‘Lisette! Here you are. Mama is becoming quite vexed. How long you have been in securing a carriage.’
Ross turned and looked at her with an apologetic gesture. ‘The fault is all mine—or perhaps I should say it was my horse who waylaid her. Having been released from the confines of his quarters on board, he ran amok when he reached the dock. Had Miss Napier not been so adept at handling horses there is no telling what damage he might have done.’
Staring up at the handsome colonel, Lottie disregarded his comment about Lisette and with a simpering smile fluttered her eyelashes in what Lisette consider to be an appallingly fast manner. ‘Then you are forgiven, sir. I am Miss Lottie Arbuthnot. Miss Napier is servant to my ma and me.’
‘So I understand,’ Ross replied with a wry smile, beginning to feel pity for Miss Napier.
Lottie’s arrival rudely shook Lisette out of the trance that seemed to have taken over her. It wasn’t until that moment that she realised she had lost all sense of propriety. Colonel Montague must think her forward and impertinent. Embarrassment swept over her, washing her face in colour. Lottie was a moody, spiteful girl who had made her life extremely difficult on board ship as she had tried to do her best for both her and Mrs Arbuthnot, to whom she owed much gratitude.
Mrs Arbuthnot had taught her the refinements of being a lady’s maid. She wore a smart black or dark grey dress and starched muslin apron and cap and could dip a curtsey as gracefully as a debutante. But all through the voyage she had been at the mercy of Lottie’s every whim. It must be Lisette who helped her dress, Lisette who brought her tea. Oh, that she would never have to see the girl again!
‘Lisette.’ Lottie spoke peevishly. ‘See, your face is quite red. Are you unwell?’
‘No, I—I think it must be the heat,’ she stammered. ‘Excuse me. I’ll go in search of a conveyance.’
‘Allow me,’ Ross said, handing the horse to Blackstock, who appeared at that moment. In no time at all he had secured a conveyance to take Miss Napier and the Arbuthnot family to Chelsea.
As Lottie continued to prattle on, Lisette saw Colonel Montague was watching her steadily, and she sensed the unbidden, unspoken communication between them. He knows what I’m thinking, she thought. It may be all imagination but she knew he was as bored and irritated by Lottie as she was. She felt instantly ashamed, knowing that Lottie could not help being the person she was.
Feeling in her pocket for some sweets, she handed them to him.
He smiled at her. ‘Are these for me or the horse?’
A gentle flush mantled her cheeks. ‘For Bengal, of course. If he should prove difficult you might be glad of them.’
Lowering her head she bade Colonel Montague a polite goodbye and walked back to the ship, a step behind Miss Arbuthnot. Yet she continued to feel his presence behind her, large and intensely masculine. Her senses skittered—she clamped a firm hold on them and lifted her chin, but she felt a cool tingle slither down her spine and the touch of his blue gaze on the sensitive skin on her nape.
As she walked, Ross thought she did so with the grace and presence of a dancer. As she had told him of her circumstances, he had been taken aback when her look became one of nervous apprehension. How different she’d suddenly appeared from the girl who had stepped in front of his horse, when her proud, self-possession had raised his interest. At first, not knowing what was the matter, he had thought that perhaps she was ill, but then he’d realised that she was afraid. Though her assurance and confidence had aroused him, that glimpse of vulnerability had drawn forth emotions he had only felt once before—in India—with a girl and a raging river... A girl who had also moved like a dancer.
Emerging from the river and seeing her small footprints in the mud, assured that she had survived the night, he had determined to banish the native girl from his mind. But all the way to Bombay he had not stopped looking for the girl in the pink, star-spangled sari and thick, black oiled plait hanging to her waist. The memory of that night and the girl had stayed with him, the way the hot heat of a candle flame stared at for a few moments would burn behind closed eyelids.
Those same emotions made him want to protect this girl, to keep her from harm. His fancy took flight and he imagined himself as her champion, secretly carrying her colours beneath his armour next to his heart, watching that proud smile on her face turn inward to a sweet, imploring look of appeal. Before his imagination could propel him to even more exquisitely poignant pangs of desire, Blackstock told him he would make the necessary arrangements for his baggage to be sent on to Lady Mannering’s house in Bloomsbury.
Ross immediately mounted his restive horse and nosed him away from the dock, the clip-clopping of the horse’s shoes ringing sharp and clear in the bright morning air. But he had made a mental note of where Miss Napier could be located, tucking the information into a corner of his mind to be resurrected when he so desired.
* * *
Light streaming through the long windows fell in bright shafts upon the black-and-white marble floor. Ross felt a warm glow. The house belonged to his widowed maternal aunt, Lady Grace Mannering. In his absence the house had lost neither its old appeal nor its very special associations with those happy years he had spent as a boy in London with his sister, Araminta.
Drawn by the bittersweet memories stirred by hearing lilting strains of a merry tune being played on the piano, he strode across the hall to the door of the music room and pushed it open to find Araminta seated at the instrument.
She stopped playing and turned towards the door and the man who stood there. Joyous disbelief held her immobilised for a split second, then she shouted, ‘Ross!’ and amid squeals of laughter and ecstatic shrieks, she bounced off the stool and burst into an unladylike run. Almost knocking him over she flung her arms around his neck in a fierce hug, laughing with joy and nearly choking him in her enthusiasm. Embracing her in return, a full moment passed before Araminta relaxed her stranglehold.
‘Oh, Ross, dear brother, is it really you? You look wonderful. I’ve missed you so much. I don’t know what I would have done without your letters,’ she gushed, hugging him again.
Pulling him down onto the sofa, his legs disappearing amid a flurry of skirts, all at once she launched into a torrent of questions ranging from where he had been, what he had been doing and how long was he going to stay, hardly giving him time to reply.
When he had the chance he studied her closely. Five years had gone by since he had last seen her and the girl he had known had been replaced by a lovely young woman. Her shining light brown hair was a tumble of rebellious curls and her eyes as deeply blue as his own.
‘I’m happy to see you looking so well, Araminta,’ he said, realising just how much he had missed his only sibling. ‘I hardly recognised you. Why, you must have grown taller by half a head in the time I’ve been gone. You look so mature.’
‘And you are very handsome, Ross,’ Araminta declared breathlessly, ‘and so distinguished in your military uniform. You are a colonel now?’
He nodded. ‘I was promoted just before I left India.’
‘Will you go back there?’
‘Of course. I’m home on extended leave—for how long depends on what I find when I get to Castonbury Park.’
Learning of her nephew’s arrival Lady Mannering entered. Her small, rotund figure was encased in deep rose silk and a widow’s cap was atop her sprightly brown hair liberally streaked with grey. As she went to greet her nephew, her eyes were bright with intelligence, set in a soft, lined face.
After greeting his aunt affectionately, Ross sat across from her and looked at her homely face and the light blue eyes that had scolded and teased him and Araminta and loved them so well. His look became sombre.
‘Cousin Giles wrote and told me about young Edward.’
Grace’s eyes filled with sadness. ‘Yes, it was quite dreadful when we heard he’d been killed. There was great relief when Giles came back. As you will remember Edward was so attached to his older brother
, but now Giles has resigned his commission. What happened to Edward has affected him rather badly, I’m afraid. And if that weren’t bad enough Jamie is still missing.’
Ross stared at her in stunned disbelief. His cousin Jamie Montague, heir to the magnificent Castonbury Park in Derbyshire, had been listed as missing in Spain a year before Waterloo. ‘Good heavens! I was hoping he’d been found by now. Is there still no word?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
‘No body has been found?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s thought that he was washed away when crossing a swollen river before the push for Toulouse.’
‘Then Giles stands next in line. Knowing of his love for the military life, he will be a reluctant heir.’
‘He was in London recently. It would have been good for you to have seen him before he left for Castonbury. Still, I suppose you’ve been fighting your own battles in India.’
‘I’ll catch up with him there. Castonbury is still my home and I am eager to see my uncle. Giles must be feeling pretty wretched right now. With Edward dead and Jamie missing—and of course Harry busy with his work here in London, he’s going to need someone close.’
‘Family support is always a good thing at a time like this, Ross. All things considered, the Montagues aren’t as invincible as they thought.’
Having been raised with the Montague children, Ross had come to look on the six siblings as his brothers and sisters, and his concern over the disappearance of one and the death of another affected him deeply. Added to this was the financial crisis that had hit the family following the Napoleonic wars. Although the Montagues courted danger, they were his family, to be defended to the death.
‘On top of Jamie’s disappearance, Edward’s death will have affected my uncle very badly.’
‘I’m afraid it has. Everyone is quite worried about him. The letters that Phaedra writes to Araminta tell of his declining health and that his mind is not what it was, that at times he seems to be a little...unhinged I believe was the term she used. Which reminds me. A letter has been delivered from Castonbury Park. It’s from Giles. Would you like to read it now?’
‘I’ll do that when I go and change.’ Ross frowned with concern. ‘I shall not delay in leaving for Castonbury. But first I shall have to visit my tailor—which I shall do first thing tomorrow. After that I shall be free to go.’
‘The Season is almost over. Araminta can go with you.’
‘Are you to accompany us too, Aunt?’
‘You know how I prefer to be in town. However, I will give you the loan of my travelling chaise to take you to Castonbury. It could do with an outing and it will give the grooms something to do. Do you require a valet, Ross?’
‘I’ve brought my own man with me, Blackstock, a young subaltern in my regiment. I left him at the dock sorting out the baggage. He should be here shortly.’
* * *
In the privacy of his room, Ross opened the letter from his cousin Giles, and found he was greatly disturbed by its contents. It contained a hurried account of a mysterious woman claiming her son was Jamie’s heir, and that the family was in dire financial straits. Indeed, the news was so dire it seemed as if the house of Montague was about to come crashing down. Giles asked Ross to go and see this woman, who was in lodgings in Cheapside, for himself, and afterwards to seek out his brother Harry while he was in London and explain the situation. Ross must also emphasise to Harry the importance of finding out what had happened to Jamie, and that it was imperative that Harry left for Spain as soon as he was able.
Folding the letter, Ross sat down to draft a note to his cousin Harry.
* * *
Before sitting down to dinner, Ross sought his aunt’s company in order to see what other troubles might have befallen the Montagues in his absence. He was shocked to discover that his sister had broken her betrothal to Lord Antony Bennington, son and heir of the Earl of Cawood in Cambridgeshire. Ross was disappointed. From what he remembered of young Bennington the man was an agreeable sort. Was there any good news to be had? he wondered to himself.
‘Araminta must have had good reason to cry off her betrothal to young Bennington,’ Ross said with a troubled frown. Having played nursemaid, surrogate father and guardian to Araminta all her life, she was in part the reason why he had returned to England, to provide the final direction she needed to cross the threshold into matrimony. It would seem he was going to have his work cut out to have her settled before he could return to India. ‘How has it affected her?’
‘Araminta is a girl of too much resolution and energy of character to allow herself to dwell on useless and unseemly sorrow for the past,’ Aunt Grace said. ‘Naturally she was regretful for a while, but she has wisely turned her attention towards the future, which is vastly more important to her than pining for what is lost.’
‘Do you know what happened to make her break off the betrothal? Did she not speak of it to you?’
‘No, she did not. The only reason she would give was that they did not suit—but I heard from a reliable source that Araminta caught him in a dalliance with a young woman by the name of Elizabeth Walton.’
Ross looked at Araminta with concern when she walked in and sat beside her aunt on the sofa. Looking at her now he noted her eyes held a certain sadness, and Ross was not at all convinced that she had put her broken betrothal behind her.
‘You haven’t forgotten that we’re going shopping tomorrow, have you, Araminta?’ Grace said as they settled down to dinner. ‘I thought we might start by visiting the Exchange. Of course, all the best shops are on Bond or Bruton Street. If we have the time we can go there after.’
‘You may have to go alone. I swear I have the onset of a headache. I think I shall lie in, if you don’t mind.’
‘But I do mind. Fresh air will be more beneficial to you than lying in bed all day. I’ll send Sarah in to pamper you if you like.’
‘How very generous of you, Aunt Grace. You know I’m in need of a maid of my own, for while Sarah is diligent, she has so much to do. She is always in a hurry and knows nothing of dressing me properly. Little wonder I appear at dinner looking half dressed and my hair all mussed up,’ Araminta complained.
Ross pricked up his ears and looked at his sister, an image of the delectable Miss Napier drifting into his mind. ‘You require a maid?’
‘I most certainly do,’ Araminta replied adamantly. ‘I’ve mentioned it to Aunt Grace before but she never seems to get round to it.’
‘That’s true,’ Grace said. ‘There always seems to be so much to think about. But I agree, Araminta, you really do need a maid of your own.’
‘Then might I suggest someone?’ Ross said, feeling a strange lift to his heart. ‘I met a young woman yesterday. She’s been in India and is employed as maid to a lady and her daughter who reside in Chelsea. Her position is to be terminated in three weeks and she is looking for another post.’
‘Why?’ Araminta asked suspiciously. ‘What has she done?’
‘Nothing. Her employers are moving to Brighton and she will no longer be required.’
Ross’s suggestion cheered Araminta somewhat. She studied the almost fond smile upon her brother’s face as he spoke of the girl and noted the gleam in his eyes. He seldom smiled, she knew, unless the smile was seductive or cynical, and when he was in the presence of his uncle, the Duke of Rothermere, he rarely laughed. It was almost as though he believed sentimentality silly and anything that was silly was abhorrent and made a man vulnerable. She was intrigued. Was it possible that he’d developed a special fondness for this maid?
‘What is this extraordinary female’s name and what does she look like?’ Araminta asked, anxious to discover more about the girl who’d had such an unusual effect on her brother.
‘Her name is Lisette Napier. She is quite tall, slender and dark haired. Her speech is as cultured as yours and mine. Her manners are impeccable and she is presentable.’
‘And how old is she?’
‘
I believe she is twenty.’
‘I see. Isn’t that a little young to be a lady’s maid?’
‘And will she make a suitable maid?’ Aunt Grace asked.
‘I really have no idea about such things, but I’m sure Mrs Arbuthnot would not employ her if she wasn’t any good at her job.’
‘Well, heaven forbid if she’s prettier than Araminta. It would never do for a maid to be more becoming than her mistress.’
‘Oh, that doesn’t matter,’ Araminta remarked happily, having already decided to take Miss Napier on—for her brother’s sake as well as her own need and curiosity. ‘I should very much like for you to hire her, Ross.’
‘I expect you could do worse than give her a chance—perhaps for a trial period of a month. See how she gets on.’
‘Yes—yes, I will. Decent servants are neither easy to find, cheap to train, nor simple to keep. I would like to meet her first.’
Ross nodded and began to attack the roast lamb with renewed relish. ‘I’ll do my best. I have no doubt that Mr Arbuthnot’s address can be located through East India House.’
* * *
The Arbuthnot family had been at home in Chelsea for a few days when Lottie dressed early and told Lisette to prepare for a trip to the Royal Exchange to do some shopping. There were some items she wished to purchase before she left for Brighton. Glad of the opportunity to escape the stilted confines of the house, where she found the work hard for both Mrs Arbuthnot and Lottie demanded their pound of flesh, and eager to see more of London, Lisette put on her coat and bonnet and prepared to enjoy herself for a couple of hours or so.
When the carriage turned in to Cornhill, both girls were in good spirits. They stared with excitement at the immense stone front of the facade of the Exchange with its high arcades and column and the clock tower reaching skyward.
Alighting from the carriage they went through the archway where the arcade square of the Exchange opened up before them. It was filled with merchants and traders and hawkers of wares, mingling with people of all occupations and positions and gentlemen in military uniforms. It was a fashionable place to shop and used as a rendezvous, much frequented by beaux waiting to meet a lady bent on flirtation.
The Housemaid's Scandalous Secret Page 3
