Regency Scandals and Scoundrels: A Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Scarlett Scott

  You can count on all your friends, Andrew. I am quite sure that Fortescue and Montsimon would come to your aid at a moment’s notice. Please let me know. We are here for you.

  Andrew put the letter down, with a warm feeling of relief. He studied the man seated before him. “I am very glad to have you here, Mr. Irvine.”

  Irvine narrowed his dark eyes. “Nasty business, Your Grace. If you’ll tell me what you wish of me, I’ll get to it.”

  “My footmen will remain stationed outside the nursery and schoolroom doors. You are to ride with my son every day. He will be told you are here as his riding instructor and to assist with my horses. My stable master, Ben, will supply you with the stable books. Read them if you will. Then if my son should ask you any questions,” he smiled briefly, “and I suspect he will, you will have a knowledge of the horses we have here, physical marks, breeding, performance, staying power, etc. And the gun room is at your disposal. The butler has the key.”

  Irvine patted his coat. “Carry my own, thank you, Your Grace.”

  “Good, a footman will take you to your lodgings. You will be introduced to the stable staff and eat with them. But first I’ll explain exactly what has occurred and what else I wish you to do. You’ll work directly with me.”

  Irvine widened his eyes. “You, Your Grace?”

  “Yes. The butler and the governess are the only ones who know why you are here. For all intents and purposes that is to discuss the racing interests I have with Lord Strathairn, and the possible purchase of more bloodstock. That gives you access to the stables without any suspicion attached to your visits. Do not speak of this to anyone else. I gather I can trust your discretion?”

  “You can. It will be my pleasure, Your Grace.”

  “Good man.”

  After giving Irvine an account of recent events, Andrew returned to his desk and took a page of bond from the drawer. He trimmed his pen, dipped it in the inkwell and began to reply to Strathairn’s letter. He thanked him for his support, stated how he looked forward to seeing him, then requested another favor. Could he make inquiries about a German gentleman, Herr Ivo Von Bremen, who was staying at Castlebridge with his sister, Baroness Elsenberg, particularly in relation to any dissident groups known to be causing problems on the Continent.

  He called for his secretary to send it off immediately.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When the children returned to the schoolroom, Jenny asked them if they enjoyed their time with their father.

  “Herr Von Bremen knows all about the Spanish horses in Italy,” William said. “He has promised to tell me more about them.”

  “He was funny. But I don’t like the baroness.” Barbara glanced up as she dressed a doll in a new gown.

  “You don’t yet know Baroness Elsenberg,” Jenny said. “In time…”

  Barbara shook her head determinedly curls swinging. “Do you like her, William?”

  William frowned. “Father does.”

  Barbara’s worried gaze flew to Jenny’s. “She’s not going to be our new mother, is she, Jenny?”

  “I don’t know, poppet,” Jenny said. “That is a matter for your father. Rest assured he will want you both to be happy with his choice.”

  Barbara firmed her lips. “I wish he would marry you, Jenny.”

  “Yes,” William said. “I want that too.”

  “Don’t be silly, children. I am a servant. Now, no more of this nonsense. After you’ve spent more time with the baroness, I’m sure you’ll grow to like her.” They both looked so unhappy, she searched for a distraction. “Shall we play Jackstraws before supper?”

  “Yes!” William said.

  “Get them please, Lord William,” Jenny said. “Will you play with us, Lady Barbara?”

  Barbara pouted. “William always wins.”

  “Yes he does. But let’s try to beat him, shall we?”

  With a grin, Barbara put down her doll.

  William tipped the sticks out onto the table. They were soon absorbed in taking away each one in turn without moving the rest.

  Jenny watched him, chuckling as he successfully removed another stick with nimble young fingers. She had not warmed to the baroness either, not that it was any of her business. It would sadden her to see the duke marry someone who took him away from his children. But she really should give the intelligent man some credit. Despite the baroness’ beauty he would not act unwisely.

  Barbara cried out as the pile collapsed at her attempt to remove a stick and William won again.

  Jenny shook her head at the smug victor as she hugged the little girl. “Never mind, poppet, we shall try again soon!”

  After the children had finished bathing, Jenny dressed them in their night attire. They sat by the nursery fire drinking hot chocolate while she read the German story about a young girl’s favorite Christmas toy, the nutcracker which comes alive and, after defeating the evil Mouse King in battle, whisks her away to a magical kingdom populated by dolls. The duke had brought the English translation back with him, along with some other toys. The story proved popular with both William, who liked the battle scene, and Barbara, who was fascinated by the kingdom populated with dolls. She came to the end and closed the book.

  At the suggestion of bed, William protested as he always did.

  “You don’t want to be tired tomorrow when riding with your new instructor,” she said.

  That worked like a charm. She tucked them both in and they soon fell into the restful sleep of the innocent.

  Mary called through the door. When Jenny unlocked it, the maid came in carrying a copper jug of hot water which she added to the children’s cooling bathwater. Jenny indulged in a bath whenever she could, but she would rather a tepid bath than ask the footmen to lug up buckets and be accused of rising above her station again. She just knew what the housekeeper would say about that. It proved to be the perfect solution for too often in the cold weather ablutions were merely a thorough wash with a flannel before darting beneath the covers.

  The nursery settled into a peaceful silence broken only by the children’s soft breaths. She let Mary go, promising to tidy things away when she’d finished. Jenny lay luxuriating in the warm water with a bar of plain soap. She longed for the scented variety her mother had favored, but added a little lavender water to the bath instead. She soaped her long hair and rinsed it, then climbed out and stood shivering by the nursery fire. With the towel wrapped around her, she knelt before the hearth to dry her hair.

  Some moments later, a knock sounded on the nursery door. With a start, Jenny jumped up. Whipping off the towel, she hurried into her dressing gown, and pushed her feet into slippers. Was it Mary again? She always called out. The belt tied tightly Jenny stood listening at the door, concerned she would wake the children. “Is it you, George?” she whispered.

  “I should like a word, Miss Harrismith, if I may.”

  The duke! Jenny flushed. She could hardly keep him waiting while she dressed. She tightened the dressing gown more securely around herself and unlocked the door.

  The draft flattened the nursery candle and made the corridor sconces flicker. In the poor light, His Grace’s shoulders looked tense. A shorter man, dressed plainly in brown stood at his elbow, with George waiting a few paces away.

  “I regret having to disturb you at this late hour, Miss Harrismith,” the duke said. “But I wanted to introduce you to our new guard, Mr. Irvine as he is to begin his duties first thing in the morning. Everyone, except you and Forrester believe he is here in connection with my stables.”

  “How do you do, Mr. Irvine.” Jenny’s worries eased slightly at the sight of the bulky, grim-faced gentleman. He appeared most competent, without saying a word.

  “Pleased to meet you, Miss Harrismith,” he said, a smile softening his rugged features.

  “George will remain on duty this evening,” His Grace said. “Mr. Irvine will ride with William while I give Barbara a riding lesson on her pony. Would you bring my daughter down to the s
tables at eleven?”

  “Certainly, Your Grace.”

  Jenny was acutely aware she was naked beneath the robe. Her damp hair hung down to her waist. She flicked a curling lock back over her shoulder and resisted tightening her belt, her fingers curling nervously over the bow.

  “I have caught you at a difficult time. I do apologize.” He stepped back. “Tomorrow then.” After a few words to George who would be relieved by Jeremy at midnight, both men departed.

  Would the duke think her indolent to be in her nightclothes so early? Although it grew dark earlier as winter approached, the children had only just gone to sleep. She frowned and raised her chin. Well, her time was her own after all.

  With a nod to George, Jenny retreated into the nursery and shut the door, smiling and light-hearted for the first time in days. She crept across the carpet to check on William. He slept soundly on his back, arms and legs flung out, as did Barbara, who lay with a small hand curled over the coverlet, Carrot beside her. Jenny tucked her in and went into her bedroom to douse the fire. The nights were growing colder, and although the schoolroom fire was lit during the daylight hours, she would never leave a fire burning in the nursery at night.

  She removed her dressing gown, donned her nightgown, and shivering, climbed into bed wishing for the bedwarmer she had at home. Taking up the splendid novel by Miss Austen, she removed the bookmark and settled down to read by the argand lamp, but her thoughts kept returning to the duke. She wished she knew what he thought finding her in a state of undress, but with the candlelight behind him, his face was cast in shadow. She’d found no condemning note in his voice, however, as he informed her of the new arrangement then ushered Mr. Irvine away.

  *

  Andrew paused on the stairs to advise Irvine of the direction he wished him to take when he rode with William. “My son will want to ride to the river. But I prefer he does not, for that was where the shot was fired. Take the bridle path to the west as far as the first fences. Do not allow him to cross the meadows to the river. He is to ride one of the smaller horses, the gray mare Lavender, is quite docile, although he may protest, he is keen to ride one of my hunters.”

  “Very well, Your Grace.”

  “Should I be unavailable, you can seek Forrester’s advice. I don’t intend the housekeeper, Mrs. Pollitt, or the staff to learn why you are here. For all intents and purposes, you are a new member of my stable staff. I prefer to keep it that way.”

  Andrew said goodnight to Irvine and made his way to the drawing room.

  He found a game of faro had just finished. Greta glanced at him sharply. “You are joining us, Your Grace? One might ask what has kept you.” She took up her wineglass and sipped her wine, her blue eyes suspicious.

  “Forgive me. A matter with the staff,” Andrew said refusing to be drawn.

  Naturally, that failed to satisfy her. He knew what she was thinking, but as he was unable to dissuade her of it, and indeed had no desire to, especially in front of his cousin and her brother, he kept silent. He suspected anything he said to her now would fall on deaf ears. It was an uncomfortable business which he would soon have to deal with.

  “You are just in time for the next hand,” Raymond said.

  Andrew eased his shoulders, discovering Irvine’s appearance made him enormously relieved. As if a weight had been transferred from himself to Strathairn’s man. He anticipated the sensation would be brief, for tomorrow, he would return to his constant state of vigilance. Tonight, he could relax in the knowledge that Miss Harrismith would remain alert. She had not unlocked the door without confirmation of who was on the other side of it, despite knowing George would be there.

  “Right,” he said, “if you are game, gentleman, let us continue. Raymond, you are banker. I shall now endeavor to remove a goodly amount of yours and Ivo’s blunt.” He smiled at Greta, but she looked away. She had come here on his invitation. It behooved of him as a gentleman to offer some explanation which wouldn’t matter should it reach Ivo’s ears. As he suspected everything did.

  He poured himself another glass of claret from the drink’s table and took his seat before the board. Greta perched on the sofa arm next to Raymond to watch.

  Andrew’s gaze flickered over her. She wore an exquisite evening gown the color of lilacs threaded with silver, with diamonds at her throat and ears, her pale hair dressed in an elaborate chignon by her French maid.

  Although undeniably lovely, Greta failed to banish the image of the governess from Andrew’s mind. He should have been repentant to have caught Miss Harrismith in dishabille, but found he wasn’t. Not a bit of it. Her face had flushed becomingly in her rose pink dressing gown. She’d unwittingly offered him a brief glimpse of a slim lower leg and ankle; her masses of curly brown hair half dry down her back. Initially embarrassed, her relief to meet Irvine quickly banished any self-consciousness. It would not have occurred to her that she looked so appealing. He found the absence of artifice beguiling and accepted that he was beyond the pale.

  He gave a deep regretful sigh, a little guilty about Greta, because of the direction of his thoughts. She’d accused him of fancying Miss Harrismith. And dammit, he did! He’d known such men who took their governesses to bed. Andrew had disparaged such behavior as the lowest of the low. And while it was only thoughts and not deeds, he still accepted what a hypocrite he’d become.

  He laid down his chips centering them at the corners of four cards.

  Raymond protested, and Ivo chuckled.

  Greta kept silent and avoided eye contact. Andrew toyed with the stem of his wineglass. It proved to be an uncomfortable evening, and he did not look forward to the conversation between them which would likely follow. He couldn’t blame her for being angry. Circumstances had disrupted their plans for spending an enjoyable time together, and while he was so worried about William, he could not make himself care. Upheaval sometimes revealed people in a more honest light.

  He and Greta would not suit, of that he was now quite sure. He acknowledged he’d been different in Vienna when his life was a giddy round of social gatherings. A charming world ruled by etiquette and oftentimes a brittle gaiety. Laughter, noise, and color swirling beneath crystal chandeliers, while some momentous matters were argued over in an antechamber and others gambled away their fortunes in the adjoining room.

  But this was what he was, a man who preferred the quiet and the freedom of the country to Town. Who wished to enjoy his children while they were young. They would not thrive in the polluted air of London. The man he was before Catherine died. And whom he wished to be again. Not the social animal Greta thought she knew. He wasn’t about to change his mind, but he wished to handle the matter tactfully at the appropriate time.

  As if she heard his thoughts, or sensed his cooling ardor, she leaned over and rested her hand on Raymond’s shoulder and spoke to him in a seductively low voice.

  When Raymond chuckled, and patted her hand, Ivo cast Andrew a measuring glance.

  As the evening continued, Greta continued to flirt outrageously with his cousin and Raymond seemed under her spell. Ivo made several attempts to distract them but failed. It was Greta’s way of gaining his attention, Andrew understood, and making him pay for his careless disregard of her, so he chose to ignore it. Trouble was Raymond had begun to take it far too seriously.

  Chapter Fifteen

  A footman was soon to arrive to take William to the stables. The boy was so excited at the prospect of a new riding instructor, Jenny had to urge him to eat his breakfast.

  “He’ll let me canter, and maybe even gallop,” he stated with great confidence as she did up his coat buttons.

  She smoothed back his dark hair, so like his father’s, and put on his hat. “Do you think so?” William had yet to meet the severe-looking Mr. Irvine.

  “But I’d rather ride with you, Jenny,” William added quickly.

  “My, but you are going to be a charmer when you’re grown, my lord,” she said with a smile. “Even though I don’t permit
you to canter?”

  “Well you did once, Jenny.”

  How could she forget that frightening day as they raced away through the woods?

  Someone knocked. Three taps, a pause, and then one more. The secret signal she and the footmen had concocted between them.

  “It’s Jeremy.” She opened the door. But it was Gerald, a footman who seldom ventured into this wing of the house. “I am here to take his lordship down, Miss Harrismith.”

  “Where is Jeremy?”

  “He is on another errand. He gave me the signal.”

  “Will you wait, please, Gerald?” Jenny closed the door. “Barbara, come here and I’ll put on your bonnet. We will walk down with William to the stables. It’s a little early, but you can play with the gray cat until your father arrives.”

  Barbara needed little encouragement, she rushed to give Carrot a smothering goodbye hug as the kitten lay in its basket.

  Gerald walked down with them, then bowed and left them at the stables where Mr. Irvine stood waiting with two saddled horses. One was the gray mare, Lavender, William was usually assigned.

  At the thunderous expression on William’s face, Jenny had to admit she was relieved not to have to wrestle with him. He had set his heart on riding a big gelding. But one glance at William’s new riding companion told her that he would handle William without difficulty.

  The two rode away. Before they disappeared into the trees, William glanced back with a sulky expression which brightened as he looked past her.

  Jenny turned to find the duke walking into the yard. She drew in a breath. He wore a double-breasted indigo blue waisted coat, that fitted his narrow waist and broad shoulders, his breeches of pale leather clinging to strong thighs. His top boots polished to a high shine, he carried a crop and black hat in gloved hands.

  “I’m afraid Lord William is a trifle disappointed, Your Grace,” she said with a faint smile as Barbara came to deposit the gray cat at her feet.