“Miss Haverley?” Lady Lindsay drew back, brow furrowed until she placed the name. “Oh! You mean the governess! Yes. Thank you for your assistance in that matter. I am sorry if she troubled you.”
Her dismissal of the game little woman irritated him. He persisted. “She was no trouble. I hope she is proving satisfactory?”
“She will do, I suppose. Although she does spend a great deal of time out of doors with my girls. It seems she is vastly fond of nature. I only hope she will not ruin their complexions.”
“I understand that is what parasols are for,” he said.
“Well, yes. When they remember them, that is. Tell me, do you intend to remain at the Manor, or will you be off for London?” Lady Lindsay asked.
“I am situated here for the time being, though I have a project in mind that may take me to London in the future. How about you, Lady Lindsay? Shall you be doing the Little Season this autumn?”
He caught a slight frown on her face as she looked at Miss Lindsay. “Most likely. Marianne has several suitors on her string and is in great demand. She longs for London.”
“And what is it that draws you to London, Miss Lindsay? Balls, routs, beaux?” John asked.
She flashed him a look, and he was surprised to read impatience. He saw now that her eyes were dark brown. “I find the country… lacking in amusements, I must confess,” she said.
“It is incredibly appealing after war,” he returned.
“Oh,” she said, shrugging. “I am sure you are right.”
Felicity led the housekeeper out onto the terrace. Mrs. Hopkinson was carrying a tray holding a pitcher of lemonade and glasses.
An imp prompted him. “I am tempted to make my home in the country. My brother is taking me on as estate agent.”
“I thought you said you would be going to London,” Miss Lindsay said, her tone carrying reproach.
“I have a scheme in mind that may call me there from time to time, but Lincolnshire is my home. There is nothing like the green of England. Are you fond of poetry, Miss Lindsay?”
Her dark eyes flashed surprise. “Oh… of course!”
“The poems of Wordsworth provided great solace to me on that parched Peninsula.”
“Marianne adores Wordsworth,” her mother said.
Lord Lindsay rejoined them with Jack and partook of the lemonade. “Lady Grenville, you have a fine lad here. He will make a good soldier.”
Felicity smiled at him and said smoothly, “It is to be hoped there will not be any more wars in the near future. Jack is heir to the earldom.”
The man cleared his throat. “I have no heir, more’s the pity. But then, my estate is not entailed. It will go to Marianne’s husband.”
With this very obvious carrot dangling before him, John struggled to remember the viscount’s lineage. He had a vague idea that King George had bestowed the peer’s title for valor during the war.
Lady Lindsay was holding a handkerchief to her eye with delicacy. “The viscountcy will die with my husband. I think it is unjust.”
So why would they be satisfied with marrying their eldest daughter to a second son with only a courtesy title? If her husband was to inherit the Lindsay estate, why did they not want a title for her? Had she been unable to tempt an appropriate aristocrat into marriage?
“It is all a hum,” his lordship said. “I was not born to the title. The important thing is property. That is what makes a gentleman. And Marianne will inherit the property.”
This was an unlooked-for wrinkle. He had become opposed to the idea of a life of leisure as the only existence for a proper gentleman. He did not especially wish to inherit a fortune and do nothing but attend the Season with its everlasting entertainments, dwell in boredom in the summer months, attend house parties in the fall and winter, and start all over in the spring. Why should he live a life of frivolity when his men didn’t have a decent place to live and enough to eat, crammed as they were into the filthy housing of the East End?
He had learned the hard way what a difficulty it was to stay alive and what a bloody cost was paid so that the leisure class could live as they did, carelessly risking their necks in curricle races and their fortunes at the gaming tables every day in order to avoid being bored. If he were ever to marry Miss Lindsay, he would want to remain in Lincolnshire for most of the year, overseeing the working of his own land, caring for his tenants, updating farming techniques. He would want his children around him. Would the woman be happier in the country once she had a husband and family?
He asked Alex this question after the Lindsay family had taken its leave. “Do you think the lovely Miss Lindsay has anything in her head but balls, bonnets, and beaux? Do you think once she had children, she would lose her taste for London?”
“One never knows with women. Often they turn out to be so much different than you expect they will be once you marry them,” his brother said.
“Have you any idea why she is even interested in me when I have but a courtesy title and no money?”
“Mrs. Hopkinson has heard from the family’s housekeeper that Miss Lindsay has worshipped you since she was twelve. For all her seasons in London, she has only ever wanted to be married to you. She followed the dispatches and casualty reports avidly.” He stopped to chuckle. “When she heard you were coming home, she apparently went to London and commissioned a new wardrobe. Her father and mother tend to indulge her.”
John sighed. “Perhaps she improves upon acquaintance. After all, it would be very hard to have Lady Lindsay always hovering.”
Alex said, “I must say, I like the idea of your settling so close with a nice fortune under your belt. You could do worse.”
“The fortune is actually somewhat of a hindrance. Miss Lindsay would expect me to be a man of leisure. And I wouldn’t be.”
“I can assure you, brother, marriage never turns out the way one expects. It is certainly nothing to rush into. I got undeservedly lucky with Felicity. Someday, I will tell you the story.”
Exhaustion overtook John suddenly. “I will look forward to hearing it. But now I am afraid I must close my eyes for a while here in the sun.”
He dreamed, unaccountably, of parasols.
{ 4 }
The misses Molly and Mariah Lindsay proved to be likable girls, if a bit silly and mischievous. Molly, age fourteen, was a blonde in a family of brunettes, with a slightly freckled nose that bothered her not at all. Mariah was a petite version of Miss Lindsay—black hair and dark eyes. She laughed often and, unfortunately, loudly.
Most of their mother’s concentration was taken up with the two older girls who were out. It was Delia’s job to keep Molly and Mariah entertained and out of the way, moreso than teaching them actual school lessons. This was lucky because they had no aptitude for learning things that involved books.
Delia formed their lessons primarily from nature. When the weather was fine, they spent a great deal of time out of doors. Because she was so very fair, Delia wore long sleeves, gloves, and bonnet as well as carrying a parasol. Her porcelain skin was her one vanity.
On a particularly lovely morning, Mariah, the bolder of the sisters said, “Oh, Miss Haverley, do let us go out on the lake. We have not been there in simply ages. We must take you to visit our folly. And, oh, we can eat out lunch there. Mrs. Daniels will see that we have chicken and lemonade. And lemon biscuits!” Mariah was overly fond of lemon biscuits.
“Miss Molly, do you like to go on the lake?”
“Oh, yes, of all things. I shall ask Mama, shall I?”
Permission was obtained. The house was in a dither because the Earl and Countess of Grenville and Lord John were to come to luncheon.
Upon hearing this news, Delia had mixed feelings. The luncheon was to take place on the terrace, with a fine view of the lake and folly. She would enjoy having a distant view of the Miss Lindsays’ dealings with Major Lambeth, but she did not feel comfortable being observed by him and his family while she was doing something to which she was co
mpletely unaccustomed. Delia did not want to admit it, but she had never learned to swim. Growing up near the rocky coastline of Dorsetshire, she had always been in awe of the crashing waves and had never even been in a boat.
The three young women obtained gloves, bonnets, and parasols which were useless in the cases of the Lindsay girls and walked out to the boathouse.
“The lake is very shallow,” Miss Molly reassured her, as though guessing her reluctance. “You do not need to worry. We are good sailors.”
Perhaps she and the girls could make it to the folly before the guests arrived.
The misses Molly and Mariah excelled at rowing, it transpired. They were able to reach the folly just as the guests were arriving on the terrace. The girls waved at the party and giggled while Delia concentrated on disembarking onto dry land.
The island where the folly sat seemed very small. She scurried inside the artificially ruined structure. There were stone benches along the standing walls. Busying herself setting up the picnic—chicken, pears, bread rolls, lemonade, and lemon biscuits—Delia listened to the girls’ chatter.
“Lord John is ever so handsome, do you not think so?” Molly asked her sister.
“From here, he looks very smart,” Mariah agreed.
“I remember when he was home on his last leave,” said Molly. “I thought I would swoon when he looked at me! His eyes are that beautiful. No wonder Marianne wants to marry him.”
“And his voice is so… so handsome,” said Mariah.
“Father likes him very well. He says he is sensible, not like the fellows Marianne has met in Town.”
Mariah giggled. “It is not his good sense that entrances Marianne. She thinks him very mysterious. I heard Mama tell her that real men are not like the heroes in Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels. She likes Lord John well enough, but fears Marianne will be disappointed when she gets to know him better.”
Molly said, “He does look vastly heroic with his arm in a sling. I would love to have seen him in uniform. Was he in uniform when he rescued you, Miss Haverley?”
Delia answered, “Yes, he was. Though it was a bit dusty.”
“Did he not look dreamy?” Molly asked.
“He looked very well, but quite exhausted. You must remember he was returning from a terrible battle where he was wounded. He may look romantic with his arm in a sling, but I believe he is in quite some pain.”
“Mama says he is doing very well,” Molly countered.
“I am glad to hear it,” Delia said. “Now, shall we eat?”
Over their luncheon, the girls continued to talk about their sister’s attachment.
“You know, Lord John rescued Marianne from a hive of bees she had disturbed when she was my age,” Mariah said. “He carried her up in front of him on his horse and they galloped off. She fell madly in love with him then and has loved him ever since.”
Delia reflected that she herself had not been immune to the experience of being rescued by the man she thought of as Major Lambeth. Though she was sensible, she had not been unaware of the man’s charms. He had been disagreeable, but perhaps that had been because she acted like such a chatterbox. She did not normally behave that way. Possibly she had been more than a little overcome by his heroic appearance. But, of course, she would never admit that, even to her dearest friend, Permelia.
When they had concluded their meal, the girls were anxious to join the party on the terrace. Even more giddy than usual, they set the little boat to rocking as they jumped in. Delia, who had been the first to board, was not yet seated and held her parasol in both hands. Struggling to keep her balance, she was not successful. Before she knew what was happening, she was over the side and into the water.
Panicking, she struggled. It may have been a shallow lake, but she was very short and the water came to her nose. She had gulped a mouthful and was paddling unsuccessfully about while Molly and Mariah screamed, not even attempting to help her.
“I cannot swim!” she called to them, swallowing still more water.
But they seemed to have completely forgotten how to maneuver their boat, instead sitting in it and shrieking as it drifted further and further away. Delia’s muslin had drifted up about her arms and she was struggling with it in complete futility, choking all the while. Her panic grew more pronounced until finally she felt strong arms lift her up and out of the water against a solid chest.
Coughing and sputtering, she looked up and recognized Major Lambeth.
“Your arm!” she protested, instinctively pulling away.
“Quit struggling. You are not helping my effort,” he said through gritted teeth..
Soon, he had walked to the small shore of the island. Delia was mortified. Her pale yellow muslin clung to her legs and torso in a most revealing way, and her heavy hair had come unbound and was a wet mass about her shoulders. She had begun to shiver.
“You have rescued me again. Th-thank you, Major Lambeth.”
He did not acknowledge her thanks, instead calling after Molly and Mariah, “You silly girls, get that boat here this instant before Miss Haverley takes a chill!”
“Where is your sling?” she asked. “You ought not to have done this!”
“You were about to drown in four and a half feet of water,” he said. “And now you will catch your death if those useless females do not move a little faster. Whatever possessed you to come out with them in a boat when you cannot swim?”
Her chattering teeth prevented her from answering, and her fingers were stiff with cold by the time the boat neared. Major Lambeth lifted her in his arms once more and, stepping into the craft, set her down carefully upon the seat. Notwithstanding his wounded arm, he took up the paddles and rowed to the shore.
Lady Lindsay met them, scolding her heedless daughters. Delia did not stop to greet the others or even to thank Major Lambeth again. She scrambled out of the boat and dashed into the house.
Powered by the desire not to suffer further humiliation, she ran up the stairs to the attic. Once she reached her room, she shut the door and locked it. Peeling off the wet things, she longed for a fire. Would her teeth never stop chattering?
So desperate was she for warmth, she climbed into her bed and shivered beneath the quilt.
Could I have appeared any more foolish? What possessed me to trust Molly and Mariah to take me out in a boat? I know how irresponsible and silly they are! What did Major Lambeth think? Actually, he was quite clear about what he thought. He thought me an idiot.
Delia wanted to dissolve in her shame. The man had come to her rescue, endangering his own well-being! Remembering his wet trousers clinging to his legs as they stumbled out of water halfway up his chest, she wondered if he would take a chill in his weakened state. She would never forgive herself.
Despite the thinness of her quilt, Delia eventually warmed, but her hair was a tangled wet mess. She got out of bed reluctantly and, using her threadbare towel, attempted to dry it. It was hopeless without a fire. Dressing herself in woolen drawers and a light wool gown and shawl, she set about combing through the tangled mess of thick red curls. While she was thus engaged, there came a knock on her door.
To her utter surprise, when she opened, it she found Lady Grenville.
“My lady!”
“My dear, Lady Lindsay does not know I am here. I can only stay a minute, for she would think me very impertinent if she knew. Has no one come to light a fire or to check on you?”
The lovely woman was frowning in concern.
“I feel very silly, Lady Grenville. Never have I done anything so ill-advised.”
“Will you allow me to come in for a moment? I will help you to untangle that knot in your hair.”
“Oh! I could not impose upon you!” Delia’s mortification grew deeper.
“Now you are being silly!” Lady Grenville strode boldly into the room and, taking the comb from her, began to work at the snarls. She made a swift job of it. “Your lips are positively blue. The sooner we get this mass of beautiful hair
into a plait, the sooner you can appear downstairs and find a fire to warm yourself.”
Delia said, “You are very, very kind to concern yourself with me.”
“John and I were both worried when we saw that Lady Lindsay had no intention of at least sending Mrs. Daniels to check on you. We guessed you might not have a fire.”
“How is he? He was very wet himself. And his arm!”
“Never mind, dear. It gave him just the excuse he needed to leave the party. He is not the most social of beings, and to be quite truthful, Lady Lindsay is not his favorite hostess.” She finished the plait. “Oh, goodness, I am afraid I am being very frank.”
“Miss Lindsay will be very cross now that I have ruined her day.”
“If John is truly determined to court Miss Lindsay, one missed luncheon will not dissuade him. Never fear.”
When the woman left a moment later, Delia sat down on her bed with a thump, thoroughly overwhelmed by the unlooked-for kindness.
Lady Lindsay was not pleased.
“If you do not exert more control over those girls, I shall have no choice but to terminate your employment. Not only did you ruin our luncheon this afternoon, but you put our neighbor at risk. He is but recently wounded! What if he were to take a chill?”
Delia apologized once again. How long could she endure this woman? Just how many governesses had Lady Lindsay dismissed over the last year? It was extremely difficult for Delia not to deliver her resignation on the spot. Indeed, she did not understand her own restraint.
Her employer left her, and Delia went to find her charges, still consumed with worry over Major Lambeth.
{ 5 }
Confound it!
John had no idea what instinct had led him to cast off his sling and throw himself into that pond that the Lindsays referred to as a lake. Though he had felt strong enough at the time, his arm hurt like blazes today.
This, together with the knowledge that he had ruined Lady Lindsay’s luncheon and that Miss Haverley would most likely suffer for it, had him in the devil of a pucker. Despite his ill humor, he could still feel the little governess’s trembling body in his arms. Though she had resembled a small, wet kitten, she definitely had a woman’s body. And whereas she had completely taken in stride a carriage accident that could have killed her, her dunking in the water yesterday had genuinely frightened her.
Grenville 02 - Lord John's Dilemma Page 3
