During the course of the meal Theodosia found Steyne’s eyes on her, puzzled, even perhaps a little angry. After the initial shock of seeing him, she had rapidly regained her composure, and whenever she met his gaze, she smiled her normally calm, warm smile. Nonetheless, it was disturbing to see him again and it cost her an effort to maintain her placid demeanor. When the gentlemen joined them in the Gold Parlor after dinner he crossed to where she sat with Charlotte on the Sheraton sofa. As he lowered himself into a ridiculously low tub chair, he commented, “I was sorry to hear of your father’s death, Miss Tremere.”
“Thank you. He had been ill for some time.”
"Not for three years, I think.” This time there was no question of the spark of anger in his eyes.
“No.” She did not meet his gaze.
“And you left Chipstable after his death?”
“Yes.”
There were obviously other questions he wished to ask, but Charlotte’s presence prevented him. She was aware of the tense undercurrent between them and thought to join her mother, leaving them to speak in peace, but Lord Steyne turned with a smile to include her in the conversation. “Chipstable hasn’t quite the same drama of setting as Channock, Lady Charlotte. Have you ever been there?”
"I don’t believe so. I’m not sure where it is.”
Theodosia laughed. "Our geography lessons don’t include such unimportant spots, Lord Steyne. We’ve been studying the New World recently because of Lord Eastwick’s sojourn there.”
How easily a conversation could be diverted from its origins, Theodosia thought with gratitude. Charlotte was pleased to talk of her father’s travels, and Steyne listened with apparent absorption, his gaze wandering now and again to Theodosia, his countenance unreadable. The younger children were brought in to see their uncle and his guest, and soon a game table was set out for them to have some sport at lottery tickets while the others sat down to whist. Theodosia and Charlotte joined the children, Steyne partnered Lady Eastwick against James and his nephew. Edward was not much interested in cards, and the stakes were so low as to prove an irritation to James, so there was a relieved acceptance of Lady Eastwick’s suggestion that they stroll in the gardens before dark. Immersed in their game, the children decided to remain where they were.
Steyne had been seated where he could watch the younger party. The governess’s back was to him, but he could tell from the familiar low chuckle that she was completely involved with the game and her charges. Not once did she turn to glance at him. There was no sign that her concentration was disturbed. How the devil could she accept meeting him after all these years with so little perturbation? Had it been so easy for her to forget? Steyne rose along with the others, wanting to invite her to join them in the gardens, but realizing that her position made it impossible for him to do so. Even as they headed for the French doors she did not look up.
On their return they found the room deserted. Supper was a leisurely meal, and not attended by Miss Tremere or Charlotte. Steyne supposed that Theodosia ate with the children, and he tried to picture her in the schoolroom pouring out tea for them and toasting muffins over the fire on a long fork. It was not difficult to envision. He could clearly remember her doing the same at the vicarage in Chipstable for her father and himself. And the cranky old man complaining that his muffin was burnt and that the butter was not sweet enough, that the tea was bitter and cold. He had admired her patience, her ability to laugh off the complaints and cajole the old man into a better frame of mind.
Lady Eastwick excused herself after the meal, and Edward was not long in following her example, nudged perhaps by his uncle’s obvious boredom with his company. Steyne and James sat sipping at glasses of excellent brandy.
“We’ll ride over to Fairlight in the morning,” James assured him.
"Borrowing horses from the Charton Court stables, no doubt.”
"Why shouldn’t we? Eastwick keeps dozens of breasts; prime blood, too. They’ll not mind our taking a couple for the day.”
Steyne said nothing.
“I’m not down often enough to make it worthwhile having anything but a nag or two at Fairlight,” James said carelessly. “If we decide to live in the country, of course I'll see to the restocking of my stables here. I know your sister likes to ride.”
And you know she has half a dozen high-bred horses in the country which you would expect to grace your stables. “Did you intend to leave early?”
James gave him a comical look of despair. “Not so early as we rose this morning, if you please. One should be more relaxed in the country. By eleven, certainly.”
“Very well.” Steyne sipped the last of his brandy, set down the glass and rose. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
If he was put out at Steyne’s defection, James did not show it. “Ring for anything you need. My sister-in-law runs an efficient household.”
“Thank you.” Steyne’s tone was ironic, both because James took so much license with his brother’s home, and because the one thing he wanted to know—where Theodosia’s room was—he could not very well ring to ask.
Chapter Five
When Steyne came to his own room, he paused but did not enter. The house was in silence now; very likely everyone but James and he were already in their beds. There was little use in searching for her room. The house was enormous and he had only the indication from meeting her in the hall that she had come from the West Wing. She could as easily have been there to fetch Lady Charlotte. He had already opened the door before he recalled telling her where he’d been headed, and he closed it again soundlessly, turning on his heel to stride purposefully toward his previous goal.
The door out onto the entrance porch roof was closed, the rooftop bathed in a pale glimmer of moonlight. He could see no one there but he stepped out into the warmth of the summer evening thinking to wait there awhile. She might have come and gone, or she might have stayed with one of the girls to answer some query or comfort some fear. Possibly it wouldn’t occur to her to come; it very nearly hadn’t to him. Possibly she wouldn’t have the courage to face the questions which even Lady Charlotte, he felt sure, had known he was burning to ask.
A flutter of movement startled him as Theodosia detached herself from the shadows beside the building.
She was dressed as he had last seen her in the Gold Parlor save for the addition of a light shawl about her shoulders. Her face looked colorless in the pale light, and there was no smile to greet him.
"I'm glad you came,” she said at once. “There is little opportunity for private conversation in this household, and your public questioning of me is only likely to embarrass the Heythrops, or frustrate you. Do feel free to ask me anything you wish while we have the opportunity.”
“I want to know why you’re here.”
His voice was coolly unemotional and she responded similarly. “If you mean, do I have to earn my living?— the answer is a little difficult. I could manage on what I have with a certain amount of frugality.”
“Nonsense! Your father was reasonably well-off, and your mother had left you something as well. I distinctly remember my aunt saying that your father’s living was only a part of his income. He had some property from his family as well.”
Theodosia hugged the shawl closer about her shoulders and looked off toward the hills rising black against the night sky. “My father sold his property and left the money to the parish church so they could add a needed aisle.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from her companion. “With a plaque dedicating it to him for his generosity, no doubt.”
“Something of that sort.”
“And your mother’s money?”
“It wasn’t entirely intact. My father had used it over the years for my maintenance. His solicitor had told him that was perfectly legitimate.”
“Exactly how much income do you have, Doe?”
“A hundred pounds a year, not counting my salary here.”
A curse escaped him, and he made
no effort to apologize. “And that was the man you thought it your duty to stay with and care for.”
“I see no need to argue about that now, Lord Steyne.”
It’s all in the past. I could, as I said, manage on the one hundred pounds. Father’s curates had less. But it would have been a rather dull life and I chose instead to come to Lady Eastwick. I like it here.”
“You can’t seriously expect me to believe you are happy being a governess. What kind of life is that for a young lady?”
Theodosia laughed. “Ideal, my dear sir. They’re a delightful family and I have something useful to do. I’m not treated as a glorified nursemaid, you know. The family has accepted me almost as one of them.”
“Almost,” he muttered, his hands clenched at his sides. “For God’s sake, Doe, don’t you realize how undesirable such a post can be? You might as easily have found yourself in a household where you were treated as a servant.”
“No, you are forgetting that I am independent. If I had chanced on an unlucky or unfortunate position, I should simply have left. Fortunately I have that option, and fortunately Charton Court has proved to be marvelous. I couldn’t ask for more.”
His eyes were angry again. “Really? And what of James and your hat pins?”
Instead of the embarrassment he expected, she chuckled. “Now I wonder who could have told you about that? I hope he didn’t suggest that he had his way with me, but he probably did, knowing Mr. Heythrop. Why are you here with him?”
“I don’t think I wish to explain that,” he said stiffly.
“No, of course not. I am the one being questioned. Had you anything further you wished to know, sir?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that I wouldn’t tell you... . Actually, it’s a rather delicate matter and I don’t think I should.”
"As you wish.”
“You haven’t explained about Bayhurst.”
“There’s nothing to explain. If your aunt wrote that I intended to marry him, she was wrong. That’s all.”
“But you left Chipstable when he did. He must have offered for you.”
“There was never any question of my accepting him, and I have no idea when he left the village. If he left when I did, I was not aware of it. I certainly didn’t leave with him, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“I wasn’t suggesting anything.”
“Your aunt said she would let you know of my father’s death. Obviously she took the opportunity to pass on a little gossip. I think she knew perfectly well where I was going. She was a friend of Mrs. Holmer’s, after all, and it was Mrs. Holmer who recommended me to Lady Eastwick.”
“My Aunt Margaret sees what she wishes to see. I have never understood why she so objected to you and your father.”
Theodosia’s lips twitched with amusement. “My father once asked her to marry him.”
“Oh, Lord. Was there no end to his folly?”
“None, apparently,” she retorted as she turned toward the door. She felt his hand grab her wrist, urgent but not painful.
"I'm sorry. Don’t go yet. There are still several things I would like to know.”
The interview had been more difficult than Theodosia had expected and she strove valiantly for that composure which had become so natural but which in this instance seemed to have entirely deserted her. She had forgotten how overwhelming he could seem with his intent dark eyes and broad shoulders, forgotten how that rugged face could become devoid of expression while still exuding an aura of command. She turned slowly from the door and stood patiently waiting.
“Thank you. When my aunt wrote, it was to tell me that your father had died and that you had left Chipstable with Mr. Bayhurst. No, you don’t have to explain that again. What I wish to know is whether you left immediately after your father died.”
“How could I? You must know there are any number of things to be done when a relative dies. I was there a month, perhaps six weeks, afterward.”
"Did you know ahead of time how you were situated, how little money there would be?”
“I suspected. Father started to talk about the church and how the addition would be a memorial to him. He assured me that I would be well taken care of.”
"Did he expect you to marry Mr. Bayhurst?”
“No. Toward the end he took no interest in anything outside himself and his soul. We never spoke of Mr. Bayhurst; there was nothing to say that had not been said a dozen times over the years. Harold was not, to my father’s mind, my equal, so he never pushed for a match. My father had a rather . . . vaunted idea of his own social consequence, or he would never have offered for your aunt.”
Her first admission of her father’s fallacy, a small admission but a real one, did not give him any apparent pleasure. "So he literally believed that a hundred pounds a year would be sufficient for you to live on?”
“He probably thought it was more. His records were never kept up-to-date and hadn’t been balanced for years. He drew on Mother’s money to maintain the household and me.”
And himself, Steyne thought bitterly. The old fool— a sanctimonious, selfish, narrow-minded hypocrite without the least affection or care for his own daughter. Leaving her barely provided for while he gave what should have been her inheritance to buy his way into heaven. Steyne’s eyes flashed with anger.
“If that’s all you wish to know, I should be returning to my room,” Theodosia said evenly.
“I’ll walk you there.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“You forget James is in the house. I would suggest you keep your door locked.”
“I shall.”
They walked in silence down the corridor to her suite. A lamp burned on the table beside her bed and he stood in the doorway after she entered, saying, “Have a look around. I wouldn’t trust James further than I could see him."
Obediently she walked into her study and cast a hasty glance around. All was perfectly in order. She returned to find him surveying her bedroom with interest.
“They’ve given you a remarkably fine and spacious set of rooms.”
Theodosia smiled. “I told you they treat me as almost one of the family.”
His eyes met hers for a brief moment. “Yes, you did. Good night, Doe.”
“Good night, . . . Lord Steyne.”
* * * *
“And do you know what he called her?” Charlotte asked her sister dreamily. “He called her ‘Doe.’ Isn’t that perfect? Her eyes are just like a doe’s, all warm and brown and trusting.”
Eleanor snorted. “It comes from Theodosia, silly.”
“Oh, I know, but it’s perfect anyhow. He must have known her very well to call her by a nickname, don’t you think? I mean, even if his aunt was especially close to her, you’d think at most he would call her Theodosia, don’t you? Mama calls her Miss Tremere like we do.”
“That’s because she’s our governess. Oh, she’s Mama’s friend, too, but she couldn’t very well call Mama Joanna, could she? So Mama calls her Miss Tremere.”
“Eleanor,” Charlotte said disgustedly, “have you no poetry in your soul? I’m not discussing what Mama and Miss Tremere call each other, but what Lord Steyne called her. You should have seen his face when we came around the corner. He was absolutely astonished!” She frowned slightly. “But he seemed a little angry, too. He said, 'What the devil are you doing here?'"
Eleanor giggled. “You shouldn’t repeat something like that, Charlotte. What if Edward should overhear you? He’d tell Mama to lock you in your room on bread and water.”
“Oh, no, he wouldn’t. At least, Mama wouldn’t do it. Anyhow, I was only telling you what I heard. Isn’t that strange? Of course, I’m sure it was a surprise for him to meet someone he knew here but he was upset about it; I feel certain. Later on you could see he wanted to ask her all sorts of things, but he didn’t because I was there. And, oh, Eleanor, he said someone—I can’t remember the name—had asked Miss Tremere to marry him. But she hadn’t, of
course. Lord Steyne said the fellow was a bore.”
“Then I’m glad she didn’t marry him,” Eleanor returned prosaically. “I cannot imagine anything worse than being married to a bore.”
“Sometimes I worry about you, Eleanor. Can’t you see what I’m driving at? Haven’t you the least interest in romance? I think Miss Tremere and Lord Steyne were once interested in one another, but Miss Tremere was to marry this Mr. Bore. Then Lord Steyne went away and Miss Tremere realized that she couldn’t marry the Bore because her heart was given to his lordship. How very sad!”
“I think you’ve been nipping at the wine,” was Eleanor’s pungent reply, though they were only on their way to breakfast. “Miss Tremere doesn’t go sighing about the house with tragic eyes the way you do when you haven’t seen Mr. Winstanley for a few days. She is undoubtedly the most cheerful lady I’ve ever met. How can you weave such a fairy tale? They were probably childhood friends.”
"I'm sure they weren’t. It was obvious that he met her while visiting his aunt at Chipstable.”
“Where he has probably visited off and on for the last—oh, I don’t know how many years. He’s rather old, isn’t he? Over thirty, I’d say. You know we both call Alexander Stapleton Alex simply because we’ve known him since he was in leading strings.”
“She called him Lord Steyne.”
“Well, of course she did. You wouldn’t expect her to be the least bit familiar with him in our house, would you? And I’ll bet you won’t find him calling her ‘Doe’ any longer, either, now that he’s found out she’s our governess,” Eleanor said knowingly. "Thomas told me Lord Steyne is top of the trees as a sporting gentleman.”
Charlotte allowed a wistful sigh to escape. “Perhaps you’re right. Miss Tremere doesn’t act as though she’s had an unhappy moment in her life, does she? Hmm, do you suppose we could sort of promote a romance between them? I would hate to see her leave, but he’s a charming man.”
In My Lady's Chamber Page 6
