by Candace Camp
“Miss Camellia Bascombe.” The earl nodded to the girl who looked the least like the others, the gray-eyed blonde. “And lastly, this child is Miss Lily Bascombe.” Though he kept his face impassive, the twinkle in his eyes indicated that he knew exactly how this appellation would affect the girl who had taken the veil from Eve.
“Cousin Oliver!” she cried in protest. “I am not a child. I’ll be nineteen in only a few more months.”
“I apologize. You are right. You are nearly in your dotage.”
Lily Bascombe made a face at the earl before she turned to Eve. “I was trimming the veil, and Pirate came out of nowhere and pounced on it. Mary would have killed me if he’d torn it. It was very clever of you not to try to pull it away from him but to get him to drop it.”
“He looked precisely the sort to enjoy a tug-of-war,” Eve responded, smiling. “So I thought a distraction might be the answer.”
“I must thank you, too.” Mary Bascombe stepped forward to shake Eve’s hand. She spoke in a clear, no-nonsense voice and had a firm handshake. “Since it is my veil you saved.”
“I am happy to be of service.” Eve smiled at her, then turned to the other sister. Camellia’s grip was as firm as Mary’s and her gaze as straightforward.
“And I believe you know me,” came a voice from behind them on the stairs.
“Vivian!” Eve whirled to see her friend standing at the landing.
The red-haired beauty laughed and came down the last set of steps in a rush, holding out her arms to Eve. Eve hurried forward to give her a hug.
“Oh, Viv,” she murmured. “It’s so good to see you. Thank you.”
Vivian smiled as she released her friend. “You may not thank me long. We are in the midst of a wedding whirlwind here, and you will doubtless be caught up in it.”
“She already is,” Mary Bascombe remarked, holding up the veil. “Mrs. Hawthorne managed to capture Pirate and take away my veil. I’m afraid he drooled on some of the flowers, but that can be remedied.”
“I told you she would be perfect,” Vivian replied.
“Yes, you did.” The earl stepped forward now, casting a wry look at Lady Vivian. “’Tis odd, but I seem to have gotten the impression that Mrs. Hawthorne was a much . . . more mature woman.”
“Did you?” Vivian’s large green eyes widened innocently. “I cannot imagine how that happened.”
“Can you not?” Stewkesbury murmured drily.
Vivian gazed back at him, a challenging light in her eyes. “I do believe I said she was a friend of mine.” Her voice turned brisk as she linked her arm through Eve’s, moving them both closer to the earl. “In any case, it scarcely matters, does it? What counts is that Mrs. Hawthorne is precisely the person to help you. Being nearer in age will make it much easier for the girls to rely on her when they need help. Won’t it?” She turned toward the group of sisters.
“Oh, yes.” Lily and Camellia were quick to chorus their agreement.
“She’s much better than Miss Dalrymple,” Mary added, her eyes lighting mischievously.
The earl released a huge sigh. “Yes, I know, and I am well aware that I am the one who made that error in judgment. No doubt you are right, Lady Vivian.”
“I am shocked to hear such words from your lips.” Her eyes danced merrily.
After another meaningful glance at Vivian, the earl bowed slightly in Eve’s direction. “I am sure that Mrs. Hawthorne will do an excellent job.”
“Mrs. Hawthorne must be tired after our journey.” Fitz spoke up. “She would probably welcome an opportunity to rest for a while.”
“Of course. You are right.” The earl nodded. “We should not hold you here any longer.”
The Bascombe sisters clustered around Eve and Vivian, offering to show her to her room. But at that moment there was a knock on the front door, and they all turned as the footman opened the door.
A slender woman dressed in a sprigged muslin dress and blue spencer stood on the doorstep. An ornate bonnet sat on her head, the blue lining of it matching the color of her short jacket and reflecting the blue of her large, limpid eyes. Golden blond curls framed her delicate oval face beneath the hat, and the wide blue ribbon was tied in a charming bow beneath her chin. She was, in short, lovely.
Her eyes went first to Fitz, who was standing closest to the door. “Why, Fitz! It is good to see you back! It has been quite dull around here with you gone.”
She smiled dazzlingly at Fitz, Eve noted with a spurt of irritation.
“Lady Sabrina.” Fitz’s greeting and bow were perfunctory.
“I am sure all the girls in the village have missed you sorely.” Lady Sabrina reached out to touch his sleeve lightly. “You will have to tell me all about your journey.”
“I fear there is little to tell.”
It was difficult to make much conversation of this response, so the lady’s eyes moved on to Sir Royce. She merely gave him a cool nod before approaching the earl. “Hallo, Stewkesbury. I was returning from my little shopping excursion, and I thought I would offer Lady Vivian a ride home.”
Her gaze swept on to Vivian, then fell to Eve standing beside her. “Oh.”
The lovely face changed subtly, becoming suddenly harder and colder. The ice-blue eyes dropped from Eve’s face down her form, taking in everything about her from her blond hair to the two-year-old dress Eve wore.
“Lady Sabrina, please allow me to introduce you to Mrs. Hawthorne. Mrs. Hawthorne, this is Lady Sabrina Carlyle.” Stewkesbury performed the introductions.
“I see.” Lady Sabrina’s tone was contemptuous. “You must be the new hired companion.”
Beside her, Vivian stiffened. “Mrs. Hawthorne is a particular friend of mine and has been for years.”
“Mrs. Hawthorne has kindly agreed to be our guest for a time,” the earl inserted smoothly. “We are all most grateful, as I am sure that my cousins will be lonely after their sister’s wedding.
Eve smiled at Lady Sabrina with all the sweetness she could muster. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. I have long wanted to meet Lady Vivian’s aunt.”
Beside Eve, Vivian choked back a gurgle of laughter, and Lady Sabrina’s gaze turned glacial. Quickly, Vivian jumped into the silence, saying, “Thank you, Sabrina. ’Twas most kind of you to stop to give me a ride, but there is still much here to do, and I would like to visit with my friend. The earl kindly offered to send me home in his carriage, so you need not trouble yourself.”
“Of course. Well . . . then I will take my leave of you.”
Eve noticed that no one, even the earl, made any effort to persuade Lady Sabrina to stay to visit or have a cup of tea. She watched, a trifle puzzled, as the woman swept back out the front door.
An awkward silence fell over the group after Lady Sabrina’s departure. The earl cleared his throat and said, “Well, cousins, if you will show Mrs. Hawthorne to her room . . .” He bowed toward Eve. “Again, welcome to our home, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
He turned to the other two men. “How about a drink to wash away the dust of the road? I received a letter from your business agent, Fitz. He has some rather important financial matters he needs you to answer.”
The men started off down the hall, Fitz saying lightly, “No amount of drink could make that conversation palatable. Cannot you just reply to the chap, Oliver?”
Vivian took Eve’s arm. “Come. I think you’ll be quite pleased with your accommodations.” They started up the stairs, the Bascombe sisters falling behind them. Vivian leaned in closer to Eve. “Well, my dear, barely here fifteen minutes, and already you’ve won over your charges, impressed the earl, and made an enemy for life.”
“I did not mean to,” Eve protested. “Well, at least the part about making an enemy. I do hope the girls like me, and the earl will not dismiss me out of hand.”
“Have no fear of that. I know you, Eve. Soon he’ll be telling himself that sending for you was the best idea he
ever had.”
“I don’t know. Everyone seemed awfully surprised at my age. What did you tell them?”
“I never mentioned your age. I simply told them how wise and mature you were, how well you would be able to deal with two lively girls. Isn’t that right?” Vivian turned to the Bascombe sisters for agreement.
Mary laughed. “That’s true. Cousin Oliver never asked directly how old Mrs. Hawthorne was.”
Vivian nodded. “There, you see? The picture he formed in his head is entirely of his own making. Had he asked me, I would have told him that you were only a few months older than I.”
“You’re very good at avoiding the direct question,” Lily added. “I wish I could do that. I always sound as if I’m being weasely.”
“That’s because you are being weasely,” Camellia told her.
“Now, girls,” Mary said in a tone that suggested that she was long accustomed to mediating between her younger sisters. “You don’t want to drive Mrs. Hawthorne away when she’s barely arrived.”
“I think it will take more than a little squabbling to drive me away,” Eve told her.
“That’s good.” Mary grinned impishly. “Because what no one has told you is that, while there will be only two sisters left to deal with, it is the two who are the hardest to control.”
This remark naturally brought hot denials from Lily and Camellia, and the three girls were soon embroiled in a laughing, good-natured argument which ended as soon as they reached Eve’s room. Lily swung open the door with a flourish and ushered Eve inside. The others followed, all waiting for Eve’s reaction.
Eve looked around her, astonished. The room was much larger and better furnished than she had expected; indeed, it was much grander than her own room at home. A bed with a high tester in forest green stood between two windows, both of which looked out over the gardens at the side of the house. A comfortable-looking wingback chair stood near the window, and the dresser, highboy, and wardrobe offered more space than Eve had clothes. A small secretary and a vanity with mirror completed the furnishings, along with a comfortable-looking hassock placed close to the fireplace. It would be a favorite spot, Eve thought, on a cold winter evening.
“It’s beautiful,” she told them honestly.
“It was our sister Rose’s bedchamber before she got married and went back to America.” Lily offered. “Lady Vivian told Cousin Oliver that you must have a nice room and not be stuck off in the nursery or somewhere.”
“And Cousin Oliver said that since it was of such great concern to Lady Vivian, perhaps she should choose the room,” Camellia went on.
“Which I did,” Vivian concluded. “Of course, Stewkesbury was just being sardonic.” She chuckled. “That will teach him to make such an offer to me.”
“Well, it’s a lovely room, and I appreciate it. All of you.” Eve looked around at the ring of smiling faces. “I hardly know you, but I have the feeling that we are going to be great friends.”
Lily let out a little squeal of delight and hugged Eve. “I think we are, too. Cousin Oliver was right—it really will be easier when Mary leaves if you are here. Won’t it, Cam?”
Camellia nodded. She was not as dramatic or emotional as her younger sister, but Eve could read the goodwill in her face, and she was unexpectedly touched. Without even knowing her, these girls seemed to hold her in more affection than Imogene ever had.
“All right, girls,” Mary began briskly, putting an arm around Lily’s waist and tugging her away. “I think it’s time we gave poor Mrs. Hawthorne a chance to chat with Vivian. Besides, we have to repair my veil, remember?”
She smiled at Eve, and the sisters trailed out of the room. Eve let out a sigh and sank into the chair, feeling suddenly weary. “Oh, my, what a day.”
“But worth it to be away from Mrs. Childe.” Vivian pulled out the stool from the vanity table and sat down on it, turning to face Eve. “Please tell me that.”
“Goodness, yes!”
While Eve washed her face and hands, Vivian rang for tea. A few minutes later, Eve was settled comfortably in the wingback chair, clad in her dressing gown and brushing out her hair, while Vivian had taken a seat beside her on the hassock.
“Thank you, Viv, for all of this.” Eve made an encompassing sweep with her arm. “It means more to me than you could ever guess.”
Vivian colored a little, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Come, now, it was not much, truly. You were the perfect choice. I did nothing but present Stewkesbury with the idea. You know I would like to do much more.”
“I know.”
“Why won’t you stay with me?” Vivian went on. “I rattle around in that great house.”
“I cannot ask that of you. It would be too much.”
“It’s not, truly.”
“I cannot allow you to support me. What would that mean for our friendship? There would be duty and obligation and gratitude. It wouldn’t any longer just be two schoolmates from Miss Coverbrooks’ Academy for Young Ladies.”
Vivian chuckled. “Perhaps not. But I hate to think of you having to live with your stepmother. You could at least come visit me for longer than a month at a time.”
“Perhaps I will, when I am between employment.”
Vivian heaved a sigh. “All right. I can see that it is useless to argue with you.”
Eve grinned at her friend. “When has that ever stopped you?”
There was a knock on the door, and a maid brought in a tray containing not only a pot of tea and two cups but a plate of warm scones.
“I have never known a chaperone to be treated so royally,” Eve said as she poured their tea.
Vivian shrugged. “The girls are well liked by the staff. And the last chaperone was not. A high-handed, disagreeable woman. I would have urged Stewkesbury to cut her loose, but that would only have made him dig in his heels.”
“Really? Usually gentlemen jump to do your bidding.”
“His cousin Charlotte and I used to play tricks on him when we were young. Charlotte and I were great friends, you know, and in the summers I would visit my uncle and aunt. Their home is quite close by. Oliver is seven or eight years older than we are, and he was always such a sober, responsible sort.”
“A prig?”
“No, I wouldn’t call him that. Even then, he had a sense of humor. But he was at Oxford and older and thought himself far too lofty for us. I was completely smitten with him, which made me even more horrid in my pranks.”
“Really?” Eve looked at her friend with interest. “You never told me that!”
“I never told anyone. Well, I could barely admit it to myself. I knew it was absurd, even then. Seven years is a vast difference at that age. He thought I was a scruffy hoyden—which I was,” she admitted fairly. “And I knew he was a rigid stickler, no matter how handsome he was.”
“And what about now?”
Vivian glanced at her friend in surprise. “Oliver? And me?” She let out a little laugh. “No, that is still absurd. We are utter opposites and always will be. He is, I admit, a handsome man, but I can hardly be in a room with him for five minutes without setting up his bristles, and he mine. I’d hardly been around him in years—he spends little time in London—yet the moment I saw him again we were once more at odds.” She shrugged. “I suppose I am fond of him in that way you are of people you’ve known since you were a child, no matter what they’re like. And of course, he is the sort of man one could turn to if one were in a bad spot. But a romantic interest?” She shook her head, chuckling. “Definitely not.”
Eve abandoned the topic and picked up a scone. “Well, then, tell me all the latest on-dits. You know, it is your letters that have made the past two years bearable.”
Vivian smiled, and the two women settled down for a cozy chat.
* * *
Finally, Eve brushed the crumbs from her hands and rose to her feet. “This has been wonderful. But I was not hired, after all, to sip tea and gossip with you. I think I need to get back to my
charges.”
As Eve donned her dress, Vivian rose, too, and they left the room. It was easy enough to find the Bascombes, for chatter and laughter spilled out of the bedchamber next door. The three women in the room turned as Vivian and Eve paused at the door.
“Mrs. Hawthorne! Lady Vivian!” Lily greeted them with a flashing smile and came forward, holding out the veil. “Look! I repaired it, and you can’t even see where Pirate drooled on it anymore.”
She proudly held out the headgear, and Eve examined it. “My, yes, it’s very well done.”
Mary, too, came forward. “Have you rested enough, Mrs. Hawthorne? I am certain Cousin Oliver would not expect you to watch over the girls all the time.”
“Thank you, I feel fine,” Eve assured her. “I was eager to hear about the wedding plans.”
Camellia rolled her eyes. “Oh, no, here we go again.”
“Hush,” Lily told her sister. “Everyone else enjoys hearing about the wedding. Show her your dress, Mary.”
The dress in question was hauled out of the wardrobe and appropriately oohed and aahed over. Then followed a lengthy discussion of the flowers and decorations necessary for the church and for the celebration following the ceremony.
“Will there be a large number of people?” Eve asked.
“Not too many,” Vivian volunteered.
“It’s more than enough for me,” Mary retorted. “I scarcely know any of them.”
“A few of Royce’s relations. My friend Charlotte Ludley— she’s the Bascombes’ cousin, you know—and her mother, Lady Cynthia.” Vivian began ticking off guests on her fingers. “Lord and Lady Kent.”
“But not Aunt Euphronia, thank goodness,” Camellia stuck in. “Although she was gracious enough to write a letter to Mary telling her how grateful she should be that Sir Royce was willing to marry her.”
Eve’s eyes widened. “Did she really?”
“Yes.” Mary’s gray eyes turned stormy. “She praised Royce for the ‘sacrifice’ he was making for the family.”
