Page 1 of An Honorable Arrangement
ChapterOne
Montgomery Witmore, or Monty as his friends called him, let down the window of his new carriage. The crisp winter air refreshed him before it became too cold inside and he shut the glass. Leaning back against the cushion, he congratulated himself on the vehicle, a gift from his uncle, Earl of Stapleton. In exchange for the excellent present, he was required to deliver the young woman who was to be the ward of Lord and Lady Stapleton.
Lord Stapleton, the head of the family, had always been good to him, so Monty was beholden to do whatever bidding his aunt and uncle should request. The gift of a fine carriage is beside the point. Still, Monty was pleased.
Pulling the letter from the inside pocket of his coat, Monty read that his charge was Miss Sarah Sommers. She was orphaned and had been passed around from one relative to another over the past few years. Her latest protector had left for Antigua and wouldn't be back for at least a year.
Sun glinted off the windows of an inelegant manor, with both gray and brown stone, an odd turret, and uneven stretches of windows on either side of an absurdly small door.
If Milton Manor was as uncomfortable on the inside as it was unappealing on the exterior, he felt quite bad for Miss Sommers and would be happy to deliver her to her new home.
He stepped down from the carriage and steeled his expression for the sake of the towering woman excitedly descending the steps.
"My lord, welcome to Milton Manor. You have arrived just in time." As she drew closer, it became apparent that this was a woman in her forties with bad skin.
"Have I?" Monty forced himself not to take a step backward as she barreled toward him.
Heaving bosoms, barely contained in a tan and white day dress, nearly toppled her as she steadied herself with arms wide. "Lord Ashton has let the manor, and the new tenants are to arrive at any moment. We have been beside ourselves with what to do. Would we be put out on the streets?"
With one hand, he took the lady's elbow to assure she wouldn't fall to the ground, and with the other, he offered his handkerchief for her hysteria. "You have me at a disadvantage, madam. I am Montgomery Witmore, only son of the Viscount of Thornbury."
"Of course. We've been expecting you, my lord. But there is little time for niceties. We are to be homeless." She rushed through the front door waving his handkerchief.
Monty cleared his throat and prayed that this wasn’t the woman he'd been sent to collect. "I beg your pardon, but humor me for a moment. Who are you?"
Spinning around, she took a great gulp of breath and slapped her hands against her legs. "I am Mrs. Pratt. I am companion and chaperon to Miss Sommers."
Monty relaxed, relieved that this hysterical woman wasn’t Miss Sommers but her chaperon. Of course, Mrs. Pratt was of an age where she would not need an escort or a warden. Still, for a moment, he'd worried. "And where is Miss Sommers?"
"I am here." At the top of the stairs, sunlight streaked through the odd windows and illuminated a petite woman of perhaps twenty. Her brown hair shone with gold and red like fire licking in a hearth. Her expression calm and disinterested, she eased down the steps. When she reached the bottom, her blue eyes flashed with something between anger and annoyance before she dipped into a polite curtsy. "My lord, Mr. Witmore, I presume. I am Sarah Sommers."
Monty bowed. "How do you do? I am indeed Montgomery Witmore. My uncle and aunt have bid me come to escort you to Willoughby Castle at your earliest convenience."
She frowned. "Lady Stapleton sent a letter informing me of her plans."
Not sure what to make of her obvious displeasure, Monty smiled. He found his smile could ease a lady's worries. "You will be quite happy with life at my uncle's home. It is comfortable, and they are much looking forward to your arrival."
Those bright eyes narrowed. "That is exactly what Lord Ashton said when I came to Milton Manor. It is also what my cousin Mrs. Amelia Duncroft said when I was sent to her for the better part of two years. I will have you know this is my seventh relative or close family friend to become my warden since I was born. Between their having died, married, left the country, or some other means of ridding themselves of me, I am quite sick of this process. However, none of this is your problem, my lord."
There had not been a hint of feeling in her voice, yet her mesmerizing expressions told another story of hurt and abandonment. Monty shook himself. She was right about one thing: it wasn’t his problem. He'd promised his uncle and aunt that he would deliver Sarah Sommers, and that was what he would do. "I'm sorry for your trouble, Miss Sommers, but I'm certain you will be happy with my family in Sussex."
Her stare was so direct, he was compelled to look away before she said, "Mrs. Pratt is correct. The admiral who has let Milton Manor will be arriving any time, and we are to be gone before that happens. Our trunks are packed. Do you think you can accommodate two small trunks, my lord?"
Mrs. Pratt didn't wait for him to reply. "As I told Sarah, my lord, we can arrange a cart to bring the trunks in a few days. It will be no bother." She clasped her hands in front of her breasts and batted her eyelids.
"I'm sure I can hire a second carriage for your belongings and any servants who will accompany you." The house was oddly quiet. The doors to the left were shut, but to the right, light poured in from a parlor with bright rugs in contrast to the furniture, which was covered in white sheets. A dark blue sofa with polished wood stood in the center of the room and was the only thing that had not been arranged for a vacant house.
"I have no maid to bring with me, my lord. It is only the two of us and our baggage." Her pert chin was held high as she waited for his response.
"I see." Surprised that she wouldn't have a lady's maid, he took a moment to think through his response. "Then I believe we can manage with my carriage. Are there any footmen, or shall I fetch the trunks?"
A warm blush made her even lovelier as she opened her mouth.
"Oh no, my lord," Mrs. Pratt said. "There are some stablemen left here, and they will load our things. Good gracious, of course, you're not to fetch and carry. As if we would ask such a thing of you."
For the first time, Sarah lowered her gaze to the floor.
He couldn't tell which oddity she was embarrassed over; her lack of maid, Mrs. Pratt's boisterous response, or the fact that he'd offered to carry her trunk. It made little difference, but in just the few moments they'd been acquainted, he found her a curiosity. "Perhaps we might leave as soon as possible in that case. We can travel a few hours and stop at an inn near Oxford. I've promised to have you to my aunt before Michaelmas, and if the weather is fine, we shall arrive in just three days."
