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Testing Miss Toogood

Page 22

by Stella Cameron


  “You should try to get some more sleep, but later in the morning I’ll return to help you dress. Today you must look especially pretty.”

  Fleur replaced the chocolate cup in its saucer and set it on the tray beside the bed. “Why?”

  “Of course, you always look pretty, but this will be one of those trying days, I’m afraid.”

  As if it wasn’t already trying. As if they weren’t all trying. “You’ll have to explain. I don’t have any idea at all what you mean.”

  Snowdrop cleared her throat. She smoothed the skirts on the gorgeous wrapper and said, “My Albert bought me this. The Marquis is most generous and I’m afraid Albert is too fond of turning me out like a lady.”

  “You are a lady,” Fleur said. “And Albert’s proud of you. He likes to make you happy.”

  “Oh, yes, miss. Just like I think Lord Dominic and Lord Nathan like to see you happy.” She closed her mouth and stood like a statue.

  Fleur avoided Snowdrop’s comments. “Why must I dress more carefully today?”

  “Well—oh, dear. You’ve forgotten, I suppose, what with you having so much on your mind. But the aunts arrive today. The Misses Worth, Miss Enid and Miss Prunella. They are kind and caring but…critical. You mustn’t mind anything they say that might seem hurtful. They don’t mean a thing by it.”

  “I see.” When she had set out for London she’d had little idea how many obstacles she might confront. “But they won’t arrive for some hours.”

  “No. Would you like me to go now, miss? So you can get your sleep.”

  “If you wouldn’t mind.” And so that she could finish reading her letters.

  She had to get out of bed because Snowdrop wouldn’t leave until she heard Fleur locking the door behind her. Such silliness. The Cat, if he suddenly decided to snatch women from their bedrooms, would hardly take Fleur when she was penniless.

  Back in bed and chewing on a delicious piece of honey toast, Fleur read Rosemary’s letter.

  Dearest Fleur:

  I might as well be completely honest. I am green with envy that you’re whirling around London, from ball to musicale, from route to assembly, wearing fabulous dresses and being courted by literally dozens of handsome and titled men.

  All I ask is that you save one or two for me—although I suppose I only need one, but should like to have a choice!

  The image of her sister, two years younger than herself, giggling as she wrote, amused Fleur. Of all of them, Rosemary was the most carefree and perhaps the biggest romantic.

  I do have a real request to make of you, Fleur, and I beg you not to repeat it to Mama or Papa who would be furious with me. Do you think I might be allowed to travel to London to attend just one of the parties? It would have to be one given at Heatherly, of course, but I promise I would return home immediately afterward. I am so curious and I get so excited just thinking about it. I have made over my daffodil yellow and it won’t embarrass you. I could sleep in your room and stay out of the way and just watch at the party. Dear Fleur, I would be no trouble at all.

  The letter went on and on in the same vein, leaving Fleur quite exhausted, and torn. On the one hand there was nothing she would enjoy more than having her younger sister with her for a day or so. On the other hand, the idea of making such a request of her hosts made her feel quite sick.

  By day’s end she would decide what to do and write her replies.

  Mama’s letter was so brief it left Fleur with more unanswered questions than if her mother had not written at all.

  Fleur dear:

  I have little doubt that Letitia will write to you about this wretched turn of affairs with the Pools. Your father is beside himself that anyone should call the worthiness of one of his beloved daughters into question. For my part, yet again the shallowness of human beings disappoints me.

  I am not destroyed by all this because I believe that if love is strong enough it finds a way. In fact, I have proof that it does.

  Mama referred without subtlety to the love she and Papa shared.

  I wonder how determined young Christopher is. Family pressure has broken apart many a supposedly passionate love. He looks at her as if there is no other in the world, and she at him. But will he break with his father to be with Letitia, and if he does, how will he care for a wife and then children? This talk of faraway places frightens me. She has never been strong.

  There are too many questions and I have no answers. And you, my pet, remember your standards and do not settle for less than a love match. The fortunes of this family do not rest on your shoulders.

  Your loving Mama

  Fleur pushed down inside the bed and pulled the covers over her head. Yes, the fortunes of her family absolutely did rest on her shoulders and all her fine rules might have to be tossed to the wind. Please, let her be able to marry a man she could love and who would love her, and be kind to her family.

  This time the knock on her door sounded insistent.

  Why, oh, why had she allowed Snowdrop to make her lock the thing? Fleur slid to the steps and the floor and went groggily to the door. “Yes?” she said.

  “This is Dominic. Can you open the door?”

  With a heart and stomach that executed impossible tricks, she let him in and stood back. “I’m very tired,” she told him. “I was about to go back to sleep.”

  The only light in the room was from the candle beside her bed. Snowdrop had not opened the drapes. Dominic planted his hands on his hips and stood sideways to her as if preserving her modesty.

  The fraud. Her demure nightrail covered her from neck to toe and even if he could pretend there had never been any intimacy between them, she would never forget.

  “Is there some new development?” she asked.

  “I was unable to find Snowdrop. Hattie thinks she’s with Albert.”

  “Quite possibly.” Did he think she didn’t know he had chosen to come himself this time rather than send a maid? “She left me a few minutes ago. Would you like me to go and look for her?”

  “You’re not here to search out servants,” he snapped, glancing, then staring at her. “That hair is amazing. Promise me you’ll never hide it in a nightcap again.”

  “You’re here for a purpose,” she said. She could not and should not promise him anything. “I know your aunts will be coming today.”

  “Ridiculous,” he said. “As if we don’t have enough to contend with already. Wait till you meet them. A hundred years old apiece if they’re a day. Demanding. Opinionated. And the only possible reason they can have left Bath for London is because they can’t stand not knowing what’s going on here now that Hattie has joined us.”

  Fleur looked up at him. “Not quite a hundred, surely?”

  His tense features softened a little. “Not quite. But close. And you’ll have your work cut out for you. They pride themselves on championing the underdog, but not until they’ve given it a few swift kicks.”

  “Oh, dear.” Fleur frowned. “Everything is becoming so complicated.”

  “And it will become more so. Can you dress yourself? Or should I ask for another maid? Or I could always stand outside the door and you could let me know when to come in and fasten things.”

  “I can dress myself,” she told him promptly. “But I thought the aunts weren’t coming for hours.”

  “They aren’t.” He sniffed and looked at his watch. “Franklin Best has called. He wanted to take you for lunch in Town but I told him you haven’t time. He’s keen on you, Fleur. I’ve given my permission for him to eat with you here. McGee has spoken to cook and Mrs. Skinner says she’ll put on a nice luncheon in one of the garden rooms. On the other hand, I can always send him away if you don’t want to see him.”

  “He is a nice man and I’ll be glad to see him.” Fleur swallowed. “He’s waiting for me now?”

  “Yes.” Dominic bowed his head to look at her more closely. “Remember what I told you once. The lady always keeps the gentleman guessing—and waiting. Or I think I said
something like that. Take your time and come down when you’re ready.”

  “Very well.” He was close and she smelled the clean scent of soap and his well-tended linen.

  She doubted she would ever know what made her do it, but she stood on her toes and tweaked the ribbon undone at his nape.

  He made a grab for it but she put it behind her back. “I told you I like to see you the way you were this morning. Don’t ask me why. Yes, grin at me. You look irresistible and evil all at the same time.”

  Dominic laughed, showing his strong white teeth and driving dimples into his cheeks. And before she could prepare, he caught her by the shoulders and brought his face very close to hers. “You play with fire, Fleur. I truly believe you are a spontaneous spirit with no sense of danger, but danger exists.”

  She pressed her lips together and looked up at him through her lashes.

  “Absolutely no sense of danger. You seem to know so much yet you know so little about the nature of men. Kiss me.”

  Fleur’s eyes opened wide. She tried but failed to think of a witty retort, anything witty that would lessen the tension and get her out of this new pickle.

  Still holding her shoulders, he pulled her closer and whispered, “Just a little kiss to help me through a difficult day?”

  What could she do but scream or grant him what sounded like a simple request? She parted her lips a little and lifted her face closer to his. Dominic slowly lowered his head, his black hair falling forward to touch her skin and make it tingle.

  “Kiss me,” he said again, his voice low and gravelly.

  Fleur stood on tiptoe until their lips met and it was the last moment in which the initiative was hers.

  Dominic opened her mouth wide and plunged his tongue inside. He explored every inch of the smooth inner skin, her teeth, her lips, and he breathed so heavily, Fleur’s heart pounded. The pressure of his mouth on hers forced her head from side to side and she pushed her hands into his hair, and kissed him back with all the strength she had.

  Dominic swung her against a wall and framed her face with his hands, traced her cheekbones with his thumbs. He weakened her, yet he also sent a rush of strength and urgency through her.

  At last he stood back, his hands still holding her shoulders to the wall, and he panted. Fleur fought to catch her own breath and stared into his eyes. They stared at one another as if each of them was afraid to look away.

  “Fleur,” he said, “you are the biggest problem ever to enter my life.”

  At least she’d made an impression on him.

  “I have no idea what will come of these strange urges you bring out in me,” he said.

  “You seem to enjoy them,” she told him. “I enjoy them myself.”

  He slapped the heel of a hand against his brow. “Get dressed. I’ll wait outside to escort you downstairs. But, Fleur,” he slid a hand around her neck and rested his mouth on her brow. “Remember this. Better to settle for nothing at all than to settle for second best. Think of the kiss we just shared when you’re with Franklin Best.”

  “Stop it.” Fleur slipped between Dominic and the door. “You laugh at my unworldliness and my rashness, but you don’t question yourself. Since you are so sophisticated, why do you encourage these encounters?”

  He took a step backward.

  “Men like you are…are…”

  “Are what?”

  “You don’t care what you do to a woman,” Fleur told him. “I am nothing to you but a thing to be toyed with when you’re bored. You think my life is not as important as yours.”

  She opened the door and averted her gaze from him.

  “We’ll continue this discussion at another time,” Dominic said. “Franklin Best is waiting for you.”

  “I’m going home. I must. My family needs me.”

  “Your family needs you here and you will not let them down.”

  23

  Another pickle.

  Mr. Best seemed quite comfortable having lunch with Fleur while Hattie sat at a distance, almost obscured by a lush potted shrub, working over her embroidery.

  Fleur felt ridiculous.

  “The Marchioness is fortunate in her cook,” Mr. Best said, cutting a bread-and-butter point with his knife and fork, adding a piece of ham, a slice of cucumber, and eating as if he and Fleur were alone.

  He raised his light brown eyes to hers and smiled. Then he made a comical face and after she remembered that he sat with his back to Hattie, she giggled. She pressed her lips together, trying to remain ladylike, but Mr. Best rolled his eyes, first in one direction, then the other and she burst into chuckles.

  Mr. Best laughed with her and leaned across the table. “You are a charmer, Miss Toogood, and I agree with you that ritual can become painful.”

  “I didn’t say that,” Fleur whispered.

  Mr. Best whispered back, “You didn’t have to. All I have to do is watch your face. You must never play cards, Miss Toogood—at least not for money. Your opponents would all know whether you had a bad or a good hand.”

  “My face is a problem,” she said, liking him more and more. “It does whatever it wants to do. You should have seen how long I worked to perfect a frown.”

  He grinned. His blond hair fell over his forehead and there was no question but that he was a good-looking man with a devil-may-care manner.

  “Frown for me,” he said.

  “I can’t.” She dared a glance at Hattie who didn’t look up from her embroidery.

  “So you didn’t perfect a frown after all?” Mr. Best said. “I am disappointed.”

  Fleur cut her caraway cake with her fork and ate a piece. Mrs. Skinner and the rest of the servants below stairs were indeed wonderful. She set down her fork, pushed her head far forward and scowled at Mr. Best. She scowled so ferociously that her eyelids itched.

  “Gad, you’re incredible,” Mr. Best said explosively. He laughed and choked on a piece of his food.

  “Drink something,” Fleur hissed, pushing a glass of wine toward him.

  He drained the glass and wiped tears from the corners of his eyes.

  A servant slid quietly forward to pour more wine.

  Fleur lifted her teacup and felt another presence. She turned around in time to see Dominic enter the glassed-in garden room and begin a ponderous walk of its length. He passed the table without so much as a glance, although he did nod at Hattie before departing through a door to the room where the Dowager’s shell collection was kept.

  “How is the caraway cake?” Mr. Best asked. The humor in his eyes didn’t match his straight-faced expression.

  “Very good,” Fleur said.

  Carrying her black cat, Chloe ran from behind Fleur, and Snowdrop followed the girl. They rushed to Hattie and Chloe said loudly, “We are to replace you, Hattie. Snowdrop will pretend to do the embroidery now.”

  “Don’t laugh,” Fleur said under her breath. “Poor Hattie and Snowdrop. Chloe is awfully blunt.”

  “Honest, you mean,” Mr. Best said. “I’m grateful Lord Dominic agreed to my seeing you. There are things I must say to you.”

  Hattie walked toward them, smiling wryly at Fleur. “Enjoy yourselves,” she said and carried on to the hall.

  Like the sensible woman she was, Snowdrop ignored the embroidery in favor of playing cat’s cradle with Chloe. Raven batted a ball of yarn across the carpet, unraveling it as she went.

  “Isn’t this an interesting room?” Fleur asked, nervous about what Mr. Best might want to tell her. “There’s a matching one on the other side of the hall but the family doesn’t seem to use that. They often come in here.”

  “A very interesting room,” Mr. Best said.

  “My home in Sodbury Martyr is quite simple. The rectory, of course. It’s an old house and the windows aren’t well proportioned. They’re so small that in winter the cost of candles becomes prohibitive.”

  “Miss Toogood?”

  “I should love to have a room filled with plants and trees like this one,” she
said hurriedly. “It’s very soothing.”

  “I find you soothing, Miss Toogood,” Mr. Best said. “And I wish I could calm you and help you to understand that you couldn’t be more important and worthwhile than you are—even if you were the wealthiest woman in the land.”

  He silenced her. She couldn’t think of a response.

  “My main reason for seeking you out today—other than a desire to see you again—was to apologize. The purpose of the party my parents held was too obvious. My fault, not theirs. I asked them to do it because I wanted you there and they agreed as they always would if they thought they could make me happy.”

  “I like your parents.” Impulsively, Fleur put a hand on top of his on the table. “They remind me of my own. Generous and kind. You are not to apologize when I had such a good time at your home.”

  Mr. Best smiled. “I should be honored to visit your family one day.”

  “They would love to have you. Mama is an excellent hostess and Papa has a greedy appetite for good company and good minds. My sisters would probably wear you out with questions.”

  “If your sisters are anything like you I’ll wear out graciously.”

  “My goodness,” Fleur said, staring at him. “I’ve just had an idea, an absolutely wonderful idea. It’s also disgraceful for me even to suggest such a thing.”

  “I insist that you ask me at once.”

  Good heavens, he would be so easy to fall in love with—for any girl but me.

  “Forget I even mentioned it,” she told him and her face throbbed with heat. “Please, just forget it. I do live up to my reputation for saying whatever comes into my head. Have some fruit, Mr. Best.”

  “Oh, no. No, no, no, you shall not get away with that. If you don’t ask your question you will cast me down. I may never recover.”

  Fleur tapped the back of his hand. “Listen to you pile on the guilt. You could give lessons in guilt making. All right, but I’m telling you my silly idea, nothing more. I shall go down in your estimation even more but I ask you to remember that I tried to withdraw this. My younger sister Rosemary, who is eighteen and as interested in everything as I am, wrote to ask if she could possibly come to London to attend a party. Just one was what she asked for. There, you see what an outrageous subject I had in mind.”

 

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