“Let me help,” he said when she fumbled with the ribbons on her bonnet.
“Thank you.”
He bent to look at the tight knot. Prying it apart, he said, “You have made a complete jumble of this.”
Her laugh stroked the side of his face with its warmth. As he drew aside the ribbons, she reached to lift off her bonnet. He halted her when his fingers edged slowly up her cheeks to lift it away. Her eyes widened at his presumptuous touch, and her hands settled on his. He smiled when she did not push him away. As the bonnet fell away to roll down the pillows to the coverlet, he let his fingers sift up through her sable hair. Her lips parted in the unspoken offer that had haunted his dreams, an offer that sent craving through him.
A throat cleared behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see a middle-aged woman standing in the door of what he knew was the dressing room. He was torn between laughing and cursing at his grandfather’s wisdom. Mrs. Scott would be the best watchdog for any young woman in this house, for she had much experience keeping the maids and the footmen from entanglements that would create a to-do in Cheyney Park.
As he reached past Serenity to pick up her bonnet, he knew Mrs. Scott had not arrived a moment too soon. He might be out of his head to have considered kissing Serenity, but it was the only thought in his head now.
“Lord Cheyney,” Mrs. Scott said in her no-nonsense voice.
“Mrs. Scott.” He nodded toward her, the temptation to laugh growing stronger. She could not rid herself of the habit of treating him as if he still were a child. If she could be privy to the thoughts in his head right now, she would know there was nothing childish left about him.
She bustled into the room and over to the bed. She did not quite elbow him aside, but he suspected she would have if he had not stepped back.
“You must be Serenity Adams,” Mrs. Scott said as she took the bonnet from him.
Serenity glanced from Timothy’s twitching lips to the pursed ones of this imposing woman. Although Mrs. Scott was shorter than Timothy and wore a dress the same color as her gray hair, she seemed to take control of the chamber with her calm demeanor.
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied. No one had to tell Serenity that Mrs. Scott was the housekeeper, for she had the air of a woman firmly in charge.
“Lord Brookindale asked me to see if you had everything you need, Miss Adams.” She scowled at Timothy. “He said nothing about your needs, my lord.”
Serenity was sure her cheeks were as fiery red as a wintry sunset. When Timothy laughed, she wondered if her mind had been injured in the carriage accident as well as her forehead. No one here reacted as she expected them to.
“I see,” Timothy said, “you remain as outspoken as ever, Mrs. Scott.”
“One learns to be outspoken here if one wants to be heard over the hubbub.” The housekeeper lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “They both are due to arrive within a week.”
“Both?”
“Your aunt from the Continent and that woman your cousin Felix seems to have developed some affection for.” Her nose wrinkled as if the house were about to be invaded by some sort of plague.
Timothy’s smile wavered as he glanced at Serenity. “You might as well know the truth right from the onset. Mrs. Scott speaks of my aunt Ilse, who married into the household of some minor Prussian state that I am sure you have never heard of. None of us had until she announced her plans to marry Prince Rupert.”
“And the other?” Serenity asked. She wanted to know as much as she could about this household and its residents and guests so she did not ruin his plan.
“The other is Melanda Hayes, who is, without question, one of the most vexing people in England.” He winked at Mrs. Scott. “Or mayhap in the whole world.”
“You have traveled farther than I have, my lord,” she said in the same precise tone. “I will have to leave that judgment to you while you leave Miss Adams to me. The earl wants her to rest after her ordeal.”
“So rest she shall.” Timothy chuckled. “How are you, Mrs. Scott? You look well.”
“Other than the knee …” She set the bonnet on the dressing table and smiled. “Life would not be interesting if it were perfect.”
“And the plans are going well?”
Mrs. Scott glanced at the bed.
“I have taken Miss Adams into my confidence about many of the details of the plans for Grandfather’s party.” Timothy’s smile wavered again, and Serenity guessed he would tell her the whole of it as soon as he could, so he did not have to be false with the housekeeper. “You can speak plainly in front of her about any of it.”
“But not now!” She wagged a finger at him. “My lord, the earl wishes Miss Adams to rest now.”
“I understand.” He brushed Serenity’s face with the back of his fingertips. “Rest well, sweetheart.”
Her heart thudded against her chest. Because of his touch? Because of his words? She must have hit her head even harder than she had guessed if she would give credence to either. This was a game only.
“Yes,” she whispered, “I shall rest.” Mayhap, when she woke, she would have herself back under control, so she would not react so strongly to what was only playacting.
Shutting her eyes, she watched from under her lashes as Timothy turned away from the bed. He walked away only a few steps, motioning for Mrs. Scott to come over to where he stood. Only by straining could she hear their low voices.
“Miss Adams will need to replace her wardrobe that was destroyed in the carriage accident,” he said.
A wardrobe! Her eyes popped open. She had not realized how much this deception would cost Timothy. It was only a few weeks until Christmas. To spend all that money on a wardrobe for her that she could not use when she regained her memories and went back into service seemed ludicrous.
“Of course.” Mrs. Scott smiled at her. “If you will give me the name and address of your modiste, Miss Adams, I shall have a message sent for her to come here.”
Serenity bit her lower lip. A seamstress? She had no idea of the name of any.
“My dear Serenity,” Timothy said so quickly that she doubted if Mrs. Scott had noticed her hesitation, “I recall you telling me that you had admired a bosom-bow’s dress and had learned of Madame DuLac’s skill with a needle. Mrs. Scott, I shall give you the address. I believe Miss Adams should rest now.”
“Those were your grandfather’s orders.” Mrs. Scott’s eyes twinkled. “If you will be so kind to recall that, my lord.”
“I doubt you would allow me to forget.” Timothy grinned again. “I shall leave Miss Adams to your capable care while I retrieve Madame’s address.”
Serenity let her shoulders relax back into the pillows as he walked out of the room, which seemed so empty without him. Don’t be absurd! With the fire dancing on the hearth as the wind teased the windows, this was probably the finest room she had ever been in.
Mrs. Scott walked over to the bed and smiled. “May I say that, despite the mishaps you suffered on your way here, you look well?”
“Thank you.” Cheyney Park must have the most efficient system of gossip in all of England. Serenity was unsure if anyone had mentioned the carriage accident. How long had she been senseless?
She looked at a gilded clock on the mantel and relaxed again. It must have been for only a few minutes that she had lost consciousness. Wrapping her arms around herself, she thought of how perfect it had been to be cradled in Timothy’s strong arms. The beat of his heart beneath her ear had been sweet music, urging her heart to match its rhythm. It had been wondrous.
“We have been looking forward to your visit, Miss Adams.” The housekeeper’s voice ripped her away from her reverie of forbidden dreams.
“You have?” She hoped Mrs. Scott had not said something else she had missed.
“I don’t usually talk out of turn, but the earl is always happy to see his grandson, the viscount, and more so than ever this time when Lord Cheyney has brought you to meet his grandfather.�
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“I hope I can meet his expectations.” That was the most honest thing she had said since she woke in the inn.
“Don’t mind the earl’s bluster, Miss Adams. He is deeply devoted to those of his family he respects. The others …” She shrugged and began to undo Serenity’s left shoe. Setting it on the floor, she reached for the other one.
Wanting to ask who the others were, because she was hungry for any information that might help her keep from revealing the truth of this deception, Serenity simply smiled. A lady would not gossip with a servant. Again that was something she knew with a certainty that was inexplicable when so much of her past was gone. Mayhap she had been a prattlebox, and her employer had chastised her with a similar comment. Odd, though, for she did not seem to be a prattlebox.
It did appear that, given the opportunity, Mrs. Scott was. Or mayhap it was nothing more than that she was trying to offer a welcome to the woman she believed would be the next chatelaine of Cheyney Park. As she drew the covers all around Serenity, the housekeeper said, “I shall send Nan to help you, Miss Adams. She is young, but not without experience as an abigail. The earl hired her last year when …” She glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Dear me, look at the time. I told Cook I would be up here for only a few minutes. Is there anything else you need just now?”
“Lord Brookindale’s prescription for me to rest sounds wisest just now,” Serenity replied, trying to keep her smile in place. All she wanted to do was close her eyes and fall asleep. Then she could forget the whole of this. “I want to recover quickly from this accident, so I can watch the house being decorated for the holidays.”
“The holidays!” Mrs. Scott rolled her eyes. “I dread them every year. It is busy enough with Christmas and New Year’s Day and Twelfth Night, but the earl’s birthday makes things even more hectic.”
“Especially this year when he reaches the seventieth anniversary of his birth.”
“Especially this year when the whole family seems to be descending on Cheyney Park.” The housekeeper shook her head and sighed. “If only they were not coming, there might be hope of a calm holiday.”
“They?”
The housekeeper glanced toward the door and lowered her voice. “Those two, Miss Adams.”
A lady would not gossip with a servant. In spite of her curiosity, she said, “I hope that things go better than you expect.”
“So do I, but I expect, Miss Adams, that you are going to have a Christmastide unlike any you have ever known.”
“What do you mean?”
Mrs. Scott’s smile returned. “You shall see.”
Six
Timothy set the two leather-bound books on the desk in his bedchamber. With a wry grin, he opened a drawer and put them inside, out of view. Grandfather would be upset if he discovered Timothy had brought work with him to Cheyney Park. In only one way did Timothy see a resemblance between Grandfather and Felix: both of them believed that work belonged to the working class, not to the ton.
“You have no idea of all the fun that you are missing,” he mused.
“Did you say something, my lord?”
“Nothing, Henry.” He leaned on the desk and watched as Henry unpacked the rest of his bags.
Henry was no longer a young man, but no sign of age slowed him. He still bounced around the room, doing all his tasks with a sense of happiness. He acted as young as a youth, even though his face was lined with wrinkles and his hair was losing its ginger shade to a silver almost as bright as Serenity’s eyes.
Blast it! He should not be letting his mind linger on Serenity, but thinking of anything else seemed impossible. She had lauded him for his kindness. She must not guess that there had been two reasons why he had acquiesced to Felix’s absurd plan. One had been, he had to own, a kindness, because he could not withdraw the generous offer of money that Felix had suggested as payment for her services. Seeing her dismay when she had thought Timothy would reject the whole scheme, he had understood her desperation when she spoke of her fear for her siblings she could not even recall past the words in that letter.
The other reason had been far less altruistic. Having seen how Serenity resembled the woman he had devised out of his dreams, he wanted to discover what this real woman was like. Would she be tenderhearted? Or coldhearted, as Charlene Pye had been when bidding him to give up his work and become a “real gentleman of the ton,” as she had said so pointedly? Only then had he understood that Charlene was jealous of any time he was not sitting by her side, plying her with court-promises and nothing-sayings.
“You are deep in thought, my lord,” Henry said as he closed the door to the armoire, where he had been placing the last of Timothy’s clothes. “Is there a way I can be of assistance?”
“Not unless you wish to take my place when I explain to Grandfather why I have been keeping him waiting.”
“He would expect you to be certain that Miss Adams is well taken care of, no matter how much time that requires him to wait.”
Timothy smiled. “Have you always been so devious, Henry?”
“I am afraid so, my lord.”
“I shall have to remember that.” He clapped his valet on the shoulder. “That might come in handy someday.”
That his grandfather was waiting with patience did not surprise Timothy. Lord Brookindale had told him often that all things came to a man who knew how to wait and that it was a fool who chased after things before their time had arrived.
Timothy let a smile tip his lips when a servant stepped forward with a tray that held a single glass of brandy. Taking it with a nod, he sat in a chair facing his grandfather, who was sipping his own glass with appreciation.
“I trust Miss Adams is doing better,” Grandfather said quietly.
“I would express her apologies.”
“For what?” Grandfather’s eyes sparked with dark fire. “For betrothing herself to a beef-head who thinks of greeting his grandfather instead of tending to his betrothed, who has endured an upset carriage?”
“The point is taken, Grandfather.”
“I thought it would be.”
“And I have apologized to Serenity.”
His grandfather leaned back in his chair and held up his brandy, so it caught the flicker of the firelight. “She is everything you wrote that she was.”
“You can determine that after exchanging so few words with her?” Wanting to ask what his grandfather had perceived so swiftly, he could not. The wrong word would allow the insightful earl to see through their scheme, which had as little substance as a spider’s web.
“Is something amiss, Timothy?”
His fingers clenched on his glass. “Why do you ask?”
“You are as evasive as a thief surrounded by the watch. A simple comment brings forth a sharp question from you.”
“I am curious how you intuited so much about Serenity during such a brief conversation.”
Grandfather smiled. “I did not. I saw she is as lovely as you described, so I assumed you have not exaggerated any of her other virtues. During the past seven decades, I have discovered that if there is one thing a man embellishes about the lady he loves, it is her appearance.”
“Again a point well taken.” Letting his shoulders ease from their rigid stance, he smiled.
His smile stayed in place as his grandfather turned the conversation to the jumble in the foyer, where Branson was overseeing the hanging of the greens. By the time he had finished his brandy, his grandfather’s eyes were growing heavy with the passage of the afternoon. Timothy bade his grandfather to have a pleasant nap and took his leave.
Timothy whistled a light tune under his breath as he strode along the hall. He jumped aside as a warning was shouted. Holly cascaded around him. Waving aside a lass’s hurried apologies, he picked up the holly and handed it back to her. She dipped in a curtsy and gave him a smile that suggested she would be grateful for anything he wanted to offer her.
Blast it! He had enough trouble with the single woman in h
is life. He did not need to complicate things more by a flirtation with a serving lass.
When his name was called, he wondered how a day could go from one disaster to the next with such speed. He waved to his cousin, who was coming in the opposite direction along the hall. From the expression on Felix’s face, Timothy guessed his cousin had been waiting, but with far less patience than Grandfather had shown.
“I thought you would be done long ago,” Felix complained as he opened the door to a small parlor. Although a fire was burning on the hearth, the room had the odor of one that had been closed for too long.
Timothy frowned. He had not thought of how empty this house must seem to Grandfather, who had been accustomed to his large family, but which had dwindled to so few. Timothy and Felix and Felix’s father were seldom here, so that left the staff and Grandfather and mayhap Cousin Theodora and her mother, although he had seen no sign of either of them.
Felix dropped into a leather chair and smiled. “Serenity’s first meeting with Grandfather went well.” He rubbed his hands together. “Did you arrange with her to feign vapors like that to garner Grandfather’s compassion?”
“Nothing was arranged or feigned.”
“Is she that badly hurt? Having her die now would truly ruin Grandfather’s birthday party.”
Timothy grimaced. “I am sure Serenity shall be gratified to hear of your concern for her continued well-being.”
“Bah!” Felix waved a dismissive hand toward him. “You understand very well what I mean.”
“I do understand very well what you mean, and I trust you shall understand what I mean when I ask you to excuse me. I have matters to deal with.”
“Work?”
“You need not make it sound like an oath.”
“You are on holiday, Timothy. That accursed factory will run without you hovering over it like a worried mother.”
“Have a pleasant afternoon.” He left his cousin to fume alone. Arguing over this was a waste of time, because, if Charlene Pye could not change his mind, Felix should know that he could not.
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