But Helen had been most welcoming this Sunday past. She seemed genuine in her insistence that Daisy become acquainted with her brother and sister.
The thought of the two siblings had her grinning just before the coach pulled up to the mansion in Park Lane.
She stepped down from the coach and was nearly bowled over when her brother, William, toddled into her. “Days-ee!” he said in his high-pitched voice, his gap-toothed grin broad. Dressed in short pants and a broad-collared pea coat, with a nautical-themed shirt beneath, he looked as if he could be any young boy in Mayfair.
“Lord William,” she replied with a grin, bending down to greet the boy. She glanced up to find his nurse pushing a perambulator, the expression on her face one of horror. “How is my brother on this fine day?” she asked, giving the nurse a quick wave. “I’ve got him,” she added.
The boy struggled a moment before bowing and saying, “I am well, m’lady.”
Daisy stood up, managing to suppress a wince when her leg protested. She took his hand, secretly thrilled when he seemed so proud to be escorting her to the front door. “And what about your sister, Lady Rose?” she asked.
“She’s ’sleep.”
Wondering at her sudden disappointment, Daisy was about to lift the brass knocker when the door opened to reveal Jarvis. The butler’s eyes widened at seeing the boy with her, but Jarvis soon regained his composure and stepped aside to allow her in, remembering her from her visit only this Sunday past.
“Good evening, Lady Daisy.” He took her mantle and the boy’s coat, once Daisy managed to get him out of it. She had knelt down in an effort to be at the boy’s level. For a moment, she thought of what it would be like to arrive at her own home with a son. What it would be like to pull off his coat and straighten his clothes as she knelt before him. Smooth his hair into submission by first licking her gloved hand and running it over his head until all the fine strands of hair behaved.
She was about to imagine a little girl, too, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she glanced up to find her father watching her. “Hello, Father,” she said. Her initial attempt to stand had her grimacing when her bad leg didn’t allow it. The duke was suddenly there, his arms beneath hers, lifting her until she was standing. “Thank you,” she managed, about to step away and give him a curtsy. Instead, she was suddenly in his embrace, nearly crushed by strong arms that held her for several seconds.
When he finally released her, James, Duke of Ariley, allowed a long sigh. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he said in a whisper.
Daisy regarded him with a look of concern. “Why ever not? It’s not as if I’m required to dine at Warwick’s,” she replied. “Besides, I’m in need of more biscuits,” she added with a wink, just before her attention was drawn to her young brother down below. William had wrapped his arms around her legs and had the side of his face pressed against the silk fabric of her dinner gown. “Like father, like son?” she murmured, a teasing grin causing her dimple to appear.
James gave a chuckle. “No one will ever accuse him of being a cold-hearted Englishman,” he said with a shake of his head, his pride in his only son evident.
“Just as no one would ever accuse you of having a cold heart,” Helen said as she finished descending the stairs. When James stepped back and turned, giving his wife a short bow, Helen had a clear view of her son clinging to Daisy’s legs. Her expression changed from delight to concern and then to embarrassment. “William,” she started to chide the boy.
“It’s quite all right,” Daisy said as she dipped a curtsy, the maneuver made awkward with William still holding onto her leg. “He escorted me from the coach.” She turned her attention back to the duke. “Thank you for sending it, by the way.”
“It was the least I could do,” James replied, bending down to pick up his son. “Will you two ladies join us warm-hearted gentlemen in the library for coffee and walnuts?”
Helen exchanged a glance with Daisy. “Of course.” She then motioned to a footman and asked that the nurse be informed William was in his father’s company. Daisy had thought the old nurse would have been behind her in the vestibule, but realized the servant would probably re-enter the house using the back door, even if she was pushing Lady Rose in a perambulator.
“Your father tells me you’re the new headmistress of Warwick’s,” Helen said as they entered the library.
“I am,” Daisy replied. “And teaching Diana’s classes, too, at least until I can find a replacement.” She settled into one of the chairs once Helen was seated on a divan. A footman saw to serving walnuts and coffee after her father had settled into one of the larger chairs. Still holding William, the boy’s bottom resting on one arm and one chubby fist clutching his cravat, James arched an eyebrow.
“The arithmetic and the dance class?”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Yes. I actually find the arithmetic easier to teach. Teaching the cotillion is proving problematic, although my students do fine with the waltz.”
Helen allowed a brilliant smile. “Your father is a master at the waltz,” she said. “But how do you find your charges? Do any of them give you trouble?”
Daisy shook her head, suppressing the urge to grin at how her father seemed surprised by his wife’s assessment of his dance skills. “No trouble, really. They’re all rather well behaved. Daughters of tradesmen, some rather wealthy. I am curious about a few of them, though.”
“Oh?”
“Miss Batey, for instance. The new Viscount Lancaster’s daughter. I wouldn’t expect an viscount’s daughter to attend a finishing school,” Daisy explained. “She has a bodyguard, of course, but... why isn’t she being taught at home? By a governess?”
Helen and James exchanged quick glances. “She was, by her mother,” James finally said, readjusting William in his hold now that the boy was sound asleep. “When the viscountess died last year, Lancaster feared scandal should he hire a governess—he’s only recently inherited the title from his late brother, you see—so he enrolled Analise at Warwick’s.”
Remembering Jane’s explanation was nearly the same, Daisy felt a bit of relief. Nothing nefarious there, then. “Miss Hannah Simpson is one of my students,” she said, watching her father for his reaction. She was surprised when he suddenly grinned. “What is it?”
“Aunt Sophia’s daughter?” he replied. “My, but it’s hard to believe that girl can already be old enough to attend Warwick’s. She’s... she’s one of your aunts, actually.”
Daisy dared a glance at Helen, wondering if the duchess knew anything about Sophia Simpson. “I thought so, but I haven’t introduced myself as a relation. I thought it best—”
“You needn’t hide your true identity from Hannah,” Helen interrupted. “And Lady Sophia is well regarded, despite her odd choice of a husband. You would never know the man was a... a servant back in the day.”
“It’s been nearly forty years,” James said then. “And he wasn’t an odd choice. The two are hopelessly in love with one another. That they could manage to have twins when my aunt was nearly... well, I don’t even know how old she was—”
“Six-and-forty,” Daisy said quietly.
“—Is merely a testament to how devoted they are to one another,” James went on. His eyes widened, though, at hearing how old Sophia was when the twins were born. He turned his attention to his wife.
“Don’t even think about it,” Helen said, her head shaking back and forth. “I cannot imagine having a baby at that age. It will be bad enough I have to wait so long to be a grandmother.”
Daisy grinned as her father held up his free hand, as if he could stave off his wife’s protests.
“I’m not expecting you to,” he countered with a grin of his own. “But I must say, Aunt Sophia looks rather splendid for a woman of her age. Which is?”
“One-and-sixty,” Daisy said. She knew he was testing her math skills, but she had already worked out the numbers in her head back when she first saw Hannah’s name on the
class register.
“But she doesn’t look that old at all,” Helen protested.
“The Burroughs women keep their youthful appearance. Just look at my youngest sister. Elise is..., what?”
“Six-and-thirty,” Daisy offered.
“And Thorncastle is probably getting a child on her this very moment.”
Daisy said, “Father!” at the same time Helen said, “James!”, which had William giving a start in his father’s arms. His eyes popped open, but upon seeing where he was and in whose arms he was resting, he allowed a grin and waved to his mother.
“They’re in the Kingdom of Two Sicilys as we speak,” James countered, as if that should be enough to defend his remark. “In Rome, if I remember their itinerary. Anyway, I know Elise wants a child, and Thorncastle is only...” He paused and turned his gaze on Daisy.
She blinked. “Five-and-thirty, perhaps? I’m not sure about that,” she hedged. She had never met the viscount who had married her Aunt Elise the same day Viscount Breckinridge married her sister, Diana.
“Close enough,” James said. “Which brings us to you, my dearest Daisy.”
Daisy blinked again. “You promised not to invite a fat, balding viscount to dinner tonight,” she warned.
“And I did not,” her father replied. “But, are you at least considering matrimony?”
Holding her breath at the same moment Helen said, “Now, James, you promised me you wouldn’t bring it up,” Daisy wondered how to respond.
Had he asked her only a week ago, she would have denied any desire to wed. Any desire to have children of her own. But much had happened in the past week.
Her attention fell on her brother, who was playing peek-a-boo by hiding his eyes with his hands. She covered her own eyes with her hands, which had William erupting in giggles. When she pulled them away, she finally responded. “I am, since I have every intention of being married when I have a child of my own.”
Her father’s expression faltered, his brows furrowing as he set William on the floor and dared a glance at Helen. The boy quickly toddled to Daisy and stood up next to her chair.
Daisy caught the odd looks. “What is it?”
James exchanged glances with his wife again. “So... you don’t have one of your own already?” he asked, an odd inflection coloring his voice.
Her eyes widening in alarm, Daisy couldn’t help the sound of disbelief she made just then. “Of course not!” She made the sound again before adding, “Why ever would you think such a thing?” She hadn’t told anyone of her brief pregnancy. Hadn’t told anyone of the miscarriage, either.
“Ever since that morning you recognized that I am expecting a child, your father thought perhaps you had... he thought that you had experienced morning sickness first-hand,” Helen explained gently, well aware James was hoping the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
Well, she had experienced the nausea, but Daisy wasn’t about to admit it. “Well, I do not, nor will I ever have an illegitimate child,” she said quietly, turning to lift William onto her lap. “Besides, there’s much to accomplish at Warwick’s before I can be thinking of such things,” she claimed.
“Oh?” her father replied, ignoring the sting he felt at hearing her words about not having an illegitimate child. He had acknowledged her as his daughter. Given her his name at birth. Raised her. Why was she so bitter about being illegitimate? “What’s happened there?”
“It’s what’s about to happen,” Daisy replied. “Renovations. Repairs. I’ve been able to determine Mrs. Streater arranged for new roofs, some work on the windows, and painting all the buildings. New locks, carpet, gas lighting—repairs she had scheduled before she died. Other than the total cost, her notes were rather cryptic on the matter until I discovered the estimates provided by all the companies that will do the work.”
James angled his head and frowned. “Sounds awfully expensive,” he replied. “Is Mr. Streater prepared to cover the invoices?”
Daisy nodded. “I think so. He inherited some money from his mother. He knows about the roofs, because a representative from the roofing company paid a call to confirm they would be starting the work. But I wasn’t able to tell him what else I had discovered from his mother’s ledger,” she explained, frowning a bit when she realized this really wasn’t an appropriate topic for pre-dinner conversation.
“Forgive me for asking,” James said before giving a quick glance in Helen’s direction. “But how much did Mrs. Streater think all these repairs were going to cost?”
Taking a deep breath, Daisy said, “About ten thousand pounds,” in a quiet voice. She dared a glance at Helen, knowing they really shouldn’t be speaking of money.
“It’s all right,” her stepmother said with a wave. “He does it all the time. ‘A dukedom is a business and must be discussed as such’,” she added, imitating her husband’s comment on the topic.
“That’s a good deal of blunt,” James replied, ignoring Helen’s comment. “Are you quite sure Mr. Streater can cover the expense?”
“Of course he can,” Helen said, her response surprising Daisy. “He was at Chippendale’s to place an order for a bedroom suite when I was there to order the furniture for your bedchamber,” she added as she turned to regard Daisy. “Oh, I do hope you like what I’ve chosen.”
But Daisy was staring at her father. His note had mentioned Mr. Streater joining White’s. Mr. Streater had mentioned placing an order for a Tillbury. Furniture from Chippendale’s was expensive.
If he was spending his inheritance on furniture, dues for an expensive men’s club, and on equipage, there might not be enough to cover the repairs his mother had lined up.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Daisy asked, her worried gaze directed on her father.
“That a bank clerk will not have enough blunt to cover the repairs his mother arranged?” he countered.
Daisy nodded. “He has an inheritance. But I believe it was exactly the amount that will be needed to cover the repairs. I haven’t yet done the numbers to determine how profitable the school can be, though. Perhaps there will be enough from tuition.”
“Surely enrollment will increase once the repairs are complete,” Helen offered. “There are some who have said it’s just a bit on the shabby side, but the school has such a fine reputation.”
“Reputation will do it no good if Mr. Streater can’t pay for the repairs,” James said with a shake of his head.
“In which case, Mr. Streater will simply have to sell it,” Helen said, her features suggesting she was proud to have come to such a simple solution. She was about to suggest her husband buy it, but James held up a staying hand.
“I am not about to become the owner of a finishing school, my dearest. I’ve quite enough properties to oversee as it is,” he said gently. After a moment, he added, “You mustn’t tell anyone what we’ve discussed here tonight. Not any of your friends,” he warned.
Helen gave him a quelling glance. “I would never,” she replied.
Holding up the hand that wasn’t wrapped around her little brother’s waist, Daisy said, “It’s too soon to panic,” she said. “I’ll review the ledgers from the past year and see how profitable the school can be with the number of students we have right now.”
“Which is exactly what you should do,” her father agreed. The dinner bell chimed, which had William straightening in Daisy’s lap.
“Dinner,” he called out happily.
“Indeed, little brother,” Daisy replied with a grin. She pulled him from her lap and held him until his feet took purchase on the Turkish carpet below. “Will you escort me?”
William beamed as he looked up at her. He held out a chubby arm. Daisy took his hand, and they followed the duke and duchess to the dining room.
Chapter 24
A Confession Over Brandy
A few hours later
When it was apparent Daisy wouldn’t be allowed to return to Warwick’s until the morning, she agreed to stay the ni
ght in her sister’s bedchamber.
Expecting to spend the rest of her waking hours working on notes for her classes and thinking about Mr. Streater, she was startled when a knock sounded at the door.
“Yes?”
The door opened to reveal her father. He held a decanter in one hand, and the stems of two glasses were threaded between the long fingers of his other hand. “Join me for a drink?”
Daisy’s eyes widened. “Is that brandy?” she asked in a whisper. He had never offered her anything stronger than claret in the past.
“The very best,” he replied in a quiet voice. James moved to the sitting area at one end of the bedchamber and went about pouring brandy for the two of them.
Thinking he planned to lecture her on how she had chosen to live her life, Daisy was prepared to be defensive. She took the glass he offered and held it up in a salute before she took a sip. “Are you doing this because... you have some fat, balding viscount in mind for me?” she asked, a wan grin appearing.
James shook his head and indicated she should be seated. “I do not. Nor would I bother to even try.”
Daisy’s eyes widened once again. “Oh,” she managed as she sat in an overstuffed chair. If he wasn’t going to persuade her to marry, then perhaps this was just a social call.
“I just wish to know. I wish to understand you,” he said after taking a sip of the brandy. “Why it is you seem so bitter about being illegitimate when you have my name.” He took the chair opposite and settled into it, although his back remained ramrod straight.
Sighing, Daisy closed her eyes and thought of her mother. Thought of all the times Lily Albright had lectured her daughters about the ways of the world. About what they might have to do should the duke ever decide he would no longer provide protection.
Until James had hired her as his mistress, Lily had never had the benefit of a protector longer than a Season. Her father, Sir Ronald Twickham, had never acknowledged her as his daughter, nor had he allowed the courtesan who bore her the use of his name. Despite spending the rest of her life with the future Duke of Ariley, Lily never believed they would stay together. Her experience as a courtesan wouldn’t allow it.
The Conundrum of a Clerk Page 18
