Texas Viscount

by Henke, Shirl

  Chapter Six

  The summons arrived three days after her debacle with Mrs. Collingwood. Sabrina had been expecting it. Her first impulse had been to tear it to shreds and return the bits to the earl, but innate practicality overcame her temper. Instead, she considered her options, which were grim indeed. Paying the past week's lodgings had taken the last of her savings. She had enough food in the pantry to last her through the weekend.

  And not one single paying client.

  That was thanks to the wily Hambleton and his infuriating nephew. She would not put it past the young rotter to have lain in wait for her at the arcade just so he could spoil her last opportunity for employment. When she calmed down, she realized there was no way he could have known that she was meeting Mrs. Collingwood, nor could he have predicted she'd be so utterly unnerved by him that she would rush out of a shop without paying for an article of merchandise.

  Sabrina refused to consider why she always seemed to react to him in such an undisciplined fashion.

  Having used her last pittance for Edmund's birthday gift, she was now faced with the humbling prospect of either returning to live with her parents in the Berkshires on the very limited income her father received in tenant rents, or accepting the earl's offer to teach his odious nephew how to conduct himself with decorum. Why couldn't a man of Hambleton's reputed intelligence see the utter hopelessness of such an endeavor? Joshua Cantrell would behave decorously the day Queen Alexandra rode stark naked through Hyde Park!

  Biting her lip, she paced across the threadbare carpet, fighting back tears prompted by a combination of fury and failure. She was no nearer to achieving her dream than she had been seven years before. How naive she'd been to believe she could save enough money to open her school if only she worked hard. Perhaps such feats of pulling oneself up by the bootstraps were possible in America...if one were a man.

  But she was English...and a woman.

  A woman of principle, nonetheless. Sabrina stalked to the small broken escritoire, propped up by a book beneath one leg to keep it from wobbling. Taking pen and paper, she composed her reply to the earl's high-handed summons.

  * * * *

  From his vantage point in the second-story window of his sitting room, Josh watched Miss Sabrina Edgewater march up the street, her back ramrod straight and her step firm. When she reached the heavy iron gate at the entrance of the Hambleton city house, she paused. Was there a fleeting hint of uncertainty in the set of her proudly pointed little chin, the crinkle of her brow, the quiver of those lush, kissable lips?

  She was dressed in the same yellow suit she'd worn at the arcade, with that demure little straw hat with the matching flowers on it. As always, she wore no jewelry, nor did the plain tan slippers match her outfit. They were the same ones she'd worn every time he met her. Probably she owned a light pair for summer and a dark pair for winter. A woman of few frills. He imagined that her appearance had less to do with preserving her image as a no-nonsense woman of business than it did with the lack of funds to purchase more fashionable duds.

  The little yellow daisies sewn around the edge of that jaunty hat spoke of a woman who appreciated pretty things and would have enjoyed wearing silks and laces, matching parasols, slippers and bonnets galore...if only she could have afforded such luxury He would love to take her shopping.

  He watched her shove open the black wrought-iron gate as if she were the Archangel Michael preparing to storm the gates of hell. “My imagination's playing tricks on me,” Josh said with a sigh. There was far more of Athena than Aphrodite in this one.

  Still, she fascinated him as no other woman ever had. She was not the most beautiful female who'd ever taken his fancy. The deadly Russian ballerina's features were more classically chiseled in icy perfection. As he watched Sabrina stride toward the front door, he chuckled aloud. The edgy Miss Edgewater could be pretty icy herself when she put her mind to it. But beneath that calm, poised and very English facade he sensed a warm, giving woman, longing to be free of the strictures that she and society had placed upon her.

  Sabrina lived by the rules. She was intent on earning her own living and right choosy about the way she did it. Well, that was fine with him. She could teach him to act like a gentleman...even if it killed both of them! Just thinking of the fun he would have deviling her during their lessons made him grin. One way or the other, he would have the prim Miss Edgewater in his bed and then he'd be the one giving the “lessons.” Whistling, he strolled toward the stairs just as he heard Nash's sepulchral voice ushering her toward the earl's office.

  When he heard her approach, Abington Clermont Cantrell smiled to himself. Yes, everything was coming together quite swimmingly. After this was settled, all he had left to do was introduce Joshua to Lord Chiffington's daughter and inform the boy that she was to be his future bride. Then he would let nature take its course. “Yes, swimmingly indeed,” he murmured softly as Nash tapped on the door.

  “My dear Miss Edgewater, please come in,” the earl said in his most solicitous voice, utterly ignoring her stiff posture and the cool blue dare in her eyes. “Won't you join me for tea? I've had cook prepare some pastries as well as crumpets with clotted cream.”

  “I appreciate your kind offer, my lord; but as I indicated in my note, I've not come to enjoy tea. What I have to say may be better summed up if we refrain from the social niceties and get straight to business,” Sabrina replied crisply.

  “Nonsense. Nothing can be discussed any better while standing hungry than while sitting replete from a fine repast.” He motioned for Nash to pull out a chair for the lady.

  “This business can. I regret, my lord, that I must once again refuse your offer of employment.”

  “But you do not even know what my new offer entails,” Hambleton replied, nonplused by her refusal.

  Feeling at a terrible disadvantage when the earl acted so graciously, Sabrina knew she had to go through with the charade even if she had no intention of bargaining with him. She took the seat at a small Queen Anne table and watched as the butler poured two cups of tea.

  “Lemon or cream?” the earl asked.

  “Oh, she'll take lemon. I'd lay good money on it,” Josh drawled.

  Sabrina jerked around at the sound of his voice to find the tall Texan leaning against the heavy walnut door frame, arms crossed over that broad chest. He unfolded his long body gracefully and strolled into the room. Suddenly the large office seemed to grow smaller. “I might have known you'd be here,” she snapped, then reddened, realizing how utterly rude that must have sounded to the earl.

  Hambleton only laughed. “As a matter of fact, I hoped this young rascal might grace us with his presence, thinking he might aid my cause.” He reached for a third cup and placed it at the side of the table without a chair. “Nash will fetch a seat,” he said, knowing his nephew would do it himself.

  Before the butler could move from his post by the tea service, Josh picked up a delicate Queen Anne chair with one hand and placed it beside the table, then slid into it. “Lemon, Miss Edgewater?” he inquired.

  “As a matter of fact, I prefer cream,” she said tightly. He gave her a knowing wink that his uncle could not see, but which spoke volumes to her in some odd, subliminal way. What is he doing to me? she wondered as he beat Nash to the punch again, pouring a generous amount of the rich stuff into her cup. In fact, she did prefer lemon, but she'd have choked before admitting he was right.

  Once the three of them had been served tea and small plates filled with delicacies, the earl dismissed his trusted servant and inquired, “You wished to get right down to business, I believe, Miss Edgewater?”

  Teacup halfway to her lips, Sabrina nearly sloshed the liquid over the rim as his direct gaze met hers. This was a formidable man. She must be most careful not to make him her enemy...if her disastrous encounters with his nephew had not done so already. “I believe that would be best. Please understand my position. I cannot teach gentlemen if I intend to continue teaching young ladies.�
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  “The way I see it,” Josh interjected dryly, “you have two problems here. First off, we both know I'm no gentleman.” He did not bother to acknowledge the agreement he saw in her eyes. “Second, the way I hear it, you don't have any more young ladies to teach.”

  “And to whom do I owe that calamity?” she shot back, bristling at him, then attempting a more conciliatory expression when she turned to the earl. “My lord, being a spinster lady, I have no other means of survival if all my patronesses withdraw their charges from me.”

  If she expected a plea to soften the heart of such a shrewd bargainer, the lady was in for quite a surprise. Looking not the least bit sympathetic, Hambleton replied, “Ah, but your ultimate hope for employment is not in teaching wealthy young heiresses, is it, my dear Miss Edgewater?”

  Sabrina carefully set her cup in its saucer and shoved away the crumpet spread with clotted cream. “What do you mean?” she asked, holding her breath.

  “Only that you wish to be headmistress of a school for indigent young women,” the earl said in a fatherly fashion.

  Josh raised his eyebrows, and through a bite of flaky pastry asked, “Indigent? Doesn't that mean they can't pay for schoolin'? What kinda business plan is that?”

  “I fail to see that it is an unrealistic or unrewarding goal. Not everyone expects to become rich, my lord,” she replied indignantly to Josh. Then she turned back to the earl. “There are hundreds—no, thousands of young women toiling in factories and even starving in the streets because they lack the education to better their lot in life. If I could reach only a small portion of them—girls who are desperate to rise up and become self-sufficient in honorable professions—I would consider my life well spent.”

  As she spoke, Josh watched her face transform. The frosty anger was replaced by a fervent glow. Her eyes turned from darkest blue to sparkling sapphire, and her cheeks bloomed with delicate color. Even her lips...well, he'd better not pay too much attention to her lips or he'd end up ruining everything.

  “And so you shall, my dear,” the earl said in a kindly voice. “I believe we can come to an agreement which will achieve both your goal and ours.”

  Sabrina gave him a wary look. “How could that be?”

  “Why, I will fund your school, of course. It will, I believe, take a considerable endowment to establish such an enterprise, am I not correct? Furthermore,” he continued before she could do more than close her small open mouth, “I shall see to it that my friends and associates in the House of Lords give you their support as well. You will require a staff of at least a dozen, I would imagine. Teachers, maids, a clerk, a driver...after all, a lady such as you cannot just go about places such as Seven Dials and select candidates from the rookeries, now can you?”

  This was so far beyond the modest one-woman operation Sabrina had imagined that it made her head spin. Why, she could... No! She stopped the fantasy, realizing that he was buying her as if she were some commodity, a piece of jewelry or rare book such as those lining the walls of this room.

  Josh could see the warning signs. Her desire to achieve her dream was warring with her pride. And he knew Sabrina Edgewater had as much of that as he did. His uncle was overplaying his hand. Leaning back lazily in his chair, Josh made a show of brushing pastry flakes from his dark jacket as he drawled, “Oh, I wouldn't doubt Miss Edgewater'd have the nerve to walk straight into the gates of Hades if the notion took her. But there's one thing she's afraid of—me.”

  His green eyes were dancing as he studied her with unnerving arrogance. She fought the urge to fling the teapot at him and scald the most indelicate part of his anatomy. “I am not afraid of you, my lord. I merely find the idea of working with a ‘gentleman’ such as you”—she paused for the irony to sink in— “an impossibility.”

  “Why? I realize I'm plumb hopeless when it comes to knowing which fork to use and how to make polite conversation, but then, that's supposed to be your line of work, isn't it? If you can manage those rich fellows' spoiled little darlings, I can't rightly see how much harder it could be to teach me.”

  “Then you not only lack manners but intelligence as well,” she snapped.

  “Think of it this way,” Josh said calmly. “I was so poor I couldn't buy hay for a nightmare—just like those girls you want to rescue. I made a fortune, but didn't have time to learn fancy manners along the way. Now I want to learn and you can teach me...unless you don't have the sand to try.”

  As the two antagonists sat facing each other, Miss Edgewater leaning forward with her hands clutching the table and Joshua leaning back like a big, indolent cat, the earl remained silent, immensely enjoying their exchange. His face, however, revealed absolutely nothing. As if they'd notice if he turned bright purple and fell to the floor!

  “That is patently absurd,” she shot back.

  “Oh, I'm not so sure. Maybe it's not that you think I can't learn. Maybe you're so skittish because you think you're not up to the job.”

  The rotter dared to wink at her again! He was laughing at her, in secret so his uncle could not tell. But she could! Sabrina had never been so infuriated by one human being in her entire life. Not even when Dex had...no, she forced that unhappy memory aside. If not for that man she wouldn't be in this deplorable position. Now another wretched male sat facing her with a smirk on his face, as if he intended to see her flutter away like a titmouse with a tomcat on its tail.

  Well, if he believed that, he was sadly mistaken. She would have her school and she would teach this Texas troglodyte the rudiments of civilized behavior—if she had to bash in what few brains he possessed to accomplish it! Standing up, she met his mocking green gaze head-on. The earl at once stood up as manners dictated. The troglodyte took a deliberate length of time to unfold his tall frame and do likewise. Throwing down the gauntlet, was he? She smiled coldly and turned to the earl.

  “My lord, since you have given me no other option, I shall accept your most generous offer. I will teach your nephew the rudiments of socially acceptable behavior. In return, you will support my school.”

  Hambleton nodded. “You have my word on it.”

  She extended her hand to the earl in a businesslike gesture.

  But before he could shake it, the troglodyte reached across the table and seized it, practically wrenching her off balance as he raised it to his lips for a mocking kiss.

  “Now you're talking my lingo, ma'am,” Josh said, inhaling the delicate scent of wildflowers at her wrist.

  She refused to meet his eyes, knowing he would wink again. Instead, she smoothly pulled away and nodded to the earl. “I shall report tomorrow morning at nine promptly. Please see that your nephew is ready to begin his lessons. I suspect it will require a great deal of time to civilize this...student.”

  Hambleton chuckled. “I could not agree more, dear lady.”

  Josh reached down for another pastry as she spun and walked stiffly toward the door. The natural sway of her slim hips held him spellbound as he bit into a crumpet heaped with clotted cream, which dribbled down his chin.

  As his nephew wiped his mouth on a napkin, the earl smiled slyly. Joshua detested clotted cream...but this little mishap was only the beginning of his troubles. Only the beginning…

  * * * *

  “We shall commence with the rudiments of table etiquette,” Sabrina said as they walked into the dining room, where two places had been set at the earl's imposing table. She was utterly exhausted after spending the morning explaining the order of precedence and address to the lout. Why was it so taxing for any person with average intelligence to grasp that a duke preceded a marquess, an earl a viscount? Or that an earl's wife was not an “earless” but a countess? She shuddered at the memory of that blunder. The rotter must be making mistakes just to fluster her. Well, he would not get away with it.

  Josh had enjoyed teasing her and loved the way she blushed whenever he made her go over the boring lists of which titles outranked which, and who was to be paired up with whom, and in
what order they would progress into a dining room. He'd memorized everything the first time she'd explained it to him, but letting her off that easy would not have been any fun at all.

  The same bothersome array of crystal, china and flatware he'd used at his first dinner with his uncle were once again laid out. “There are enough fixings here to serve a couple of dozen folks. Seems a pure waste of dishwater if you ask me,” he groused, genuinely disgusted by all the dirty dishes some poor cook's helpers would have to wash.

  “This is the manner in which people of consequence dine. You are now a viscount and must appear conversant with such details.”

  “Miss Edgewater, do you just naturally talk like ole Bertie's mama lecturing a stable boy?”

  “Our late and present sovereigns should never be spoken of with such irreverence.”

  Josh shrugged. “Oh, I like ole Bertie well enough, but his mama didn't do right by him. Too much high-falutin' fault-finding.”

  “Her Majesty was a woman of the greatest moral rectitude.”

  “Did you learn all those ten-dollar words reading Mr. Webster’s whole dictionary?”

  Sabrina stiffened. “I most certainly did no such thing.”

  “Sounds ta me like you chewed up and swallowed down every last page.”

  ‘‘Ten-dollar words, as you so quaintly call them, are the mark of an educated person, my lord.”

  Stroking his jaw and staring down at his boots, he appeared to digest this for a moment as they stood in the doorway of the dining room. “Here I thought an educated man was supposed to be able to make himself clear to anybody he met...and make them feel comfortable talking with him.”

  “What a quaintly American idea. But might I remind you that you are no longer in America? Here you are Viscount Wesley, one day to be the tenth Earl of Hambleton. Colloquial speech, among other things, is simply not acceptable.”