To Tempt A Rogue

by Adrienne Basso

  Finally, Harriet cleared her throat. “Phoebe has told me that Lady Julienne upset you, Jeanne Marie. Can you tell me what happened?”

  Jeanne Marie pulled away from Harriet’s shoulder and gave her a brooding stare.

  “I miss her. I love her and I want her to be with me and it makes me very, very sad because she is not.” Jeanne Marie’s face contorted, but she was able to hold back her sobs. Either that, or else there were no tears left for the little girl to release.

  Harriet nodded her head. Though it was an extreme reaction, it was understandable that Jeanne Marie would be upset over being separated from someone who obviously meant a great deal to her.

  “Well, I’ll bet that Lady Julienne is missing you just as much as you are missing her,” Harriet remarked. “If you like, I will help you write a letter. You can tell her all about Hillsdale Castle and I’m sure when she replies, she will tell you everything that she has been doing. Would that make you feel better?”

  Harriet thought it seemed like a reasonable offer. Yet both children were gazing at her with equally astonished expressions prompting Harriet to ask, “Who exactly is Lady Julienne? Is she a relative? A friend of the family?”

  “Lady Julienne is Jeanne Marie’s favorite doll,” Phoebe answered.

  “My very favorite!” Jeanne Marie insisted, rubbing her tear-damp eyes. “And I want her with me!”

  Harriet bit her lip hard to keep from laughing—at herself. She had assumed Lady Julienne was a person. Whoever would have thought a missing toy could bring on such a reaction?

  “A doll?” Harriet’s mouth firmed. It would be a devastating blow to the child if she treated her very real distress with anything less than a serious attitude. “What happened to Lady Julienne? Why was she not brought on the journey to Hillsdale Castle with you?”

  The room became almost uncomfortably silent. Jeanne Marie dug her head in Harriet’s shoulder.

  Phoebe bit her lip in agitation, then turned her head away, refusing to meet Harriet’s eyes.

  “Where is she?” Harriet asked.

  “She got left behind,” Phoebe finally admitted.

  “At your Uncle Duncan’s house in Edinburgh?”

  “No at our other—”

  “Jeanne Marie!” Phoebe’s nervous interruption startled her younger sister.

  Jeanne Marie’s breath caught and she looked stricken. “We aren’t supposed to talk about our other house. Ever.”

  “Then we shall not,” Harriet replied cheerfully. She hated seeing the fear in the children’s eyes, hated knowing they were bound to keep secrets about their past. But why?

  “We didn’t notice that Lady Julienne wasn’t with us until it was too late to go back for her,” Phoebe said.

  “I didn’t cry then, cause I was being a very brave girl,” Jeanne Marie said. “But I’m tired of being brave. I want my doll.”

  “I know.” Harriet hugged the child tighter and kissed the top of her head. “I am sure you were a very brave girl, indeed. And I know you feel very sad and are missing Lady Julienne. But perhaps we can find another doll to take her place.” Harriet felt Jeanne Marie stiffen in her arms and hastily added, “For the time being. Eventually we will figure out a way to bring Lady Julienne to Scotland.”

  Phoebe gave her a doubtful look. “Uncle Duncan has already tried giving Jeanne Marie a new doll.” She stood and walked to the trunk that had been placed near the window.

  The luggage coach containing the children’s belongings had arrived a day after they had come to the castle. Harriet had supervised the nursemaid’s unpacking of her new charges’ clothing, but had not gone through all of their things, so the contents of this particular trunk were unknown to her.

  She rose with curiosity to see what Phoebe was so anxious to show her. It was a struggle, but with Harriet’s assistance the trunk lid was lifted. Harriet tried, but could not contain her gasp of surprise as she looked inside. The trunk was of a good size, designed to hold a substantial number of garments. But there were no clothes packed away. Instead, it was filled to the brim with dolls.

  Small, medium, large, and even larger. With hair of gold, of brown, of black, of red. Dressed as ladies, dressed as servants, dressed as queens, dressed as characters from fairy tales. A Scottish lass with a smart red plaid, an English miss with a beautiful silk ball gown, a pretty country shepherdess with a straw bonnet. Harriet had never before seen so many exquisitely crafted dolls in one place.

  “Gracious!” She blew out her breath and turned toward Jeanne Marie who was still sulking in the corner. “Many girls do not even own a single doll, while others feel privileged to have one. I have never known a child who possessed an entire trunk-full.”

  “Uncle Duncan’s housekeeper said he had bought every doll in the city,” Phoebe reported solemnly.

  “I believe he must have,” Harriet concurred. “Is there not one doll among all of these that pleases you, Jeanne Marie?”

  The younger girl shook her head belligerently and turned her face to the wall.

  Phoebe leaned close and whispered in Harriet’s ear. “Lady Julienne was a gift from Mama. She said the doll looked like Jeanne Marie and it has been her very favorite ever since.”

  Harriet’s lips pursed in understanding. This put a whole new wrinkle on the problem. Not only was the toy a familiar comfort, it was a tangible link to the child’s mother. Suddenly, Jeanne Marie’s emotional outburst did not seem so unreasonable.

  “It does seem a waste for all these beautiful dolls to go unloved,” Harriet remarked, hoping that Jeanne Marie would at least show an interest. She knew Lady Julienne could never be replaced, but perhaps there was a substitute that could afford the child some comfort.

  “It is sad to think of them locked up in this old trunk. Maybe there are other girls who would like to have a doll,” Phoebe suggested. “Do you know any, Miss Sainthill?”

  “I don’t. But Mrs. Mullins might. We could ask her. I’m sure she is acquainted with most of the families in the village.”

  “You can give the dolls away,” Jeanne Marie offered, finally becoming interested in the conversation. She abandoned her position against the wall and peered into the trunk. “I don’t mind if other girls play with my dolls. They can even keep them. I just want Lady Julienne.”

  “Then let’s sort through the trunk and arrange the dolls by size,” Harriet suggested. Though she knew it was a long shot, Harriet reasoned if Jeanne Marie spent time examining each of the toys she might yet find one that appealed to her.

  The females were so intent on their task they did not hear the heavy footsteps approaching. Without warning the half open heavy oak door was pushed so hard it swung around and struck the wall behind it.

  Harriet gasped and placed herself protectively in front of the girls, then lifted startled eyes to the intruder. To her relief, she beheld Mr. Wainwright, his expression grim, his garments slightly disheveled, stalking back and forth in the doorway.

  “Is everything all right?” His breath came out in great gasping gulps. “Mrs. Mullins sent one of the lads to fetch me. I was riding in the south woods. She said one of the girls was very upset. Who is it? Is she ill? Or injured?”

  “Everything is fine, Mr. Wainwright.” The corners of Harriet’s mouth strained to form a comforting smile, but her heart was still racing from the shock of his sudden, abrupt appearance. “Jeanne Marie was rather distressed, but I believe I have managed to sort out the problem.”

  “Thank God.” Closing his eyes, he rested one hand on the door frame. “Mrs. Mullins was so distraught. I’ve never seem her like that, babbling on and on, making no sense. I thought . . .” his voice trailed off in unspoken fear.

  He took a long breath, then ran his hand through his already ruffled hair. It stuck out at odd angles and should have made him look ridiculous, yet Harriet thought she had never seen him look more handsome.

  The girls had turned their attention back to the trunk filled with dolls, but Harriet feared their u
ncle’s obvious distress might upset them.

  “Come, take a minute to catch your breath,” Harriet said. She grasped Mr. Wainwright’s arm and propelled him to the opposite side of the chamber, out of the girls’ range of hearing.

  “I suppose I overreacted a bit,” he said with a sheepish grin.

  “Nonsense. It is never wrong to show care and concern for those you love.”

  Nathaniel shrugged. He seemed embarrassed by his reaction, but Harriet thought his concern endearing. Encouraged by his attitude, Harriet decided this would be the perfect time to bring up the matter of Jeanne Marie’s missing doll.

  “I need your assistance on a most important matter,” she began. “It seems that somehow when the children moved Jeanne Marie’s doll was forgotten.” Harriet turned and gazed fondly at the little girls. “That was why she was crying so much this morning. She misses the toy dreadfully.”

  “A doll?”

  “Yes. She calls it Lady Julienne.”

  Mr. Wainwright was instantly on guard. “I remember she used to cling to a tattered rag doll. It might be the same toy, though I assumed it had ended up on the trash heap.”

  “My goodness, I hope not,” Harriet exclaimed. “Jeanne Marie loves that toy and Phoebe just explained it was a gift from their mother, so it has even more significance for the child.”

  Harriet noticed his jaw was twitching and his face seemed to pale slightly at this news.

  “The girls mentioned it was left behind by mistake,” Harriet continued. “I imagine it would be easy enough to have it sent here. Though I suppose it will take some time for it to arrive.”

  “No! It cannot be sent here.”

  Harriet took a half-step back, surprised at his vehement, almost growling tone.

  “I really do not—”

  “I said no,” he interrupted. “If Jeanne Marie is upset, I shall buy her another doll to replace the one that is lost.”

  Harriet smiled sourly and placed her hand on her hip. “Mr. McTate has already tried that approach, as that trunk filled to nearly overflowing with dolls will attest. It has not worked. I know it might sound trite, but you must understand the special significance of this particular toy. For Jeanne Marie it is simply irreplaceable.”

  Mr. Wainwright shoved his hand through his hair again. “I do not want the child spoiled beyond reason. Besides, you said it would take a long time for the doll to arrive here in Scotland. We might be gone when it at last reaches Hillsdale Castle.”

  “We are leaving here? Just when the children have finally arrived? Why have you waited until now to tell me this news?”

  Scorn curled Mr. Wainwright’s lips. “I am not in the habit of consulting my employees when making decisions, Miss Sainthill.”

  Harriet felt her entire body go rigid as the barb hit its mark. With just one sentence he had rather neatly reminded her of her place in his household. And in his life. She tore her gaze from his and stared blindly toward the opposite side of the room where the girls were gathered.

  “I certainly understand how you would be far too busy to focus your attention on such a trivial matter as a child’s toy, therefore I am more than willing to cope with solving this problem,” Harriet said quietly. “All I require is some basic information. The address of the children’s former home and the name of a servant who would be able to assist me. A nursemaid or nanny or even the housekeeper will suffice.”

  “You are far exceeding your authority, Miss Sainthill.” He shot her a strained look, his eyes cold and hard. “I absolutely forbid you to take any action on this matter.”

  He stormed away before she had a chance to offer any objections.

  His words had cast a pall over the room. Harriet could barely contain her astonishment, and her hurt. She had watched him closely as he spoke, weighing all his reactions, listening intently to his words. Questions tormented her. There was something he was not telling her. Harriet was certain of it. But what? Something that had to do with the children’s past, but it also seemed mixed together with his true relationship to them.

  Harriet only knew they were his wards. And they were orphans. She did not know the particulars of the connection between them all and while she had been curious, she did agree it was not her business to meddle in the affairs of her employer. But now she felt she was unable to do her job without knowing at least some of their background.

  Discouraged, she rejoined the girls, who thankfully were unaware of the tension between their governess and guardian. On the verge of dropping the matter entirely, Harriet watched the sisters with a careful eye, wishing there was some way she could help.

  “Lady Julienne’s dress is also blue,” Jeanne Marie said in a sorrowful tone as she held up a doll clothed in a blue gown. “It is her favorite color. Mine, too.”

  Though she did not begin to cry, Harriet could not fail to notice the shadow of sadness that darkened the child’s eyes. A small, warm hand grabbed Harriet’s. She tugged at it gently, encouraging Jeanne Marie to climb into her lap. When the child complied, Harriet rubbed her cheek against the little girl’s soft curls and held her tight.

  Jeanne Marie let out a few shuddering breaths, then took a deep, quivering sigh. It was that sorrowful, emotional sigh that forced Harriet’s decision.

  “Your Uncle Nathaniel was just telling me about your old house,” Harriet said in a patently cheerful tone. “The one you lived in before you went to Uncle Duncan’s. He said it was much smaller than the castle, but I’m not sure that’s right. What do you think?”

  Both Phoebe and Jeanne Marie gazed at her in wide-eyed innocence. “Uncle Nathaniel told you about our London house?” Phoebe asked.

  Harriet nodded slightly. London. She would never have guessed they had once lived in Town. Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. She knew in her heart it was wrong to manipulate the children in an effort to gain information, but if she had any hope of getting Jeanne Marie’s doll she would need some help. Since Mr. Wainwright was not forthcoming, that left the children as her only source.

  “Yes, the London house. What can you tell me about it?”

  “It was very grand,” Phoebe said in a wistful voice.

  “And had lots of stairs,” Jeanne Marie added helpfully.

  “I’ve been to London several times.” Harriet leaned her back against the wall. “Why, I might have even ridden right by it. By any chance, do you remember the address or the name of the street?”

  Jeanne Marie squirmed to place herself in a more comfortable position. “I know. It was in Grosvenor Square,” she said, resting her cheek against Harriet’s arm.

  Harriet had difficulty hiding her astonishment. Grosvenor Square was among the most exclusive addresses in town, an area where only the very wealthy nobility lived.

  “It was a very wonderful place,” Phoebe said. “We miss it.”

  “And our ponies. We miss them too,” Jeanne Marie sniffed.

  “I miss Mrs. Hutchinson,” Phoebe said. “She was always kind to us and never raised her voice, even when Gregory was naughty and the other servants were mad at him.”

  “Was she your nanny?”

  “No, she is our housekeeper.”

  “She always made sure Cook baked our favorite cakes and cooked only the things we liked to eat for our dinner.” Jeanne Marie’s face darkened. “And when the other servants were mean to us, she would yell at them.”

  “Well, she certainly sounds like a wonderful person,” Harriet replied, her mind spinning with confusion. “Did Uncle Nathaniel live at the house too?”

  “When he was a boy.” Phoebe ran her hands through the long blond curls of the doll perched in her lap. “May I get a brush so I can properly arrange her hair?”

  Harriet nodded. “And bring some pins and ribbons so we can tie the curls atop her head.”

  “I know where the pins are,” Jeanne Marie shouted. She scrambled out of Harriet’s lap and raced her sister across the room.

  Harriet tossed her head back against the wall wit
h a loud thump and thought about the information the children had given her. Yet this little discussion had created more questions than answers. A posh London address, servants that were mean to them, the place where Nathaniel had lived as a boy. What did it all mean?

  The girls soon returned with an armload of supplies. Harriet was glad the distraction of dressing the doll’s hair had eased Jeanne Marie’s sorrow and she turned her attention towards helping those small fingers braid and twist and pin an elaborate coiffure. But her mind could not entirely abandon what she had just discovered.

  Harriet believed she had sufficient information to mail a letter and request that Jeanne Marie’s doll be sent to Hillsdale Castle. The problem was, she could not decide if that was the best course of action, given these most peculiar circumstances.

  Nathaniel stood silently at the open library door, the hamper filled with picnic goodies he had Mrs. Mullins make for him dangling from one arm. As he gazed at the children, each bent studiously over their work, he found himself impressed with the order Harriet had created.

  Since the castle lacked a proper school room, she had commandeered a section of the library, fitting it with proper sized furniture and the necessary supplies to accommodate her young students. Sunlight crept through the curtains, brightening the whole room, making it an even more cheerful environment.

  Harriet circled her students slowly, answering questions, bending down to make corrections on their slates, smiling with encouragement as they struggled with a complicated problem. The sunlight illuminated the shine in her hair and the glow of her cheeks. She had the most incredible complexion of any woman he had ever known, pure as snow and soft to the touch.

  Nathaniel cleared his throat loudly. Three small heads instantly popped up.

  “Uncle Nathaniel!” The children immediately clamored out of their chairs and swarmed toward him. Nathaniel smiled, enjoying both their greeting and attention. If only their governess would look at him with one-tenth of their enthusiasm, then he could truly enjoy this sunny day.