Regency Scandals and Scoundrels: A Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Scarlett Scott

  “The wind blew the curtain onto a candle,” Jenny explained.

  “Well, it wasn’t my fault.” Nanny climbed unsteadily to her feet. “You won’t tell the housekeeper it was, will you, Miss Harrismith?”

  “Of course I won’t.” Jenny patted the elderly lady’s shoulder. “All over now. A bit of a storm in a teacup, really.” But it had not been. Flames had singed the edge of the rug. If that had taken hold, it would have burned toward William’s bed. She didn’t dare allow the thought to continue to its conclusion.

  “I can’t go back to sleep now,” William grumbled.

  “No, but keep warm in your bed. The servants will be awake. I’ll send up chocolate and muffins,” Jenny said. “I must go down and speak to Mrs. Pollitt.” She didn’t want to leave him, she wasn’t sure why.

  “What should I do, Miss Harrismith?” Nanny asked. She shivered and appeared exhausted. “I daren’t go to my room at night. I fear I might not hear the children.”

  “Please, Nanny, do go to bed or you’ll catch a chill. I shan’t be long.”

  Relieved, Jenny saw Nanny go uncomplainingly into the adjoining room and climb into bed. A moment later, she was asleep again.

  “Nanny snores,” William said. “She keeps me awake.”

  “Shush. I doubt a herd of elephants in the garden would keep you awake,” Jenny said.

  He chuckled.

  Jenny hurried up to her room to dress. First the gunshot and now this. She wondered what her father would make of it. He didn’t believe in coincidence. Only in literature. He would always quote Shakespeare’s Othello to underline his point. The candle had barely burned down. Surely, after burning all night it would be no bigger than a stub? She shivered and rubbed her arms.

  Jenny’s anger grew as she went downstairs. Poor Nanny was too frightened to leave the children at night because she’d become a little deaf. Her heart ached for her.

  It had grown light when she entered the servants’ quarters. A few of the staff were seated at the long table eating breakfast. In the kitchen, two maids and Cook bustled about in the pantries and worked at a large scrubbed table. A roast turned on the spit beneath the vast chimney.

  In her room, Mrs. Pollitt, with her scraped back hair and thin lips appeared her most unwelcoming self when Jenny entered. But she paled and rose quickly from her chair after Jenny explained what had happened. “How fortunate that you discovered it, Miss Harrismith. I shall inform the butler and send the maids to clear away the mess.”

  “We require new curtains. I’m afraid the old ones are ruined.”

  “I will see to it. Mr. Forrester will advise His Grace.”

  “I must return to the children,” Jenny said.

  “Yes indeed, Miss Harrismith. Do go. I’ll have some hot chocolate sent up.”

  The housekeeper made no mention of Nanny’s carelessness and nor did Jenny. She doubted even the butler would broach it with the duke. But surely someone must deal with this, or more incidents could follow. Jenny paused, a hand clutched tight on the banister as another possibility struck fear into her. What if it hadn’t been Nanny’s fault?

  As Jenny approached the nursery door, her thoughts threatened to spiral out of control. The possibility that someone had come into the nursery and set the curtains alight was nonsensical. She was being overly dramatic. These sorts of accidents do happen, she thought, not totally convincing herself.

  *

  Andrew woke to a knock on the door. Early morning light filtered in through the gap in the curtains. Forrester entered with a murmured apology.

  “I am sorry to disturb you, Your Grace,” Forrester said, approaching the bed, “but there’s been a fire in the nursery.”

  “A fire—” Andrew’s voice broke off, his breath drawn sharply through his teeth. He threw back the bedcovers and leapt from the bed, snatching up his dressing gown. Fire was never to be taken lightly.

  “The governess caught it in time, but I thought you should be made aware of it immediately.”

  “Miss Harrismith discovered it, you say?”

  “Yes, Your Grace. It was the curtains. The fire is out now, thanks to her.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it, Forrester,” Andrew murmured. “Send my valet to me.”

  Once dressed, Andrew made his way to the nursery. He found Miss Harrismith sitting beside William’s bed as he drank chocolate and ate a muffin. Barbara still slept as did Nanny in her bedchamber with the door closed.

  As he greeted the governess, it struck him rather uncomfortably that he was coming to depend on this young woman.

  “There was a fire, Father,” William said, in between chews.

  “A candle caught the curtain, Your Grace,” Miss Harrismith said. “I thought it best to alert the housekeeper.”

  “Indeed. A candle was left burning all night?”

  “Yes, an oversight. But placed near the open window. It caught the curtain.”

  Andrew went to the window; the curtains had been well ablaze, and the rug was singed. Unchecked, it could easily have taken hold and set the whole nursery alight. Disturbed, he swung around, and returned to William’s bedside, as he fought to maintain a semblance of calm. “I’m grateful you were here, Miss Harrismith. Come and see me in the library at eleven.”

  “Certainly, Your Grace.”

  He ruffled his son’s hair. “Never a dull moment, eh, William?”

  William nodded, unperturbed, his mouth full of muffin.

  Andrew descended the stairs. Nanny must be urged to retire. A nurse would be employed to replace her, but it would take time for her to become familiar with his children’s needs. Nanny’s loss was sure to upset them, and they’d had enough disruption already in their short lives.

  He paused, a hand on the banister. In a household of loyal servants, he considered Miss Harrismith to be best able to care for his children. The efficient manner in which she had handled the gunshot in the wood showed her to be more than capable. And she had tried to warn him that Nanny was worn-out, which he’d dismissed out of hand. He clenched his jaw and continued down the stairs. His children and possibly others might have perished because of it.

  Three hours later, the governess stood before Andrew’s desk, neatly dressed in unadorned gray wool apart from the cameo which unfortunately tended to draw his eye to her chest, and seemingly unflustered by the dramatic events earlier. He drew in a breath. “I must apologize to you, Miss Harrismith.” He rose and invited her to sit. “You did warn me that Nanny has been finding it difficult to carry out her duties.” He threaded his fingers through his hair and took a seat opposite her. “I suppose I was thinking of Nanny as she used to be.”

  “Nanny Evans is a wise and caring soul, Your Grace.”

  “Of that I am sure.” Nanny Evans had a special place in Andrew’s heart having cared for him when his parents were so often away. He’d been left to his own devices as a child haunting the woods and the stables. His father, when he was in residence, seldom asked for him, and his mother was often caught up with social engagements which kept her in London.

  “Nanny remains positive that she didn’t leave the candle by the window. She always places it on the table beside her chair.”

  “Mm. Well, perhaps as you say she has become forgetful.” He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair. “I will ensure she is made comfortable in her retirement. But in the meantime, until the new nurse arrives, I would prefer you to move into the nursery with the children.”

  Relief filled the governess’ gray eyes. “Certainly, Your Grace.”

  “The nursery maid will care for the children when you wish for time to yourself. I remain very much in your debt,” he confessed. “I should have made a point of visiting the nursery. Understood what was happening there.”

  “I doubt you would have found anything unusual, Your Grace. Nanny merely becomes a little tired at times.”

  “Still. This could have been averted. I have you to thank for avoiding a disaster.”

  �
�I’m glad I was there,” she said briskly. The delicate flush on her cheekbones gave clue to the depth of her emotions.

  He found he wanted to draw her out more. To discover why she had responded so swiftly to his children’s plight. “Yes, but your room is not on that floor. And surely you would have been asleep at that hour.”

  “Ordinarily, yes. But something woke me.” A frown marred the smooth skin of her forehead. “And then I smelled the smoke.”

  “You kept a remarkably cool head in the circumstances,” he observed. Curious how like a mother she seemed, always sensing when a child was in trouble. “You are the oldest daughter, are you not?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “And your father is a widower.”

  She nodded.

  “I assume you took some role in your younger siblings care?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Did your mother pass away recently?”

  “No, some years ago, Your Grace.”

  It appeared she had taken on the role of mother, raising her younger siblings. Such experience was invaluable. “Anything that you require you’ve only to ask, Miss Harrismith.” He looked away from her full bottom lip. This attraction would not do.

  “Well, I believe that is all for now.”

  After Miss Harrismith left the room, Andrew returned to his desk and shuffled papers, but couldn’t banish the chill that filled his chest at the thought of a fire raging in the nursery. He would become more involved in his children’s welfare. They must come before his work for the government, the demands of his investments and the running of his estate.

  It was no good wishing things would have been different if Catherine had lived, he had to embrace the future. He smiled up at her painting which hung over the fireplace. How proud she would have been of her spirited daughter and conscientious son. It was admirable of William to be protective of his sister, but he and Barbara should feel secure within a loving family.

  Andrew accepted he must marry again. And soon. He looked forward to introducing the children to Greta.

  Startled, he glanced up as the door opened. As if his thoughts had drawn her here, Greta slipped into the room with her appealing smile, dressed in a flattering gown the color of primroses. She had not long returned from London. “You missed a wonderful play, Harrow,” she said, crossing the carpet to his desk. “As I was invited to a card party, I stayed for another night. It was vastly entertaining. I’m sure you would have found it so.” She ran a finger along the carved edge and her blue eyes sought his. “Have you missed me?”

  Andrew chuckled. He moved around the desk to kiss her cheek. “I have. But I’m pleased you liked the play and regret I couldn’t stay to enjoy it with you. May I make up for my neglect tonight?”

  She smiled. “I should very much like you to try.”

  “That doesn’t fill me with hope.”

  Greta traced the pattern on his waistcoat. “It is wise for a lady to keep a gentleman guessing,” she said. “Once he is sure of her, he loses interest.”

  “I can assure you I haven’t lost interest.”

  He gazed down at her. She was exquisite. Like a porcelain figurine. He lowered his head to kiss her mouth.

  A knock came at the door and he stepped away from her. “Come.”

  The gamekeeper entered clutching his hat in both hands. “You wished a report on the gun room, Your Grace?”

  “Ah, Clovis, yes.” He turned to Greta. “I must apologize, baroness, matters are demanding my attention, yet again. Shall we continue this interesting conversation in the evening?”

  “Certainly, Your Grace.” She smiled and walked to the door. “And please don’t concern yourself about me. Your cousin, Mr. Forsythe, has invited me to walk in the gardens with him.”

  Andrew stared abstractedly as the door closed behind her as Clovis spoke. “I’ve checked the gun room, Your Grace,” he said. “Nothing missing, and no guns have been fired recently.”

  “You are certain of that, Clovis.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Andrew frowned. “It’s a puzzle, then, Clovis.”

  “It is, Your Grace. I’ll ride into the village, ask around.”

  “Good.”

  Something that had at first seemed like an appalling accident now had taken on a rather more sinister appearance.

  Chapter Eight

  Jenny left the children with Mary, who had become the full-time nursery maid. Mary was sensible and efficient, and Jenny was confident they would be well cared for in her absence. She spent the next hour with Nanny, helping her pack her trunk before she left for London. Nanny was to live in one of the Duke’s townhouses. “You’ll be able to meet your old friends, the nannies you talked to in Regent’s Park when you took the baby for an airing.”

  Nanny tucked a shawl into the trunk. “Few would still be in service, at my age those I knew are likely below ground. When a children’s nurse is no longer useful, they’re usually sent away to their relatives. If they’re lucky enough to have any to take them in.”

  Overcome with compassion, Jenny slipped her arm around Nanny’s thin shoulders. “I do hope you will be content there, Nanny, and not miss us too much.”

  “You are a dear girl.” Nanny patted Jenny’s cheek. The affectionate display surprised Jenny, for Nanny, although always kindhearted, was usually reserved and formal in her manner. “I am most fortunate, Miss Harrismith. I shall have my pension and a nice place in which to live. His Grace is a true gentleman. I should know,” her eyes softened. “He was high spirited, but always a good boy. And so is William.”

  She drew her handkerchief out of her pocket and blew her nose. Tucking it away again, she glanced around the room. “There, I am ready. I shan’t worry about the children because they have you.”

  “The children will write regularly and tell you how they go on.” Jenny kissed Nanny’s papery cheek as two footmen entered to tie the cord around her trunk, then escort her down to the waiting carriage.

  A moment later, a maid bustled in, her arms full of Jenny’s clothes. “I’ll bring the rest of your things down shortly, Miss Harrismith.”

  “Thank you, Alice.” Jenny looked around the room. Her new bedchamber was roomier and more comfortable than the attic room, with a larger wardrobe, although her few clothes wouldn’t fill it. The window had the same view of the southern aspect of the house as the nursery and the schoolroom. She looked down over the water feature to the trees in the park and the loop of carriageway. Down below on the carriage drive, the coach stood waiting. His Grace bent to kiss Nanny’s cheek then helped her inside. The footman closed the door, put up the steps, and the coach drew away.

  Jenny watched until the duke disappeared from view. Then she spun around. What thrilled her most was that the nursery was right next door, and the children were entirely in her care, at least until the nurse arrived. She metaphorically rolled up her sleeves. There were changes to be made. Nanny, for all her wisdom, was a trifle old-fashioned.

  While Jenny took her allotted time off she sent the children with Mary to the schoolroom where William could read or draw. Barbara was learning to cross-stitch. Jenny loved to walk. Back in York she would tramp for miles over the dales, but with only an hour to spare, she could not venture far.

  The gardens slumbered beneath the autumn sun, but the sharp breeze held the promise of winter. The smell of freshly scythed grass scented the air. Jenny picked a white lily that had been left hanging on its broken stalk. She would put it in water in her bedchamber. Flowers always made a room feel cheerier. She crossed the lawns to inspect the yews the gardeners had pruned into neat shapes.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Harrismith. Are you contemplating nature?” Herr Von Bremen stood before her, smiling in that slightly whimsical manner, as if he found everything secretly amusing. She hadn’t heard him come up behind her, his footsteps muffled by the dense grass.

  “I was admiring the gardeners’ workmanship.” She wished he would go away. “The Castlebr
idge gardens are truly magnificent.”

  “Not a patch on those in Germany.”

  “It’s almost winter, you are not viewing them at their best,” she said, suffering an urge to defend the place that was now her home. “Those azaleas will be a bank of bright color in spring.” She gestured to the shrubs beneath the library windows.

  When she turned back, Von Bremen had moved closer. He reached out a finger to touch the brooch on her chest. “That piece of jewelry is most unusual.”

  Jenny stepped back, her hand covering the brooch. “The clasp is loose. The cameo was my mother’s.”

  He tilted his head. “And she is gone, yes?”

  “Yes, some years ago.”

  Suddenly, the library window behind her was thrown open. Jenny looked into the duke’s frowning countenance. “May I have a word, Ivo?”

  Something indecipherable flickered in Herr Von Bremen’s eyes. “Certainly, Your Grace.” He bowed his head. “We shall talk again soon, yes?” He nodded to her and walked away.

  The duke remained at the window. “Why the lily, Miss Harrismith?”

  Jenny jumped. She dropped the flower as if scalded. Did he object to her picking just one flower? “I thought it pretty.”

  “Baroness Elsenberg wishes to meet the children. Would you bring them to the yellow salon at four o’clock?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  The window shut. With a flick of the curtains he disappeared. Dismayed, Jenny made her way back to the schoolroom, her pleasant promenade of the gardens spoiled. The duke appeared to be annoyed. Did he think she was flirting with Herr Von Bremen? She flushed and bit her lip. For him to think poorly of her was the last thing she wanted.

  *

  “You wished to see me, Your Grace?” Ivo entered the library and sauntered over to Andrew where he stood before the fire, a book of his favorite poems in his hand.

  Andrew eyed him and snapped the volume shut. Even the arrogant way the man walked irritated him. “Please sit, Ivo. Care for a Cognac?”

  “I would, thank you.”

  Andrew crossed to the drinks set up a silver tray and measured three fingers of liquor into each snifter. He returned and handed one to Ivo, then sat on an armchair opposite him at one side of the fireplace.