The Marquis She's Been Waiting For
Page 17
Alex was so thankful he almost forgot he hadn’t offered the job to her. “When can you begin?”
She stood. “As soon as you are ready for me to start.”
“Tomorrow morning?” He hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question.
“Very well.” She inclined her head. “I shall be here at ten o’clock.” She turned to the girls. “Please be ready. I would like you to show me the schoolroom, the music room, as well as your books, and other supplies you have on hand. If we require anything, we shall make a list and go shopping.” Miss Holliwell glanced at him. “Does that meet with your approval, my lord?”
“Entirely.” She could buy out every store in London if she wanted. He had to remember to thank Lady Huntingdon for the recommendation. “I look forward to you instructing my sisters.”
“I shall wish you good day, ladies, my lord.” She gave a graceful curtsey and left the three of them standing there. His sisters’ mouths were open and Alex knew exactly how they felt.
He walked over and closed the door. “Miss Holliwell is your new governess. Do you think you will like her?”
Penelope was the first to answer. “Can she teach me to curtsey and walk like that?”
Thank God! “I think it’s part of the plan.”
“I’m glad she will be our governess,” Phillida said. “I don’t think Miss Rivers is planning to stay long.”
“She will leave today,” Alex said, and not a moment too soon. Then he realized what his sister had said. “What makes you think she is planning to leave?”
“She had been talking a lot about Paris,” Phillida said.
“We have been studying all the arrondissements.” She drew her brows down in thought. “Sections.”
“I know what an arrondissement is.” A sense of foreboding filled him. “What has she said about them?”
“She explained who lived in the different parts of Paris.” Phillida shrugged. “That’s all.”
His sister was probably right. The woman was not planning to remain. “I’m going to have a footman escort you to Lady Huntingdon’s house while I tell Miss Rivers she is being discharged.” Both his sisters stared at him. “What is it?”
“It is her half day,” Penelope said.
It was amazing how appallingly ignorant he was about his own household. “Do you know when she usually returns?”
“At seven,” she said.
“How do you occupy yourselves when she is out?”
Penelope shrugged. “We do whatever we wish. May I go to the music room? I’d like to practice a piece of music I found.”
He nodded, then looked at Phillida. “What do you want to do?”
“I have a drawing I’d like to work on.”
“Very well. Off you go.” He added as an afterthought, “Have fun.”
The girls left, closing the door behind them.
He’d heard his secretary return and just as he was about to go into the next room, Cunningham opened the door. “I have everything ready.”
“Good.” Alex tugged the bell-pull and his butler opened the door. “Have Miss Rivers’s possessions packed and ready to go by the time she returns. She will not spend another night in this house.”
“A very good decision, my lord. I shall see it done straightaway.”
“Thank you.” He just prayed there would not be a scene. “Better yet. I believe Mr. Cunningham has a list of boardinghouses for ladies. Perhaps it would be better to remove her possessions to one of them so that she does not have to be bothered with it.”
This time his butler’s lips twitched. “An inspired idea, my lord.”
Alex hoped so. For the sake of his sisters if nothing else.
* * * *
Shortly after seven that evening when Dorie was leaving her chambers a shout came from outside. She would not have stopped if her maid had not said something. At least that’s what she told herself.
Going back into her room she saw her normally proper lady’s maid almost hanging out the window. “What is it, Curran?”
“Oh, my lady, you don’t want to see this.” Turning, she stood in front of the window overlooking the street as if to block Dorie’s view.
She did not believe that for a second. The look of glee on her maid’s face told her she really did want to see whatever was happening. Gazing down to the street and to the left, she saw the Exeter governess standing on the pavement in front of the house. A man—he really was a fine specimen—sitting in the driver’s seat of a gig grinned. “Who is that?”
“He’s the brewer, my lady.”
Ah, once again the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. “The man Miss Rivers has been, ah, seeing?” Earlier that day, Dorie had stood on the second landing of the staircase and watched Lord Exeter leave. She tried to think of Huntley’s reaction to Lord Exeter asking about his governess when her poor brother knew nothing of it. She thought of speaking to Caro, but when she arrived at her house, she was not there. Dorie left a note and prayed her sister-in-law received it in time.
“Do you know what is going on?” Her eyes were glued to the scene below.
“It appears that she’s been sacked.” Curran didn’t even turn her head.
“That is good news.” Either Lord Exeter had spoken with Huntley, or he had merely gone ahead and hired a new governess.
Curran looked as if she would like to say more but thought better of it. Really, Dorie would be so happy when she was allowed to hear about things. “Yes, my lady.”
Curran glanced around the room, no doubt trying to find something she must give Dorie to get her out of the room, when an argument began in the street.
“I am not going to marry you!” Miss Rivers was staring at the brewer. “Marriage is merely a form of slavery for women. I shall be no man’s chattel.”
“Not marry me? When we’ve—” Even from here Dorie could see the shock in the man’s face.
“I am going to France where women, even ladies, can live the lives they want. Just like Mary Wollstonecraft and her daughter have done.”
The words took Dorie’s breath away. This was the woman to whom Lady Exeter had trusted her innocent daughters? Dorie was going to be ill. She turned away only to have smelling salts shoved in front of her nose.
“I never thought I’d have use of these again,” Curran said.
Dorie pushed her maid’s hand away. “You need not use them now. I am perfectly fine.”
The maid’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? It wouldn’t do to have you tumble down the stairs.”
“I am fine.” Though she could use a sip of sherry. “If you do not believe me I’ll have a footman escort me to the drawing room.” Apparently, her sarcasm was enough to convince her maid, and Curran moved to the side of the door. “Thank you for your concern.”
“You’re welcome, my lady.” Curran bobbed a curtsey.
Nonetheless, the whole way down the stairs and to the drawing room all Dorie could think of was poor Lord Exeter. She prayed that he had hired the governess she had suggested. Quite frankly, she did not think the other governess had the fortitude to weather the scene that was being created. But she was sure Eunice Holliwell did. Dorie had never met her, but a friend of hers had had the benefit of Miss Holliwell’s guidance and counsel and was the better for it. So much better that Dorie’s friend was now a countess with one child and another on the way. And Tilly had highly recommended the lady. Dorie said a short prayer for the girls and his lordship and hoped this was the last of their troubles.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When Dorie walked into the drawing room, her mother was standing by the front window. Not looking out. The Marchioness of Huntingdon could never be seen doing anything so vulgar, but Dorie would wager her pearls that her mother had heard every word.
“Good evening.” She strolled to the sideboard an
d accepted a glass of sherry from her father.
“Good evening to you.” Papa lifted a glass in salute. “Did your class with Exeter go well?”
She was not expecting that. Sometimes it surprised her what her father chose to know. “It did. He appears to quickly grasp what we have covered thus far.”
“Good, good.” Papa’s cheeks puffed out a bit as he nodded his head. “A man ought to know how to run his holdings.”
“Dorie.” Her mother joined them, a worried expression on her face. “Did Lord Exeter happen to mention when he was interviewing the governess?”
“Late this morning.” She could not blame Mama for being concerned. Gossip about the governess would be all over the ton by tomorrow if not earlier. What Dorie did not understand was how Miss Rivers thought the same talk would not precede her to France. Everyone knew someone who was there. The letters would be flying across the channel by tomorrow.
“I do hope he made his decision.” Mama cast a troubled glance at the window.
“I think he must have.” Either that or the woman had gone completely mad. “Why else would she be outside causing a scene?”
“How astute of you, my dear.” She gave Dorie a look of approval. “If I had any idea she had been carrying on as she apparently was, I would have been more diligent in finding a governess for him sooner.”
“I’m sure no one could have known such a thing, my love.” Papa put his arm around her mother’s waist. “The man’s had a rare spate of bad luck, but without your help and Dorie’s, it would have been much worse.” He kissed Mama’s cheek. “I’m almost surprised he didn’t flee back to Europe.”
“He has had a great deal of trouble.” Mama nodded. “And it has not been easy for him.”
Under the circumstances, fleeing would have been the worst thing he could have done. But Papa was correct, and Lord Exeter deserved all the assistance they could give him. “I do hope he chose Miss Holliwell. I do not think the other governess would remain after this gets around.”
“Did not Tilly say that she had gone through some challenging times herself?” Mama asked.
“Yes.” Dorie had stepped to the sideboard and poured a glass of sherry. “Her father had an incident with a firearm that was ruled an accident.” Which—from what she had heard—was the way coroners always ruled when a member of the gentry or peerage decided to end their own life. “I think she had been on the verge of being betrothed or was betrothed.”
“It is always a tragedy when that occurs in a family,” Papa commented. “Ah, here is Banwell to tell us it is time for dinner.”
As she ate, Dorie could not stop thinking about Miss Holliwell. As soon as she could afterward, she went up to her former governess’s chambers and knocked on the door.
Tilly, already dressed for bed, answered it. “Dorie, what brings you here at this time of night?”
“Can you tell me the rest of what you know about Miss Holliwell?”
“Yes, of course. It is really no secret and it occurred a long time ago.” Tilly motioned to a chair and Dorie sat.
“She is from an excellent family. Your mother would probably remember the events”—Tilly grinned—“if Miss Holliwell had not decided to use her maternal grandmother’s maiden name when she began seeking positions. Her eldest brother died stupidly in a carriage race, and shortly afterward her father had an accident with his pistol. That prompted a rush to find the younger son who had taken himself off somewhere. The death held up the inheritance for almost a year which caused a good many problems. A cousin who was not at all kind to the widow and younger children and was certain he would be named the next baron was made trustee.” Tilly shook her head. “Before the father died, he thought he had secured her marriage to a peer, but when the news got out about his death, it was discovered that although the father had signed the contracts, the peer had not.”
Dorie felt a rush of sympathy for Miss Holliwell. “How horrible for her.”
Tilly nodded. “Yes. The incident would have been much easier to bear if a quiet wedding had gone forward.” She shrugged. “It was then that she decided to become a governess, and by the time the family mess was straightened out, she had found that she liked it.”
Dorie did not know if her former governess would tell her but she had to ask, “Who was the peer?”
“Lord Lytton.” Tilly’s tone was as hard as Dorie had ever heard it.
She wrapped a section of the fringe of her shawl around a finger. Did her brother know? Was that the reason Huntley had warned Lytton off? “Did you tell Huntley?”
The governess raised her chin. “I did.”
“Thank you for telling me.” Rising, she bussed Tilly’s cheek. “Good night.”
It occurred to Dorie that even if she was against a match between Lord Exeter and Miss Chatham, Dorie was very glad that he had saved her from Lytton’s attentions. Then she wondered if Lord Exeter knew about what Lytton had done. If he had, then he was much kinder than she had thought. In fact, his list of attributes was growing, and she did not know what to think about that. It was much easier to stop from knowing or becoming close to a person whom one could put into a pigeonhole because of one quality they possessed or lacked.
* * * *
A few days after the governess incident, Alex was searching the expansive gardens at a house on the Thames in which a Venetian breakfast—a ridiculous name for something held after one in the afternoon—was being held for Dorie when Miss Chatham wringing her hands caught his attention. He ambled over to where she was standing some feet behind her mother.
He held out his arm to her. “Miss Chatham, would you care to stroll?”
She forced a polite smile on her face. “I would be delighted, my lord.”
After they had put enough distance between them and anyone who might overhear them, he turned to face her, making sure her back was to the rest of the party. “What has happened?”
“L-Lord Lytton made an offer for my hand.” This last part ended on a sob. “I do not know what to do. Have you heard from Dursley?”
Alex had not, and he’d expected the man to be here by now. Then again, it was quite possible Dursley was being held up by contrary winds. “No, but I shall endeavor to find out what is keeping him. It could be nothing more than waiting for the winds to allow his channel crossing.” Miss Chatham’s lips were quivering, and Alex could not have her weeping in public. “When does he expect an answer?”
She shook her head, making her curls bounce. “I do not know. I think my father is hoping you will also offer for me.”
“Then we would be in a pickle.” He had to think of something to keep her father from attempting to force her to accept Lytton. “Let me make some inquiries and give it some thought. In the meantime, I shall remain with you as long as possible today.”
“Thank you.” She still appeared a bit woebegone, but the tears in her eyes were no longer threatening to fall. “I knew I could count on you.”
He glanced up, again searching for Dorie. If she was here, he wanted to spend time with her discussing something other than estate management, but he might have to wait until their morning session. As for Lytton, Alex would make sure that the care-for-nobody didn’t have a chance with any of the ladies he had met.
“I know you do not like Lord Lytton and neither do I, but why do you not like him?”
The question brought Alex’s attention back to Miss Chatham. “He behaved badly to a lady that a friend of mine very much wanted to wed. But by the time my friend discovered what he had done, the lady had left her home, and he did not know where to find her.”
Her eyes had grown wide. “Did he look for a long time?”
“He searched for her until he had to return to his regiment. I have not seen him since.” If Alex kept this up, he’d have the lady crying. “Let’s stroll. We will cause too much talk if we remain here.”
Dorie smiled and headed in their direction pulling Fotheringale along with her. “Good afternoon, Miss Chatham, my lord. It is a lovely, warm day for a change.”
“It is,” Miss Chatham said. “Are you enjoying the breakfast?”
“It has been very nice.” Dorie had a smile on her face, but her gaze went back and forth between Alex and Miss Chatham.
“Fotheringale.” Alex inclined his head. He reminded himself he had nothing against Fotheringale, except that Dorie was on his arm.
“Exeter.” The man gave a short bow. “Well met.”
What he needed to do was find a way to convince Fotheringale to escort Miss Chatham so that Alex could spend time with Dorie. “Would you ladies like a boat ride? I’m held to be a fairly good sculler.”
Dorie grinned. “That would be lovely.” She turned to Fotheringale. “Do you row, my lord?”
“Of course. What gentleman does not?” His chest puffed out like a bantam rooster. “Wonderful idea, Exeter.”
“Miss Chatham?” Alex asked.
“I do not know.” She looked at him with wide cornflower blue eyes. “I have never been on a rowboat.”
“Never?” Dorie looked amused. “Then you must try it.” She glanced down the expanse of lawn to the river. “It is a little breezy, but not so much that it would hinder us. Aside from that, there are others on the water.”
They meandered down to the river where footmen were helping other guests in and out of small skiffs. He and Miss Chatham were given one and Fotheringale and Dorie another. Alex leaned back and drew the oars smoothly through the water propelling the small boat. It felt good to have the skiff under him. He should do this more often.
“You are quite good,” Miss Chatham said, being careful to stay in the middle of the bench as he’d told her while she had one hand on her hat.