Courting the Countess

by Donna Hatch

  She moistened her lips. “Then you aren’t angry?”

  “No, I’m certain he needed them worse than I. But they were comfortable.” He paused, and gave her a sideways glance. “Did they fit him?”

  “They were a little large, but he said with an extra pair of socks, they were just right.”

  “Good.” As an afterthought, he added, “That was thoughtful of you.”

  She shrugged self-consciously, but warmed at his praise. She let out her breath in relief. She should have known better than to be so afraid. Richard had given his word he’d never hurt her and she knew above all else, Richard was a man of honor. He hadn’t hit her. Better yet, he’d noticed her absence. Perhaps she should spirit away items from his room more often.

  “Er…I hope you don’t mind, but I also gave him two of your old coats—one for his son.

  He eyed her carefully. “I see. Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “Kindly refrain from raiding my room in the future without warning me, fair enough?”

  She nodded. Just as he turned, she thought she spied a hint of a smile crinkling his eyes.

  With high hopes for a better evening, she bathed, dressed with care, and asked Maggie to spend extra time on her hair. The effect was an elegant coiffure.

  He barely glanced her way at dinner despite her attempts to converse. Instead, he sat engrossed in a ledger with barely a grunt. A ledger? At the dinner table? Her father would never have been so rude.

  As dessert was served, he spoke without looking at her, still focused on his ledger. “How was your day?”

  She folded her arms and tapped a toe. “Lovely. I had tea with the fairies.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  She ground her teeth. “Tomorrow I plan to drain the lake.”

  “Hmm.” He grunted.

  She almost groaned out loud. “Richard.”

  At last, his gaze met hers.

  She took a calming breath. “I wish to speak to you at a time when you are not too busy to listen.”

  He blinked, then closed the ledger book and pushed it away. “Very well. You have my full and undivided attention.” He folded his hands together.

  “As the new Countess of Averston, it is my duty to have a ball.”

  “A ball?” He scrunched his face as if he’d only heard terrible things about such events but had no first-hand account.

  “Yes. I’ll have to make my bride visits first, of course, which I can’t make until after we’ve been wed a month, and I’ll need to provide our guests two weeks’ notice, so I think the ball should be in three weeks’ time. With your approval, that is.”

  “As you wish.” He returned his focus to his ledger.

  “Thank you.”

  He said nothing as he scribbled in the ledger.

  She leaped to her feet. “Good night. I think before I retire, I shall swim naked in the moat.”

  “Mhmm.”

  She swallowed her growl of annoyance and told herself his inattention didn’t matter. After all, her parents ignored her so often that she should be used to it; she preferred being ignored to having Duchess’s attention.

  Once their one month anniversary came and went, Elizabeth made her bride visits beginning with the most august persons. With her mind occupied with arrangements for the ball, and her new staff hired from Mrs. Goodfellow, she hummed and worked the days away, trying not to notice whether Richard joined her for dinner—which he often did not—or when he went out of town for days at a time, and pushed back the thought that some of his business might involve a mistress. Surely, a man so honorable wouldn’t reject his wife and turn to a mistress. Would he?

  It seemed too hypocritical, but he wouldn’t be the first man to have such a skewed view of loyalty.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Elizabeth closed the book of poetry Tristan had given her and ran her hand over the title on the leather cover. The book had become a treasure and Elizabeth knew every passage by heart, but this evening, reading failed to soothe her.

  How she longed to turn to her harp and immerse herself in the power of music. However, her harp had remained at the ducal estate, and with Richard so distant, she didn’t dare ask him to buy her such an expensive item. After all, he could purchase three pianofortes for the price of one harp.

  Silence enshrouded the house. Not even the soft footfall of servants could be heard. Though everyone else had been abed hours ago, sleep remained elusive. Perhaps a cup of tea would help.

  Taking up a candle, Elizabeth crept down the corridor, descended the stairs, and went toward the kitchen.

  A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Elizabeth paused, eyes and ears straining toward the opposite end of the great hall. A ghostly figure moved toward her.

  Chills prickled the back of her neck. She went utterly still as the form continued moving erratically, sometimes pausing, then moving forward again. As it neared, it took on childlike proportions. Elizabeth held up the candle, peering ahead.

  A tiny figure came into the circle of light cast by Elizabeth’s candle. The small maidservant Elizabeth had hired from Mrs. Goodfellow came to a halt and stood, wavering, as if her legs were nearly too weak to hold her weight. Her thin, nut-brown hair hung down her back against her nightgown and her eyes were wide open, but vacant and staring.

  “Janey? Are you well?”

  The tiny ’tween stairs maid gave no reply as usual, but her brow settled into a frown.

  “It’s late, child. You should be abed.”

  The girl’s stare remained empty as she resumed walking—sleep walking, apparently. She padded barefoot through the great hall to the drawing room. Elizabeth followed, watching as the child went through the far end of the drawing room to the library. Inside, Janey stopped at the far wall, staring up at the darkened windows reflecting the light of Elizabeth’s candle. The child began crying, great, shoulder-shaking sobs.

  “Janey, dear, what is it?”

  Elizabeth had heard it was dangerous to awaken sleepwalkers, but wasn’t certain why. Moving slowly so as not to alarm her, Elizabeth kneeled by the girl. “All is well, child. You’re safe here. Come, you must be cold, let’s get you back to bed.”

  Still weeping, Janey shook her head, and shrank from Elizabeth’s touch. Elizabeth waited a moment, then, moving as slowly as possible, took her by the elbow. Since she had no idea which of the servants’ rooms was Janey’s, she led the girl to a nearby settee, guided her to lie down, and found a blanket to cover her. Janey settled in and closed her eyes.

  Elizabeth paused, reluctant to leave her there; she would be disoriented when she awoke in a strange place. Before Elizabeth reached a decision, Janey, stirred, then opened her eyes. She let out a frightened squeak.

  Elizabeth hastened to reassure her. “Don’t be afraid. You were walking in your sleep.”

  The girl leaped off of the divan and stood hugging herself.

  In the hopes of helping the girl feel less afraid, Elizabeth turned her eyes to the books. Still moving slowly so as not to frighten the child, Elizabeth went to the bookcase. Running her thumb along tomes, she stopped when she found a satisfactory title. “I’ve come to find a book to read. Would you like to stay and listen to a story?”

  Janey blinked, her arms still wrapped around herself.

  Elizabeth settled herself upon the divan, opened the illustrated book of fables, and began to read aloud. “Once upon a time, a farmer had three sons…”

  As Elizabeth read aloud, Janey crept nearer. By the time she had finished the first fable and began the second, Janey had moved to the settee and was peering over Elizabeth’s shoulder at the pictures.

  Nearby, a floorboard squeaked. Elizabeth looked up. Richard stood in the room, somehow filling the room with his presence. The child let out a gasp.

  Elizabeth put an arm around the girl. “Don’t be afraid, Janey, this is my husband, Lord Averston. He’s a very kind man. He’d never hurt you.”

  After taking
a few slow steps forward, Richard dropped on one knee and smiled with more gentleness than Elizabeth had ever seen from him. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Miss Janey. I see you’re reading one of my favorite picture books.”

  Her eyes enormous and her breath coming in quick gasps, the girl eyed him as if she feared he’d suddenly attack her.

  Elizabeth watched Richard for an entirely different reason, her heart thudding and her mouth dry. Richard’s banyan parted over his white shirt, without a cravat and unbuttoned to reveal a small V below his throat. His skin glowed golden in the light of the candle he held. His disheveled hair, so unlike his usual immaculate appearance, made him seem more approachable, revealing latent sensuality she’d never before detected in him. Or perhaps her reaction to him authored that aching awareness singing across her skin. He watched her through unreadable dark eyes. No doubt he thought it unseemly for a countess to read to a ’tween stairs maid.

  Elizabeth stood and pulled the girl to her feet. “It’s very late, Janey. Perhaps you should return to your bed. Here, let’s get you an extra blanket.”

  Richard stepped aside. Elizabeth offered a smile of apology as she passed him but didn’t wait for a reaction. She walked hand in hand with the child toward the servants’ stairs and held out the blanket. The girl accepted it with almost a smile, then hurried up the groaning wooden stairs to the servant’s level.

  Elizabeth turned back and jumped at the sight of Richard standing in the corridor watching her. She drew her dressing gown more tightly around her and waited for his tirade.

  He raised a brow. “What in the world possessed you to read a book to a ’tween stairs maid in the middle of the night?”

  “I came across her walking in her sleep. When she awoke, she was disoriented and frightened so I brought out a picture book and read aloud.”

  In a surprisingly intimate gesture, Richard caressed her cheek, his touch achingly gentle. “You have a very tender heart.”

  She looked up at him as some nameless longing crept over her. His dark eyes remained unreadable in the semi-darkness, but the lines of his mouth softened. If only she could keep this gentle side of Richard!

  As if catching himself, he withdrew his hand, and tightened the sash around his waist, the mask of cool reserve coming between them once more. “Good night.” His tone carried a note of finality.

  Loss crashed over her and she turned away. “Good night, my lord.”

  When she returned to her room, she remembered the tea, but had no desire to go back downstairs. She removed her wrapper and crawled into bed. The shadows on the ceiling flitted in the candlelight as if they waged some battle beyond human comprehension. Elizabeth snuggled into the counterpane but the bed remained cold and empty.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When Richard returned home from visiting one of his northern properties, he’d made up his mind about what to do about Elizabeth; he’d wait and watch and allow her the chance to prove herself trustworthy. After all, she’d done nothing wrong and surely, she deserved more trust than he’d given her.

  As he strode in through the door, he found the house all a-bustle. He paused, surveying the scene, then, thinking of the correspondence waiting, entered his office. The desk had been cleared.

  He rang for Mrs. Brown. “What have you done with all my correspondence?”

  “Nothing, my lord. The servants and I know better than to touch your desk. I believe I saw Lady Averston in here.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Very well. Where is she?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know, my lord.”

  Richard dismissed her and stepped out of his office. Hailing a passing maid, he asked, “Where is the countess?”

  “I thin’ she’s in th’ drawing room, milor’.” She offered a smile he could only describe as flirtatious.

  He paused. “Are you new here?”

  “Aye, milor’.” She gave him a rather brazen perusal.

  “You aren’t from around here.”

  “No, milor’ I come from Mrs. Goodfellow, an’ afore tha’ I come from London, I did.”

  “Mrs. Goodfellow. Yes, I see. Well, carry on.”

  Apparently, this Mrs. Goodfellow found a good deal of her referrals in Town. He located Elizabeth in the drawing room amid a stack of boxes and a flurry of activity as servants placed candles, polished chandeliers, and hung flower swags.

  She made a gesture to the footman who wore a perpetual grin and held a long piece of fabric. “A little looser in the middle, Cooper. Hang it so it drapes down evenly.”

  The footman, his smile never fading, loosened the swag so it made an arc identical to the previous one.

  “Much better.” She turned at Richard’s entrance. “You’re back.”

  “Indeed. What’s all this?”

  She smiled. “Doesn’t it look lovely? All should be ready for tonight’s ball.”

  Richard choked. “Tonight’s ball?”

  “Yes, of course.” She paused, eying him, her smile fading. “You haven’t forgotten, have you?”

  “I…no, of course not.”

  Her face crumpled. “You have forgotten.”

  “No, no, not at all. I simply had something else on my mind.” He made a quick mental note to make sure Wesley brushed and pressed his best superfine. Then again, his clairvoyant valet probably knew Richard’s social schedule better than he did.

  She nodded but her smile had vanished. “Of course.”

  He made a gesture. “Can I do anything to help?”

  “Not unless you can reassure Mrs. Brown that our new servants from Mrs. Goodfellow won’t rob every guest as they arrive.”

  He cocked his head inquiringly, putting together the clues. “This Mrs. Goodfellow, is she the woman who runs that reform house?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “She’s the one from whom you’ve hired all the new staff?”

  “That’s right.”

  He nodded, a little disconcerted that an army of London’s worst reprobates now filled his house in the role of servants. “How are they working out?”

  “Very well. They’re eager to please. One of the parlor maids can’t seem to stop flirting with every male she sees, and little Janey—the ’tween stairs maid you met a few weeks ago—still hasn’t spoken a word, but the others are all settling in.” She smiled. “Mrs. Brown counts all the silver and crystal every morning, and nothing has disappeared. The head butler seems to have accepted them.”

  Richard hesitated. “I didn’t realize at first the new staff had come from a reform house.”

  Her smile returned. “Isn’t it wonderful? We’re helping them get a new start.”

  “Er, yes.” The thought of the house filling such people sent a shiver through his stomach. While he applauded the theory, having them in his home seemed…well, dangerous. “Be careful, Elizabeth. We mustn’t trust them too much until they’ve proved themselves.”

  Her smile faded and a mulish glint entered her eyes. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”

  “Of course.” His voice lacked conviction and she probably heard it.

  After a moment she said, “I can’t believe you forgot about the ball.”

  He offered what he hoped would appear a reassuring smile. “Fear not, I will be at your side tonight to greet our guests.”

  She searched his eyes and nodded, turning away to give directions to the maid standing nearby. “Put this tablecloth on that table, and save the larger one for the table that will hold the punch bowls. Has the chalk artist finished?”

  “Almost,” called a young man kneeling on the floor putting a flourish on the Averston coat of arms he had drawn on the wooden floor.

  Richard called to Elizabeth. “My lady, if you can be spared a moment, I left a stack of correspondence on my desk and now I can’t find any of it. Perchance do you know its fate?”

  “Oh, yes, I tidied it for you. I didn’t think you’d mind. I used to help my father on occasion when his secretary was away. I’ll
show you.” Over her shoulder, she called, “Cooper, finish draping those garlands over the valances; I’ll return momentarily.”

  “Righ’, m’lady.”

  Elizabeth turned to Richard. To his surprise, she took his hand and led him to his study. He looked down at their clasped hands, hers so small in his. He lightly rubbed his thumb over her skin, enjoying the fineness of its texture.

  Inside his study, she released him and pulled open a drawer to reveal several files all neatly labeled. “These are invitations, which I took the liberty of answering. These are bills that need to be paid. These are personal letters—no, don’t worry, I didn’t read any of them—and these are updates from your solicitor, these are your various business ventures—your railroad investment is progressing well—and updates from your stewards for each of your properties.”

  He stared in amazement. “You’ve saved me hours of work.”

  She shrugged. “You’ve been so busy, I’ve hardly seen you. I thought I might lessen your load a bit. I also took the liberty of placing an advertisement for a new secretary. So far, only one has responded. His reply is here. His credentials appear to be in order. You might wish to interview him.”

  For a moment, he didn’t know what to say. “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “You’re very welcome.” With a brief nod, she returned to the drawing room.

  Unable to help himself, he followed. Standing by the door, he watched Elizabeth as she called out orders. The servants scurried to obey, clearly out of a desire to please her, all the while singing or telling outrageous stories and laughing. He should have been annoyed that she’d touched his desk but only vague pleasure resided in his heart.

  Between giving away his footwear and coats, hiring reformed criminals, and reading to ’tween stairs maids in the middle of the night, she was turning his house upside down. Yet, the woodwork gleamed, windows sparkled, draperies had been ruthlessly cleaned and aired, pillows plumped, and fabric furniture scrubbed. The servants had scoured and cleaned every surface. As he looked around, he spotted little touches like crystal vases laden with bouquets of fresh cut flowers.