older woman. She stiffened and placed a hand over her heart.
“Mama, are you all right?” asked the younger, casting a withering glance at Thomas.
If looks could kill, thought Thomas, I’d be lying, dead as a herring, on this rocky ground.
“I am fine.” The older woman proudly brushed back her white hair and stood tall. “I must say, it took the earl a while.”
“A while for what?” he asked.
The younger narrowed her eyes at him. “She means it took a while for the earl to give a thought to his dead son.”
Thomas still did not understand. Who were these women? They dressed like peasants, lived in a simple farmhouse, yet their speech was so refined they would be at ease in London society... well, except for the Irish accents, of course, which the ton would no doubt scoff at. Had the older woman somehow been acquainted with Randall? Perhaps she’d been a servant... one of the upper servants... yes, that had to be it. She had worked for Randall, perhaps as a cook or housekeeper, and now, through some arrangement, lived upon his land, or rather, now Lord Trevyln’s land. “Might I ask your name?” he inquired.
The older woman proudly lifted her chin. “I am Sinead O’Fallon, widow of Randall Trevlyn.”
Widow? Thomas was thunderstruck. He had a hard time keeping his mouth from dropping open. “Do you mean you are the widow of Randall, Viscount Montfret, the son of Lord Trevlyn, Earl of Alberdsley?”
The younger woman placed a protective hand on the older’s shoulder. “Of course that’s what she means,” she firmly stated, regarding him with those amazing deep blue eyes that at the moment were full of accusation. “What reason would you have to doubt her?”
“I didn’t mean, I...” Thomas cursed himself. In polite society, he was known for his suave demeanor. Now he was bumbling about like some half-wit. And it wasn’t simply the shock of discovering that Randall had been married. It was also the effect those blue eyes were having on him. “Of course I do not doubt you. Rather, I’m surprised. I was not aware Lord Montfret had ever married, nor was his father aware of it, I’m sure.”
An ironic smile crossed Sinead O’Fallon’s lips. “I’m not surprised. You are aware Randall was estranged from his father?”
“I am.” Not estranged, the man was disowned, he thought, but decided not to say.
“Then you can understand why Randall felt under no obligation to inform his family he had wed. I never knew exactly why, but he had compelling reasons for keeping our marriage quiet.”
Thomas knew better than to ask what she meant by compelling reasons. Doubtless they were all in the form of those angry creditors who hounded Randall until he was forced to flee to Ireland. Thomas’s thoughts were churning. This wasn’t what he expected. “Do you suppose we could talk, Lady... er... Trevlyn? Or did you say your last name was–?”
“O’Fallon,” said the younger woman stepping forward protectively. “My mother goes by her first husband’s name”–she wrinkled her nose–”most assuredly not the second’s. I am her daughter, Evleen. So, sir, do you know enough about us now that you can state your business?”
Before he could answer, Sinead O’Fallon gave a warning nudge to Evleen’s shoulder. “Let us not be hasty.”
Evleen ignored her and continued to glare at Thomas. “You’ve come about the rents, haven’t you?”
Sinead frowned. “Daughter, we must remember our manners. It’s nearly dinner time. Our guest must be hungry. After dinner will be soon enough to hear what he has to say.” She looked at Thomas. “Will you stay?”
“I am honored.”
Thomas smiled to himself when he saw the thundercloud descending over Evleen’s face. But no doubt remembering her manners, she had the grace to quickly smile and say, “So it appears you are invited to dinner, Mister Linberry.” She placed a hand on her hip and cocked her head appraisingly, her gaze sweeping him up and down. “Or perhaps it’s Lord Linberry, judgin’ from that elegant coach and the fine clothes that you’re wearin’. We’ll be having a bit of fresh salmon, poached, I think, along with cabbage and potatoes. A simple meal, I’m afraid, not like those fancy banquets you must be accustomed to at home.”
He could tell the girl was seething underneath all that ridiculous chatter. She knew full well he’d come about the rents, but no doubt for her mother’s sake, she had dredged up the decency to maintain a facade of politeness. He would set her straight about the titles.