British Brides Collection

by Hake, Kelly Eileen

  “Arabella Poffington.” His sister spoke the foul name in a single breath, as though getting it over with quickly would diminish the horror of it.

  Arabella Poffington. She was, in a word, a menace.

  “And …” Emma gulped. “Her father and brother.”

  “A title doesn’t make a man a gentleman!” Despite his resolve to keep a cool head, Stephen’s temper got the better of him. “I can’t believe I have to spend so much time with people like that. It’s such a waste, and all for the sake of appearances. Who cares? The library …”

  Chapter 2

  Paige didn’t need to hear another word. She’d wandered down to sneak a peek at the library and had heard far more than she’d anticipated.

  “I can’t believe I have to spend so much time with people like that….” The words rang in her ears as she hurried back to her room on the fourth floor. Obviously, the earl was more than slightly peeved that he’d have to rub shoulders with commoners such as her father.

  The man exemplified the vanity of his class. That type of thinking prompted her grandparents to disown her mother! How dare he judge her father without having so much as met him? Lord Freddy had urged them to take this commission, citing the new earl’s love of books and lack of pomposity. Perhaps the earl was only judgmental of those from other stations.

  Lord, she prayed, I know I tend to believe the worst about those with titles, but I’ve just heard that the earl holds us in disdain! The condemnation in his tone angers me. How can I look past words overheard when I loathe all he said? Help me to be strong, God, and not ruin all Papa has worked for. Amen.

  Early the next morning, Stephen sought the solace of his library. After a dinner full of gossip, titters, innuendo, and barely veiled animosity among some of the guests, he’d gratefully retired to bed last night only to have his sleep filled with nightmares of harpies—whose faces looked suspiciously like Arabella Poffington’s—chasing him with rings.

  As he strode toward his desk, the swish of a skirt caught his attention. Not again! It wouldn’t be the first time a fortune-hunter had tracked him into an empty room to claim she’d been compromised in order to force an engagement. Drusilla Dalrumple’s attempt two months ago had been the last. Unfortunately, retreat was the only option to avoid the trap.

  Before her partner could burst in and raise the cry, he executed a hasty about-face to quit the room, only to run into his sister.

  “Good morning, Stephen! I knew I’d find you here. I wanted to know why I haven’t met Mr. Turner yet. I know he and his assistant arrived, but they weren’t present for dinner last night.”

  Stephen heard her voice trail off as he paced toward the bookcase where his would-be fiancée hid. Now that his sister’s presence gave legitimacy to the scene, he could confront the schemer.

  “What are you doing here?” As she came into view, he realized he’d made a tactical error. This pigeon presented no threat. Her gray dress proclaimed her a servant. Was he suffering from paranoia, that he would suspect a maid of nefarious schemes? Servants were trained to be invisible, and he’d all but yelled at the poor girl. She turned, and he caught a flash in her stormy gray eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I mistook you for someone else.” The apology sounded lame as he found himself caught in her gaze. The anger that blazed but a moment ago faded into politeness, but he fancied he could still detect a trace of it. Why was she in here? The fire would have been lit hours ago, and he’d already overseen a full-scale cleaning of this room in preparation for the library renovation. Perhaps one of his guests sent their personal maid to check up on him. He couldn’t very well interrogate her now, not after barking at her scant moments before.

  “Oh,” Emma interrupted, coming up behind him. “Did you suspect an intruder, Stephen?”

  He nodded briefly, watching the maid’s face for signs of subterfuge as his sister added kindly, “I haven’t seen you before; you must be new. What’s your name?”

  “Paige Turner.” The woman curtseyed. “Sorry to disturb you, milord, milady. I didn’t think anyone would be here so early.”

  “Turner? Are you any relation of Samuel Turner?” It couldn’t be. Of course, a book restorer would name his daughter Paige Turner. He appreciated the clever play on words, but it faded behind the truth he would be faced with another female. Surely Freddy would have warned him.

  “Stephen, you didn’t tell me his daughter served as his assistant!” Emma laughed. “Lord Freddy thinks so highly of you, and we’ve been looking forward to having you and your father look at our library, haven’t we, Stephen?”

  Grateful his sister stepped in to smooth the situation, he bowed. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Turner. I regret that I was unable to greet you last evening. I trust your journey went well?”

  “Yes, thank you, milord. I apologize. Lord Linbrooke mentioned how extensive your collection is, and I couldn’t resist a quick peek.”

  Well, well, Miss Turner has an independent streak, as well as an obvious enthusiasm for her work. If she gets past my abominable manners, the next few weeks in the library might well prove more interesting than I’d expected.

  “What’s your professional opinion, Miss Turner?” The words weren’t mere courtesy; he genuinely wanted to know.

  She turned her head, and her expression softened as she took in her surroundings. “From what I’ve seen, the collection is impressive and in fair condition. You have every right to be proud of it, and it will be a pleasure finding ways to properly display it.”

  Her sincerity touched him. He respected that she hadn’t merely flattered his books but had given an honest appraisal that work needed to be done to do them justice.

  “Has your father risen yet, Miss Turner?” Emma’s voice broke in. “I’d love to meet him.”

  “Yes.” Miss Turner’s eyes clouded over again, and he wondered why. “If you’d like, I’ll go fetch him.”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll just ring someone to request that he join us.” He pulled the cord, and a maid hurried into the room.

  She curtseyed. “You called, your grace?”

  “Please ask Mr. Turner to join us. You’ll find him in the Blue Suite on the third floor.” The maid looked distinctly uncomfortable.

  “Is there something wrong, Mattie?”

  “Um … forgive my impertinence, milord, but Miss Poffington has settled into the Blue Suite. She claimed it yesterday, saying it’s where she stayed in the past. I promise she’s still there, milord. I lit the fire in that suite earlier this morning.”

  Stephen turned to Miss Turner. “I’m sorry the arrangements were altered without my knowledge, Miss Turner. Would you point Mattie in the right direction?”

  “He’ll be on the fourth floor, second room on the right-hand side of the east wing.” She smiled warmly at the maid. “Thank you.”

  Stephen was sure Emma’s frown mirrored his own. The fourth floor was much too far for an older gentleman to travel every day. The library was on the first!

  “A mistake has been made. If it won’t disturb you and your father, I’d like to move you closer to the library.” Upon her nod, he added, “Mattie, is the Green Suite on the second floor available?”

  “I believe so, milord. I’ll see to it.” Mattie curtseyed and left the room.

  A few moments later, Samuel Turner entered the library and dipped his head. “Good morning, milord.”

  “Good morning, Mr. Turner. It’s come to my attention that you were placed in the wrong quarters. I apologize for the oversight.”

  “Quite all right, milord. There was nothing wrong with the rooms we were given.”

  “I beg to differ, Mr. Turner. I trust you will find your new arrangements more comfortable and conveniently close to the library.”

  “Thank you, milord. I see you’ve already met my daughter.”

  “Indeed. May I present my sister, Miss Emma.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Miss Emma.”

  “And you.” Emma curtsey
ed. “I’m afraid I’ll have to be off. Mother will be wanting me. Things are so hectic, what with the unexpected houseguests who also arrived yesterday. I’m sure I’ll see you both at luncheon, so I’ll leave you to your business.”

  Chapter 3

  Paige watched the earl’s sister leave with regret. The young woman was unaffected and sincere, a refreshing contrast to the earl.

  From the snippet of conversation she’d heard last night, Paige had thought he’d be older. This man’s discerning gaze took her aback. Even more disconcerting was her own dismay that he’d thought her a maid. The Earl of Pemberton was a walking contradiction—self-absorbed and careless with the feelings of those of lower station, yet polite and concerned for the welfare of his library and her father. Which was reality and which the facade? Even now, as her thoughts roiled back and forth, he led her father to what was surely the most comfortable chair in the room and began enthusiastically discussing the library.

  As the next few hours passed with the three of them exchanging ideas and information, Paige decided she must have been mistaken. After all, she’d only overheard the middle of a conversation, and it was the earl’s right to question any strangers who wandered around his home. Besides, he treated her father with respect, and there was no denying the enthusiasm lighting his features as he spoke of his books.

  Before they’d even looked over most of the extensive library or taken stock of the more valuable pieces, the butler regally announced luncheon.

  Paige smiled at the butler. “Where is the kitchen?”

  “You misunderstand,” the earl clipped in an affronted tone. “Did you eat with the servants at Lord Linbrooke’s?”

  “No, milord. Lord Linbrooke was most welcoming, but he wasn’t formally entertaining a house full of guests at the time.” Paige quickly realized her mistake and tried to rectify it. It wasn’t as though the assumption was unwarranted. They had been hired to complete a project, not to attend a house party.

  “You are to eat with the rest of the guests and family.” His smile erased all doubts. “Be assured your company will only add to the quality of our table.”

  “Thank you. We’d be pleased to join you,” Papa agreed.

  “No, Papa,” she whispered in protest as her father whisked her out of the library. “Lord Freddy’s was one thing, with just his parents and aunt, but a whole room full of strangers? I didn’t bring anything to wear. Wait, I don’t own anything suitable to wear!” She knew she was babbling, but if she didn’t do something, she’d have to face a table of people looking down their collective aristocratic noses at her and her father at least twice a day for the duration of their visit.

  “Nonsense. Weren’t you telling me how there was nothing wrong with your wardrobe?” Her father trapped her neatly. “I don’t want you worrying. You’re just as good as anyone else, and I want you to remember it, Paige.”

  The earl led them to the dining room. It appeared as though almost everyone was already seated for a casual, buffet-style luncheon.

  A servant handed her a plate, and she stared blankly at the table filled with delicacies. Delicate steam wafted from various dishes, the tempting aromas of seasoned potatoes and succulent ham making her mouth water.

  “It all looks wonderful, doesn’t it?” The earl’s sister stood beside her and reached for a bun as Paige selected some fresh fruit, cheese, and sliced ham.

  “It certainly does, Miss Emma.” Faltering a bit as she looked at the long dining table, Paige was relieved to see her father already pulling out a chair for Emma, then gesturing to the one on his other side. Her father shot her an I-told-you-they-were-just-people-and-they-would-like-you grin as the earl took his seat at the head of the table—right next to Paige.

  She began to relax and took a bite of the ham, surveying the other guests. She’d already met the earl and his sister, and the dowager countess at the far end of the table seemed genial enough.

  The earl noticed her inspection and began a whispered list of the guests.

  “Miss Turner, you’ve already met my sister, Emma. The fellow to her left …” He nodded toward a rather rotund gentleman. “Is Sir Ruthbert, who accompanied his cousin, Miss Abercombe.” The bespectacled young lady, Paige noted with interest, wore gray.

  A soft voice to the earl’s right carried on the litany. “The next is Mr. Flitwit, Sir Ruthbert’s brother.” The woman gave a titter. “Such a shame he couldn’t pick a better hairpiece….”

  Paige was shocked to hear such venom come from such beauty. The speaker boasted golden hair teased into ringlets around a face blessed with sparkling hazel eyes and rosy cheeks. It brought to mind how just the Lord was to look within rather than upon outward appearances.

  “This, of course, is Miss Arabella Poffington,” the earl interjected grimly, “accompanied by her brother, Lord Arnold Poffington. Their father holds the place next to my mother at the end.” His dry tone left Paige no doubt he disapproved of the girl’s vicious remarks.

  Her brother, Lord Poffington, had the effrontery to peruse Paige through a quizzing glass, then drop it with a dismissive snort. Paige could see why her plain attire wouldn’t garner the approval of a gentleman dressed to the nines in canary yellow. Curious to see what sort of father raised children so lacking in manners, Paige saw a sallow man with a haughty expression. Well, that explains it, she thought uncharitably. Determined not to sink to the level of a snob, she asked, “And the kindly looking lady in purple?”

  “Lady Pertelote. She accompanies her granddaughters, the Misses Pertelote.” The Misses Pertelote were twins blessed with blue eyes and auburn hair. Paige couldn’t suppress a smile when she realized they were the only ones presented without their first name. Perhaps she wouldn’t be the only one who found it difficult to tell them apart.

  One of the twins caught her smile and gave a jaunty little wave before turning back to her grandmother. Overall, Paige decided, with the exception of the three Poffingtons, it looked to be a pleasant group.

  At that moment, Miss Poffington, apparently unused to being ignored for long, captured the earl’s attention. “Now that you’ve introduced your little friend to all of us, perhaps you’d share her name?” The sweet voice warred with the sharp glance she shot at Paige.

  “Certainly,” the earl obliged stiffly. “I’m most pleased to introduce Mr. Samuel Turner and his daughter, Miss Paige Turner.”

  Paige noticed a hint of a smile playing around the edges of the earl’s mouth. Good. She loved her name and was glad to see he appreciated her father’s whimsy.

  “Mr. Turner,” the girl murmured thoughtfully. “Odd, but I’m certain I’ve never heard that name before. And to think, I’ve practically memorized Debrette’s Peerage!” She gave another mirthless laugh, and Paige felt anger rise.

  “That’s quite all right, Miss Poffington. Perhaps you’ve heard of Paige’s mother, Miss Fortescue.” Her father’s comment fell on fertile ground.

  Miss Poffington smiled eagerly, an avaricious gleam in her eyes. “That does sound familiar. If I’m not mistaken, there was a bit of a scandal years ago—”

  Paige closed out the malicious woman’s delighted recitation and quickly prayed, Lord, please help me to hold my temper and not give this woman any cause to malign my father for his daughter’s behavior. The way the aristocracy relishes tearing apart those who saw past class issues to find love angers me. You know Mama served You as best she could. Help me to remember that I must do the same.

  “I’m delighted to have enlisted the Turners’ expert advice in renovating the library this month.” The earl’s quick intervention halted Miss Poffington’s gossip.

  “The library, you say? And I believe I heard the woman’s name is Paige Turner. Why how provincial! Don’t you think it quaint, Arnold?”

  Emma leaned forward. “It really is quite clever, but then, one would expect such inventiveness from people who are well read. It is refreshing to have an original name, is it not?” Emma smoothly supported Paige.


  “Why, yes. I do prize originality. It is so wearying to see the same old thing time and again.” Miss Poffington glanced toward the twins. “To my way of thinking, gloves, shoes, and horses are the only things that should come in pairs.”

  Paige couldn’t take it any longer. She opened her mouth to respond to the vicious comment, only to be silenced by a sharp elbow in the ribs from a papa who knew her only too well. She wasn’t the only one outraged by the girl’s spite. As the last of the spread was carried away and the desserts brought out, the earl took advantage of the opportunity.

  “I disagree, Miss Poffington. After all, two helpings of sweet is far more desirable than one of sour.”

  Chapter 4

  Please?” The next day, Arabella Poffington peeked up at him through lowered lashes. Stephen supposed she was attempting to look sweet and demure, but the overall effect was closer to a nearsighted squint that anything else.

  “I’m afraid not, Miss Poffington. I’ve been planning the restoration of the library for months now.” Her resulting scowl confirmed his opinion of her changeable disposition.

  “But Stephen, I already have the servants setting up the croquet field on the south lawn.”

  How like her to order his servants and then demand his approval. “I hope you enjoy yourself.” He disentangled his arm from her grasp, gave a slight bow, and left the room. He gladly escaped to the library. Paige stood by a large oak shelf on the east wall, frowning.

  “Is something wrong, Miss Turner?” He strode over to meet her.

  “Do you see anything wrong with this bookcase?” She looked at the large oak piece enigmatically.

  Stephen scrutinized it carefully, seeing no cracks or splits in the wood. He stepped back to see whether any shelves had bowed due to too much weight, and suddenly, he understood.

  “It doesn’t match the other bookcases in the room. The stain is a lighter hue.” Odd how he’d never noticed before. She certainly had an eye for detail.