, my lord. But if you would condescend to join us in the kitchen? And is this your lady wife? God bless you, my dear! Come through, now, come right through!”
    Richard smiled indulgently at the old housekeeper. “We should be delighted, Mrs. Hood, especially if you happen to have some of your scones.”
    So Helena found herself following Richard and the old couple through several shrouded rooms and into the warmth of the kitchen. The walls, painted the traditional blue to keep away the flies, were lined with row upon row of shining copper pots and pans. Barrels of flour and a tall cone of sugar stood at the side of the room.
    “We have a rabbit stew, my lord, and fresh bread, and I can whip up some scones on the instant. Had you thought to send warning, we’d have laid in more provisions.”
    “Time enough tomorrow, Mrs. Hood. Now, can you find a bedchamber for her ladyship?”
    “Well, of course,” she