Lord Devere's Ward

by Sue Swift

  “I had to escape.” She kept her voice low and terse. If her guardian did not treat the threat to her person with the utmost seriousness, she’d be packed off and sent back to Wiltshire, trapped in the same hopeless circumstance.

  “Strange,” he remarked, as another gentleman entered. “We received a letter from your uncle, Badham, stating you were well content and wished to marry your cousin Hoskins.”

  “Osborn.”

  “So you do wish to marry this Osburt?” Quinn tapped an elegantly shod toe on the carpeted floor.

  “Osborn.”

  “If you wish to marry your cousin, with whom you have been living in apparent happiness, how come you to my bedroom?”

  “I wasn’t aware that was your bedroom.”

  “As ungentlemanly as it might be to argue with you, my super-dainty Kate, I was in my nightshirt, in my bedroom.”

  She gave up winning that particular point. “I don’t want to marry him. I had to escape because they locked me up! I wrote to you through the solicitor weeks ago—didn’t you get my letter?”

  “No. And, I take it, you didn’t receive mine?” She shook her head.

  “Hmph. In any event, I declined to provide my, er, blessing for the union due to my man of affairs, Richard Carrothers.” Quinn inclined his head toward his secretary, a spare, graying man who remained quiet as stone near the door. “Richard has traveled twice to Wiltshire to see you, and both times was denied admittance to Badham Abbey.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Surprised, she realized that her uncle had defied her guardian’s authority by diverting their letters and excluding Carrothers.

  “Be that as it may, that does not explain how you come to be in my rooms at dawn.”

  “Dawn, my lord? It’s past eleven o’clock.” Mercy.

  Is he daft?

  “Well, close to it.” Quinn waved an airy hand as he sat in a chair opposite her, folded his arms over his chest, and waited.

  “I told you, I had to escape. He locked me in the attic, you see, until I agreed…until you agreed…to marry Osborn.”

  “There is very little chance I would agree to marry Osgood, and even less chance I would consent to your marriage at this time to anyone at all.” Quinn poured himself a cup of tea.

  “Anyone at all, my lord?”

  “Do you express a desire to marry?” He held his cup poised and eyed her over its rim.

  “Not at this time, my lord,” she answered stiffly.

  “But I do not see that you should make such a dictatorial declaration when we are not acquainted.”

  “We are sufficiently acquainted for me to have made that determination.” He sipped, then put his china cup onto its saucer with a click. “And, fascinating as this discussion of your marital prospects might be, it does not speak to the immediate questions which occupy me. Ah. Let me think.”

  She waited as he raised his eyes to the ceiling.

  “I now recollect. I recall a young girl much addicted to fencing, the climbing of trees, and similar pursuits. Please do not tell me you were so improper as to clamber out of the attic dressed in that manner.” Quinn’s long face assumed an expression of distaste.

  She wriggled herself further into her cloak. “It was necessary.”

  “And you found your way from Wiltshire to London. The public stage?”

  She nodded.

  He winced. “Indomitable Kate! Well, your determination will be rewarded, I am sure. However, mere strength of character will not solve any of our more pressing issues. We must find a place for you to live, with some female to provide you company and countenance.”

  “Would not the presence of your, er, wife be sufficient?”

  “Wife? I have no wife, bonny Kate, to lend propriety to this awkward situation.”

  She gulped. “I need only a maid to attend to me here.”

  He raised his brows. “Nay, dearest Kate. I would not have your reputation destroyed.”

  “I doubt that would be the case.”

  Standing, her guardian spoke without a trace of humor as he paced to and fro. “You’re not in the country anymore. As yet, no one knows of your escapades, but unless you wish to forever enjoy your fortune in solitary splendor in the wilds of Somerset, you cannot stay here with just a maid. Besides, I also have a reputation to maintain. I would not have it bruited about that I took advantage of my child.”

  “I’m not your child.” She jumped to her feet, arms akimbo.

  “You are my ward, so you might as well be my child,” he told her curtly. “Richard, how about Grillon’s for the chit?” Quinn moved to the window.

  Carrothers followed. “Doesn’t solve the problem of her companionship, my lord.”

  “We might hire someone.” The two males spoke as though Kate were not in the room.

  “Can’t trust a hireling.”

  “Open up the house on Bruton Street?”

  She interrupted, for she hated being ignored. “I own a house in London.”

  The two men paused, looked at her, then resumed their conversation.

  “Ring for Harper, find her some clothes,” Carrothers murmured.

  “P’raps she’s the same size as one of the maids.” Quinn looked her up and down for what must have been the tenth time.

  She tried again, keeping her tone polite, firm and calm although she felt her back teeth grating. “I’m not sure where my house is. I haven’t been to London since before my parents died.”

  “Can’t take her to my mum. Kate would run her ragged. I’ve got it!” Quinn, excited, thrust a finger up into the air in triumph. “We’ll send her to Nan!” Kate lost her temper and grabbed her guardian’s sleeve. “I am not a parcel to be sent off!” Quinn swatted her hand. “See here, you’re crumpling my coat.”

  “And who is Nan?”

  “Anna, Lady Penrose, is my older sister. Has a passel of brats, one of them’s about your age, maybe a little older. How old is my niece Louisa, Richard?”

  “The Honorable Louisa Penrose is eighteen years of age and is expected to be brought out this Season.”

  “There you are. You’ll be eighteen soon, hmm?

  This year it’s Louisa’s turn, next year will be yours. In the meanwhile, you’ll go to Kent until the Season.

  Hide you in plain sight, as it were.”

  “Hide me in plain sight?” Mystified, she frowned.

  “Safety in numbers, and all of that. If the wicked uncle comes to call, he shan’t find you,” Quinn said.

  “Nan has several daughters and a couple of boys. You can put frogs in their beds, too,” he added maliciously.

  Her mind was elsewhere. “Do you really think he’ll try to kidnap me?”

  Carrothers cleared his throat. “After we received the letter from Badham, I made some inquiries. Your uncle desperately needs your fortune. Without it, he will have to mortgage or sell Badham Abbey.”

  “Oh.” She took a moment to absorb this news.

  “You are a considerable heiress, you know.” Quinn’s tone was unexpectedly gentle. “Must be protected.”

  She hated the thought of being a burden. “I don’t want anyone to protect me.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  She bit her lip. “I’m afraid I can’t see any alternatives.”

  “Well, then, you are lucky.” Quinn smiled crookedly at her. “Until you’re safely leg-shackled, you have me, whether you want me or not. Harper!” His voice rose into a plaintive wail. He yanked on the bell pull. His impatience told her that nothing happened quickly enough for the Earl when he wanted results.

  An older woman, attired in plain gray with a white apron, entered the drawing room. “My lord?” She adjusted her mobcap over silvery curls.

  “Kate, this is Harper. She runs the house. Harper, this is Lady Katherine Scoville. Bathe her and put her in suitable clothes. I’m taking her to Lady Penrose’s today after luncheon. Tell no one.” Quinn waved a finger in the air for emphasis. “You know how servants talk. No one b
ut the three of us—no, dash it, Malcolm and Bartram know, but they’re

  trustworthy—no one but the five of us should know Lady Kate has been here, or where she is going.”

  Chapter Two

  Scant hours later, Kate found herself with Lord Devere in his curricle, driving swiftly down a road eastward out of London. She was dressed in the best gown that could be found on such short notice beneath an old coat belonging to her guardian. The original owner of the dress was shorter than Kate, so her boots protruded from beneath the hem but were temporarily covered by the Earl’s greatcoat. Rather more of her chest than she liked to expose showed at the top of the gown. She pulled the coat together over her torso.

  “Nan lives near Sevenoaks, in the north downs.” Quinn shouted over the noise of the curricle’s wheels grinding on the road. “Reminds me of your home in Somerset. You’ll like it there.”

  “What if she doesn’t want me there?”

  “What?” His grip on the reins shifted, and one of his showy, matched blacks shied. He regained control with a quick flick of his whip to the horse’s outside.

  The gelding settled back into a smooth gait, pacing its partner.

  “What if she doesn’t want me?”

  “Pish tosh! What’s not to want, sweet Kate?”

  “I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

  He turned his head and beamed at her, surprising her with the warmth conveyed by his soulful regard.

  He really had the most extraordinary eyes.

  “Lady Katherine, don’t be concerned about your future. I have already spoken to my sister about your come-out. Your unexpected arrival merely advances the schedule.”

  “Oh.” As the day drew to a close, she snuggled back into the greatcoat. Although she was a tall woman, Devere’s sleeves came down over her hands.

  His scent lingered in the wool, a pungent blend of clove, citrus, and other spicy notes. “What about grandfather’s Will? I’m supposed to be with Herbert.”

  “Richard thinks we can persuade the Lords to come ’round to our way of thinking.”

  “What Lords?”

  He glanced down at her. “The House of Lords passes laws, sweet Kate. They can help. After all, what good are they if they can’t do a fellow a favor once in a while?”

  “Are you a member?”

  “Yes, but I haven’t darkened their threshold in a few years, not since my investiture. I say, Herbert should be coming along to London to be presented, as it were.”

  “He’s a ramshackle sort. He may just cut them altogether.”

  “No, I believe that our Lord Herbert will be along to London soon. He’ll go to Parliament and contact the Bow Street Runners to find you.” Quinn grew silent for several minutes while Kate sat and worried.

  “We’ll just have to be quicker and cleverer, shan’t we, Kate? I shall return to London tomorrow and begin to see to arrangements. In the meantime, no one knows where you are.”

  “I’m afraid that I’ve left some clues,” she said. “I visited Forrester, the solicitor, and spoke to a clerk. I used my mother’s name, but I said I was your ward in order to find your direction.”

  He whistled between his teeth. “The clerk would have to be a numb-wit not to calculate who you are and to whom you went. And from me it’s a short hop to my sister. But be of good cheer, dear Kate. We’ll yet contrive.”

  * * *

  Kate was comforted by her first view of Penrose House. Although it was situated in meadowlands rather than hills, it did indeed resemble her home, with wide fields dotted by occasional stands of trees.

  As the curricle neared the pleasant, Palladian-style residence, she could see that the property roundabout became formally landscaped. She liked the look of the place, as everything appeared to be properly maintained, and she hoped she’d have the opportunity to explore the manor house and grounds.

  As Quinn entered, shouting for Nan and Pen, he hauled Kate into a drawing room to await her host and hostess. He plopped her onto a comfortable sofa, upholstered in tufted green brocade. When her astonished hosts appeared, she tried to smile though she felt wretchedly shy and awkward. She wondered what they must have made of her, attired as she was in Devere’s cast-off overcoat and a too-small gown.

  Attired for a winter afternoon in a blue kerseymere day dress, Lady Anna was as short and round as her brother was tall and thin. She had fair hair and merry eyes. At this moment, those eyes snapped dangerously. “Quinn! How dare you bring one of your fancy pieces to this house!” Kate sat bolt upright. “Now see here—”

  “I must say, Devere, this is not quite the thing, is it?” Lady Anna’s husband, a stout baronet dressed as any ordinary country squire, eyed Kate with evident disapproval.

  Quinn ignored their discomfiture as well as Kate’s. “Nan, Pen, we have a bit of a dilemma. This is my ward, Lady Katherine Scoville.”

  Their lips parted in identical round O’s of surprise, and she restrained a nervous giggle. The Penroses appeared to be a well-matched couple.

  “I ask that Kate stay here for the nonce…” Pacing back and forth, Quinn outlined Kate’s circumstances.

  “So, she cannot live with me, for her reputation’s sake. And she must be protected from Herbert, Lord Badham.”

  Lady Anna sniffed. “From what I have heard, all women should be protected from Lord Herbert and his issue. No respectable member of the ton gives them entrée.” She sat down next to Kate, reached out and took Kate’s cold hands in her own. “I’m sorry, child, for the way I greeted you. You are most welcome here, for as long as you like.” Kate blinked back sudden hot tears, a sharp contrast to her icy fingers and lonely spirit of the last few weeks. She hadn’t told her guardian of the cold hell she’d endured at Badham Abbey, but Lady Anna’s unaccustomed kind touch brought her to the realization of the danger of her plight and the narrowness of her escape. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll endeavor to be a thoughtful guest.”

  “Nonsense! You’re Devere’s ward, practically one of the family.” Sir Michael Penrose spoke from his cozy wing chair near the fire.

  “Pen, we’re afraid she’ll be traced here by her uncle before we can persuade Parliament to act.” Quinn’s tone was solemn. “Accordingly, her true identity must be concealed.”

  His long face was so comically somber that Kate was both jollied out of her tears and irresistibly reminded of Miss Austen’s satire, Northanger Abbey.

  She let loose a gurgle of laughter. “Oh, my lord! You are too Gothic!”

  “And you are too impertinent and careless. Kate, you must tell no one who you are, and we must pass you off as a distant cousin of Pen’s.” He nodded toward Sir Michael Penrose. “With your permission, sir.” “You have it, of course, if you deem it necessary.”

  “I do. Consider what has transpired. Badham imprisoned Kate and wrote to me, asking for her hand in marriage to his son and fraudulently claiming her agreement.” He wheeled to face Kate. “If, based on his lies, I had written back with my consent, you would not be sitting here now, Kate. You would be Odbert’s wife, alone, powerless, and penniless.” She sat quite still, shocked into immobility by his directness and understanding. She managed to say,

  “You are right, certainly, and that is why I left. But I am a Scoville.” She lifted her chin. “Despite Uncle Herbert, I am proud of who I am. And a false name seems so…so unnecessary. I’m just a girl. Why would anyone go to so much trouble over me?”

  “You may not have a clear idea of the extent of your fortune,” said the Earl. “I do. You have a house in London and an estate in Somerset. You own tin mines in Cornwall and dairy cattle in Devon. In short, sweet Kate, aside from your own, um, personal attributes, you are a very tempting prize. Men have killed for far less than what you have, and it is my task to take care of you and your estate until you’re married, or until you attain the age of majority, whichever happens first.”

  She stared at him, stunned.

  He softened his tone. “So we must have a care, little K
ate, and put our heads together and decide who you’re to be for the next few months.” A silence fell, broken only by the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

  “If we are to choose a new name,” Kate finally said, “it should be similar to my own, so that I’ll become accustomed to it quickly.”

  Quinn smiled at her. “Clever Kate! I knew you’d understand.”

  Anna spoke up. “But what will happen when we go to London for the Season? You know Louisa is to be presented.”

  “Lady Kate will go with you and participate in such minor social gatherings as young girls do in the year before their come-out,” Quinn said, sounding confident. “She’ll hide in plain sight, as I’ve said, and as you’ve said, Nan, she won’t meet up with Herbert and, um, Osric because no one invites them anywhere.”

  “But what of those I already know?” asked Kate.

  “I’ve met many of my grandfather’s friends, and I have schoolmates who will be making their debuts, as well.”

  Anna said, “We’ll have to trust your friends, Lady Katherine. And as for the old Earl’s companions, I’m afraid many of them are too elderly and frail to move about in society any more. We’re losing the past generation, day by day.”

  Kate nodded, calmed by Lady Penrose’s logic as well as by the confidence of both brother and sister.

  She was also buoyed by her successes over the past few days. She’d been dreadfully miserable and frightened, but she had now attained a place of safety with people who appeared as anxious about her welfare as any parent could be.

  She raised her eyes to her guardian. Quinn stood by the fireplace, leaning on the mantel. He raked her yet again with his hooded dark gaze. Despite his decorous conduct and proper expressions of concern, she’d never seen a father look at any daughter with quite the expression the Earl wore, which more closely resembled that of a hawk eyeing a titmouse.

  She tugged self-consciously at the neck of her gown.

  She had a feeling that no dress was cut high enough to prevent the Earl from divining what lay beneath.