Captivating the Countess

by Patricia Rice

  She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “You resist all my best persuasion. Why is that?”

  “Because I’m your brother and know when you’re practicing your wiles. Behave, and I’ll tell Harry to take you into dinner. He’s a good, steady man. Try your wiles on him.” Knowing his guests would talk if he aimed directly for Bell, Rain began working his way around the room.

  Most days, he kept to himself to prevent grinding molars. But with Bell quietly talking to his sisters, magically managing his household, he relaxed enough to feel safe in his own drawing room.

  No doors slammed. A servant brought a ladder, chased the parrot from the chandelier, and carried it back to its cage. The monkeys had apparently been confined for the evening. Vicki’s plants looked rather handsome against the dark drapery, although Rain had his doubts that they’d survive for long there. Still, he was in a mellow mood when the dinner bell rang.

  The only fly in his soup was that Bell took the arm of one of the spare male guests and didn’t sit with Rain at the table, leaving him to choose among the remaining eligible ladies.

  Telling himself that he was perfectly capable of carrying on dinner conversation with whomever his sisters chose to push at him, Rain chatted about dogs with one of Alicia’s friends on his right. The older lady on his left wanted to know the latest remedies for toe fungus. He’d spent the better part of his life under these conditions. He could do it.

  He could do it even better knowing Bell would be waiting for him in the ducal suite afterward.

  He made his excuses to the gentlemen after dinner and strode into the entry hall in hopes Bell would have already left the ladies. He almost missed seeing her in the shadows of the narrower corridors. Given that footmen were arriving with tables and chairs, Rain assumed she was directing the arrangement of the card room.

  “That’s why we have Franklin, you know.” He strolled up to take her arm and lead her back to the stairs. Above the décolletage of her blue velvet evening gown, a simple stone necklace dangled above her cleavage. He admired the pearly skin and rounded curves the thin silver rested against. “You needn’t do everything.”

  “Franklin is rightfully fatigued after all the exertions of dealing with your departing guests. I ordered him to sit down with a glass of medicinal brandy and his feet up. Your other servants know perfectly well what to do. They only needed to be reassured we didn’t want to do anything differently.” She wrapped her fingers around his arm and hurried him up the stairs.

  “Why aren’t one of my sisters taking charge of this?”

  She sent him a quizzical look. “I will not interfere if you prefer they take charge. But Estelle and Salina grow weary easily these days. Alicia is a delight with your guests, but as the youngest, she’s never had to deal with servants. And Victoria wanted to go to the nursery to check on one of the children who is feeling feverish. If it’s my task to direct servants, then it seemed easiest for me to be their go-between.”

  “And here I thought Davis was efficient in keeping most household matters away from me. I simply didn’t know I had any.”

  She chuckled. “If it was just you and Alicia, then one assumes you didn’t. Your sisters are accustomed to taking charge the rest of the time. But you are paying me generously, and I like to earn my keep.”

  “I can’t marry you. I’ll lose the best steward I ever had! This is a dilemma.” He opened his father’s door before she could pinch him.

  The duke’s valet was back in place. There was no sign of the maid, which meant she was probably luxuriating in her new quarters. Damn. Yet his father looked not necessarily healthier but less gray. Rain chose to take that as a good sign, although he wasn’t sure of what.

  “Did you enjoy the pudding?” Bell asked the duke as he sat up straighter with their arrival. “It’s better when the raspberries are fresh.”

  “It was delicious just as it was. Whisky pudding is now my favorite treat. And better yet, it isn’t hurting me.” The duke looked hugely pleased with himself.

  “It’s called cranachan and is about as simple as can be. We didn’t have much of a feast on Hogmanay, but we always managed the cranachan, if only using preserves.” Bell settled on the foot of the bed and waited expectantly.

  “Whisky and raspberries? Why didn’t we have that at the table?” Rain gestured for the valet to help him lay the duke flat on the bed.

  “Not enough preserves for that many guests. And your sisters don’t need the cream and whisky. But if the oats can be digested, they’re excellent nutrition. I had the cook beat them practically into dust in hopes they’d go down smoothly. You have a most excellent kitchen.”

  She slid easily from talking of desserts to discussing the kitchen, distracting all concerned while Rain laid his hand on his father’s abdomen. This time, he didn’t use his father’s hand in between. He needed to know if he could do this on his own. He took up the discussion of favorite foods as Bell set her slender fingers on top of his.

  Talking of food was done easily in a calming voice. Less boring than the morning’s discussion of anatomy, the topic was less likely to put others to sleep.

  “I think I feel the warmth,” Bell whispered.

  So did Rain—as well as the energy flow. It seemed smoother, less knotted. Not that this had any scientific methodology that he understood, but he continued in his soothing voice, recalling favorite Christmas dinners. He began to feel a harmony, like a musician must feel when he discovered notes that expressed the sounds in his head.

  By the time he’d done all he knew to do, his father was asleep again. Rain had the manservant help him turn the duke on his side, then hugged Bell as he led her from the suite.

  “I have no idea what I’m doing,” he whispered into her hair.

  “That makes two of us.” She stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. “Go. You deserve a rest. I think this drains you. I’ll make your excuses to Alicia.”

  His arms felt oddly empty as she abandoned him to slip down the stairs on her own.

  He’d made a mistress of his steward. And here he’d thought he’d been the only member of the family who had risen about the Winchester eccentricity.

  Twenty-two

  Places had already been taken at the card tables when Bell arrived. She was just the smallest bit giddy from their session with the duke. She really felt as if they might be helping, and Rain’s appreciation filled her with unaccustomed warmth—from a man who was called cold!

  Feeling perhaps a little too confident, she noticed an empty chair at the table where Lady Pamela and Lady Dalrymple sat with Salina’s solicitor husband and Sir Harry. They didn’t appear to be playing whist.

  Remembering the ladies slighting her earlier, Bell deliberately approached that table. She might be quiet and unassuming, but no one had ever called her shy, and tonight, she was feeling courageous. Or rebellious. As a friend of Nevins, perhaps Lady Dalrymple could explain the regrettable episode this morning. “Shall I join you?”

  The ladies looked sour. The gentlemen instantly stood, and being closest, Sir Harry pulled out a chair for her. “Do you play Brag? The others are all vicious whist players, but we’re not inclined to blood-letting this evening.”

  She liked Sir Harry. She didn’t appreciate the scowls on the ladies faces, but they could scarcely forbid her a Brag table. The more numbers, the better when it came to this game. “I’ve played with my family upon occasion. Catch me up on which version?”

  They explained the rules they were playing by. Bell noticed Lady Dalrymple had few coins left and Lady Pamela had accumulated the larger pot. Of course, in a game that required bluffing, an actress would have the best chance. Unfortunately for Lady Pamela, Bell had a head for numbers, and Brag was simple. The game didn’t require shuffling. The dealer merely slipped the cards beneath the deck and continued dealing.

  “How is the duke this evening?” Mr. Lombard asked, chewing on an unlit cigar.

  Salina’s husband was a handsome enough man, despite the mutto
nchops. Bell wondered at his decision to sit with the unmarried ladies and Rain’s bachelor friend. Or had the ladies made the decision? She really needed to learn the guests better.

  “His Grace is resting easily. His valet says he has had no difficulty with today’s meals. Rain thinks fattening his father will help tremendously, if we can find the right foods.” Bell didn’t look at her cards. Not having determined the rotation yet, she preferred to make only half bets while she learned the table.

  “Sal tells me I’m fattening up too much. I’ll have to take up boxing with Rain.” Lombard checked his cards.

  “You’re playing blind, Lady Craigmore?” Sir Harry asked, placing his wager and noticing she didn’t look at her cards.

  “I am this round. My stepfather used to cheat, so I learned to be cautious and watch the cards first. Lady Dalrymple, your daughter is a delight. I am hiding her favorite books and making her seek them. She’s quite good.” And walking one small step at a time, but Bell refrained from a comment that might appear as if she were criticizing the mother’s lack of nurturing.

  “I’d rather someone of your sort stay away from her,” the widow said stiffly, laying down her wager.

  Well, so much for gratitude. Good thing she wasn’t expecting it.

  “My sort? You object to twins, stewards, or Scots?” Bell truly did not know what she’d done to offend the lady, but she didn’t intend to take her seriously. “I’m also of the short sort, and Rainford tells me I’m a managing sort. Since he pays me to manage his household, I assume that isn’t a bad thing.”

  “Rainford has his sisters who can manage the household. I can’t think that’s why he’s paying you.” Lady Pamela laid her wager.

  Ah, so here was the one spreading evil gossip. Bell couldn’t imagine how the actress might know what she and Rain had done. But she saw how the woman was winning.

  Biting her tongue on saying Teddy’s mistress was a fine one to talk, Bell stopped the players from revealing their cards with a warning, “Don’t turn them over yet. I think the deck is old. I can spot the high cards.”

  To prove her point, she flipped over one card in each of their stacks, revealing Sir Harry’s king, Mr. Lombard’s queen, Lady Dalrymple’s jester, and Lady Pamela’s ace.

  While the players expressed shock, overturning the rest of their cards to reveal lesser denominations, Bell gestured for the footman hovering near the tray of drinks. “Bring a new deck, please.”

  “Why, I never. . .” Lady Pamela huffed and pointed at her hand, which was higher than the rest. “It’s my pot. You cannot say it isn’t.”

  Lombard leaned back in his chair and frowned as he examined the deck. “Actually, I think we need to forfeit all our winnings and start over. Anyone who notices these marks would have an advantage. Thank you, Lady Craigmore, for not robbing us blind.”

  “I like the challenge of bluffing. Stealing is much too easy. As I said, my stepfather was a cheat, and I learned from him. Perhaps Lady Pamela knew my history and that is her objection to my joining your table?” Bell loved a good bluff. She lifted her eyebrows at the actress, waiting for an explanation.

  “I will not stand to be insulted by a courtesan.” The actress scooped up her winnings and left in a huff.

  Bell muffled a laugh.

  Lady Dalrymple merely looked bewildered at the table now empty of coins. “I thought we were to start over?”

  Without comment, the gentlemen began dividing up their winnings and pushing a larger share in her direction to make up for the coins Lady Pamela had stolen.

  Apparently performing her duty as hostess, Alicia joined them, thus distracting Lady Dalrymple more.

  Courtesan, indeed, as if the actress weren’t living with Teddy. What on earth had given Lady Pamela that idea? They’d been more than discreet.

  As if summoned by Bell’s thoughts, Teddy left his table to join them. “Pam out of funds? If she wants me to build her theater, she really needs to start saving. I’ve won some, and I’m feeling lucky, if I might join you.”

  Lady Dalrymple brightened. “If you would, please. Lady Pamela was winning, so perhaps that’s why she left while she was ahead. She’s quite excited about the theater.”

  And if the family fortune was left to Teddy, he’d be ripe for every grasping creature who flattered him with her company. Bell winced, understanding Rain’s dilemma. Would Teddy mature enough in five years if Rain married now and delayed the trust transfer?

  Alicia joined Teddy in the Brag game as the whist tables they’d left rearranged themselves. Bell settled in to enjoy the company for a little while. Drucilla’s mother might still disapprove of her, but the lady was so obviously bad at cards that there wasn’t any chance she could play whist. Bell could, but she preferred the company of Alicia and Teddy. Eventually, Lady Dalrymple surrendered and left the table to join the guests gossiping in the other room.

  By morning, no doubt all the guests would believe Bell a courtesan and a card cheat. Life took some strange turns.

  Confident that the marquess’s immediate family suffered under no such delusions, Bell pleaded early morning hours and left before the others. Wondering if the actress and Rainford’s cousin had taken against her because she’d had Nevins thrown out, Bell took the stairs up to the nursery, holding tight to the banisters all the way. She’d promised Drucilla that she’d be nearby if needed. She hoped she hadn’t been needed.

  The child was huddled in a child-sized rocking chair in the schoolroom, cuddling her doll. Did no one ever notice her leaving the room? Or were they so used to it that they’d quit fighting her?

  Bell held out her hand. “You need to be in bed, silly goose. Did you see any new ghosts this evening?”

  Dru tilted her head as if considering. “There’s an old gentleman in funny clothes. He watches the lady. She paces like mommy does sometimes. I think she’s worried.”

  Bell prayed that meant the nag was still on the loose. She should ask Rainford to start taking precautions before his grandmother’s spirit had more notions.

  Which meant she was seriously considering allowing the marquess back in her bed.

  “Well, there’s little we can do for them, I fear. Do you think you can sleep now?” She led the child back to the bedroom where the nursemaid had nodded off.

  Dru obediently climbed into her empty bed and let Bell tuck her in. She prayed that the child would at least become accustomed to seeing spirits without fear.

  Two of the youngest children had climbed into bed together. One of the older boys had thrown off his covers. Bell covered him and left the toddlers alone. At least there were no whimpering infants to fear breaking. And while they slept, she needn’t worry about their noises startling her into the vapors.

  She let herself out in the hall. The stairs down to her floor were on the corner, although one of the gas lamps had gone out and that end was cast in darkness. She should have brought a lamp with her, but the front stairs were so well lit. . .

  She could go back that way. She probably should. But she was tired and walking half way through the main residence only to have to turn around and walk back on the next floor down. . . seemed like too much effort. She could manage in the dark and remember to bring a lamp next time. And have Franklin look into the unlit sconce.

  Lifting her multi-layered dinner gown and petticoat, she started down the corner stairs to the family floor. The north wing wasn’t particularly well lit, either, but it was unoccupied and not hazardous. Rainford really could house a village in this place.

  Holding her skirt in one hand and clutching the railing with the other, Bell took the stairs cautiously. Stairs always made her uncomfortable, but she’d done this so often these past weeks that she was learning to breathe a little easier. She couldn’t spend her life sitting on a sofa for fear of falling—

  A shove from behind sent her headfirst down the stairwell. The shock spun her senseless before she hit the landing.

  Retired to his own suite with a glass of br
andy and the latest medical journal, Rainford was in his dressing gown and slippers when he thought he heard a child’s cry. Assuming a nursemaid would hush the nightmare, he flipped the page and tried to concentrate.

  The cries escalated to hysterical screams. A door slammed. A cold draft riffled the pages of the journal, and ice froze his spine.

  Normally, he would ignore the frisson of fear, but these past weeks had been anything but normal. Setting down drink and journal, he picked up a lamp and stepped into the hall. His suite was just down from the duke’s on the main family floor. He’d thought most of the company had gone to bed, but he could see light flickering up from the public rooms below. More doors slammed.

  The child’s screaming continued. Others were emerging from their rooms. In her dressing gown and nightcap, Estelle was already aiming for the stairs.

  Rain’s thoughts flew to Bell, but her chambers were far on the other side of the house. If she heard a child, she’d already be heading for the nursery.

  So he stopped to check on the duke. Both he and the valet were asleep, undisturbed by the commotion.

  Drunken voices echoed up from the entry hall as Rain emerged from the ducal suite and took the main stairs up. The child’s incoherent cries were terrifying.

  Teddy and Lady Pamela had the suite on the far end of the nursery floor, but there was no sign of life on their end. They were probably the drunken voices below.

  The schoolroom door was already open when Rain reached it.

  Drucilla stood in the middle of the schoolroom, shrieking and looking at something above her head. Estelle tried to approach, but the child backed off and pointed. The governess, nursemaids, and children in their nightgowns surrounded her, but she stuck out her hands and swirled around to avoid anyone reaching for her.

  Upon Rain’s entrance, the child flung herself at his legs, weeping and crying what sounded like, “Lady See, see, see.”