Something in his tone caught her attention, spreading unease through her, but he silenced it with a quick kiss, a brash meeting of mouths. Before she could say anything, he yanked open the door, and with one last look at her, dashed out and across the hallway.
Eliza sat back down, her phone clutched in her hand. Thirty percent battery power. Crap. She took one last look at the photo of Cat and her, and then powered the machine off, carefully securing it in the lockbox before lying back down on the bed.
Sleep. She just needed to snooze a bit. She’d find Deveric later, see how he was feeling after all he’d seen and heard.
Surely this was a great sign, that the hours they’d spent together had felt like minutes; that they’d talked like old friends, in spite of the energy surging between them. This was the kind of relationship she wanted, one full of passion, but built on friendship.
Tonight, Deveric Mattersley had felt like a friend. What would tomorrow hold?
Chapter 22
A few hours later, Eliza woke refreshed, despite the small amount of sleep, happy to face the day. Surely last night signified a major step forward in building a relationship with Deveric. He knew her now, knew all about her—or as much as one could share in a few hours. They had their future to truly become intimate with each other. Not only did he know her, he believed her, accepted her story for truth—and had kissed her again after all was said and done.
They’d mostly talked about her and her time period, true, but he’d shared small tidbits of himself along the way, discussions of his passion for science, his fascination with the potentials of steam, his frustration that ducal duties often prevented him from pursuing more information, from experimenting on his own.
But was it enough? She still had to win over his mother. Not to mention the rest of Regency society. At least the dowager appreciated Eliza’s singing. Maybe if she just sang all day long, she’d be in like Flynn.
Grinning, Eliza threw the covers off, then immediately pulled them back on. Brr! She wished she had her electric blanket—and Elvis, the cat, who’d slept on Eliza’s feet every night, though he was technically Cat’s kitty.
“Sure, steal my feline. It’s not like he’s my namesake or anything,” Cat said once.
“Namesake?” Eliza had teased. “Your name is Elvis? Your parents must have had a cruel sense of humor, or been true fans.”
“Very funny.”
“Thankya, thankya verra much.”
People kept pets in this period, too. She’d seen dogs in paintings, and occasionally a cat or two. What had happened to the dog she’d seen with Freddy that morning? Eliza had a hard time believing the dowager would allow animals in the house. Which was sad, because, in Eliza’s opinion, companionship from an animal was one of God’s greatest gifts. Oh, how she missed a snuggly warm body in the morning, something that loved her without reservation—and never criticized her. Exactly how she dreamed Deveric would be. She’d take him over a pet any day.
There came a knock at the door, and then it opened quickly. It was still disconcerting to know servants could enter at any time.
“Good morning, my lady.”
“Morning, Betsy.”
Eliza braced herself, threw off the covers, hopped up, and ran to the washstand. She quickly washed her face, thankful Betsy had brought warm water, then ran to the fire, which Betsy had stoked up to a merry blaze.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m so cold. How do you stand it?”
“’Tis a bit colder than many a March, but I don’t find it so bad, my lady. Virginia must be warmer?”
“Um, in a matter of speaking.”
“I brought another of Amara’s gowns for you today.”
Eliza examined the dress, admiring the intricate stitching on the bodice. This one, while still long-sleeved and fairly high-necked, was not nearly as dowdy as the first Eliza had worn. “She is too kind.”
“I’m glad she is being kind to you. She has a good heart, but she’s become so hardened, so standoffish.” Betsy clapped her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken so freely. I love the Mattersley family; they have cared for me and my family for many years.”
“No offense to me, Betsy. I value your help in navigating the family dyn—relationships since I’m new.” ‘Family dynamics,’ which she’d been about to say, was certainly not regular Regency parlance.
Betsy hesitated for a moment. “We know much that goes on in this house.” She held out Eliza’s stays.
Eliza’s eyes flew to the maid’s. Was she implying ... did she know about last night? Eliza turned around and looped her arms through the undergarment, attempting to act calm.
“We don’t know everything, but many people speak or act in front of us as if they’ve forgotten we are there. It’s as if we’re invisible.” Betsy tied the stays, and then lifted the morning gown.
“I shall have to be careful, then,” Eliza joked as she settled into the dress. “No trysts in the garden, huh?” Why the heck had she said that? Deveric’s face flashed before her, those green eyes doing all sorts of things to her insides. Because I’m thinking about the master of the house, and yesterday’s kiss, and last night. Especially last night. What was he doing right now? She could hardly wait to see him.
“You are safe, my lady. You’ve already won us over because you treat us as if we are equals. We like how you have brought His Grace back to life, as well.”
“Back to life?”
Betsy worked on the back fastenings. “He has been so dour for so long. Since the loss—” Betsy broke off, but Eliza knew to what she was referring. “It’s nice to see a spark in his eyes again.”
“I think you give me too much credit.” Had he been so in love with his wife? Eliza didn’t want to compete with a ghost for the rest of her life. “What was she like? The duke’s wife?”
Betsy waited a moment before speaking. “Lady Mirabelle was an elegant lady, small and frail.” She picked up the brush and motioned for Eliza to sit at the dressing table. “Impeccable in behavior and manners. She did not say much, preferring to keep to herself.”
Eliza’s heart constricted. She was the opposite of this Mirabelle in every way. “Did Dev—did the duke love her?”
Betsy smiled over Eliza’s head in the mirror. “Love is not usually a part in such high marriages, is it? But, no. I do not think he loved her. She definitely did not love him. Her maid often whispered of the things Lady Mirabelle told her about His Grace.”
Eliza’s eyes widened. “What kinds of things?”
“That he was a monster of a man, a giant, fierce and rough. Of course, we did not believe her, no matter that she was the duchess. We saw no evidence of harm on her, heard nothing to indicate he hurt her. We saw for ourselves how His Grace looked after his son, his horses, and his dogs. No, most of us did not care much for Lady Mirabelle, Eliza. She drained the spirit out of all around her.”
Relief surged through Eliza. Not that she’d wanted Deveric saddled with a horrendous wife, but Eliza certainly didn’t want to compete with the memory of a perfect one, either.
“You’re so kind to me, Betsy. It’s nice to feel accepted by at least one person here.”
“Oh, you’ve won over far more than that,” Betsy said, tying Eliza’s hair back in a ribbon.
What did she mean by that?
As Eliza watched her in the dressing table mirror, Betsy’s face suddenly crumpled, fear etching its way across her forehead. “What is it, Betsy?”
“Beg pardon, my lady. I should not have said so much about the family, particularly the duke’s wife. I—I forgot my place.”
Eliza turned on the chair and grabbed her in an impulsive hug, squeezing her tightly. “No worries. Your secrets about this family’s secrets are safe with me.”
Eliza followed the hallway to the grand staircase, pleased she was finally a bit more oriented in this enormous house. Her sense of direction had never been her forte.
After descending the stair
s, she made her way to the breakfast room. Low murmurs of conversation and the tinkling of silverware on china greeted her as she walked in. She’d hoped to find Deveric but was disappointed to discover only Amara, Emmeline, and Becca. At least the Dowager Dragon was absent.
Sitting down, she looked over the options on the table. There were several kinds of cold meat, but Eliza never could stomach it in the morning. She set a piece of cheddar and a chopped egg on top of a piece of hot toast, pleased when the cheese melted. Not quite an Egg McMuffin, but it will do. At least it’s not turtle.
Becca’s face wrinkled when she saw Eliza’s plate. “Eggs on toast? Is that an American tradition?”
Eliza laughed. “Perhaps. I find it delicious.” She took a quick bite, washing it down with coffee. “Has Dev—I mean, has everyone else eaten already?”
“Most people are still abed. We are rather early risers,” Emmeline said. “Mother’s already finished and has gone to confer with the cook on dinner.”
“I don’t know where my brother is,” Becca said. “Well, Deveric, I mean. Chance will likely sleep until near dinner.”
“He left.”
Chapter 23
At Amara’s words, Eliza’s eyes flew to hers. “He left?” she exclaimed before she could stop herself.
“He got called away to London.”
“When?” Was it before or after he came to her room? Is that why he’d come, because he knew he was leaving? What did this mean?
All three sisters looked at her.
Crap. Eliza didn’t need hot toast anymore; she was pretty sure she could melt cheese on her cheeks at the moment.
Amara took a sip of her tea. “I overheard him talking with Arthington after the play. He said he’d received a message while the men were at their port; Uncle Desmond is in trouble again, so Dev had to leave for London first thing this morning.”
Becca snickered. “When is Uncle not?”
Emmeline shushed her.
“Our brother is constantly bailing out those who make foolish decisions. They should be left to stew in the remnants of their own soup!” Becca’s chin jutted out in a way reminiscent of her brother’s. Must be a Mattersley thing.
“Easy for a seventeen-year-old who’s never been into major trouble to say.” Amara’s voice was calm. “If it hadn’t been for Dev, I’d have been blacklisted forever, or had to enter into a marriage I didn’t want.”
Becca looked down at her lap. “I’m sorry, Amara. You are right.”
Eliza wanted to throw up. Dev had left? Left her here, on her own? Why hadn’t he at least told her? Oh, sure, he’d said he had to go, but she’d thought he meant back to his own chamber. Not off the estate. Not all the way to London!
What did it mean, that he’d come to her, that he’d spent the night before he left? Had he wanted to forge a stronger connection to bind them together before his absence? Or had he merely wanted his questions answered, in case he didn’t return? He would come back, wouldn’t he? Confusion swirled around her, enveloping her in its disheartening fog.
“Let us not argue,” Emmeline interjected, her voice falsely cheerful. The peacemaker of the family. “Though the house party is over and our guests are leaving today, we still have ways to entertain ourselves. We should journey into Winchester and procure our cousin new dresses.”
“Winchester? Eliza would have more fun learning to ride a horse than visiting silly old Winchester. There’s hardly anything there.”
“Becca, you may think there’s nothing better than a horse, but that doesn’t mean everyone does.”
Eliza took a bite of her egg sandwich, hardly tasting it now. As bewildered and saddened as she was over Dev’s sudden disappearance, though, she enjoyed the banter between the sisters, loved the affectionate edge she heard in their words. These women may bicker from time to time, but it was obvious they had each other’s backs.
She wished she’d grown up with that kind of security, the built-in friendship siblinghood brought. She’d found Cat in her twenties, thank God, but for most of her life it’d been just her and her parents—and they’d focused on their own things so much she’d often had to fend for herself. Until she’d met Greg. They’d gotten married. Friends for life. And then he’d died.
Maybe that’s what made it so easy to leave Cat. Maybe she’d never expected their friendship to last. Horror filled her. Had she really dismissed her best friend so easily? No! Cat wanted me to go. She knew. She knew I couldn’t stay stuck anymore, just as she couldn’t either. “I hope she’s happy, whatever she’s doing,” Eliza mumbled as she traced her finger over the edge of her fork.
“Did you say something?”
Eliza glanced over at Amara. “No, sorry, nothing. Never mind.” After a pause, she steeled her shoulders. Deveric would come back. He had to. For now, she should use this opportunity to get to know his sisters better. “Winchester would be delightful, actually. I’ve always wanted to see the cathedral there.” Not really, but Eliza’s mom had loved that terrible old Winchester Cathedral song. It seemed a good enough reason to go.
Amara stood up. “Let us go to Winchester, then. We won’t find anything nearly as good as in London, but there should be one or two serviceable gowns we can find for Eliza until we venture back to Town.”
“I think not,” a voice called from the hallway. The dowager strode into the room. “Mrs. James can make do with your older gowns, Amara. Harrington is ready for lessons today. Mrs. James shall attend him.”
“But—” Emmeline started, before falling silent again.
“Yes, Your Grace.” Eliza dipped her head toward the dowager. She refused to let the Dragon intimidate her— Eleanor Roosevelt, baby—but she also didn’t wish to make a permanent enemy by responding pugnaciously. When I’m the duchess, we will be equals.
She wasn’t a duchess yet, though, if she ever would be, and so for now, she must cede the battle. Besides, she had volunteered to tutor the boy. “Could someone direct me to the nursery?”
“I will,” Amara said, daring to shoot her mother a look. “Follow me.”
The two women escaped the breakfast room.
“My pardons. Mother feels she must preserve the family name, so she is always on guard against potential scandal.”
Eliza nearly snorted. She, scandalous? As if. Good Lord, she’d been called a Goody Two Shoes more times than she cared to count in Charlottesville. Then again, Lizzie, she doesn’t know you. To Deveric’s mother, Eliza was new, of an obscure background, with manners and mannerisms that didn’t fit in. Hardly enough to raise eyebrows back home, but she wasn’t home anymore, and those things meant everything in Regency society.
Pain shone in Amara’s eyes. After a moment, she whispered, “It’s hard for her to look at me sometimes.”
“It’s your mother who’s missing out, you know,” Eliza said. At Amara’s questioning look, she continued. “You seem pretty wonderful to me. Bright, observant, caring. If she’s going to lose her relationship with you because of something that happened years ago and that wasn’t even your fault, well, that’s her loss.” Eliza shrugged her shoulders as if to say none of it was a big deal.
Amara gave a hoot of laughter. “I like you Americans. If only it were that easy.”
“I like you, too, Amara,” Eliza said, grateful for another moment of connection in the midst of emotional chaos.
“What is she doing here?” Frederick demanded as Eliza entered the room.
Nurse Pritchett slapped him on the knuckles. “A child does not speak to elders in such a manner. Not even a duke’s son.”
Eliza flinched. The boy stared at her mulishly, ignoring his nurse. “Please don’t hit him!”
Nurse Pritchett glowered at her. “You are a stranger in this house, a poor cousin. I am nurse to the duke’s heir. You dare to command me?”
Eliza drew up her shoulders, preparing for battle. Normally, this scary old crow might frighten her, but her anger flared upon seeing Deveric’s son struck. That was not
acceptable to her.
It was normal in this time, a voice in her head said. Well, it wasn’t going to be the norm in this house. Not if she had anything to do with it.
Would Deveric’s mother throw her out over this? She glanced at the boy. He was small for his age, but fire sparked in his eyes, his jaw squarely set. Just like his father’s. Her heart flooded with unexpected emotion.
“I do.” Eliza’s composed demeanor belied her inner turmoil. “As a governess, I have deduced if you want children to learn and behave, there are far better methods. And as a family member, I’m telling you, do not lay a hand on him again.”
God, she hoped she was right. She was making all this up as she went. Governess, my ass. She’d never taught children in her life. But she had held Story Hour every week at the Treasure Trove, and saw how kids ate up compliments for good behavior.
On the few occasions she’d had a yeller, as she called them, she’d cringed. Most of the time, those children continued behaving badly, even after being screamed at. They’d grown immune to it.
The nurse crossed her arms under her chest, bristling with belligerence. “I’ve been a nurse longer than you’ve been alive.” When Eliza showed no sign of backing down, she finally huffed, “I leave you to him,” and stalked off.
Round One to the American.
Would Nurse Pritchett report this to Deveric’s mother? Most likely. The dowager was probably a firm believer in corporal punishment. I’m sure she’d like to whip me. Well, Eliza would cross that bridge—and Dragon—when she came to it.
Closing the door after Nurse Pritchett, Eliza made a show of exhaling in relief. “Whew, I’m glad she’s gone.”
Freddy glared at her, mutiny in his eyes. So much for gratitude. After a minute or so, he looked away. So much bravado in such a little boy. “I can handle a knuckle-rapping,” he grumbled.
“I’m sure you can, but I don’t think you should have to.”
He kicked at the floor.
The Magic of Love Series Page 45
