A Lot Like a Lady

by Kim Bowman

  She closed her eyes for a moment but then opened them again and settled her direct blue gaze on his. “Perhaps this is not the time, your grace. I wish to find my daughter and you have… other concerns.”

  Grey’s jaw clenched. It wouldn’t do to show his stepmother the extent of his ire. A breeze blew the heavy draperies inward. He watched them billow and then collapse back against the window before he answered. “I will always have other concerns, Regina. Now is the perfect time to discuss your reason for arriving at my home unannounced.”

  Her gaze narrowed, and for the briefest of moments Grey caught a glimpse of the proud and strong-willed woman his father had married. “You would ask that I give you the courtesy of announcing myself when coming to call on my stepson?” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “The stepson who has no care for his home in the country to the point he makes it nearly impossible to run the estate? And then he sends a man to inquire as to the company I keep?”

  Confused as to her meaning, Grey frowned. “Impossible to run the estate? What nonsense are you spouting?”

  She lifted her chin and locked him in her regal stare. “I notice you do not deny that you have set your man to looking into my private life.”

  Understanding bloomed. So word had reached her that he was looking into the affairs of Wyndham Green. As much as he would have liked to put that off, he knew the time had come to discuss it.

  He sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. “It has come to my attention that you have been seen in the company of Wyndham Green’s estate manager. Sheridan Dawes?”

  Regina paled. With deliberate slowness, she rose. “Exactly what are you accusing me of, sir?” Her voice shook with the force of her emotion.

  Refusing to stay seated while he strained his neck to look at her, Grey stood as well and folded his arms across his chest. “A better question is why would a woman of nobility — a duchess — deem to lower herself by socializing with the help.”

  “Of all the—” Regina’s nostrils flared, and she set her mouth in a firm line. She pushed past him and headed for the door.

  Where did she think she was going? He hadn't yet ended this interview.

  He started after her. “Madam, I demand—”

  His stepmother wheeled around, fire flashing in her eyes, and pointed her finger at him. “Do not have the audacity to demand anything of me. I have not only suffered social ostracizing at your hand, but I’ve had to subsidize the household allowance with my personal funds for the last few months because you no longer deem it necessary to support Wyndham Green.”

  Grey tensed. “I beg your pardon?” What the deuce was she speaking of? Images of those ill-kept books with the columns that wouldn’t add properly and short-amount entries consumed his mind. Not supporting Wyndham Green? He was over-supporting the ruddy estate.

  “You have no idea what it’s been like since your father died. Nor do you seem to care. He would be ashamed of how you have let his beloved home go because of your dislike for me. And I will not now stand here and allow you to insult me because I have dared to befriend Mr. Dawes.” Regina glided toward the door but paused with her hand on the knob.

  “No!” Drawing herself up straight, she whirled and stomped back across the room, her eyes narrowed into a tight glare. Her voice shook as she spoke. “I have endured your treatment these past few years because of my love for your father, but now you have gone too far.” She stabbed a finger at him, stopping just shy of touching his chest. “Were it not for Mr. Dawes agreeing to stay on even though I could pay him only half of his salary, Wyndham Green would have fallen into even further despair than it has. I had already been forced to dismiss the two gardeners and a footman I could no longer afford.”

  Her words were like a slap to the cheek and Grey jerked backward. “Madam, I can assure you that Wyndham Green has continued to receive the same amount of funds from me as always.”

  “That’s absurd! You’ve reduced the allotment without so much as a word of explanation,” she spat, her voice laced with disbelief.

  “Nor have you even once informed me that you were in need of my assistance.” Grey stalked to the other side of his desk, intent on showing her the ledgers.

  But as he reached for them, he cursed under his breath. He’d sent the blasted things with Harper.

  Regina locked her hands on her hips. “I most certainly did ask for your help. On several occasions, as a matter of fact. I sent a number of messages asking to discuss the accounts at Wyndham Green and informing you how difficult it had become to make the allowance last. And each time you chose to ignore my request.”

  Grey leaned over the desk and glared at her. “I received no such request.”

  “Of course you did! After you never responded to the first three letters, Mr. Dawes graciously offered to deliver a note personally. You refused to see him — on two separate occasions.”

  Grey fell back into his chair, perplexed by her words. “Regina, I can assure you, Mr. Dawes never presented himself to me. Nor have I ever received a message informing me of your dire circumstances. And not only have I not reduced Wyndham Green’s allowance, extra monies have been added on several occasions to cover negative balances. I would be more than happy to show you the ledgers as proof, once my man Harper finishes examining them,” Grey explained, struggling for patience, striving for calm he certainly didn't feel.

  The various small pieces of the whole picture had started to fit themselves together and the result was not a pleasing one.

  Regina’s mouth fell open. She sank in the chair beside his desk, clutching the arms. “Y-you have?”

  Insistent scratching sounded on the study door, and Grey tightened his lips. Not today, you blasted devil.

  The dog yelped and the scratching stopped. For a fraction of a second, Grey dared hope his fiery Magpie had returned to deal with the dog as only she could. Instead Lucien’s voice filtered through the door. “Come along now. No more of that.”

  With a sigh, Grey returned his attention to the matters at hand. “Yes, I have.” He sat across from her, his anger dissolving with the dawn of understanding. “Did it never occur to you to suspect something was amiss with Dawes? To question his motives?” He sagged in his seat. “Did you not realize I would never desert my childhood home?”

  His stepmother lowered her head, wiped a tear from her cheek. “Dawes has been the estate manager for years, even before I married your father. Alexander spoke very highly of him, and up until the past few months, everything seemed fine.” She raised her face, revealing deep sorrow in her eyes. “I learned Mr. Dawes had dismissed another of the gardeners, yet neither showed on the ledger. When I questioned him, he said you had cut the estate allowance and we could no longer afford to keep five gardeners. He told me he knew you and I were not close and he didn’t want to cause more problems between us, so he left the ledgers so I wouldn’t worry.”

  Grey pinched the bridge of his nose. “So then he befriended you, fed your distrust in me, and used your vulnerability to fleece more funds.”

  She clasped her hands together in her lap and locked her gaze on them. “I feel like such a fool.”

  As did he. And yet… “Why did you never come to me yourself and inform me you were having financial difficulties?”

  She jerked her gaze to his, eyes narrowed. “When I believed that you had ignored my pleas and refused to see the estate manager? Bringing myself to send Mr. Dawes after you ensured the ton would give me and my daughter the cut was humiliating enough. To seek you out in person…”

  Grey raked a hand through his hair and sat forward. “Please believe me, I never realized — never intended for others to treat you so callously.”

  Regina lifted her eyebrows in a gesture that clearly said she was doubtful.

  Grey held his stepmother’s gaze. “Until Mag — Juliet turned up at my door and informed me of the fact that you were being given the cut, I had no idea.”

  “Mayhap if you had deemed us impo
rtant enough to visit, you would have seen for yourself how—”

  Shame flooded his face with heat. “If I had treated you as I should have, none of this would have happened in the first place. And I cannot tell you how sorry I am for the pain I’ve caused you.” He swallowed, wishing he had something to do with his restless hands. He should have ordered the chocolate and biscuits. “Please believe me when I say I have done everything in my power to undo the damage I caused.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “Yes, Aunt Charity and Aunt Harmony told me how you tried to make amends.”

  He stiffened, wondering exactly what they had said to his stepmother, and how much damage had been done by the unfortunate scene Michaels and Lady Fenimore had witnessed in the parlor the previous day.

  And what of Juliet? Had she arrived home safely? Higgins would know. He’d ask the butler later.

  “…happened to all the funds from the country estate.”

  Her words startled Grey from his thoughts. His fingers clenched around the arms of his chair, but he kept his tone even. “I’m afraid Dawes has played both of us for a fool.”

  “He never was interested in my friendship after all, was he?” Tears shined in her eyes and she dabbed them away with her dainty handkerchief. “He used my vulnerability and loneliness to steal from me… from us.”

  Guilt slammed into Grey, driving home how much damage he had caused. Not only to his beloved childhood home, but to the families of the employees Dawes had fired. And more importantly, to his stepmother and stepsister.

  He sighed heavily. “No, Regina, you handled the situation as you should have. The blame is mine to bear. And I swear to you I will set this right. Dawes will be dealt with.”

  She stood. “Thank you. Now, if you will excuse me, I really must head home to check on my daughter.”

  “Godspeed you on your journey, Regina.” Grey swept her hand into his and kissed the back.

  Chapter Nineteen

  May 21, 1813

  Haselmere, England

  Juliet eased the leg of her breeches above her ankle and dipped a toe in the creek. The bite of cold water first stung and then her toe numbed. After a moment, she plunged her entire foot into the gurgling water and swished it around, wishing she could dull the ache in her heart the same way. Longer than a week had passed since the scene at the townhouse, and yet the pain remained just as biting… maybe even more so.

  “I thought I’d find you out here,” said her mother from behind her.

  Juliet rocked back onto her elbows and turned to regard Patricia. Her mum hadn’t offered one word of censure. She’d welcomed Juliet back home and that had been the end of it. The duchess, for some strange reason, hadn’t said anything either, though she tended to grow tight in the lips whenever she chanced to cross Juliet’s path.

  “With Annabella gone off somewhere, there’s nothing for me to do up at the house,” murmured Juliet.

  “So you spend your time out here playing in the water, or in the stable brushing your precious horses.”

  “Toby appreciates the help.” Juliet prayed her mother wouldn’t scold her for wearing breeches and a worn shirt. Dressing in the old clothing that had once belonged to her father gave her a sense of protection… of being shielded. She’d worn Annabella’s pretty things and felt like a princess for a few weeks, but she wasn’t a princess. She was just Juliet, maidservant who had dared to pretend she was something more. If Grey had seen her in her true element, he’d have not looked twice… probably wouldn’t have troubled to discover her name. For a while she’d managed to experience the life she’d once dreamed of, but in the end… she’d only managed to mull up the works.

  Patricia stooped and slipped off her shoes and socks and then plopped down on the bank next to her daughter. “Convenient, that, isn’t it? If you’re in the stable or out here, should the estate’s master arrive for a visit, easier to keep away from him.”

  Juliet’s face burned. “It’s best I avoid him. I’m fortunate he didn’t dismiss me, or that the duchess did not do so.”

  “Oooo, ah. That’s cold, isn’t it?” Patricia kicked her feet back and forth in the running water. Angling her head at Juliet, she smiled, her light brown eyes warming with the love reflected in them. “I’ll wager the both of them understand quite well you were not the instigator of the scheme.”

  “I went along with it, Mummy.” Juliet eased her other foot into the creek. “I could have said no, but I played at being a lady, and now Gr—his grace hates me for it.”

  “Hate is rather a strong word, don’t you think?”

  Juliet sighed. Her mother had not seen the look in Grey’s eyes when he hadn’t known who she was, hadn’t felt his touch, nor his kisses. Oh, he’d wanted her as much as she’d wanted him…

  And he wouldn’t thank her for making him want someone so far beneath him.

  Juliet plucked a long blade of grass from the ground beside her and wove it through her fingers. “He’s a proud man, Mum. He escorted a servant, a maid around London in grand style, to exclusive affairs. He introduced me to his friends and associates as though I was someone important.” Her voice trembled and she bit the inside of her lip to steady herself. He danced with me in public three times in a row… that’s as good as announcing an engagement to the minds of most. “If I’m hiding, it’s to spare him from having to look upon me as much as to save me from seeing the loathing in his eyes.”

  Patricia flicked a few droplets of water in Juliet’s direction and smiled. “Well, thank goodness there are always more fish in the sea.”

  “It’s not a fish I’m wanting, Mum. It’s a man.”

  “Well, now there I disagree. ‘Tis not a man you’re after wantin’ but a duke. And you may as well ask God to deliver the moon to your pocket as set your cap for a nobleman.”

  “Do you think I am not painfully aware of this fact? He neither followed me nor sent a message of any sort.”

  Patricia said nothing. The tinkling stream and the song of the birds filled the lengthy silence between them. “Did you expect him to, child?” she finally asked in her quiet voice.

  Juliet raised her eyes and stared at a pair of sparrows as they dipped and rose, playing among the purple thistles and pale blue cornflowers. “For a while, I was afraid… and then I hoped,” she murmured. “But no… I never expected any more than he’s done.”

  “I think you should get away,” Patricia said abruptly, standing and shaking the water from her feet. “Your father had cousins in Bristol. They work in the house of an elderly earl, and he’s looking for someone to run his kitchen.”

  Juliet’s eyes widened. “You’re sending me away?” She could barely choke the words out.

  Patricia’s lips thinned. “I’m suggesting that it might be easier on everyone — especially you — if you were to take a position in Lord Penderton’s home. One day, his grace is certain to come here, and maybe by then he’ll have a bride… how would that make you feel? Lord Penderton is a kind old sort, so I am told. I’ve already written to your cousins and I’m quite certain the Duchess of Wyndham will—”

  Hot tears filled Juliet’s eyes and the blood rushed to her ears, deafening her to her mother’s words. She pushed to her feet. “Old being the most important part, right, Mother? Have I embarrassed you as well? So much so that you feel it to be my just deserts to go work in the kitchen of a dried up old man?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she turned and fled toward the stables, leaving her shoes and socks sitting on the bank next to her mother.

  “Juliet… please come back.”

  She kept running. Tears burned her eyes and blurred her vision. When she reached the road behind the barns she slowed her steps. Racing higgledy-piggledy into the stables would only upset the horses. She stepped on a pebble, the sharp pain reminding her of her first ball and how her feet had hurt so afterward. Wincing, she scraped the bottom of her foot in the grass, wishing she hadn’t left her shoes behind.

  Grey hadn’t been
to Wyndham Green since shortly after his father’s death, more than four years gone. And he’d spent precious little time there even before that. But he wouldn’t stay away from the estate forever. And when he did arrive…

  “Mummy’s right,” she murmured, entering the stable. “If he brings a wife here, I shall be devastated.”

  Maybe going to work for Lord Penderton would be best. She’d ask her mother to make the appropriate arrangements.

  ****

  Grey stared at the door through which Stowe had just exited his study. So, his stepmother had told the truth. Not that he’d doubted her once she’d finally opened up and talked to him two weeks past. But having his investigator uncover proof that Sheridan Dawes had been draining the estate for well over a year, subtly at first then recently with more audacity, had been all Grey needed to put an end to the man’s thievery.

  A light knock sounded on the door.

  “Come,” called out Grey.

  The door pushed inward and Emily entered with a polite curtsey. “Begging your pardon, your grace. Now that your visitors have left, I was seeing to your guestrooms and found this.” She held up a brown leather-bound book. “I’m just here to put it back where it belongs.”

  Grey nodded and allowed his eyes to trail the young maid as she stepped crossed the floor. “Wait,” he called out when she was nearly to the bookshelves.

  Emily paused and then turned to regard him. Sadness that mimicked his own reflected in her eyes, and his mind reeled. His heart should be well over its upset by now.

  “Bring the book here. I want to read through it.” Now, why did he feel the need to explain himself?

  “Yes, sir.” She reversed her steps and laid the book on his desk.

  “Thank you. That will be all for now, Emily.”

  “Of course, sir.” She gave another quick curtsey and hastened from the room.

  Grey stared at the book with dread as he reached out and traced a finger over the title. Selected Works of William Shakespeare. One of his father’s favorites. Peculiar how Magpie had ended up having so much in common with his father. She might have pretended to be a lady while in his residence, but she hadn’t pretended her love of reading or her knowledge of Shakespeare.