“Miss Sylvia, I believe I have this dance.”
She placed her hand on his sleeve and followed him onto the dance floor. His unique scent made her want to lean in and take a deep breath. The inappropriate thought made her cross. “You did not need to dance with me, my lord. I am in your employ.”
“Do you think you might call me Tony or Anthony while we dance?”
“Why would I do that?” She swallowed down the thrill of being offered his familiar name.
Tightening his hold on her, he pulled her an inch closer. “Because if you are to act as my hostess, we are going to become friends, Sylvia. I have given this a great deal of thought since the carriage ride the other day. You are determined to remain professional and I respect that. However, I feel there is something to be gained by the familiarity of being on a first-name basis. I’m not asking you to shout it across a crowded room, but as my sister enjoys a friendship with Thomas Wheel, you and I might call each other by our names in private.”
The entire conversation was outrageous. He whirled her effortlessly around the dance floor to the beat of three and they never missed a step. Yet, they spoke of something simply forbidden between two adults of opposite genders. “It would be highly out of order.”
He shrugged. “You are already unusual just because you have chosen a profession over finding some sot to marry. Why not go just a tad further and call me Tony? No one would know, and it would be the second secret we shared.”
“Tony.” Wanton and wrong, it fell from her lips. She couldn’t help wishing she could call it across a room full of peers.
His white teeth shone with his broad smile. “It sounds splendid coming from you, Sylvia.”
“Sylvie,” she said. “My good friends call me Sylvie.”
Rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand sent a charge up her arm, and it spread through her like a fire out of control. She swallowed down whatever had come over her. “What day would you like to have the dinner party?”
Immediately missing the soft innocent caress, she was sorry she’d turned the conversation toward business. She should have just enjoyed the dance and kept her mouth shut.
As he thought, his gaze wandered and lost focus until he spoke. “I was thinking that Wednesday after next might do if you think you can manage it by then.”
“I will need to come and speak with your cook, housekeeper, and butler to make sure you have the proper staff for a party. I’m sure that will be enough time.”
“Good. If you come later in the week, I have something I want to show you after you speak to the staff. The weather has been very fine, and I have an open carriage, so our traveling together will be completely within your silly English rules.” He turned her too quickly, and her breast brushed his lapel.
Her breath caught. “Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. I promise it will only take a couple of hours; then I shall bring you directly back unscathed.” His reply came quickly and with a serious note.
“I trust you, Tony.” The strange thing was she meant it. He was honest and direct. Unlike any man she had ever known, there was no hidden agenda with Anthony Braighton. He was exactly what he seemed. Incapable of lying, since everything he thought was clear in his expression. It was not very English, and she liked it more than she should.
His cheeks pinked just enough that one had to study him to notice. “I’m delighted to hear that.”
When the music ended, she longed for a few more bars, so she could stay in his arms. Then she immediately squashed the sentiment and curtsied to him before thanking him for the dance. She found Serena talking to a tall man by the hearth.
Lord Stansfield was handsome, but not in the conventional way. He had brown hair and eyes, and there was something rugged about him. He had not shaved for the evening, and when Sylvia approached, he blinked several times before seeming to understand. “You have a twin.”
Serena hid a giggle behind her gloved hand. “Yes, my lord. Most people know that I have a twin sister. This is Miss Sylvia Dowder.”
His eyes narrowed before he bowed. “You are the one who has taken up with the Everton Domestic Society.”
With a curtsy, Sylvia met his gaze. “I am employed there, my lord.”
“Fascinating. And how do you find the work?” He leaned on the mantel then realized it was not appropriate and stood up straight.
“It is quite satisfying and challenging.” She raised her chin and kept eye contact. Not even the earl, who might become her brother-in-law, would turn her into a coward.
“Will you continue there indefinitely?”
“I have few options, my lord. Many Everton ladies remain with the Society until they retire or become dowagers, a designation given to women who assist the ladies. If I am still with them when I am of an age, I will likely choose to keep helping people.” She saw no disgust or dismissal in Lord Stansfield, only curiosity.
“I’m sure you will help many people if you are compassionate like your sister.” His lips twitched, and half a smile appeared.
Serena had been silent, but she took a step closer. “Since we have been courting, my lord, I think it important I tell you, I will not be kept away from my sister, no matter what she decides to do with her life.”
He looked from one twin to the other and back at Serena. “I would think a man who attempted to erect such a wall would be a fool.”
The tightness in Sylvia’s gut eased, and Serena’s shoulders relaxed.
He bowed to Sylvia then turned to Serena. “I believe I have this dance, Miss Dowder.”
She watched them join the quadrille. He wasn’t what she expected. Perhaps a bit rough by the ton’s standards, but he wasn’t the stern man Serena described. In fact, he was reasonable, and she liked the Earl of Stansfield far more than Sir Henry. It was nice Serena had choices.
Anthony handed her a glass of wine. “It’s not very good wine, but it’s all that is available. I thought you might like a glass.”
“Thank you.” She sipped the watery vintage. “Do you know a lot about wine?”
“It is one of my greatest passions. My family has a vineyard in Italy. I spent a few summers there tending the vines and learning about wine.” He watched the dancers.
“That must have been wonderful. I think I would like to travel someday. Perhaps I can save enough money to do so in a few years.” It was wonderful to speak of such things and know he would not think her a mad woman. Somehow, she knew he would be amiable to a woman deciding to travel.
“You will need to hire someone to protect you. When you are ready to go, come and see me. I have some contacts and can help you with your plans.”
Liking Anthony Braighton was not against any rules, but she had never thought of a client as anything more than that. Anthony was succeeding in becoming her friend. She would have to search the Everton Companion, Rules of Conduct for any advice in such cases. “That is very kind. Most men would think the idea foolish. In fact, most women would as well. If you are still in England when I’m ready to travel, I shall seek your counsel.”
Worry marred his expression. He was so easy to read, it must be embarrassing for him more often than not. “I think we have established that you and I are not like most people.” He nodded toward the dance floor. “Your sister could do worse than Stansfield. He’s a good man with a lot of money and good sense.”
“I only met him for a moment, but I liked him. He seemed thoughtful, a rare commodity among the ton.” Sylvia liked the slight blush in Serena’s cheeks as she talked to Stansfield. She always tried to look disinterested but was failing with her current suitor. Maybe that was a good sign.
Lady Nelda Abernathy’s voice carried across the crush of people. “You will come to no good, Eliza. Flirting only leads to ruination. I am ashamed of you, and you will break your mother’s heart.”
Tears streamed down Eliza Pollard’s blotchy cheeks, and her pale hair came loose from its chignon. “I only said I would dance with him, my lady.”
“He is a scoundrel, and you must know better.”
Eliza’s gaze shifted around the onlookers. “Please, keep your voice down. I have done nothing wrong.”
“Don’t you dare tell me how to behave. Harlot!”
Tears coming in earnest, Eliza rushed for the ballroom exit toward the lady’s retiring room.
Anthony dipped his head and whispered, “I think I have had enough bad wine and marriage-mart mommas for one night. I will see you Monday, Sylvie.”
“Good evening, Tony.” It was far more intimate than was proper, despite their being in plain sight of half of society. A thrill ran up her spine. It wasn’t a crime to share secrets, but it felt a bit wicked, and she liked it. She had to force the grin building inside her from her lips before anyone else realized her wanton thoughts.
With a stern look in Nelda Abernathy’s direction, Sylvia rushed after poor Eliza. On her way up to the lady’s retiring room, she glimpsed Anthony escorting an actress who had arrived with Sir Edward Grant out of the house. It shouldn’t matter, but a vise tightened around her heart and bile rose in her throat. Shaking herself back into a reality where Anthony Braighton was just her client, she continued up the stairs.
Chapter 4
An Everton footman, who was particularly strong of figure, accompanied Sylvia and Mrs. Horthorn to the Braighton warehouse near the port. He took his assignment very seriously, and Anthony was glad to see someone capable watching over the ladies as they perused the textiles.
Anthony approached the stack of rugs, where several of his workers were peeling back layers for the ladies to get a better look. “Miss Dowder, have you found anything you like?”
The footman grumbled and stepped between Anthony and the women.
“It’s all right, Bertram. This is Lord Grafton. He is our client.”
Bowing, Bertram stepped back. “I apologize, my lord.”
“Not at all. You’re a good man with a rather large responsibility. I’m pleased you take it to the extreme.” Anthony meant every word. It was good to know the Society had their ladies’ safety in mind.
“Indeed, my lord. I shall not let any harm come to my charges.” Bertram resumed his guard duty.
Joining the ladies, Anthony repeated his question.
Her smile bright, Sylvia bubbled with glee. “I have tagged no less than six beautiful rugs that will be stunning in your house. I spied so many fabrics on the walk back here. I can’t wait to put my mark on those for new curtains throughout. You are going to be very happy, my lord.”
Watching her enthusiasm started a thrill bubbling inside Anthony. He couldn’t remember anyone else’s delight giving him so much joy. This Everton lady was driving him insane, and he had no desire to stop the madness. “I’m glad you are finding my stores useful.”
“I cannot believe how many beautiful things you are shipping off to America when you could easily sell all of this here in England.” She shook her head at the next rug, and Pete pulled the next one over.
“I do sell some here when they come in from the East, but these were designated for Philadelphia. I assure you your countrymen are not being slighted for the savages in America.”
She peered up with her mouth open, and he longed to kiss those full lips. “I did not mean to imply the people in Philadelphia didn’t deserve such beautiful things. Only that it is a great expense to ship the rugs and fabrics, and they would be accepted here.”
“I am teasing you, Miss Dowder. My country will get their fair share of beautiful things, and England has already met the quota.” Flustering Sylvia could become a bad habit. He stifled a sigh.
She gave the most darling huff and hid her smile. “I suppose I deserved that. Would you like to approve the rugs here, my lord, or wait until they are in your house?”
“I trust you, Miss Dowder. I have no doubt that whatever you pick will be what I am looking for to lighten the mood at Collington House.”
“As you wish,” she said. “Peter, I think we are done here. Can you arrange for the rugs I’ve picked to be delivered this week?”
Pete was one of the toughest men Anthony had ever met, but he blushed at her regard like a schoolboy. “I will see to it myself, miss.”
“Thank you. You are too kind.”
“Do you want to look at the fabric now, miss?” He clutched it in one hand then combed his fingers through his thinning hair.
“Yes. Please.” She walked back toward the front of the warehouse. Mrs. Horthorn, Pete, and Bertram trailing, and Anthony took up the rear. “You know, my lord, you need not be here. I can handle all of this, and Bertram will keep us safe.”
“It is my warehouse and you are in my employ. I feel quite determined to see that no harm comes to you, and while I know Bertram is fully capable, I would feel better if I saw you safely into your carriage.”
She waved a hand. “As you wish.”
An hour later, the bolts of fabric were loaded into the Everton carriage. Sylvia would see that they were delivered to a seamstress she had contracted to make the curtains in short order.
* * * *
Three days later, Anthony watched the exchanges between his staff and Sylvia. Cook, the housekeeper, Mrs. Colms, and the butler, Wells, fell all over themselves to help her. They liked her immediately and wanted to do whatever they could to make her job easier. It was the most animated he had ever seen the stoic butler. She got a better response than Anthony, and he was the earl.
“My lord, you will need two more footmen. Her ladyship kept a minimal staff, as she did not entertain. I would think an additional maid might be in order as well. Will that be a problem?” Sylvia looked up from the long wooden table below stairs, where she sat with his staff hashing out what needed to be done to host a dinner party in less than a week.
They all stared at him and waited.
“I have no objections. In fact, you may all take your orders from Miss Dowder while she assists me for the next few months. She knows better than I what we need at this time.” He shouldn’t like to have someone else ordering his staff about, but Sylvia slid into the role seamlessly.
“Thank you, my lord. Not having to check every small decision with you will make this process go faster. In fact, you needn’t remain below with us if you have other tasks this morning.” She returned her attention to the list in front of her, and he was dismissed.
At the top of the stairs, he went to his library where an oversized desk filled one corner of the massive room.
The library loomed around him. He was still staring at the hundreds of books, lost in thoughts of Sylvia, the staff, the ugly decor, and what he planned when she’d finished with the staff.
As if thinking of her made her appear, she knocked gently on the inside of the open door. “Am I interrupting some deep thoughts?”
He stood. “Just daydreaming and wondering how you will make this room tolerable.”
She stepped farther inside and glanced around. “Do you need a desk that large?”
“No one needs a desk this big.” He leaned on the edge of the massive piece.
“The curtains will be here on Monday next. A lighter fabric will go a long way. I will order you a smaller desk. Then we will move the furniture around to create two smaller groupings for conversation and reading by the windows. The rug is quite nice and might do once we change the rest.” She continued to examine the room.
Everything she said made sense, though he couldn’t picture it. He liked the way her expression turned confident when she talked of hiring footmen and changing curtains. “Did your meeting downstairs go well?”
“Yes. You have a fine staff, if a little shorthanded. Wells and Mrs. Colms will handle the hiring. They know the best people. You can
meet with your new staff in a few days and make sure you like each of them. Now, what did you want to show me, Tony?” She propped her fists on her slim hips and appeared about to do battle. The stern set of her jaw and intense stare were probably meant to warn him off.
He couldn’t help laughing. “Don’t look as if I’m kidnapping you for nefarious purposes, Sylvie. I just want to show you something. It’s only an hour or so by carriage.”
Narrowing her gaze, she remained cautious. “Very well. We had better go then. Cook said to tell you the basket you requested will be in the carriage.”
Mrs. Horthorn sat waiting in the foyer. When they exited the library, she gathered up her sewing.
He escorted them out the front door to his carriage, a large Grafton coat of arms emblazoned the side. It was an open carriage, which was more appropriate for escorting a lady. “It’s a nice day, and the ride is a pretty one, ladies.”
Once he handed them both up, he sat facing them.
They headed north out of town and chatted about nothing. Mrs. Horthorn gave her opinion on gardening and foods she liked.
His excitement grew as they turned down the lane to Riverdale. A canopy of oak trees shaded the lane until the yard opened before them, and the pretty, white manor appeared like something out of a dream.
“Where are we, my lord? This is lovely.” Sylvia’s blue eyes were wide and filled with wonder.
He had an urgent notion to kiss those parted lips. Pushing the stupid thought aside, he said, “Welcome to Riverdale. It was left to me as one of the Grafton estates. There is also a large estate in the lake district, but this one is prettier in my opinion. It was little used while my cousin held the title. I’ve had it cleaned and hired a small staff. Would you ladies like a tour?”
“Of course, but why have you brought us here?” Sylvia asked as he handed her down from the carriage.
“I was thinking it might be nice to host a small house party here. Just a few friends to get away from the city for a week. I wondered if I might add that task to our arrangement?” Waiting for her response, he held his breath. It shouldn’t matter. He could get a different lady to play hostess for him. Yet he hated the idea of his Everton lady abandoning him for another assignment.
A Lady's Virture Page 5
