“Wh-where is she?” Elaine tucked her hands into her skirts, grasping the soft fabric tightly. The familiarity of cloth against her fingers proved a comfort she needed.
The butler’s somewhat cheerful manner dissolved into concern as he observed her reaction to his news. “I took her to the conservatory, mistress. She has always been fond of that room.”
A gesture of kindness and familiarity from Graham, given to this woman she was about to meet, almost reassured her. “Thank you. I will be there directly.” Elaine waited for him to leave the room before she released her grip on her gown and attempted to smooth out the wrinkles she had created.
No Adam in the house. But his sister waited upon her. Very well. Elaine could manage well enough without him.
She made her way to the conservatory, and as she walked through the long halls of the house, peace settled over her heart. The daunting size of the corridors, the many large rooms and shadowed corners, had frightened her at first. She had nearly suggested she stay in the nursery with the children, that first night in the grand house. Partly for their comfort, but mostly for her own.
Things were different now. Weeks had passed, and she had explored every room, finding beauty in the paintings, craftmanship in the furnishings, and purpose to the many servants and their work. Things that had puzzled her now made sense, and Tertium Park had begun to feel like home.
As she passed her favorite painting in the foyer, young Peter Gillensford holding the hand of his wife in her gown of sunshine, Elaine’s confidence returned. She smiled over her shoulder at the couple who had lived and loved each other in the manor. For some reason she might never understand, Peter Gillensford had entrusted his home to her keeping. She would honor that generous gesture to the end of her days.
Elaine entered the conservatory, the room rich with the smells of growing things and rich dirt, and spied one of the benches with a young woman seated upon it. The woman wore a deep blue riding habit, which matched the color of her eyes. Apart from that distinguishing feature, she looked nothing like her brother. Philippa was dark haired and petite. Opposites of her brother.
“Lady Philippa,” Elaine said, curtsying as low as she ever had. “It is an honor to meet you.”
“Miss Chapple.” Philippa stood and came forward, eyes bright and smile readily given. “I cannot tell you how delighted I am to meet you. Adam has told me all about you. Before I forget, I am to make his excuses for him. Adam is at home, with our mother, distracting her marvelously while I came to visit.”
The mother was in Orford, as Elaine had suspected. At least she knew where Adam was, too. “Is your mother well, my lady?”
Lady Philippa laughed, a light and airy sort of sound. “My mother is rarely well, though I thank you for asking. You will understand what I mean when you meet her.” The young woman gestured as though to dust that idea away from the conversation. “She has absolutely no idea what she is up against in you, though.”
“Up against?” Elaine shook her head, then abruptly recalled her manners. “Please, will you not sit down again?”
“If you will join me.” Philippa retook her place on the bench, and Elaine crossed the room to sit beside her.
“What did you mean, my lady, when you said your mother is up against me? We are not enemies, I hope.” Elaine took in the fine cut of the woman’s habit, the elegant tilt to her hat. There were epaulettes on her shoulders and brass buttons arranged in a military fashion at the front of her jacket. The habit likely cost more than what Elaine had made in a season of sewing such things for others. The military style oddly became the lady.
“At the moment, my mother thinks you a silver-haired crone, half-blind from sewing and unable to put up much of a fight for Society’s good opinion. When she sees you for what you are, all her hopes of an unfair engagement will be dashed. You are positively lovely, Miss Chapple, and my brother tells me you are winning friends in the neighborhood already.” She reached out to clasp Elaine’s hand, a fierceness in her narrowed gaze. “I intend to help you, too. I suppose that makes me something of a turncoat.”
Yes, the military fashion suited Lady Philippa wonderfully. Elaine did not bother hiding the smile caused by that thought. “I thank you for your support—but why do you give it so freely? You do not know me, my lady.”
“Not yet. Not for myself. But Adam knows you, and he has thrown his lot in with you. Given how he feels about you, too, I cannot help but like you already.” Lady Philippa twitched her long riding skirt out of the way of her feet. “Tomorrow, at church, I will introduce you to my most particular friends. They are a step above the people you have already met. Adam wasn’t certain how to go about it—it is of little consequence. You shall especially meet Lord Braybrooke. He is only here for a few weeks before he returns to his home in Essex.”
Although confused by the reasoning behind that necessity, Elaine nodded her agreeance. “I shall meet whoever you wish, my lady.”
“I should like to entreat you to call me Philippa, but I do not think Adam would like that level of familiarity. Not yet.” She sighed. “You really must be patient with him, you know. I adore Adam above all else, but he is forever spending ages and ages thinking things over rather than acting on his ideas. And his feelings, I suppose.”
Elaine’s puzzlement increased at this second mention of Adam’s feelings. “I cannot imagine what you mean, my lady. Your brother strikes me as most impetuous.” Indeed, when she thought of the way he had touched her cheek she could not believe he thought such actions through. “I honestly could not manage without him, either.”
“Impetuous.” Lady Philippa appeared to mull that word over, pursing her lips. “Most interesting. I am normally the impetuous one. I follow the dictates of my heart, I am afraid, and that tends to lead me into trouble. Adam is usually so thoughtful. I imagine these weeks have been a trial for you, Miss Chapple. Perhaps my brother is only eager to see things are well settled for you.”
Something like that, Elaine thought. “Will your mother be at church this coming Sunday?”
“No, Mother rarely attends church here. She does not feel it signifies when there is no one of greater rank to see her.” Philippa sighed and then stood, necessitating Elaine do the same. “But Georgiana will learn that Mother is home, if she does not know of it already, and will hurry to make her report. We did not receive a letter from her, though Adam assures me one was sent. We were too much in motion for the post to catch up. Now, I must be on my way, or Mother will wonder where I have gone. Take heart, Miss Chapple. With Adam as your champion, and with me as his second, all will be well.”
Elaine tried to keep up with the younger woman’s exuberant words. “Thank you. I am deeply grateful.”
“Nonsense. We will be good friends, you and I, and friends give aid to one another. I will bid you good day for now. I do not expect Adam will get away today, but he will see you tomorrow. And we shall both accompany you and the children to church the next day.”
“Thank you. I look forward to that. Your brother has been so good to escort us the past several weeks.”
Lady Philippa’s eyes flashed with obvious amusement. “He is entirely smitten, it would seem. Very well. I will see you in two days. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.” Elaine repeated the word more out of habit than understanding, her attention lingering upon the word smitten. The noblewoman was gone before Elaine could refute the use of that word. No, Adam certainly was not smitten. Not by Elaine. Not at all. Not even if she wished it to be true, he had no interest in her outside of ensuring his uncle’s estate was well cared for.
She lowered herself back to the bench and immediately condemned her ungracious thoughts. Adam had showed, in every possible way, that he cared about her well-being, too. He spent hours at her beck and call, gave the children sincere attention and interest when he crossed paths with them, and had never been anything other than kind to her.
But oh, how she wished for something more than kindness. There had
been moments when she wanted nothing more than to step into his arms for comfort, or to meet his lips with hers. When he cupped her cheek in his hand, she had believed for one wild, beautiful moment that he would kiss her. Both times her heart had flown to soaring heights, only to crash to the earth again when he withdrew.
Elaine had not permitted herself to turn lovesick. The children needed her to keep her head. Adam’s friendship and assistance remained too important to risk on silly daydreams. Yet every time she had been near him of late, her heart hovered between hope and despair that he might notice her as more than a friend, more than a woman in need of his help.
The warmth in the conservatory increased as the sun rose to a point where its rays slanted down into the half-glass ceiling. Elaine closed her eyes and soaked it all in, letting the heat comfort her as no man’s arms ever would.
When was the last time anyone had reached out to her as Adam had, only days before? The hand he put on her shoulder, though not an embrace, had steadied the turmoil of her heart.
Elaine realized she had begun to cry, the tears upon her cheeks startling her. Yet when she examined her feelings, when she prodded what she wished to deny, the truth was there. For weeks, possibly from the first moment she saw Adam stop the runaway Tabby, Elaine had started falling in love with him. She was such a hopeless creature.
A man such as Adam Gillensford, the Honorable third son of an earl, could never love her. The affection she felt for him would not be returned.
Dashing away her tears, Elaine forced herself to laugh. Lady Philippa had it all wrong. Adam was not smitten, but Elaine certainly was.
Chapter 15
Elaine kept her newfound discovery, her growing love for Adam, tucked away in her heart. If she could hold herself in check, until after the ball, she might find a way to excuse Adam from his self-appointed duty to help her.
The day after Philippa’s visit, Saturday, Adam participated in another dancing lesson. Mr. Carrow praised all of them, especially Elaine, on their continued improvement. He promised Elaine, most fervently, that no one would guess she had been so long out of practice. Directly after that, he taught them a newer dance that even Adam barely knew.
By the time the lesson ended, Elaine felt nearer madness than ever before in her life. So near Adam, without children and a sermon to distract her, it grew more and more difficult to maintain her usual friendly composure.
Adam had seemed to realize she was out of sorts, however. He directed many curious glances at her over the course of the steps, and he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze whenever he had reason to take hold of them, as though offering his reassurance.
Elaine fought to maintain her composure throughout.
Elaine meant to hurry away the moment Mr. Carrow finished the daily lesson, but Mrs. Mayworth immediately confounded that plan with discussion of a household need. Thankfully, William distracted Adam with questions about his riding lessons, giving Elaine the ability to leave the room with her housekeeper and without a difficult conversation between herself and the man she loved.
Elaine settled matters with Mrs. Mayworth concerning the need to take on more staff. The household had only had one man to look after before Elaine and the children came, and a very tidy old gentleman at that. As there were hopes for planning future entertainments, and receiving visitors, additional footmen, upstairs maids, and kitchen maids had been requested.
“I will discuss the number of servants you recommend with Mr. Yates. We will determine an appropriate wage and then I will allow you and Graham to conduct interviews.” Elaine could hardly believe the words coming from her mouth, and Mrs. Mayworth’s encouraging nod made the moment more like a dream. Mrs. Mayworth had guided Elaine through every household decision, but today she presented her thoughts on a matter and allowed Elaine to guide the conversation.
As though the housekeeper understood Elaine’s thoughts, she leaned a little closer and whispered, “Well done, Miss Chapple.”
The warm buzz of pride in her chest was short-lived. A shrill voice startled Elaine, and she turned to see a woman she had never met before come barreling into the room.
“Miss Chapple, the seamstress. We meet at last. How fortunate that I decided to pay a call on you at last.” The woman wore black ostrich feathers in a turban, and her gown was a deep purple that must have cost a small fortune. Her expression was cold, though her blue eyes blazed with tiny fires of indignation.
Elaine stared at the invader, shocked at the rudeness of being accosted in such a way in her own home. But years of dealings with irate and sometimes insensible patrons had prepared her well for such a strange interaction. The fastest way to diffuse the situation would be to remain calm.
In as unoffensive a manner as possible, Elaine curtsied to the woman. “Good afternoon. Might I be of help to you?”
Mrs. Mayworth had frozen and turned quite gray. There would be no assistance coming from that quarter.
“Help?” the woman asked, still shrill. “To me? You, my pet, are going to need my help. In fact, you should thank me for coming to you rather than following my first inclination. I could turn the entirety of Society against you quicker than you could sew on a button.”
Although tempted to remark upon the button idea, Elaine realized the more important thing at hand. “You are the Lady Fredericka, Countess of Montecliff.”
The dowager stood before her, fuming and posturing as though she had reason to be on the attack. “I am,” she said, raising her head regally.
Movement in the doorway drew Elaine’s notice, and she saw Adam there, face pale and eyes as large as dinner plates. Either someone had told him of his mother’s sudden appearance or he had heard her screeching. Elaine thought it more likely the second of the two possibilities.
“Mother.” Adam came into the room, his mother slanting a sharp glance at him as he passed her. He stood nearer to Elaine, but the three of them made up the points of a triangle as everyone stared at one another. “What are you doing here?” he asked quietly. “I could have arranged for an introduction at another time.” He dared to send an apologetic look to Elaine.
“Yes, but would you have ever done so?” she asked sharply. “I have had a note from Georgiana today. This very morning. Asking if I received her letter and her report of just how young and comely our Miss Chapple is.” She looked Elaine up and down disdainfully. “I am not certain how she came to the latter conclusion.”
Adam drew in a sharp breath, but Elaine responded before he could. “I cannot be certain either,” she said lightly, though she felt heat rising into her cheeks. “Perhaps your daughter has a fondness for Italian paintings.”
The dowager countess glared at Elaine, obviously unable to make sense of her words. But Adam—he started to smile and immediately sucked in his cheeks in an effort to stop. Elaine drew courage from his reaction.
“My lady, it is quite rude of me to keep you standing. Might we go to a more suitable room for this conversation? And may I offer you refreshment?” Elaine fought to keep her hands loose at her sides rather than balling them into fists. If this woman meant to shame her, or find a means to belittle her to others, Elaine could give her no more ammunition than she already had at her disposal.
“Most certainly not,” the lady said, nostrils flaring. “How dare you—in a home that belonged to my own kin.”
“Yes, Mr. Gillensford. A generous man with a kindly heart.” She could never think of him otherwise, though she might wonder to the end of her days why he chose her to take this enormous house and all the burden of his family’s displeasure upon herself. “I give daily thanks for his beneficence.”
The older woman drew up, her nose higher in the air. “You do not speak the way a tradeswoman ought.”
“I was educated a great deal better than most,” Elaine answered simply, clasping her hands before her. “My lady, if you will not have comfort or refreshment, perhaps we better come to the point of your business here today. I have no wish to keep you from yo
ur important schedule.”
Almost dismissively, the dowager turned from Elaine to fully face her son. “Is this why you have spent so much time here, assisting her? Are you cleverer than I hoped, Adam? As lowborn as she is, a marriage to her would give you all you ever desired.”
Elaine found Adam’s gaze, confused by his mother’s questions and statement. What did Elaine have that Adam might desire?
She offered him a tentative smile, but he appeared deeply stricken. Not with fear, but—shame? Guilt? Despair? She did not understand his expression, only that it hit her heart in such a way as to frighten her.
Then the dowager resumed her speech, cutting deeply into Elaine’s heart. “Marry her and you will finally inherit Tertium Park, as you deserve, and have everything. The estate, the investments promised in the will—”
Adam had spoken of a marriage of convenience once before, but not to him. What had been promised to him in the will? Why did his mother think marrying Elaine, lowborn or not, would be of any use to him?
Elaine’s mind worked upon that puzzle as Adam finally spoke, addressing his mother most severely.
“Mother,” Adam said, no love in the title she bore for him. “You are making a spectacle of yourself. Miss Chapple has been gracious when she could have had you removed from the premises for your inappropriate behavior.” His mother gasped, but he kept speaking, his voice raising to cut off any attempt she might make at a reply. “Whatever her state may have been at birth, she is a gentlewoman now, of property and of means. I suggest you take your leave before embarrassing the family further with this display of temper.”
“You would dare—” His mother glared at him, then back at Elaine. “You have no place here. This ought to be Adam’s home, but instead he is forced to wait upon you hand and foot to obtain what his uncle left him. This house belonged to the son of an earl.”
Elaine lifted her eyes to the woman, maintaining a calm she did not feel. “Purchased with his business in trade and investments,” Elaine murmured quietly. “Yes, I know all about it. Tertium Park. Named for his place in the family. The third son. Unnecessary, unwanted. I wonder why he did not leave it to any of that family you are so proud of?”
His Unexpected Heiress (Entangled Inheritance Book 2) Page 17
