Regency for all Seasons: A Regency Romance Collection

by Mary Lancaster

  “Of course. I should have thought of that. I can ask my Aunt Sophie to join us. She has lots of experience in matters of staffing one’s household. There is constant turnover in the house, although it is mostly nannies. Our cook, Mrs. Mayhew, has been with my aunt and uncle forever. Her brother, Abner Mayhew, is our coachman, and her son, Amos, is our groom. He is very good with horses. By the way, so is my cousin Laurel. Let me know if you need a horse. She’ll help you choose the finest.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  She smiled, nodded, and continued. “Pruitt is our butler. He’s also been with the family forever. Since before I was born. I could also ask the Mayhews and Pruitt if they have friends or family in service they might recommend.”

  “That would be helpful. I much prefer their references than those of some lofty toff who knows nothing about what it takes to keep his household running smoothly. Leave it to a servant to understand their duties best or to sense whether an applicant will be suitable or not. Trust is most important to me. Discretion, loyalty, competence.”

  “And a cheerful attitude.”

  He nodded. “If you say so.”

  “I do. There is nothing more depressing than a dour countenance. Although I would allow it in a head butler. He must appear a little daunting. Pruitt is perfect in this way, fearsome on the outside, but on the inside, he is the soul of kindness.”

  “Then I shall look for someone like Pruitt when I choose my head butler.” He rather liked the idea of Violet helping him out. After all, this would be her home as well. He wasn’t merely indulging her to be kind.

  But she was nibbling her lip.

  Something was still troubling her.

  He couldn’t figure out what it was, so he simply decided to ask her.

  Yes, he supposed the direct approach was best. Her happiness mattered to him…well, it would matter once he got to know her better. For now, he wanted her to understand that he would respect her contribution to their soon-to-be household. “Why are you fretting, Violet?”

  “Am I? Yes, I must be. It isn’t important.”

  Other young ladies might enjoy being pampered or treated like brainless fribbles who needed a strong man to protect them, but Romulus sensed that she was not one of them. “You can confide anything in me. I hope you know that.”

  “I do. Lady Exmoor warned you had a protective nature. Apparently, all the Brayden men do.”

  He grinned. “We are a military family, raised from birth to go out in the world and slay dragons. I’ll try not to be too overbearing.”

  The Brayden women were not traditional either. They were true partners to their husbands in every way. Not a single porcelain doll to be kept on a display shelf among them. “Violet, you haven’t asked me details of the financial arrangements of our betrothal.”

  “Oh, yes. I forgot.”

  He was pleased by the notion. “You are not mercenary by nature.”

  “I’ve never had to worry about my future. We Farthingales look after each other. But I suppose I ought to know what has been decided.” She nodded. “Go ahead. Tell me.”

  “Since I am not a nobleman, I do not have to worry about entailed properties. So, everything I have will be yours. My townhouse will pass to you outright along with twenty thousand pounds. The rest will be placed in trust for your benefit and that of our children, but managed by my cousin Finn. He’s brilliant when it comes to matters of finance.”

  She shook her head and laughed. “That’s absurd. You don’t even know me. What of your own family?”

  “My brother is a rich man. He doesn’t require my wealth. If he should die without male issue, then I will inherit his title and estates. Those will not be yours, but will pass to our eldest son from our marriage. Of course, as I said, assuming James has no sons of his own.”

  “And then assuming we have sons.” She was nibbling her lip again. “I hadn’t considered that you might be the next Earl of Exmoor.”

  He gave a mirthless laugh. “Then you are the only debutante in London who has not given it thought. James and Sophie have been husband and wife almost five years now and have produced no children. I would be overjoyed for them if it happened. They haven’t said anything to me, nor have I asked, but it is quite possible they can’t.”

  “My aunt adores Lady Exmoor. So do I, although I don’t know her nearly so well. Nor do I know your brother, but it is obvious he adores his wife.”

  “He does.” Romulus hoped to keep the pain from his voice, but he did not think he could. Yet, he already trusted Violet enough to reveal his anguish and know she would treat him gently. “I never saw a man more miserable than James when he returned home after Waterloo. He used to be the ton’s golden boy. So handsome, it was as though the sun shone down from the heavens whenever he entered a room.”

  She placed a hand on his arm. “You must have adored him, too.”

  He nodded. “He is my big brother. I worshiped him.”

  “I feel the same about my sister, Poppy. She’s my best friend. I’m close with my cousins, too.” She laughed softly. “People jest about the Chipping Way curse, as though my cousins were these awful monsters who trapped unmarried men, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Your brother was your hero, I understand how badly you must have felt when he was injured.”

  “He was treated so unfairly when he returned home from the war. Women used to fawn all over him. But those scars on his face changed everything. Suddenly, he was no longer that magnificent Roman god everyone adored. Those very women now thought of him as a beast, no matter that he had sacrificed everything for those ungrateful, pampered peahens. He married Sophie because of a promise made to a dying friend, but she has been his salvation. She saw beyond his scars immediately.”

  He cast Violet a grim smile. “I don’t wish to say more about him. I’ve said too much already. His health suffered greatly during the war. Your uncle George saved his damaged leg. For that, my entire family is forever in his debt. George is a brilliant doctor. But the fact remains, James has no children and may never have any.”

  On impulse, Violet entwined her fingers with his. “I am truly sorry.”

  He nodded. “He’s made provision for Sophie. She’ll never have a moment’s worry. As I said, Finn is the family’s King Midas. Seems everything he touches turns to gold.”

  “Still, if what you say is true, then you’ve been quite generous with me.”

  “Yet, it troubles you?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “It all feels too easy. I don’t resent it, but I am not comfortable with it. In truth, I’m not comfortable with you. With us. What do we have in common? What will bind us to each other if we are forced to marry? To be precise, what is there about me to hold your interest?”

  He shook his head in surprise. “Violet, you’re beautiful.”

  “Is that all? Beauty fades over time. What then?”

  Chapter Five

  A light mist fell the following morning as Romulus stood by his front gate awaiting the wagons bringing his sparse furnishings to his new home. In truth, he had woefully little. So little, he’d been sleeping at his brother’s home for the past few days. It was better than sleeping on the dusty floor in front of one of the sooty hearths.

  That he’d been here yesterday when the bees attacked Violet was a coincidence. He’d only gone to the house to complete an inventory of the kitchen and then start on the other rooms when he’d heard her screams and run to help.

  It was also a remarkable coincidence that General Allworthy had left a stock of herbs, spices, and bottles of assorted pickling brines including vinegar in his pantry.

  He watched the men unload the wagons. A bed, armoire, and bureau for his bedchamber. A desk and leather chair for his study. General Allworthy had left behind many things, including bookshelves in the library, and an elegant buffet, table, and chairs in the dining room.

  The dining table was of mahogany wood. The cushioned chairs were covered in a colorful bird pattern. The mass
ive buffet was also of mahogany wood and took up the entire west wall. They were all in pristine condition since the old curmudgeon rarely entertained. This was the most presentable room in the house.

  As a distant bell chimed ten o’clock, Romulus glanced toward the Farthingale house. A moment later, Violet tore through the front gate. She darted between raindrops that were falling more steadily now, and had nothing more to protect her than a paisley shawl held over her head while she raced to his house.

  “Violet,” he said with a laugh, catching her by the waist as she was about to run straight into him. She would have bounced off his chest and landed on her nicely shaped derriere in one of the newly formed rain puddles if he hadn’t grabbed her. “Do you never simply walk?”

  “No,” she said, smiling up at him. “Am I late?”

  “Right on time.” He glanced over her head. “Where is your chaperone?”

  “I shall have two chaperones this morning, Aunt Sophie and Mrs. Mayhew. They’ll be along in a moment. Did you know Lady Dayne is hosting a supper party this evening? I’m sure you’ve been invited.”

  He nodded. “I have.”

  “So have I. She has assured me that she will take over chaperone duties tomorrow. What a relief, she isn’t nearly as snoopy as my family. But for now, it is Aunt Sophie and Mrs. Mayhew shouldering the duty. We noticed the wagons pull up in front of your house and thought the workers might like some tea and currant scones. I came ahead to see what else you might need.”

  “Other than a replenished stock of vinegar?”

  She laughed.

  He held out his arm to her. “Come inside. I suppose we’re safe enough with all these men traipsing in and out.”

  As he led her in, he realized his new home was in desperate need of a woman’s touch. The men were now carrying the unloaded furniture inside, and he had no idea where to place the pieces. Nor had he thought to have the house properly cleaned from top to bottom before moving in. His sister-in-law had suggested it, even offered to help, but he’d forgotten all about it and now it was too late.

  Violet walked in ahead of him.

  Once inside, she wrapped her shawl around her waist and casually brushed back her hair. It was fashioned in a loose bun, but stray wisps had escaped the pins and were now curling around her ears.

  Romulus could not resist tucking back a few of those loose curls. His knuckles grazed her cheek, immediately causing Violet to blush, but she did not draw away. He traced his thumb along that same cheek to wipe a raindrop off it. She smiled up at him, and his heart beat faster.

  She was so pretty.

  Stars shone in her eyes.

  He cleared his throat and turned away to direct the workmen in placing the furniture in the appropriate rooms. Violet modified some of his suggestions, muttering something about the flow of a room and seating arrangements. At times, he stood back and watched her go about her business. He was going to make a fool of himself over this girl if he studied her much longer. But how could he stop staring?

  She wasn’t merely beautiful. She was fascinating in a warm, appealing way. He doubted he would ever tire of looking at her lovely face or not be drawn in by her expressive eyes. “Violet, have you been in General Allworthy’s home before?”

  “Other than yesterday’s spectacular visit?” She had a sweetly wicked grin.

  He laughed. “Yes, other than yesterday. You only saw the kitchen and that hardly counts.”

  “I’ve never been inside. May I wander around now?”

  “Of course. Anywhere you please.” This would be her home by next week if Lady Withnall chose not to keep silent about his oafish hands all over the delicious girl.

  “Do you think he has a music room? Aunt Hortensia claims he did once. There may be a pianoforte hiding in here somewhere.”

  “There is, but it’s covered in a dusty sheet. Do you play?” He groaned inwardly. He liked Violet, he truly did. But if he had to listen to one more accomplished debutante bang on the keys and sing like a sick cat, he was going to do himself in.

  “My cousin Dillie is the one who plays best. I play adequately. I’m much better at singing. Shall I sing for you?”

  Bloody hell.

  He ran a hand across the back of his neck. “Well, perhaps another time. The workmen are here, and I’ll be interviewing the household staff shortly. The first of them will be arriving at any moment.”

  “Romulus Brayden, are you cringing at the thought?” She shook her head and emitted a merry trill of laughter. “You look like you’d rather walk through fire than hear me sing. I promise you, I’m not that bad.”

  “I’m sure you have the voice of an angel.”

  “In fact, I do. But no matter. You needn’t listen to me. I’ll go find the piano and tinker with it until the interviewees arrive. You can stick your fingers in your ears if my howling bothers you, although I’ll do my best to be quiet.” She glanced at the front door. “I wonder what’s keeping Aunt Sophie and Mrs. Mayhew?”

  With a shrug, she went off in the direction he’d pointed to find the music room.

  He hoped he hadn’t been too rough on Violet, but it was only ten o’clock in the morning, and he really did not need a soprano shrieking out high notes at this early hour. He preferred to have a few drinks in him first to numb him from the noise, and he tried never to drink before late afternoon.

  “Ye’re a lucky man, m’lord,” the foreman said after placing his bed and bureau in the master bedchamber. Romulus had gone upstairs with the man to direct the other workmen. The strains of a slightly out of tune piano carried into his bedchamber. Violet had obviously found the instrument and was testing it out.

  “Lucky?”

  “Yer wife, m’lord. She’s a beautiful lass. Lovely smile.”

  Romulus nodded. “She’s a good egg.” He groaned inwardly. Violet would club him if she heard herself described as that. A good egg. One described one’s addled but well-meaning grandfather as that. Violet, if she was an egg at all, was a magnificent, amply endowed, bewitching egg. “Yes, she’s lovely.”

  He did not bother to correct the man about his marital status, for it was too complicated to explain. It was no one’s business anyway. Moreover, it felt to him as though Violet belonged here.

  Violet’s voice drifted up to them and caught his attention.

  The workmen also stopped to listen.

  Blessed saints. She’d told him she had a nice voice. She wasn’t jesting. Angel. Nightingale. Magnificent. Those words rattled around in his head. He didn’t even need to imbibe strong spirits to tolerate it.

  He went downstairs and stood in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest while he watched her play a country lilt and quietly sing along to it. She sang softly, not realizing her voice carried throughout the house, no doubt because of a design quirk of the room.

  He imagined this chamber back in the day, packed with guests seated in their chairs as the performers made their way to the front of the room and sang their arias or played their harps or violins.

  Violet stopped suddenly and turned to him, her cheeks a cherry red. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “A while.”

  “You should have stopped me. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  He unfolded his arms and crossed to her side. “You didn’t. The workmen enjoyed hearing you sing.”

  “They heard me? Upstairs?”

  “Yes. You weren’t too loud. It’s the way the sound carries in the room. There is a science to it. Your voice carried everywhere.”

  “Oh, dear.”

  “It was splendid, Violet. Truly.”

  She shook her head and rose. “I think I hear Aunt Sophie and Mrs. Mayhew. I’ll show them to the kitchen. We’ll take inventory of all you need. Of course, call me if you’d like me to sit in on any of your interviews. Aunt Sophie will likely be more helpful. Oh, and I almost forgot…Mrs. Mayhew said her nieces were maids in the Duke of Danforth’s residence. But he passed away last week and it
seems his nephew will be bringing in his own staff. So, I thought you might like to interview them as well. The older niece, Cora, would make a good housekeeper. She’s clever and diligent.”

  “Have you met them?”

  “Yes, they served as the children’s nannies for a short time in Aunt Sophie’s home. That was the season several of the nannies quit all at once, then another nanny got sick, and another eloped. Cora and Mary stepped in and did an admirable job of watching over the young ones. Aunt Sophie would have kept them on, but she and Uncle John do not stay in town year-round. They return to their home in Coniston for summers and Christmas. The nieces were quickly hired by the duke’s housekeeper, so all worked out well.”

  “Thank you, Violet. I’ll gladly meet them. Let Mrs. Mayhew know.”

  She seemed pleased.

  He shook his head and walked out with her to meet Sophie Farthingale and her cook, Mrs. Mayhew, as they entered his home.

  By noontime, his furniture was in place, he’d hired a butler and two footmen, and expected to hire the Mayhew nieces as housekeeper and maid by tomorrow. Their interviews were a mere formality. Once the elder Mayhew niece accepted to come on as his housekeeper, he’d leave the rest of the staffing to her.

  He’d also leave the matter of cleaning the house to her.

  As for properly furnishing the rest of the house, he’d ask Violet and the two Sophies to help him out.

  He went into the kitchen to forage for food.

  Violet, her aunt, and their cook were in there still making lists of all he lacked. They looked at him as though he was an interloper. “I’m hungry,” he explained. “Are we all out of the currant scones you brought over earlier, Mrs. Mayhew?”

  “Dear me, yes. Those were eaten by the workmen within minutes of my arrival.”

  Violet cast a pleading look at her aunt, who cast her a nod in return.

  “Mr. Brayden,” Violet said, smiling warmly, “please join us for lunch. You have nothing decent here. We can’t allow you to starve. It wouldn’t be neighborly.”