A Lady's Virture

by A. S. Fenichel

  “You’re content there then?”

  “Where else can a woman of my years get out and meet people and do interesting things. The Everton ladies are all extraordinary, each in her own way. Every assignment is different. I live at Everton House because I have constant company there and it affords me whatever I need, which isn’t much.”

  If it was so perfect, he would be hard pressed to talk Sylvia out of her position there. “It sounds ideal.”

  She shrugged. “Interestingly, it is a last resort for the young women and a second chance for we dowagers.”

  Offering his arm, he smiled. “I am glad to know you, Mrs. Horthorn. The Dowder ladies are in good hands this week.”

  She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. “You can be quite charming when you put your mind to it, my lord. I will be keeping my eye on you.”

  They both laughed as a footman dashed across a small lawn toward them. He was out of breath and skidded to a stop before them. “A carriage has arrived, my lord.”

  “Jack, there is no need to do yourself harm, but thank you. We will go directly and greet the ladies.” Quite proud of how calm he’d sounded, Anthony wanted to run about like a fool and arrive at the front drive as randy as a schoolboy. It was probably best that he was charged with escorting Mrs. Horthorn, and they kept a stately pace back to where Sylvia and Serena were being handed down from the Dowder carriage.

  Serena looked around with wide eyes. “My lord, this is a stunning home and so close to town. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s heavenly.”

  He bowed over Serena’s hand. “Thank you, Miss Dowder. I’m glad you like it and am honored you’re able to be here this week.”

  Sylvia’s smile was more practiced and staid. “Good to see you again, my lord. I hope you found the house in order.”

  With his back facing the other two ladies, he gave Sylvia the same attention he had her sister. However, this time he allowed his lips to touch her knuckles.

  A tiny gasp escaped, giving him hope that she had experienced the same delight he had from the contact.

  Easing back, he met her gaze. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Dowder. I am thrilled to have you back at Riverdale. Mrs. Horthorn and I were taking a turn in the garden, but Kravitz tells me all has been readied for a wonderful week.”

  “Your staff has been very helpful and all via written correspondence, which was quite convenient.” Stepping back, she avoided making further eye contact.

  “I understand your good mother will not be joining us this week.” He attempted to sound disappointed by the fact.

  Serena said, “It was the strangest thing. Mother had every intention of traveling with us, but an old friend of hers arrived just days before our departure. Lady Honoria Chervil and Mother have known each other for many years, and the two will spend the week catching up on old times.”

  Biting her bottom lip, Sylvia hid a smile, though not from him. “Yes, it was a surprise. In any event, Mother is happy to see her friend, and we have come to Riverdale with the knowledge that Mrs. Horthorn will chaperon us to the best of her ability.”

  “I’m glad everyone is happy.” Mostly, he was glad Sylvia would not have to contend with her mother’s disapproval. He didn’t know if he could tolerate an entire week of her obvious favoritism without speaking out. “Shall we go inside and get you settled?”

  He had a small study that he retreated to once he’d seen the ladies to their rooms. It had a poky little fireplace, a barely adequate writing desk and chair, and three comfortable chairs surrounding a coffee table.

  Sylvia had been adamant that she and Serena could and would share a room. He couldn’t think of any reason not to grant her demand, so the young ladies were in the large guest room that had two beds. It had belonged to his two great-uncles many years before but had been redecorated by his cousin to suit guests.

  Sylvia cleared her throat and knocked at the same time. “My lord, I wanted to check and see if there was anything you’d like to add to the week’s activities. I have planned something for each day, but there will be time for whatever you choose.”

  He stood to greet her. Her stiff delivery troubled him. His behavior had put a divide between them and it wouldn’t do. “Perhaps some hunting with Daniel, Miles and Stansfield if he’s interested, but that would be an early morning activity and shouldn’t interfere with whatever you’ve planned.”

  “Very good. Do you have any special food requests? Cook has the menus planned but asked if you’d like something special.” Still standing in the doorway, she clutched her hands in front of her.

  “Sylvie, please come in and sit down. This calling to each other across the room is too cold for friends.” Holding his breath until she stepped inside, he finally let it out. “Thank you.” He sat. “I have no reason to change the menu. The food here has always been very good. I’m sure we will all be well pleased.”

  Staring just over his left shoulder, she said, “Very good. Tomorrow I have set time aside for the guests to rest after they arrive. You have a lovely back parlor that I thought we might use for cards after dinner. Your gardener has offered to take us all on a tour of the gardens. I have scheduled that for day after tomorrow just before luncheon. He is a bit of a genius about plants and wildlife if Kravitz is to be believed. I hope you will join the tour.”

  “Sylvie?”

  Finally, she looked at him. “Yes?”

  “Are you upset with me?”

  “No.”

  “Then why should two friends have a conversation that sounds as if we’ve only just met?” Heart pounding, he waited for an answer that could break his heart.

  She searched the room. “I suppose I feel awkward after our last encounter. You said some things that should not have been said. I might have been insensitive and hurt your feelings. I came here intent on putting all of that in the past. You have probably already left this behind us, and I shall do the same. I will finish this assignment; then, friends or not, we shall likely never see each other again.”

  The notion of never seeing his Sylvia again sent pain into his heart and gut until he thought he might double over from the agony. “I am certain you are wrong.”

  The most adorable crease formed between her eyes. “About what?”

  “Everything you just said.” He held up a hand to stop her from responding. “However, you may believe whatever you like.”

  She stood. “I have upset you. I apologize.”

  Rising with her, he kept his expression staid. “Not at all. You have done a fine job just as I knew you would, and we are still friends, Sylvie. I will see you at dinner unless you have more plans to discuss.”

  Worry etched around her eyes, and she bit her lower lip. “You understand, Tony, I am protecting us both. We have nothing in common, and you plan to leave the country.”

  Checking the open doorway over her shoulder and finding it empty, he rounded his desk and strode forward until he towered over her. “I say, what we have is passion and not at all unpleasant. You want me to believe we are not suited. I understand your position, Sylvie. I will not lie to you. I plan to convince you that we are the only people suited to one another.”

  Wide-eyed, she licked her lips. “I don’t know what to say.”

  Those lips called for his with an ear-piercing ring. “Say nothing then.”

  Kravitz spoke to a footman in the parlor next door.

  Anthony stepped back. “You should check on dinner. I assume the other ladies are resting but will be up and about very soon.”

  Her deep breath lifted her breasts in the most mouth-watering way. “I will see to it.”

  “I will see you at dinner then.” He had rattled her, and that was the point, but she had unsettled him as well.

  Rushing from the room, she lifted the hem of her skirt and disappeared behind the door.

  This was goin
g to be harder than he thought. Impressed with his own control, he closed his eyes to keep from running after her. Yearning to grab her and tell her he would have no other, he knew she had to come to him on her own terms. Sylvia’s strength and intelligence should not be discounted. She was no shrinking violet. It was part of what he loved about her, maybe most of what he loved.

  “Are you unwell, sir?” Kravitz said from the threshold.

  Anthony loved Riverdale, but its smaller size meant that there were few places to hide. “I am fine. Is all in order for the guests arriving tomorrow?”

  “The rooms have all been cleaned and readied, my lord. Mrs. Long will cut fresh flowers in the morning and place a vase in each room. Is there anything else you would like us to do?”

  Standing, Anthony shook off the effects of being close to Sylvia and cleared his head. “I sent several cases of wine last week. I assume they arrived.”

  “They have been placed in the cellar.”

  “Bring up two bottles for tonight and decant some brandy in the parlor facing the garden. Miss Dowder favors that room for the evening gatherings.” Anthony liked the idea of doing something because Sylvia liked the room or opening a bottle of wine with the hope of enjoying it with her.

  “Yes, my lord.” Kravitz tugged his coat into place and rushed out to do Anthony’s bidding.

  It was time he went up and dressed for dinner. Perhaps a bath to cleanse away his doubt. He had one week to make her see the truth or for her to refuse him and leave him tattered.

  Chapter 13

  Sylvia and Serena dressed for dinner. Despite her determination to keep Anthony away, she let Jenny help her into a rust gown that looked pretty on her. The dark orange hue complemented her hair and made her eyes look darker. It pushed her breasts up and showed more figure than she should as an employee. A gray serviceable dress would have been more in line with her plans to repel his attention.

  Serena let Jenny tighten her corset. “I don’t understand, Sylvie. Why don’t you want to encourage his lordship?”

  “We are not suited. He is an earl and I am an Everton lady. There is no future for us, and when he realizes that, he will break my heart.” Anthony had his own hopes and dreams, which didn’t include her, but she wouldn’t tell her sister his secret.

  “But if he loves you…”

  Sylvia lifted a hand to stop whatever drivel her sister was going to say. “He does not love me, and I do not love him. It is merely our proximity. The moment I am out of his life for good, he will forget all about me.”

  Corset tied, she stepped into her dress and waited while it was buttoned at the back. “Will you also forget?”

  “It is best for girls like me to have short memories, Serena. Wanting the impossible only lands one in trouble. I will go back to my world, and he will stay in his, and all will be well.”

  Serena frowned. “It sounds to me like a terrible way to go on. You will regret him, and if he’s smart, he will always regret you. But perhaps it is as you say, and his feelings are not deep. An infatuation can be forgotten easily enough.”

  It was a good thing dinner would be served soon or Sylvia was going to be sick right there in front of her sister. If that happened there would be no hiding her feelings, which were becoming more and more dangerous.

  Checking herself in the glass, she said, “I’m going down to see if anything needs doing before dinner. Will you be all right?”

  Serena studied her for a long moment, cocked her head, then said, “I’m fine. I’ll be down when Jenny finishes my hair.”

  If Sylvia hadn’t known better, she would think her sister was up to something, but Serena was never devious. She said and did exactly what was expected of a young lady and daughter of a gentleman.

  Kravitz met her at the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Dowder?”

  The poor butler wasn’t sure which Miss Dowder she was. Sylvia and Serena had often teased people by posing as each other when they were young. It was tempting now, but she couldn’t do it. “I am Sylvia Dowder, Kravitz. How can I help you?”

  He bowed. “There seems to be some question of seating. Will Mrs. Horthorn be dining with you every night or just tonight?”

  Following him into the dining room, she admired the simple white setting and the informal glassware. Everything was exactly as a country home should be. This one was just close to London and set in the most beautiful piece of property God ever created. For an instant, she let herself love Riverdale and imagined herself the mistress of such a heavenly place.

  Shaking off the stupid notion, she moved Mrs. Horthorn to Anthony’s left and herself beside her chaperon. “It is entirely up to her, but I would guess she will dine with us nightly. My sister will sit to his lordship’s right then move down the table when titled guests arrive tomorrow. You may always place me at the farthest end from his lordship.”

  His calm facade slipped, leaving a deep frown. “As you wish, miss.”

  Sylvia loved the house more than she should. Even the dining room, with its wood wainscoting broken up by papered walls, painted with tiny roses. Large windows faced south and let in the most beautiful light during the day. The sun was setting, and soon the silver candelabras would be lit before dinner was served. The first evening would be rather casual, but the rest of the week elegance and opulence would be the theme.

  No one would ever doubt that the Earl of Grafton was less than the perfect aristocrat, regardless of where he was born. At least she had seen to that.

  Once she was on to another assignment, it would be up to Anthony to maintain his status. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, but she wanted to cry.

  Voices from the small parlor next door alerted her that crying would not do. She drew a deep breath and put on her practiced smile before joining the others.

  “Good evening, Miss Dowder.” Anthony bowed. “I was just telling your sister and Mrs. Horthorn how you transformed my London house. It’s interesting that it now resembles the decor here at Riverdale despite you having only had a glance of this house prior to the changes.”

  “I suppose that is true. Though the London house is more elegant.” She loved Riverdale’s light cozy feel. It was exactly what she’d tried to give Collington House. It suited her more than it should since it was meant only to suit Anthony.

  Mrs. Horthorn nodded and examined the furnishings. “It’s uncanny, Miss Dowder. You have captured his lordship’s taste perfectly.”

  “Thank you. I did my best.” Heat rose in her cheeks, but she turned away and hoped no one noticed.

  Anthony held an uncorked bottle of wine, which he had plucked from the side table. “I thought we might have a glass of wine. This is from my cousin’s private label. He doesn’t sell this, only keeps it for family. I rarely bring it out, but tonight is a special occasion.”

  Accepting a glass, Serena smiled. “What occasion is it we’re celebrating, my lord?”

  Surprise widened his eyes and stood him up straighter. “You ladies being here and the start to a wonderful week. I cannot think of anything grander than a few good friends and a fine bottle of wine.”

  Serena’s smile broadened. “What a lovely thing to say. Thank you. I can’t wait to try it.”

  Once he’d given Mrs. Horthorn and Sylvia each a glass, Anthony lifted his. “A toast. To good friends and to beginnings.”

  They all repeated the toast and sipped the wine.

  Sylvia let the full, fruity flavor wash over her lips and tongue. Notes of spices and mushrooms made their way into the experience. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the blossoming flavors of the cool wine. When she opened her eyes, Anthony was staring at her, his expression warm and filled with emotions she refused to name.

  “Dinner is served in the dining room whenever you are ready,” Kravitz announced from the doorway.

  Anthony sighed. “Shall we go in, ladies?” />
  Sylvia wanted to believe Anthony was being so perfectly cordial because he was the only man amongst ladies. She talked herself into it and even speculated that he might be trying to charm Serena. When they walked into the dining room and he saw that she had moved herself down a seat, his frown told a different story. Perhaps she should go back to her previous notion of pursuing Miles Hallsmith. At least when that fell apart, she wouldn’t be devastated. Anthony’s betrayal would destroy her, and she couldn’t let herself be vulnerable to it.

  “My lord, Sylvia tells me that you have been to Italy. What was that like?” Serena’s enthusiasm was contagious.

  Anthony put his fork down and finished his bite of goose. “Italy is beautiful and exotic. My family has a large vineyard in Tuscany. It is mountainous and green. The cities were trampled by Roman soldiers. Some of the greatest minds made discoveries. Tuscany is small, and each country has its own ruler. Umbria is lovely. In the south, they grow the most amazing lemons. Life is slow, and wine is life. Unlike the English, Italians argue in public over the smallest thing. They are filled with passion.” He glanced at Sylvia.

  Serena sighed. “Is it like America? Americans always seem filled with life and excitement.”

  He peered out the window. The sun was nearly down. “America is wild and new. Tuscany is old. My cousins will talk about anything. Things that even as an American I find unsuitable for casual conversation. It is a refreshing change, but lately, I have begun to prefer England.”

  “Then you don’t plan to return to America?” Mrs. Horthorn asked.

  Again, he glanced at Sylvia.

  She didn’t want to care what he answered. Why should she care whether he chose to live in Italy, America, or England? Eventually he would marry some wealthy, proper twit, and she would read about it in the newspaper. Her own thoughts were making her ill.