Miss Fanshawe's Fortune: Clean and Sweet Regency Romance (The Brides of Mayfair Book 2)

by Linore Rose Burkard

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Despite her determination to embrace life as a companion and all it must entail, Frannie was abashed at how much energy was required to make herself heard by her new mistress. She realized now why it was that Mrs. Arundell had a difficult time keeping a companion. Because of this, she was not enraptured later that day when the lady instructed that she must take meals with the family. She would almost have preferred to be consigned to the servants’ hall, shrinking at the thought of raising her voice at table. Too, she was conscious of her new status. Ladies’ companions weren’t always welcome at upper class tables. What if either of the Arundell men did not think her worthy of sitting with them?

  She took courage when the younger Mr. Arundell gave her a bracing smile as she settled in her seat. She hardly glanced at Sebastian, for his stern countenance could easily unsettle her, but one chance peek made her stare. She had never seen Sebastian without his spectacles before. His entire demeanor underwent a transformation. The studious looking bookworm was a Byron! Mama called such men ‘handsome devils’ Frannie thought, though she saw nothing devilish about Sebastian. A strong nose and noble brow revealed keen, clear eyes that made you want to hold their attention just to look into their depths. He caught her startled gaze and she looked away, but with a sudden flutter in her stomach. What a handsome gentleman! Amazing how she had missed it, earlier.

  A rich, three course meal followed, replete with lively conversation among the Arundells, to Frannie’s surprise. She and Mrs. Baxter had been companionable dinner partners, but meals were mostly quiet. Here, it was quite the opposite. But both men were forced to speak every bit as loudly to their mama as she, however, so that any discomfort on that head soon dissipated.

  Mrs. Arundell’s favorite topic was town news, who was getting married, who had been declared a bankrupt, or who was moving into the apartments recently vacated by the French Ambassador. Edward’s aim seemed to be to say as little as possible about his pursuits in the metropolis, while Sebastian plied him with questions about whether he’d been active at gaming dens, or laying bets at cock fights, or getting into fisticuff matches. About this last low pursuit he went on for some time, admonishing his brother that, if he wished seriously to comport himself as a gentleman, he must assiduously avoid street brawls. “Shows of physical strength are required only by the weak to prove themselves,” he said. “Good men hunt, fish, or fence for a contest, but physical matches are repugnant to them.” With a glimpse toward his mama and Frannie he added, “And even more so to ladies.”

  “I daresay you’ve forgot I’m studied in pugilism,” Edward replied hotly.

  “Keep your boxing to Gentleman Jim’s establishment along with other young sprigs in training, and you’ll do well. But I’ll not hear of another street brawl. Striking a man for a provocation is the meanest sort of response I warrant a gentleman can display.”

  Frannie surmised that apparently Edward had been guilty of participating in a fight that had not occurred within the bastion of Gentleman Jim’s, that most famous of fisticuff instructors. Even she had read snippets about the famous boxer and his rooms on Bond Street, where he taught upper class males his art. Edward looked with supreme disinterest at his brother, as if further objections were not worth the effort. Sebastian finished his admonishments with a warning that Edward not fall into the duns again.

  “I little see how I shall avoid that,” Edward replied, “if you withhold the blunt!”

  “Dearest,” said their mama to her elder son, “Are you indeed allowing dear Edward’s pockets to be turned out? That looks shabby for an Arundell, my dear.”

  “He has only himself to thank,” Sebastian returned. “I’ve warned him more times than I care to recall, not to conscript my carriage to carry out his cork-brained schemes without my consent.”

  “If I hadn’t borrowed your curricle, Mama would lack a companion, for Miss Fanshawe wouldn’t be here!”

  “What was that?” asked the mama. “About Miss Fanshawe?”

  “I brought her!” cried Edward gloatingly. “Not Sebastian. And for this, he persecutes me!” Sebastian eyed his brother with cool disdain. He wasn’t about to attempt an explanation of the whole situation to their mama, and only nodded, with a congratulatory smirk at Edward when Mrs. Arundell went into a rapture of his defense, exclaiming that Sebastian was too hard on him and must not exact the slightest punishment, for she was that grateful to have Miss Fanshawe.

  Frannie sat guiltily by, blushing, and would not meet Sebastian’s eyes. But he declared he would come to a compromise with Edward, a settlement that seemed to satisfy Mrs. Arundell. Conversation then turned to the matter of a coming ball on Thursday evening.

  “Since I will now accept the invitation, Beau, because I have a companion to help me,”—she stopped and smiled benignly upon Frannie—“you will, of course, accompany me.”

  Sebastian glanced at Frannie, who hurriedly looked away. She’d been admiring him furtively, still rather in awe of the high good looks that a simple pair of spectacles hid so well. His manner of dress was not meticulously fashionable like Edward’s, but he exuded a far greater air of consequence and masculine presence, surprising for one she at first took for a bookish scholar.

  He cleared his throat, returning his attention to his mother. “This reminds me. I’ve had a letter from Sir Hugo.” He paused, giving his mama the opportunity to exclaim her utter astonishment that Sir Hugo had sent a communiqué of any sort to his heir, but she merely regarded him with curious expectation. Casting a keen look her way, he said, “He has accepted the invitation to that ball; he will shortly arrive in town; and begs the honour of giving you his escort.”

  Now Mrs. Arundell reacted as expected. Looking fairly amazed she cried, “Sir Hugo in London? What is that man about? He never comes to town!”

  “The passing of his father must have something to do with it,” offered Sebastian. “Perhaps Sir Malcolm required his presence until now; he would not be the first son to suffer an overbearing sire. Now that he’s the Baronet of Bartlett Hall, and his own man—.”

  “Sir Malcolm was overbearing, indeed; and crotchety, to be sure, or we might be more familiar with Bartlett Hall. He was severe upon poor Hugo, his only son; but he never cared a fig to know you boys. I daresay he thought of us as poor relations—”

  “Mama! We are nothing of the sort!” replied Sebastian.

  “No, of course not; but I never felt the slightest compulsion to encourage a better understanding between our families for I did not wish to subject you to his temperamental ways.” She gave Sebastian a wide-eyed look. “It is all very well if Sir Hugo now wishes to become part of society. But to presume that I have not already accepted an escort! He is quite disagreeable in it!”

  “He no doubt assumed what is most often true: that I would escort you. And he knows I should willingly allow him the honour in my place as he is rightly entitled to it, Mama. He is my elder in the family, my superior, not to mention, your cousin-in-law.”

  “How could he possibly know that you would accompany me!” she said scornfully.

  Sebastian gave a little smile. “I am sure he reads the society columns.”

  But she shook her head dismissively. “In any case, really, Beau, you know better than to ask.”

  Sebastian placed his fork down and gave his mother a piercing look. “I am his heir; he is my uncle.”

  “He isnʼt your uncle really; he is your fatherʼs cousin, which makes him your first cousin once removed.”

  “True,” said Sebastian, “But have we not always referred to him as my uncle?”

  “Because he is older, dearest. And who wants to keep saying your cousin once removed?”

  “There is no need for that,” Sebastian said with a little smile, “but we are no children here, and for now on, I shall call him my cousin, and leave it at that.”

  “Call him whatever you like,” his mama replied, waving a hand at him. “The important thing is, there are no other male he
irs beside you and Edward.”

  Sebastian said, “Precisely, and for which case if he comes to town, by rights we ought to offer him hospitality. Isn’t it time you let bygones be bygones—whatever it is that makes you refuse to see him? With Sir Malcolm gone, there is one less ogre for you to fear. In my past correspondence with Sir Hugo, he has always seemed very gentlemanlike and proper.” He paused and gave her a penetrating look. “We had ought to be on good terms with the man who leaves his title and estate to me.”

  “He has no choice,” replied his mama, delicately dabbing her mouth with a cloth.

  She took a sip from her glass, but put it down decisively, her eyes widened. “So that is why he wrote to you!”

  Sebastian’s brows rose. “You knew?”

  “Binnie saw the letter and told me of it,” she explained, while moving aside just enough to allow a footman to give her a serving of cauliflower in sauce. “I daresay I thought it would be some such fiddle faddle.”

  Sebastian rubbed his chin, as though deliberating on what to reveal. “Actually, Mama, the biggest surprise in Sir Hugo’s letter is that he wished to advise me of his intention to find a wife.”

  Mrs. Arundell froze. Her eyes widened. Quickly she put her fork down and sat there blinking.

  “Have no fear, dearest,” Sebastian hurried to say. “If he sires an heir and disinherits me, we shall do well enough with my investments. We’d not suffer the slightest lowering in our current lifestyle, and you, I suppose, can grow accustomed to your son not being next in line to inherit. There is nothing you cannot countenance in it.” Seeing her stricken face he added, “Perhaps I needn’t have mentioned it. Perchance it may come to nothing.”

  “But—Hugo has ever been utterly averse to marriage, which I always thought nonsensical for a titled gentleman. But to change his mind now! So that is why he comes! He wishes to find a wife from the best circles, does he?” She stabbed her fork into a mound of boiled turnip. “Who would wish to marry that old clodpate!” Then, looking up as struck she said, “May I read his letter? I must hear his tone, the manner of his speech. I must determine if he is in earnest or if he seeks merely to vex me—”

  “To vex you?” asked Sebastian. “I am sure my cousin has no wish to marry simply to vex you, dearest. ‘Tis only natural a man wants an heir from his own loins, I daresay.”

  But Mrs. Arundell’s face scrunched in distaste. “You don’t know him as I do. He wishes to marry! Either his estate is out at the heels and he needs a wealthy bride, or ‘tis only to vex me, I assure you!”

  “If anyone has reason to be vexed, it is I; but I believe I can say with equal parts equanimity and honesty, that I wish him well. I wish him success. The few times I have met and spoken with my cousin—and I will continue to call him that, if itʼs all the same to you—I have found him nothing but amiable and good-natured. I never understood why you refused invitations from Bartlett Hall and denied us the society of our relations for most all our lives.”

  Mrs. Arundell hadn’t heard this very well and looked to Frannie. She startled to attention, but then echoed loudly, “Mr. Arundell is not vexed by Sir Hugo, ma’am!”

  “Yes, I caught that much,” the lady said, nodding. “Refer to him as Beau for me, Frannie. That’s what I call him, so you must also.”

  Frannie blushed, keeping her eyes on her plate.

  “What else did he say?”

  Frannie took a deep breath and replied with admirable volume, “He doesn’t understand the difficulty between you and Sir—”

  “Pray, Miss Fanshawe, do not trouble yourself,” Sebastian interrupted. “My mother and I have trod this path before. She refuses to disclose the cause of their ancient argument. But more to the point, there is one other reason for his writing me, which I will inform her of.” He turned to his mama and said vigorously, “Sir Hugo invites us to his home for the Christmas holidays; and I mean to accept!”

  “For Christmas? So we may admire his new, simpering wife?” she said acidly.

  “He hasn’t found a wife yet, Mama. He wrote only to warn me that he is on the hunt.” Sebastian could hardly repress a grin. “It does seem irregular for him to warn us.”

  Edward said, “You smile. Don’t you feel the least sorry for it? To be disinherited when all your life you’ve been set up as the next baronet of Bartlett Hall after Sir Hugo? I daresay it disappoints me, and I’m not as close to it as you are.”

  “He’s not married yet,” replied Sebastian. “And baronetcies bring headaches and obligations as well as honours.” But he returned his attention to his mother. “I shall reply by special messenger that you do not require his escort for Thursday night’s ball; and that we will be happy to descend upon Bartlett Hall for the Christmas holidays.”

  “Wait, wait, sir!” cried his mama, as color rushed to her face. “I have not decided about Christmas! I must think on it.”

  Sebastian said, leaning forward gently, but speaking slowly so she might have the benefit of reading his lips, “As the head of the family, I have made the decision. I’ve supported your ancient grudge far too long by indulging your dislike of him; but I have no such aversion to the man; he is my elder relation. We will go, Mama.”

  Mrs. Arundell looked dejected. She swallowed. “If he has a new wife, I shall not go, no, by no means. You cannot force me, Beau.”

  Sebastian’s mouth twisted, stifling a grin. “Mama, if I did not know better, I should say you were jealous!”

  Edward too regarded his mother with a face that looked mildly embarrassed. “Indeed, Mama,” he said gently—and thereby went wholly unheard.

  Frannie shifted in her seat, feeling as though she were eavesdropping on private family affairs. She wished she could excuse herself. But if Mrs. Arundell didn’t send her from the room, she was not at liberty to take leave. She looked imploringly at Sebastian.

  Receptive green-grey eyes surveyed her and seemed to instantly comprehend her discomfort. “You must excuse our conversation, Miss Fanshawe. I’m afraid that as Mama’s companion, you are fated to be included in all the familial, eh, niceties, otherwise known as dirt.”

  The matriarch apparently heard that. “Do not exaggerate, Beau! You’ll give the poor girl frights! We aren’t ogres; and as for being jealous, don’t be absurd! I am not in the least jealous except on your account, for you are the rightful heir to the title!”

  “Only if Sir Hugo has no son of his own, dearest!”

  Mrs. Arundell pursed her lips, and nodding at Frannie to follow, rose from the table. The men instantly came to their feet and bowed. But their mother stopped, her head turned in thought. She leveled a defiant stare upon Sebastian. “You may reply to his letter,” she said imperiously, her small nose in the air, “with the information that I will accept Sir Hugo’s escort!”

  While her sons stared in amazement, she turned on her heel and took a step but then turned back and added forcefully, “But I will not put him up, for there are inns and posting houses all over London where he may stay, or he can let rooms anywhere he likes!”

  “Very good, Mama,” said Sebastian approvingly and with no small surprise. He might have wished to open their home, but he knew a concession when he saw it and accepted it graciously. “I may count myself excused then, from the ball?”

  “I suppose you may,” she said, “though everyone shall ask why you aren’t in attendance. You are talked of as almost a recluse, Beau.” She paused, frowning. “Do you not care to see the princess?”

  He gave her a patient look. “I am not averse to it, but I had my fill of balls during the season. Why there should be one now, when all the best families are at their country estates, I cannot fathom.”

  “Word was put out long ago,” she returned. “Many of those ‘best families’ have harkened back to town for this event. There may be some special announcement from Her Royal Highness, I daresay.”

  She glanced at Frannie, whose face was frozen in amazement. Imagine it, passing up a chance to meet Princess Charlotte! F
rannie had often daydreamed of meeting the Regent’s daughter, who seemed to genuinely care for her subjects. She’d never known anyone who could enjoy that opportunity and now this family, the Arundells, her only benefactors in the world, had the social standing to meet her—and Sebastian wasn’t interested!

  Seeing Frannie’s countenance, Mrs. Arundell cried, “Oh, dear, I have it! You must come, Beau, and take Frannie upon your arm. We can style her a long-lost cousin or some such thing.”

  Frannie’s heart swelled at the thought, both of meeting the princess and of being upon Mr. Arundell’s arm! But Sebastian’s countenance darkened. “Mama, that is quite impossible. Be sure there will be some who go home and search Debrett’s, or otherwise discover the falsehood. The Arundell name has never been associated with a scandal, and I wish it to remain so.” Frannie’s hope plummeted as quickly as it had risen. Shame brought a blush to her features. Sebastian feared her dubious background would provide fodder for gossips, occasion scandal-broth gatherings to the detriment of the family name.

  Mrs. Arundell gave him quite the oddest look

  “What, do you know of a scandal?” he asked, though in a tone that made his disbelief evident.

  She merely said in a fallen voice, “If I have not Frannie, then I may not accept Sir Hugo’s escort. For he will discover my deformity.”

  “Defect, Mama!” Sebastian and Edward cried together.

  “I have a notion about that,” ventured Frannie, getting everyone’s instant attention. She said the words with a sinking heart, for her only means of subsistence and best hope was to stay on with the Arundells. If Mrs. Arundell’s hearing defect was redressed, she would be out of a situation. But her heart refused to remain silent. The poor woman was clearly tormented by the problem. Frannie knew of a solution and must speak. She looked at Sebastian. “If I may have use of a carriage to call upon Mrs. Baxter’s brother—he resides in the warehouse district—I believe he has an instrument that will help your mother’s affliction.” With all eyes still upon her, Frannie felt a blush steal across her cheeks.