Lady August

by Becky Michaels

  “You will have to work on rescheduling these,” Brooks said, reviewing the list Jenkins provided as the butler tied his cravat, annoyed he missed so many clients. “And I’m afraid you will have to do the same with my afternoon appointments as well. I will keep my morning ones, but I am to call on Lady Ramsbury at her Park Street mansion this afternoon.”

  “Shall I send a note ahead of time?” Jenkins asked.

  Brooks sighed, nodding. “Tell her I’ll be there at half past three.”

  “And what of Lady August?”

  Brooks hoped Jenkins didn’t notice the way he twitched at the mention of her name. “My mother agreed to occupy her for the day. Make sure you set an extra place for her in the dining room this morning. They will take their breakfast together.”

  “And you?”

  Brooks looked at his butler, annoyed. “I will have my breakfast in my office as I always do.”

  Later that morning, he struggled to focus on his meetings and papers, too busy wondering what August and his mother were doing upstairs. He hoped they were getting along, but he didn’t want his mother to encourage August to develop any sort of attachment to him. Brooks had already decided not to see any more of her after bringing her to Park Street. Of course, that should be easy enough since he avoided most social gatherings.

  When he finally rose from his desk at three, he was eager to speak to the dowager duchess. The day was sunny, so Brooks decided to walk to Lady Ramsbury’s home, which was less than a mile away, hoping the exercise would calm his rising nerves.

  The dowager duchess lived in a mansion made of white stone, at least four times the size of his home on Dover Street. Lady Ramsbury’s late husband had provided handsomely for his wife in his will. He left his title and country estate to his nephew, of course, but the London mansion was hers, along with a large sum of money that would keep her wealthy until her very last days on Earth. The woman was lucky; some widows, like his mother, Mrs. Jennings, and even Lady Bolton, received nothing, forced to depend on others’ kindness.

  Instead, the Dowager Duchess of Ramsbury continued to live a lavish life long after her husband died, surrounded by suitors as if she were a diamond of the first water and not an aging widow. Still, men frequently settled for her company in bed instead of an engagement, proving her looks were just as tempting as her riches. When Brooks arrived at half past three, he quickly discovered that he was not the only man Lady Ramsbury was entertaining that afternoon.

  The dowager duchess sat at the grand pianoforte by the window, playing a song Brooks recognized to be one of Schubert’s compositions. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed to feel each key with her entire body instead of merely pressing them. Music filled the room, and Brooks watched as the men—young and old, some he even knew to be married—appeared enraptured by her.

  Truthfully, he thought them all rather pathetic. Everyone knew Lady Ramsbury would not marry again, not after her husband had been dead for fifteen years now. He wondered if she enjoyed toying with them, seeing as how not many women had the opportunity to make men bend to their every will without ever having to worry about depending on them.

  When the song was over, Lady Ramsbury opened her eyes, and the entire room applauded. Even Brooks politely clapped, though he could not yell “Bravo!” like one of the gentlemen in the room did. He rolled his eyes, feeling downright embarrassed for the man, so clearly smitten with a woman who would never care about him the same way.

  Lady Ramsbury rose from her seat at the pianoforte, her eyes meeting his before addressing the rest of the men. “I’m afraid we must end the concert early, gentlemen,” she said, her words met with immediate groans from her audience. “I must have a private meeting with my solicitor, Mr. Brooks.”

  None of them had noticed him enter, but they all turned and looked at him now, their eyes like daggers. “It should not take long,” he said, eager to assuage any fears before they turned into vicious rumors about him and Lady Ramsbury. “I’m sure Lady Ramsbury would be happy to continue playing for you in a half hour.”

  They all turned and looked at her.

  “Of course,” she agreed, though Brooks thought she sounded exhausted. Her reassurance that the concert would continue was enough to make them leave, each man bidding their private farewells to the dowager duchess before walking out of the room. As they passed Brooks, their glares did not escape his notice.

  When they had all left, Lady Ramsbury sighed and smiled at him, sitting down in one of the armchairs and ringing the handbell on the table beside her. A footman entered, and she asked for a fresh tray of tea. After he left, she pointed to the settee beside her chair.

  “Sit,” she said. Brooks did as she asked, moving his mouth to speak once he was beside her, but she interrupted him before he could say a word. “Where is my niece?”

  “She is at Dover Street. I wanted to speak to you before—”

  But Lady Ramsbury didn’t let him finish. “Why are you holding my niece hostage from me?”

  Brooks did not feel nervous often, but now he faltered. The dowager duchess could be mighty intimidating when she wanted to be. “What? I am doing no such thing!”

  “A courier delivered a missive from Charles yesterday,” she said calmly, lifting her elegant chin as she regarded him with sharp hazel eyes. “He related the whole unfortunate story in his letter, pleading with me to be the girl’s guardian until she married. He also told me my brother wanted her to be out in society.”

  She paused for a moment, still staring at Brooks. Her tone became irritated. “Did you think I would reject such a call to service? Is that why you brought her to your home on Dover Street instead of here? As far as I can tell from my nephew’s letter, that was never part of the plan. I’m assuming you made that decision yourself.”

  Brooks matched her irritated tone with one of his own. “As I started to say earlier, I wanted to speak to you before I brought her here.” He thought of the crowd of gentlemen that just filed out of her drawing room. “The scene I walked into this afternoon should be enough explanation as to why. We arrived late last night. How could I know what was occurring here at such an hour?”

  She glared at him. The wrinkles on her forehead and the corners of her narrowing eyes were the only evidence that she was an aging woman. Meanwhile, Brooks prepared himself for a harsh retort. “You are worried what my adoring fans might do to her, yet you do not care at all what having her stay at your home will do to her reputation.”

  Brooks scoffed. “I am her father’s solicitor, and I live with my mother. I do not like what you are insinuating.”

  “You also traveled alone with her for many hours, leaving me to wonder if she is compromised already, making her chances of a good match very slim.”

  “I have not compromised her,” he said with a groan. He didn’t mention what August told him in the drawing room at Linfield; that would be their secret. “What has made you all high and mighty? You know I am not some sort of scoundrel.”

  “But I suppose I am.”

  He sighed, and she watched him with a critical gaze. Brooks had not come here to argue with Lady Ramsbury. He had come there to ensure she would protect August—nothing more, nothing less.

  “I only wanted to make sure you were up for the task before I delivered her here directly, especially after seeing her brother and Lady Bolton’s behavior at Linfield,” Brooks explained as calmly as he could. “Aside from Rosamund, she has not seen much affection from her family. She also knows very little of our world here in Mayfair. You must teach her before you take her to a party.”

  Lady Ramsbury scoffed. “I know that.”

  But Brooks still wasn’t sure. “She needs someone to protect her and show her the ways of the ton. They may turn a blind eye to your behavior due to your title and wealth, but August is still the illegitimate child of an earl with no knowledge of who her mother is.” Lady Ramsbury winced slightly. Brooks wasn’t the only one who knew the risks of introducing someone like August i
nto polite society. “Anyone might use that against her. I am sorry for doubting you, but I hope you can understand my concern and why I need to know you’ll take this seriously.”

  “I think you’ll take it seriously enough for the both of us,” she drawled, looking at Brooks with a slight smile all of a sudden. “If I didn’t know you any better, I would think you were in love with the girl. Your passionate concern for her well-being is evidence enough. Are you sure you don’t want to marry her yourself?”

  Brooks stiffened. “Certainly not. If I have your word that you will not lead her to ruin, I will bring her to you before dinnertime.”

  Lady Ramsbury studied him carefully, as if she was trying to discern something about him. He fidgeted in his seat, uncomfortable under her intense gaze. “Did you know I always wanted a child?” she finally asked.

  He shook his head. How could he have? One did not partake in such personal conversations with members of the ton. Everything was about appearances to these people. But she nodded, her gaze softening. “I have—always. Unfortunately, it’s never been a possibility for me, which is probably why I never bothered remarrying.”

  They sat in silence as Brooks realized what she was saying. He very nearly apologized, but Lady Ramsbury cleared her throat and spoke in a resolute tone. “I will protect her. Whether she’s legitimate or illegitimate, she’s still my blood, as much as Rosamund and Charles are. I think having her here will give me a new sense of purpose, and truthfully, I could use a break from the gaggle of men that come here every afternoon.”

  Brooks raised his brow. “But your adoring fans—”

  “Oh, be quiet,” she said, though Brooks noticed a slight smile playing at her lips. “I am having a dinner party tonight. Why don’t you and your mother come with August?”

  Just as he was beginning to think Lady Ramsbury could handle a young girl’s introduction into society, his heart fell into his stomach. “A dinner party?” he asked, shaking his head. “Tonight? It’s much too soon.”

  “You cannot keep her to yourself forever, Mr. Brooks, as much as I can tell you would like to,” she said. He tried to defend himself, but she continued before he could. “If you attempt to be sociable tonight for the girl’s sake, perhaps I might consider you as one of her potential suitors.”

  “You misunderstand. I do not want to be August’s suitor. I only want—”

  “That’s quite enough, Brooks,” Lady Ramsbury said with a laugh as the footman returned with a tea tray. “You will give yourself away if you protest too much.”

  Brooks shot her a sullen stare. Meanwhile, the footman placed the tea tray on the small table beside the dowager duchess. “Shall I pour for you?” she asked.

  “No,” Brooks said, annoyed as he stood up. “I should return to Dover Street. This girl has taken me away from my business for much too long, so I shall be delighted to bring her here tonight, dinner party or not. After that, you will see no more of me, so do not worry about putting me on your list of potential suitors.”

  Lady Ramsbury seemed amused by his declarations, despite the stern look he gave her. Marrying August was the furthest thing from his mind, no matter what his mother or Lady Ramsbury said. He would attend the dinner party, ensure Lady Ramsbury was an appropriate guardian for August, and then return to his everyday life, washing his hands of the situation for good.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Earlier that morning, a maid woke August. She lifted her hands above her and stretched as the woman went to the front of the room, pulling open the curtains. Light poured in, and August squinted. How late had she slept?

  “What time is it?” she asked the maid.

  “Nine o’clock, my lady,” the middle-aged woman replied. August’s eyebrows shot up, feeling surprised. She could not remember the last time she slept so late. “The missus asked me to help you bathe and dress. You’ll have breakfast with her at ten.”

  The missus must have been Mrs. Brooks. She was eager to meet Brooks’s mother and happily got ready, hoping the woman was friendly. August would have liked to know who this mysterious Lucy was after she just slept in her bedroom, but Brooks was acting much too guarded last night to ask him. She hoped his mother would explain.

  She had noticed a few things about the room that hinted a young girl once inhabited it. First, a collection of dolls sat along on top of one of the window seats overlooking the street below. Someone had turned them to face the window as if they were watching the people and carriages go down the road.

  Next, there was a miniature in a heart-shaped frame on her bedside table. The likeness was a young man with red hair, a prominent nose, and sharp blue eyes. August wondered who he could be if not this mysterious Lucy’s sweetheart. She would have liked to have known his name and what happened to him. Perhaps Lucy was with him now.

  After being scrubbed clean, the maid opened the cherry-colored wardrobe and pulled out a lavender frock from inside. August held her hands up in protest. “I do not need to borrow any clothes,” she said before gesturing toward her trunk at the foot of the bed. “I’m sure I have something clean to wear in there.”

  The maid stared at her, still holding the same lavender day dress. “The missus insisted. She said Miss Lucy’s clothes would fit you perfectly.”

  “But she’s never even seen me,” August blurted.

  The woman blinked, unperturbed. “I will make it work,” she said, almost defensively.

  August sighed. “Oh, very well.”

  The maid smiled, walking toward her with the dress, which was much nicer than anything August had ever owned. “Before you put that on me, could you tell me who Miss Lucy is?” she asked.

  “The master’s sister, of course,” the maid replied, looking at August as if she were stupid.

  “Right,” August said, nodding. “I knew that.”

  Finally dressed, the maid escorted August to the dining room on the second floor. The room was modest compared to Linfield Hall, with a table that only sat eight instead of double that amount. Mrs. Brooks sat waiting for her at the end of the table, opposite the room’s entrance. She looked up when she heard them enter, her face brightening when she saw August.

  “There you are!” she said happily. Mrs. Brooks was a pretty woman in her late forties, and August immediately recognized her nose and chin as similar to her son’s. Her hair and eyes, though, were much darker than the solicitor’s. She gestured to the seat across from her. “Please, sit. I was hoping you would be down soon.”

  “I am so sorry if you have been waiting long,” August said, walking quickly toward her seat at the table. A young man dressed in livery pulled it out for her, and she sat down. “I do not normally sleep so late, but I must have been tired. It has been a long few days of traveling.”

  Mrs. Brooks smiled kindly at her as two footmen served them breakfast. “I have not been waiting long,” Mrs. Brooks reassured her. “We typically do not eat until ten here.”

  August looked around the room, wondering where Brooks was. “Does Mr. Brooks ever eat breakfast with you?” she asked.

  “He will before we go to church on Sundays, but never in the middle of the week. He usually rises early to get some work done before his appointments that day, taking his breakfast in his study.”

  August nodded, unsurprised. “Although I haven’t been acquainted with your son long, if there’s one thing I have learned about him, it’s that he takes his work very seriously—and that he much prefers being alone.”

  The older woman laughed. “Indeed, though I do hope he was not too much of a bore during your travels.”

  “No, of course not! He has been extremely helpful in guiding me through this…” August searched for the right word. “This situation over the past few days.”

  When the footmen finished serving them, August looked down at her plate to find generous portions of eggs and bacon, plus a slice of plum cake. “Oh, this looks wonderful!” she told Mrs. Brooks.

  “I’ll give your compliments to our co
ok,” the older woman replied, smiling. For a moment, it was silent except for the clinking of utensils and plates. “Was your room last night satisfactory as well?”

  August looked up, meeting Mrs. Brooks’s gaze. Slowly, the younger woman put down her knife and fork and nodded, knowing this was her chance to ask about Lucy.

  “Yes,” she replied before gesturing toward the lavender dress that she wore. “It is very kind of you to let me stay in your daughter’s room and wear one of her dresses. Hopefully, my aunt will agree to my brother’s scheme and take me shopping soon. In the meantime, you’ll have to thank Lucy for me the next time you write her.”

  The older woman’s face fell. August’s eyes immediately widened when she realized she had said something wrong. She glanced at the footmen, hoping for some sort of hint as to what it was, but they remained stone-faced. “Did my son not tell you?” Mrs. Brooks asked.

  August shook her head wildly. “N-no.”

  The woman sighed. “My daughter Lucy passed away last year.”

  August watched as Mrs. Brooks looked down at her plate. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Brooks. I had no idea.”

  Mrs. Brooks looked back up at her, the woman’s kind smile returning. “Do not worry about it, my dear. I am not surprised Samuel did not say anything to you. He does not like to talk about it.”

  August furrowed her brow. “How did she die?” she asked.

  Mrs. Brooks’s kind smile started to fade, and August realized right away that she had been much too bold with her question. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. That is none of my business.”

  “A long illness took her, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Brooks said, providing no more detail than that. August nodded, thinking of her father. How terrible that a young woman might die of the same thing before she even had the chance to live!