His Convenient Marchioness

by Elizabeth Rolls

  Quietly, he went back downstairs. He’d send a footman up to ask Emma to bring the children down when they were ready for a walk. It would be best if he kept the relationship more formal. Not emotionally intimate. Friendly, polite, kind. It would be enough.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Since the sky held a very real threat of rain, Emma suggested that they restrict the walk to the square. Georgie had a slight sniffle, but Emma refrained from saying anything about that or Georgie’s tendency to catch cold, not wishing to spark a rebellion on Georgie’s part or give Harry any reason to tease. Harry was inclined to think the square very poor sport, but he subsided at a pointed look from Hunt.

  Emma winced mentally at the ease with which Hunt quelled Harry’s grumbles. She had been an idiot this morning. Hunt had been perfectly right to tell Georgie to leave. She had already spoken to Bessie about having a maid sleep in the same room as Georgie. And perhaps she might make sure the door from the corridor to her own room was locked at night. Then if Georgie did come down the worst she could do was knock. Or kick the door panels, Emma admitted to herself as she watched her daughter take her turn at throwing the ball and argue that she ought to have two turns because she couldn’t throw it as far, so it really wasn’t fair...

  Hunt was nipping that in the bud before Harry could, when Emma saw two familiar figures entering the square. The Countess of Cambourne was warmly and stylishly dressed in a deep blue pelisse with a white-velvet muff and a very pretty bonnet. She came across the wintery grass with a shy smile, accompanied by her brother.

  ‘Good morning. James is sequestered in his library, but he saw you out here and sent a message up to me. Do you mind our joining you?’

  ‘I’m delighted.’ Emma smiled at the younger woman. Despite the difference in their ages, this was someone she could be friends with.

  Fergus charged up, tail whirling, and dropped his ball at Lady Cambourne’s feet.

  The Countess laughed. ‘Thank you, Fergus, but I think it is Harry’s turn.’

  Harry, hard on the dog’s heels, promptly picked up the ball and bowed to the Countess. ‘Good morning, ma’am.’ He looked shyly at Fitch, who put out his hand with a gruff mutter and the two boys shook hands with excruciating formality.

  ‘Good morning, Harry.’ Lady Cambourne glanced at her brother. ‘Fitch, make your bow to Lady Huntercombe.’

  The boy bowed, with a charming, lopsided smile. ‘Good morning, ma’am.’

  Emma smiled at him. ‘How nice to see you again, Fitch. Are you going to join Harry and the others?’

  He looked questioningly at his sister, who smiled. ‘Off you go. You can’t possibly imagine that I need your escort in the middle of Grosvenor Square whatever James says.’

  She turned back to Emma as the boys rushed off with the dog. ‘Harry is very like you.’

  ‘He is,’ Emma said, ‘Thank you for bringing your brother. I’m glad for Harry and Georgie to make a new friend.’

  Lady Cambourne’s smile lit her face. ‘Fitch has not said much, but I think he was quite eager to meet Harry again. He’s rather overwhelmed by most of the boys that he meets.’

  Emma couldn’t imagine why. The boy seemed very much in command of himself. ‘Shall we walk?’

  As they did so it became apparent to Emma that her companion, despite her charm and rank, was as uncertain of her welcome in society as Emma herself. Despite this there was a sweetness about the Countess that appealed to Emma. Her approval of Hunt’s marriage was touching.

  ‘He was so kind last year when I married Cambourne. It is lovely to see him happy with you.’

  Was he happy? She hoped so.

  * * *

  With the boys thoroughly occupied, Hunt went to join the ladies, Georgie at his side. An unexpected fit of shyness had assailed her with Fitch’s appearance. She hurried to Emma and clutched her hand, gazing up at Lucy as if she wasn’t quite sure she liked her. Hunt eyed her narrowly, but said nothing.

  ‘Lucy.’ He doffed his hat, bowing to Lucy. ‘James is well? And you?’

  Lucy’s smile lit her eyes and, not for the first time, Hunt saw exactly what had attracted his friend. He had been inclined to disapprove of James’s choice at first, but the more he saw of Lucy the more he liked her. And this morning she positively glowed.

  ‘Yes, he’s well. And I am very well, too.’

  ‘From what James said the other day I thought you might have left town already.’

  She nodded. ‘We’re returning to Chiswick tomorrow.’ She turned to Emma. ‘Cambourne has a house there. He needs to be here for Parliament, but he thinks it is better for Fitch to be out there.’ Her shy smile beamed. ‘And he says the air is better for me. So he is going to ride back and forth. We only came in because I had a little shopping to do.’ And for some reason she blushed.

  Hunt hid a smile. James had been perfectly happy for Lucy to be in town for Parliament last November and for the spring session this year. He could think of one reason as to why the Countess might be glowing and why a loving husband might think the fresher air of Chiswick better for his young wife. A pang went through him. Would he soon be thinking that fresh country air would be better for Emma?

  Lucy glanced to where Fitch and Harry were throwing the ball back and forth, with Fergus rushing between them. ‘We were going to leave yesterday, but we wouldn’t have missed your wedding for any consideration. Will you be staying very long in town?’

  Emma glanced at Hunt. ‘Huntercombe needs to be here for Parliament. And I need to shop.’ She gestured to her walking gown with a grimace. ‘As you may see. We barely scratched the surface the other day.’

  Hunt suppressed a growl. Although neat, the gown was years out of fashion and had all the look of genteel poverty. Another thing to lay at Keswick’s door—Emma had been given no time to outfit herself before they married. Letty and Caroline had been more than vocal on the subject yesterday although Emma’s wedding dress had been all that it should be.

  Lucy smiled. ‘I thought you would have a great deal of shopping to do. I did, too, last year. Would you like to come with me again this afternoon? I have a few more things to order before we leave tomorrow and it’s always nicer to shop with a friend.’ She flushed. ‘If you don’t think I am being forward?’

  ‘Oh, that would be—’

  ‘You can’t, Mama.’ Georgie’s objection cut across Emma’s reply. ‘You have to take me to Chelsea to find Anna Maria.’

  ‘Georgie!’ The glare Emma shot at the child would have made a charging bull reconsider, but Georgie glared right back.

  Hunt opened his mouth to back Emma up and closed it. Emma had not appreciated what she had called interference this morning. Granted he had not intended it that way, but he needed to step carefully here.

  ‘That was extraordinarily rude, Georgie. Apologise, please.’

  Georgie scowled. ‘Well, you did say we could go and I asked first!’

  Emma took an audible breath. ‘I did not say when we would go. We can do that tomorrow. Lady Cambourne is leaving London tomorrow, so—’

  ‘But I want to go now, Mama! You promised!’

  Again Hunt bit his tongue.

  ‘Georgie, I said we’d go and look for Anna Maria when we were sure she was not here. We will go tomorrow. In the meantime you may have a good look with Bessie to make sure she is not here hiding from you.’

  ‘But, Mama—’

  ‘No, Georgie. I am going out with Lady Cambourne.’

  Georgie stopped dead, tugging her hand free of Emma’s and stamping her foot. ‘Then one of the servants can take me!’

  That did it. Hunt’s restraint snapped. ‘No.’ He bent his sternest look on his stepdaughter. ‘The servants have enough work to do. Your mama has said she will take you tomorrow, but even that will depend on how well you can behave yourself.’

  ‘Mama said
!’

  ‘Hunt—’

  ‘Your mama said no. And now, I have said it as well.’ He would not stand back and let Emma bear the brunt alone when the child was having a tantrum in the square. ‘You will apologise to Lady Cambourne for rudeness at once.’

  ‘Won’t!’ Another stamp of a small foot.

  ‘Very well.’ Hunt scooped the child up under his arm and, ignoring the shrieks and struggles, headed for the gate out of the square.

  ‘Hunt!’ Emma was at his side, breathless. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Taking her home. You stay with Lucy and the boys.’

  * * *

  By the time Hunt reached the nursery Georgie’s fury had subsided to angry sobs. He opened the door, stalked in and deposited her on her bottom in the middle of the floor.

  ‘Miss Georgie!’ Bessie hurried out of the next room and fixed the child with a glare. ‘Have you been naughty?’

  ‘Mama promised!’

  ‘Listen to me, Georgie.’ Hunt’s tone had the child turning to him. ‘If you were a boy I’d spank you for a performance like that. But you aren’t. You will go to bed now and stay there until your mother returns from her shopping when you may apologise to her for your rudeness. Also, when Harry and I walk Fergus tomorrow morning, you will write an apology to the Countess.’

  Expression mutinous, Georgie opened her mouth, but Hunt forestalled her. ‘Until both apologies are made there will be no walks with Fergus and your mama will not take you to find your doll. Bed. Now.’

  Georgie’s jaw dropped and she seemed to regain control of herself. Hunt raised his brows...

  ‘But I didn’t mean to be rude, Uncle Hunt.’ A wheedling tone, the merest hint of a quivering lip and brimming eyes. Hunt remembered another small girl, pulled up for rudeness, trying exactly the same ploy with him. And gave Georgie exactly the same answer.

  ‘Yes, you did. Bed.’

  For a moment Georgie stared at him. Then, incipient tears miraculously dried and replaced with a ferocious scowl, she obeyed. The bedroom door banged behind her.

  Hunt turned to Bessie. ‘See she stays there.’

  ‘Yes, m’lord.’

  Hunt found Emma in her dressing room, half in and half out of a pelisse. Good. She was going with Lucy. He had been half-afraid she would not and that even if Georgie did not get her own way, she would win by default in stopping Emma going out.

  She swung around, her face pale. ‘Did you spank her?’

  He blinked. ‘Of course not! I sent her to bed to contemplate her sins.’ The distress in her face stabbed at him and he went to her, caught her hands in his. ‘Emma, she’s a little girl, of course I didn’t spank her. Although I did tell her I would have if she’d been a boy. She just needed to know that she couldn’t give orders like that and expect you to give in.’

  Emma’s hands trembled in his. ‘You must think me an appalling mother if you thought I would have given in.’

  Ah. So that was it. And he’d nearly said something this morning about children being obedient if properly raised. A foolish thing to say. Children, well raised or otherwise, were all capable of disobedience.

  He drew her close, raised her hands to his lips. ‘No, sweetheart. I don’t think any such thing. And I did not think you would give in to her. But I couldn’t stand back while she was rude to you. That would let her think I didn’t mind. And don’t you think it will be easier for you if she understands that there are two of us now?’

  A smile quivered on her lips. ‘Much easier. You were right to send her away this morning. I am sorry I—’

  ‘And you were right to remind me that she is only a child and that this is all very new and strange for her.’ He bent, brushed his mouth over hers. ‘Don’t worry too much, Emma. You don’t have to do it all any more. She will be ready to apologise by the time you come home. Then tomorrow while Harry and I walk Fergus, she is going to write an apology to Lucy. Where is Harry, by the way?’

  Emma let out a breath. ‘He went with Fitch. Lucy suggested it. She’s waiting in the drawing room. So you think I should go out?’

  ‘From Georgie’s perspective, yes,’ he said. ‘From my own point of view—’ He lowered his mouth to hers, nipped at that lush bottom lip and soothed it with his tongue. His whole body hardened. ‘I’d much rather you stayed home. I was going to make you an apology this morning when we were interrupted.’

  ‘An apology?’

  ‘Mmm.’ He drew her into his arms, feathered kisses over her temple, down the silken curve of her cheek and jaw to the dancing pulse in her throat. ‘For my clumsiness last night. I warn you now, it’s likely to be a very lengthy apology. This time I won’t let you rush me.’

  ‘Oh.’ A small, wicked smile curved her mouth. ‘That sort of apology. Will you write it out in your best handwriting?’

  He grinned. ‘Minx. Barclay’s hand is much better than mine and I’m certainly not going to dictate this to him.’

  * * *

  Lucy wriggled on the seat as the carriage pulled away from the curb.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Emma asked.

  The Countess turned slightly to look down at the back of the seat. ‘I’m sitting on something...ah!’ She pulled at something caught down between the squabs and the seat. ‘Look!’

  ‘Well, for goodness sake!’ Emma stared at the bedraggled doll. ‘That’s Anna Maria.’

  ‘I thought it might be.’ Lucy considered the doll. ‘Do you want to take her up to Georgie now?’

  Emma hesitated. It would only take a moment, but—‘No. Hunt was right to send her to bed, and if she gets Anna Maria back now it would be like a reward for naughtiness. She may have Anna Maria tomorrow. After she has written her apology to you.’

  She sat the doll between them. ‘Anna Maria can come shopping with us instead.’

  Lucy smiled. ‘I hope I am going to be as good a mama as you are.’ Her hand went unconsciously to her stomach.

  Emma looked at her with a questioning smile and Lucy blushed, nodding. ‘Congratulations. Is Lord Cambourne pleased?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Lucy said. ‘That is why we’re going out to Chiswick. And it’s better for my brother out there.’ Her smile flashed. ‘Believe me, Georgie isn’t the only one who can set a household by the ears!’

  * * *

  Georgie scrambled into bed without getting undressed. She didn’t care if her clothes got crumpled from being in bed. It wasn’t fair! She hadn’t really meant to be rude. At least, she had, but not to Lady Cambourne. And it wasn’t Uncle Hunt’s business anyway, was it? A very inconvenient little voice whispered that maybe it was Uncle Hunt’s business now, but she ignored that. It still wasn’t fair. Now she had to stay in stupid bed for hours. She had been shopping with Mama and Lady Cambourne on the day before the wedding and it had taken ages. And simply anything might happen to poor Anna Maria all alone out at Chelsea. What if someone stole her?

  The door opened and Bessie looked in. ‘Good. You’re in bed. Now you think about what his lordship said like a good girl. All that fuss over a doll! Why, I wouldn’t be surprised if her ladyship didn’t take you tomorrow neither!’

  Georgie’s lip quivered and she dived under the bedclothes to hide the rush of tears. It wasn’t fair! She heard the door close and emerged cautiously. She really had been naughty. So perhaps Mama wouldn’t take her tomorrow and Anna Maria might be lost for ever... But it wasn’t that far to Chelsea. They had walked to Hatchard’s every week...

  * * *

  Two hours after sending Georgie to bed, Hunt leaned back in his desk chair. ‘You’re happy with that, William?’ He hated making Parliamentary speeches, but he must say something about the war with France. He was very much afraid they were in for a long and costly struggle. No matter what his friend Fox thought, Bonaparte’s ambitions worried him.

  Barclay nodded. ‘Yes, sir. Very c
lear and to the point. I believe it strikes just the right note.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it,’ Hunt said. The whole time he’d been dictating the speech, he’d been thinking about dictating a certain apology. He wasn’t quite sure how his secretary might have reacted if any of that had slipped out.

  Barclay set his pen back in its holder. ‘Will there be anything else, sir?’

  Hunt frowned at his diary, scanning the next couple of days. One appointment leaped out at him. ‘Yes. That engagement with Kendall for tomorrow morning—’

  He broke off as the door swung open and Harry burst in. ‘Uncle Hunt!’ He charged across the room, nearly tripping over the Turkey carpet. Fergus leapt from the hearth and trotted to meet him.

  Hunt rose. A father figure, yes. A kindly one. But there were limits and his stepchildren were trying them severely today. ‘Harry—’

  ‘Sir!’ Harry slid to a halt in front of the desk, breathless and scarlet, not even glancing at the dog. ‘I’m awfully sorry, but we’ve lost Georgie!’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hunt, with Barclay, Bentham, Harry and a terrified Bessie, stared at the side door used by the servants and deliveries.

  ‘How the devil did she even know about this door?’ he demanded.

  Harry looked ashamed. ‘We were playing hide and seek yesterday. Exploring, you know, after the wedding. And we wondered where it led...’ He trailed off, very red, then continued. ‘But we only peeped out, I promise.’

  Hunt cleared his throat. ‘Very well. You opened it then. But it’s usually bolted. Top and bottom. You might have reached the top bolt, but how did she reach it?’ It wasn’t bolted at all right now.

  Bentham spoke. ‘As to that, my lord, the top bolt is only shot at night now.’ He looked upset. ‘During the day...well, it’s been a long time since there were children in the house.’

  Hunt grimaced. Over the years since his own children’s deaths, some of the protocols observed to keep them out of mischief would have been relaxed. Like this door.

  He put that aside. Georgie’s whereabouts were more important and the door would be bolted from now on without him saying a word. ‘So where the hell has she gone?’