Courting the Countess

by Donna Hatch

  “Janey! Answer me!” Mrs. Brown’s voice intruded again.

  Alarmed that the silent little ’tween stairs maid was being bullied, Elizabeth settled her harp on its feet and arose.

  She found Mrs. Brown in the landing of the servant’s stairs wagging her finger at Janey. “Speak up. What do you know?”

  Wide-eyed with fear, the mute child shrank from the housekeeper.

  Elizabeth flew to the child’s defense. “Mrs. Brown, leave off. You know she cannot speak.”

  With a growl of impatience, Mrs. Brown waved her hand. “She’s just stubborn and uncooperative. The case of silver is missing and she knows where it is but she won’t tell me.”

  Elizabeth positioned her body between the housekeeper and the quivering child. “You have no idea what she’s gone through or the abuse she’s endured. Have a little compassion. I told you when I first brought her here that you were to treat her with extra kindness.”

  The housekeeper folded her arms. “Your compassion, madam, has led to two guests being robbed and now the silver stolen.”

  Elizabeth drew herself up. “You are in danger of insubordination.”

  Mrs. Brown sneered. “It’s clear you have no authority here. I’ll not stand by while shameful creatures, including the one who calls herself lady of the house, bring ruin to the family.”

  “Mrs. Brown,” Richard’s voice carried across the corridor. “You have been a trusted member of this household since before my birth. It would grieve me to dismiss you for being impudent to my countess.”

  Mrs. Brown paled. She looked first to Richard, then to Elizabeth, her mouth working a moment. Then, “My apologies, my lord. My lady. When I discovered the silver missing, I became distressed. Forgive me. I should not have forgotten myself.”

  Elizabeth hoped her gratitude to Richard showed as she looked at him. With all the chivalry of a knight of old, he’d restored her position of the lady of the house in Mrs. Brown’s eyes, and in the eyes of all the servants. Richard nodded to the housekeeper. Elizabeth held a hand out to Janey, who slipped her small hand into Elizabeth’s.

  Hoping resentment for the woman’s disrespect didn’t color her voice or show on her expression, she asked Mrs. Brown, “What makes you think Janey knows where it is?”

  “She was running out of the room when I entered and found it missing.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “She couldn’t have taken it. You and Handley are the only ones with the keys to the butlery where the silver is kept.”

  “They must have picked the lock then, because it’s gone.”

  Elizabeth crouched to meet the child’s gaze. “Do you know where the silver is?”

  Janey nodded.

  “Will you show me?”

  Again a nod. Janey led Elizabeth, Richard, and Mrs. Brown to the kitchen where two footmen, trading jests and stories, busily polished the silver. At the sight of their lord and lady, they leaped to their feet.

  Mrs. Brown cleared her throat. “Oh, of course. My apologies.” She turned on her heel and strode away.

  Elizabeth wasn’t sure if the apology was directed at Richard, Janey, or her. She nodded to the footmen. “Carry on.” She looked down at Janey. “A story tonight?”

  The child nodded, almost smiled, then slipped away.

  Richard raised a brow in amusement. “Are you still reading to her?”

  “A few nights a week. I’m teaching her to read, too. I think. She doesn’t repeat anything, of course, but she seems very interested.”

  Richard chuckled. “A ’tween stairs maid who reads.” He shook his head in amusement.

  “The ability to read will be of great benefit to her.”

  “Of course. By the way, my departure has been delayed another day.”

  “Will that put you too late in London?”

  “No, merely give me less time to rest before I must report in.” His gaze slid to hers and something deeper than his words settled in there.

  They walked side-by-side back to the morning parlor. “How long will you be gone?” she asked.

  “One never knows with these things.”

  She nodded, her lips compressing, her heart growing empty at the thought of him leaving her behind for possibly weeks.

  He drummed his fingers on his thigh in a sign she’d learned to recognize as unease. “You could accompany me if you wish.”

  She lifted her gaze to his. “You would have me go with you?”

  His mouth quirked. “I know London is terrible this time of year, but the shops are always open, and there’s the theater and the opera and the museums—”

  “I’d love to,” she interjected in a breathless voice.

  He paused. “In truth?”

  “More than anything, I wish to go with you.”

  He chuckled. “Then by all means tell your maid to pack, Countess.”

  Smiling, she hurried to instruct Maggie to pack. Tension she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying loosened. If only he’d totally accept her as his wife.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The rest of the day, Elizabeth prepared for their trip to London, packing for every possible occasion.

  Richard checked on her twice. The second time, he laughed. “My dear. Should some event arise for which you haven’t brought proper attire, we will pay a call at the modiste and have her rush an order.”

  She smiled. “Very well. I’d like to bring the harp.”

  “It is, at this moment, being packed and crated with utmost care.” He winked and left her and Maggie to the packing.

  How thoughtful he was!

  Mrs. Brown came to Elizabeth. “My lady, I request that the new staff from Mrs. Goodfellow’s house come with us to London.”

  Surprised both by her tone of respect and her request, Elizabeth paused. “You want to bring them?”

  “Since I am to accompany you to London, there will be no one here to keep any eye on them.”

  Elizabeth wondered if the new servants would ever earn Mrs. Brown’s trust. Wearily, she nodded. “Very well, since there’s only a skeleton staff in Averston House in London this time of year, you may bring whomever you see fit.”

  Mrs. Brown bowed stiffly. “Thank you, my lady.”

  The following morning, as they were about to leave, Elizabeth noticed Janey hovering in the far side of the great hall. Something about her posture caught Elizabeth’s attention. She went to the child. Janey looked up at her with tears shimmering in her eyes.

  “Janey, dear what is it? Has someone been unkind to you?”

  The girl shook her head and reached out to grab the hem of Elizabeth’s traveling gown, while Elizabeth wracked her brain to figure out what had upset the child.

  “Are you upset that I’m leaving?”

  Janey nodded, then buried her face in Elizabeth’s skirts.

  With a hurried glance over her shoulder at the child’s unseemly behavior, Elizabeth crouched to meet the girl’s eyes. “Do you wish to go with us?”

  Richard appeared at her side and went down on a knee. Janey eyed him with uncertainty. Richard’s tone and expression exuded gentleness. “Will you come with us to London for a few days? No one places coal in my grate as quietly as you.”

  Janey blinked and for a long moment made no reaction, then she nodded.

  “Very well,” he said. “Pack your things and you can ride in the carriage with the other servants. I’ll instruct them to wait for you.”

  Janey let out a tiny gasp of pleasure, then turned and dashed up the servants’ staircase.

  Elizabeth turned to him with a smile. “You are a good man.”

  Chuckling, he tapped her nose. “I must come up with more ways to win your approval.”

  Elizabeth smiled, hoping she’d begun to gain his approval.

  After an uneventful trip with easy conversation and comfortable silences, not to mention Richard’s sketchbook filled with peaceful drawings, they arrived in London. The sweltering heat only thickened the stench of soot and sewers, but
the gardens surrounding Averston House in Mayfair helped clear the air inside.

  Elizabeth busied herself with setting the household to order, reveling in her role as hostess and the new, tentative friendship springing up between her and her husband. She also spent a great deal of time at the harp.

  A few days after their arrival, a few wives of peers gathered in the drawing room of Averston House; one of her guests noticed her harp standing in the corner.

  “Oh, how lovely. Do you play, or is that a family heirloom?”

  Elizabeth stuffed down thoughts about the family heirloom Richard hadn’t given her. Obviously, he thought the harp would be more treasured than a necklace and she should be content.

  “It was a gift from my husband.”

  “Do play for us,” urged another.

  The thought of playing for an audience made her break out into a cold sweat. “I don’t really play well enough to perform.”

  “How modest you are, Lady Averston.”

  “My wife is an accomplished harpist,” rang out Richard’s voice.

  Elizabeth admired her husband as he entered the room. How handsome he was, especially when he smiled as he did at that moment.

  He paused at the threshold. “I wish you could hear her play, but alas, she can never be persuaded to perform. I am sure angels in heaven take notice and follow her example on their golden harps.”

  Elizabeth blushed at the praise and a collective sigh from the ladies settled in the silence. One of them stood, the others quickly following. “Goodness me, how late it grows. Thank you, Lady Averston, for your graciousness.”

  Other words of thanks and farewell rang out until they were left alone.

  “My hero.” She rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. Catching herself, she stepped back. Perhaps he didn’t wish contact. Her father always discouraged acts of affection.

  Richard’s expression, however, remained pleasant and he brushed a finger across her cheek. “My pleasure, my lady.”

  Too afraid to hope, she pulled away. “I ought to dress for dinner.”

  Richard was quiet throughout the meal. Elizabeth watched Richard from across the table searching for a safe subject. “How is the trial progressing?”

  He kept his focus on his plate. “I’m persuaded he’s guilty, but some of the members of the jury are not so sure.”

  “Is the evidence so convincing?”

  “That, and Lord Einsburgh is in possession of some indefinable darkness that always made me uncomfortable.”

  “Of what is he accused?”

  “There’s evidence he’s been involved in smuggling during the war, and that he’s the owner of several flash houses, and worse things.”

  “Flash houses?”

  Grimly, he explained, “Thieves sell stolen goods to flash houses and they, in turn, sell them elsewhere. Many of the thieves work for him. He’s been running a crime operation for years.”

  Elizabeth remembered his harshness with a servant during the house party. Still, that didn’t make one a criminal. “I never would have believed a peer would involve himself in illegal activity.”

  “I’m not surprised, considering what I know of him, but I really ought not discuss the case further.” He glanced at the clock. “I must be leaving. I’m meeting with Kensington at White’s, so I’ll probably be late. Good evening.” He stood, rounded the table and kissed her cheek before heading toward the dining room door.

  She might be imagining it, but he seemed to initiate contact more lately than before. Perhaps he was, at last, developing affection for her.

  She thought, too, of Richard’s estrangement from Tristan. Now that they were here, Richard could try to make amends. Perhaps personal contact would be more effective than a note.

  Shoring up her courage, she called him before he left the room. “Richard.”

  He turned back, a soft smile touching his mouth.

  “Now that we’re in London, are you going to reconcile with Tristan?”

  His expression fell. “When I have time. I’ll be back late.”

  Elizabeth rested her forehead on her hand. She should have left well enough alone and not brought up his brother. Now that she’d mentioned Tristan’s name, would Richard revert back to accusations and suspicions, despite all the progress she thought they’d made? Would she truly earn his trust?

  Chapter Forty

  Richard trudged through White’s Gentlemen’s Club and went upstairs to a private room. He sank into a chair. Despite himself, he was developing a true attachment to his wife. No matter how much he wanted to dismiss her, he could only remember the brilliance of her smile, the sunlight shimmering in her hair, the softness of her touch. Though at first he’d vowed not to form an attachment for her, and had even refrained from initiating consummation, he’d grown to care for her. He’d even dared hope that she might, in time, grow to love him.

  But she kept bringing up Tristan’s name, which meant, at least on some level, that she often thought of him. Perhaps a part of her heart would always belong to his brother.

  At first, Richard deluded himself into believing that he didn’t aspire to win her love, that all he needed was a wife who would remain with him and not shame him by running off with another man. That was no longer enough. He wanted her to love him, but as long as Tristan inhabited a portion of her heart, she would never give it to Richard.

  Even if she never left him, she might never truly love him. A terrible dread of abandonment and rejection sank into his soul so deeply that the sensation of drowning swept over him.

  A knock sounded at the door but Richard ignored it. When it came again, he muttered, “Go away.”

  The door opened and a rueful chuckle greeted him. “When a man looks that bad, the only sure cause is a woman.” Rhys Kensington’s voice pierced his melancholy.

  Richard sighed.

  Rhys made a tsking sound. “Is that the way to greet your old friend? Here I’ve come to join you in your misery and you order me away?”

  “You’ve only come for brandy.”

  “Well, there is that.” He crossed the room and poured a snifter. He handed Richard a second glass and stood sipping his. “Madam LeFrontier’s girls are very good at cheering a man who’s feeling low.”

  Richard lifted his gaze, taking in Kensington’s disheveled hair and mussed cravat. He might be mussed from riding, but the smug and wicked gleam in his eye suggested otherwise. “You look as though you’ve already cheered your spirits this eve.”

  Kensington grinned. “Oh, aye, but I’m always game for another romp. I’ll introduce you to Estelle. She’s magical.”

  Richard made a sound of impatience. “I never went for loose women in my bachelor days, what makes you think I would now?”

  “Something about your expression tells me you haven’t had a woman in your arms for a while, which, in your case as a married man, is a tragedy.”

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “Ah. It is that bad.” Kensington fell into an armchair nearby. “Your problem is that you let your heart get involved.”

  Richard leaned back against the chair. “A mistake I had hoped to avoid.”

  “Forget her. There are plenty of ladies. Take your pick. You’re young, rich, titled, and the women seem to find you reasonably good looking. Take my lead and enjoy yourself with—”

  “Enough!” snapped Richard. “Debauchery isn’t the answer.”

  “Then you aren’t asking the right question.”

  “When did you become so much like Tristan?” He finished his glass and set it down.

  Despite ladies’ obvious attraction for Kensington, he never seemed the type to take advantage, or pay for a woman’s attention. But people changed, and not always in good ways.

  Kensington made a negligent wave. “If the thought of bedding a prostitute doesn’t appeal, take a mistress. Or find a lonely young widow.”

  Richard shuddered at the thought of buying a woman’s favor. He let out his breath in fr
ustration and shook his head.

  Kensington cocked his head to one side. “Then divorce the lying wench and remarry. Wed a beautiful woman with ample charms.”

  “Divorce.” Richard choked on the word. Then, “Lying wench? What gives you leave to speak about my wife in such a way?”

  Kensington raised a brow. “She’s still infatuated with Tristan, right? Probably going to cuckold you any moment. So throw her out. ’Tisn’t so bad for a man of your means and standing to get a divorce. All the ladies will pity you for your faithless wife and fall all over themselves to prove they can do better.”

  Richard leaped to his feet and began pacing. “I can’t believe you’d even suggest such a thing. She’d be ruined. And her parents…no telling what her mother might do.”

  Besides, he didn’t want to divorce her. He didn’t want a mistress, or a lover, or another wife. He wanted Elizabeth. He wanted her exclusively, not while even the smallest part of her pined for Tristan.

  Trying to sort out the root of the problem, Richard drummed his fingers on his thigh. “She’s not having an affair with Tristan or anyone, I’m sure of it; she’s too innocent and too honorable. Yet she frequently thinks of him—she’s made that clear. I will never have possession of her heart.”

  “Does she have possession of yours?”

  He recalled her smile, her warmth, her compassion for the downtrodden, the courageous way she’d championed Cooper and Janey. His life would be austere without her. He wanted her near him always and ached for her welcoming smile.

  “I do…care for her, deeply.”

  A satisfied gleam entered Kensington’s eye. His friend had been goading him all along. The scoundrel was probably lying about the women, as well, just to get him angry. “It’s about time you admitted that. Does she know?”

  “Of cour…” Richard trailed off and considered. He’d never told her in so many words. He had yet to initiate much in the way of physical contact. “Perhaps not.”

  Kensington shook his head. “Then what’s to keep her with you? You’ve accused her of cheating on you, and you’ve given her no reason to believe you love her. Why do you think you deserve her?” He leaned forward and stared into Richard’s eyes with an intensity he had never seen. “If I had the love of a woman half as fine, I would throw myself at her feet and beg her to have pity on my worthless self and let me try to prove myself to her.”