Born to Scandal

by Diane Gaston

  Parker put down the inch-thick stack of paper he’d been gripping and faced him. ‘If I may speak plain, sir, it is that governess. She is always luring you away from your business matters for one triviality or another—’

  Brent glared at him. ‘Take care, Parker.’

  His man of business did not heed the warning. Instead, he picked up the papers again and swung them through the air as he spoke. ‘I mean, it just is not done! She has you acting the nursemaid. You! A marquess!’

  ‘Enough!’ Brent rose from his chair. ‘You forget your place, sir.’ He stood face to face with the man. ‘What I do, how I spend my time, who I spend it with, is not the sort of business to which you are paid to attend.’ His anger was perilously close to exploding. ‘Heed what I say. Discussion of my children or their governess is prohibited to you.’

  Parker continued. ‘She has changed you! She is pulling your strings as if you were a marionette. You cannot see it.’

  Brent leaned forwards, his fists on the desk. ‘That is it, Parker.’ He lowered his voice to a growl. ‘Leave now. Come back in a week’s time and I will have a letter of recommendation for you and you will be paid for the year.’

  ‘You are discharging me?’ Parker eyes grew wide with shock. ‘You cannot! We are in the midst of all this work.’

  ‘I can and I did and I am not above tossing you out on your ear, as well.’ He gave Parker his sternest look. ‘Go now if you want any pay at all.’

  ‘But—’ Parker sputtered.

  ‘Go!’ Brent bellowed.

  Parker dropped the papers and ran out.

  * * *

  Anna and Dory sat in a sunny spot in Anna’s room, sewing. When Eppy had searched for the trim for Anna’s dinner dress, she’d discovered a trunk with a sewing basket and scraps of fabric, lace and ribbon. Anna told Dory they might make new dresses for her doll with this treasure trove, and Dory was so excited about the prospect she willingly gave up an outing to the Horse Guards with her father and brother.

  It suited Anna to miss that outing as well.

  Dory had chosen a scrap of white muslin and pink ribbon for the first dress. ‘Hortense will look as pretty as you,’ Dory said.

  First Anna showed Dory how to make simple stitches. She gave the child a scrap of linen on which to practise while she sewed the replica of her dinner dress. With every stab of the needle she saw Lord Brentmore’s face in her mind.

  She looked over at Dory. ‘Keep your fingers away from the point of the needle.’

  Dory was unusually quiet and intent on her stitches. ‘I like sewing very much,’ she said.

  Anna could not help but smile. How could she ever have considered leaving these children?

  There was a knock on her door.

  Davies opened it and stuck his head in. ‘Miss Hill, Miss Rolfe has called and requests a moment of your time.’

  ‘Miss Rolfe? For me?’ What could she possibly want?

  ‘For you. She did not ask for his lordship.’ He sounded as surprised as she. ‘She is waiting in the drawing room.’

  Anna set aside her sewing and stood. ‘Would you find Eppy and have her come stay with Dory?’

  ‘Very good.’ Davies left.

  ‘Dory, I’ll be back soon. Eppy can help you sew while I see this caller.’

  ‘Papa’s fiancée,’ Dory said without looking up from her sewing.

  Anna took off her cap and the apron that covered her dress and quickly tidied her hair, all the while realising she wanted to appear at her best in front of this woman, just as Lord Brentmore had accused.

  When Anna entered the drawing room, Miss Rolfe stood staring at the same Gainsborough portrait that had captured Anna’s attention that first day.

  She turned and smiled. ‘Miss Hill, how kind of you to see me.’

  ‘Miss Rolfe.’ Anna curtsied. ‘Please do sit down. Shall I have Davies bring some tea?’

  ‘Oh, no, please do not go to such trouble for me.’ Miss Rolfe lowered herself on to the same sofa on which she sat the previous night.

  ‘It is no trouble to serve you.’ Anna was still puzzled by her presence. ‘You will, after all, become the marchioness.’

  The young woman brushed a curl off her forehead. ‘I suppose you are correct, but I still would prefer not to have tea.’

  ‘As you wish.’ Anna sat in the adjacent chair.

  Miss Rolfe smiled nervously. ‘You are probably wondering why I am here.’

  ‘I am certain you will tell me.’ Anna could not help but try to put her at ease; she was so obviously troubled.

  ‘I—I came to ask you something...’ She placed her hand over her chest as if to try to calm herself.

  What would cause a future marchioness to be nervous about speaking to a governess?

  Anna waited.

  Miss Rolfe tried again. ‘My mother made a comment upon which I have pondered all night.’

  ‘A comment?’ She tried to sound encouraging.

  ‘She said it half in jest, but it troubled me.’

  Simply come out with it, Anna wanted to say. ‘What was it?’

  The young woman took a breath. ‘She—she said that you and the marquess did not talk to each other like any employer and governess she’d ever known. It made me wonder—wonder if there was more to your relationship with the marquess than that.’

  Anna’s own nerves flared. ‘More to our relationship?’ She must answer this very carefully. ‘The marquess acted as a friend to me on the occasion of my mother’s death, but—but there is nothing more.’ Nothing spoken—nothing acted upon. At least not fully acted upon, not fully disclosed.

  ‘You are not lovers?’ Miss Rolfe blurted out.

  Anna lowered her gaze. ‘We are not lovers.’ Merely a hair’s breadth from being lovers.

  Miss Rolfe’s face screwed up in anxiety. ‘Because I am very desirous of making my marriage a good one. I—I should need to know if—if the marquess had other interests. I would hate to act the jealous wife.’

  Anna gaped at her. ‘You would tolerate such a thing?’

  The young woman lifted a shoulder. ‘What else can a wife do?’

  Anna’s brows knitted. ‘May I ask, is this marriage a love match for you?’

  Miss Rolfe’s expression lost its tension. ‘Oh, no, but Lord Brentmore understands that. Marrying me suits his need for a respectable wife and it suits me because his money saves my father from ruin and provides for the futures of my sisters and brothers.’

  A marriage of convenience.

  The young woman went on. ‘It is all very civilised. Peter assures me his cousin is a fine man and I will be treated very well by him.’

  ‘He is a fine man,’ Anna murmured. She peered at Miss Rolfe. ‘In this marriage would you also take lovers?’

  She looked shocked. ‘Oh, no. I cannot even imagine it.’

  ‘Not even with your Peter?’ Anna spoke in a low voice.

  Miss Rolfe turned bright red. ‘Peter? Why would you say such a thing?’

  Anna spoke quietly. ‘I noticed the way you looked at each other.’

  Miss Rolfe, appearing alarmed, reached over and gripped Anna’s arm. ‘Do not tell the marquess, please!’

  ‘I will not,’ Anna assured her.

  Miss Rolfe released her and expelled a relieved breath.

  Anna went on. ‘How do you see this, marrying Lord Brentmore and being in love with his cousin?’ If Miss Rolfe knew how to accomplish such a thing, perhaps she could teach Anna.

  The young woman lowered her head into her hands. ‘He—Peter—is going to move to the Continent. He says it will cost him less to live there, so it is a good thing for him.’ She raised her head and her eyes filled with tears. ‘You see, Peter has no money. Marrying him is out of the question. I—I do not care for myself whether we have money, but I’ll not have the ruin of my whole family on my conscience.’

  Anna felt sick. She might be able to bear it if Lord Brentmore made a marriage that brought him happiness and devotion, but
this sounded dreadful.

  Miss Rolfe took out a lace-edged handkerchief from her reticule. She dabbed at her eyes. ‘It—it makes it all easier to know you and Brent are not lovers. I confess, I did not know how I would do, knowing such a thing and acting the good wife. I—I must be a good wife to him. He is the salvation of my family.’

  And Miss Rolfe, apparently, was the sacrificial lamb.

  A memory flew into Anna’s mind. Her mother greeting Lord Lawton at the cottage door, telling Anna to hurry back to the house and to Charlotte.

  Would this be Anna and Brentmore at Brentmore Hall some day? Snatching passionate encounters with each other, all the while knowing his wife suffered for it? Could they really resist it when their passion was as alive and as powerful as Miss Rolfe’s for Peter?

  Anna glanced towards the drawing-room door. What a deplorable muddle and who would be right in the middle of it?

  The children.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Anna bided her time the few days before the ball and before she and the children could return to Brentmore Hall. She and Lord Brentmore existed in an uneasy peace that was every bit as painful as their volatile confrontations. She kept Miss Rolfe’s visit from him, but it haunted her every hour.

  Charlotte sent over a ball gown, complete with matching shoes, gloves and shawl. Anna recognised it as one of Charlotte’s outfits of the last Season. Only a few short months ago, Anna had helped Charlotte select its design for the modiste. The gown, a pale blue silk with a sheer overskirt, was adorned with fabric flowers on the bodice and hem. Anna instructed Eppy to remove the flowers. A governess ought not to wear such a fancy dress.

  When the night of the ball finally arrived, Eppy and Anna’s maid helped Anna dress, just as they had for Lord Brentmore’s dinner party. While they were putting the final polish on her appearance, Davies knocked on her bedroom door.

  He bore a jewellery box. ‘Lord Brentmore said you are to select whatever you wish from this box. The jewels belonged to the marchioness.’

  When the women opened the box, they gasped. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds were all thrown in a jumble that glittered in the lamplight. Most of the necklaces, bracelets and earrings were much too opulent for Anna’s station, but she found a blue sapphire pendant surrounded by seed pearls and hung on a delicate gold chain that would do. Digging further into the jewellery box, they pulled out teardrop pearl earrings to match.

  Once Anna would have been delighted to dress for a ball. She and Charlotte had attended many near Lawton, where everyone knew precisely who she was. This night, though, brought Anna no joy. She did not aspire to dazzle anyone, merely to be presentable enough not to embarrass Lord Brentmore or Charlotte. All she really wished was to blend into the wallpaper.

  But Eppy and the maid had other ideas. They’d visited Ackermann’s and looked through the fashion prints in La Belle Assemblée. They aspired to make her as fashionable as possible.

  ‘I’ll defy any of those society ladies to hold a candle to you!’ the maid said, pinning one of the fabric flowers into her hair.

  ‘You are a picture!’ Eppy agreed.

  Anna thanked them, but hoped Lord Brentmore would not think she was attempting to look alluring.

  Davies knocked at the door again. ‘His lordship is waiting, Miss Hill. The carriage is here.’

  ‘I am coming.’ She hugged her maid and Eppy and hurried down the stairs.

  He stood at the bottom, leaning against the banister.

  Her breath caught.

  He looked exceptionally handsome in his superbly fitting formal wear. His black coat, set against the pristinely white linen of his shirt and neckcloth, merely enhanced the impression.

  His eyes followed her as she descended and her heart beat wildly.

  ‘I am sorry to keep you waiting,’ she said, walking past him to the door.

  As she reached the door it was opened by a footman. She passed through to the outside and to the carriage, where another footman waited to assist her inside. She did not look back to see if Lord Brentmore followed, but she felt him behind her.

  Inside the carriage, they faced each other as they had that first day when he’d given her a ride in the rain. It was no easier to converse with him this night than it had been that day.

  * * *

  When they pulled up to the Lawton town house, he said, ‘If Charlotte wants you here, you will be welcome, Anna.’

  Her gaze flew to his face. She knew her father did not welcome her.

  The carriage door opened and a footman put down the steps.

  When Anna reached out her hand for him to assist her, the footman grinned. ‘Why, it is Anna! How’d you do, Anna!’

  ‘Hello, Rogers,’ she responded. ‘I hope you are well.’

  ‘Quite well.’ His smile vanished when Lord Brentmore emerged. He resumed his formal role.

  Lord Brentmore did not offer his arm, nor would Anna have taken it if he had. After what Miss Rolfe had suspected, she wished to be careful what impression she gave.

  They entered the town house, where another footman greeted Anna and took their things. As they walked up the stairs to the ballroom, she felt an attack of nerves.

  ‘Steady, Anna,’ Lord Brentmore murmured.

  The butler gave her a wink before stepping in the room and announcing, ‘Lord Brentmore and Miss Hill.’

  The chatter ceased for a moment and Anna suffered the gaze of many eyes upon her, followed by a hum of whispers. Lord and Lady Lawton stood to the side greeting guests, displeasure written all over their faces.

  She felt Lord Brentmore’s hand on her elbow. They approached the Lawtons together.

  ‘Anna, this is not well done of you!’ Lady Lawton glared.

  ‘See here—’ Lord Lawton huffed.

  Lord Brentmore faced them both. ‘Your daughter invited Miss Hill and begged me to bring her. It is the sole reason I attend.’ His voice sounded dangerous. ‘You will be civil to her or answer to me.’

  ‘Anna, you should have known better,’ Lady Lawton cried, as if the marquess had said nothing. ‘No matter what Charlotte wanted you to do.’

  Anna stood tall. ‘I did know better, my lady. But Lord Brentmore insisted I attend and, since I am in his employ, what other choice did I have?’ She turned to Lord Lawton. ‘I would have nowhere to turn if I did not have the position he provides me.’

  Lord Lawton flushed.

  At that moment, Charlotte rushed over in a flurry of skirts. ‘Anna! You came!’ She gave Anna a quick hug and smiled at Lord Brentmore. ‘I knew I could rely on you, sir!’ She took Anna’s hand. ‘Come. There are so many gentlemen I should like to meet you.’

  The names and faces of the gentlemen to whom Anna was introduced blurred after a while. Lord Vestry and Mr Norton, the men she’d met at Hyde Park, were among many others. This was not at all how Anna had wished to pass the time at the ball. She’d planned to find a chair near a big plant and wait out the entire thing.

  She caught Charlotte between gentlemen for a brief moment. ‘Charlotte, you must stop pushing me off on these poor gentlemen.’

  Charlotte squeezed her hand. ‘Never! I intend to find one who will fall madly in love with you and then you shall no longer need to be a governess.’

  Anna felt the blood drain from her face. Was that what this was about? Was Lord Brentmore in on the scheme?

  She scanned the room and found him. He stood with Miss Rolfe, who was at that moment speaking to Peter Caine. Brentmore looked burdened. His gaze slid to her and held for a moment before he lowered his head and eventually turned away.

  Anna felt a wave of sadness for him. She was not the only one who suffered.

  ‘Oh, Anna!’ Charlotte took a deep breath and pressed her hand against her stomach. ‘I feel all tied in knots inside. How am I doing? Am I talking too much? I feel like I am, like people are watching me. All I wish to do is run up to my room and hide.’

  Anna fell into her familiar role. ‘You are doing splendidly. You
are the very picture of a lively and delightful hostess.’

  ‘I am just pretending, Anna.’ She released a long breath.

  Anna knew Charlotte could very easily freeze up when she started talking like this. Anna did what she’d always done: distracted her. ‘Are there any of these gentlemen who particularly interest you, Charlotte?’

  Charlotte surveyed the room. ‘There is one man... But I do not see him yet.’ She shot a glance over to Lord Vestry and Mr Norton. ‘Not those two, though. They are so childish.’

  Lord Vestry and Mr Norton were whispering together like two dowagers with nothing to do but gossip. They caught Anna looking at them and quickly turned away.

  The musicians began tuning their instruments.

  ‘The dancing should begin soon,’ Charlotte said. ‘It is so much easier to dance and not talk.’ She peered at Anna. ‘Tell me you will dance.’

  Anna shook her head. ‘I should not—’

  Charlotte pressed her arm. ‘Oh, please say you will dance.’

  Anna sighed. ‘Very well. If anyone asks me.’

  Charlotte gripped her arm harder. ‘Oh, look. Here comes Mr Yates.’

  Mr Yates walked up to them and bowed. ‘Good evening, Lady Charlotte. Miss Hill.’

  Charlotte smiled at him. ‘I am so glad you came. Did—did you have any difficulty? I gave strict instructions that you were to be admitted.’

  ‘No difficulty at all.’

  One of Charlotte’s gentlemen guests came to claim her for the first dance and she excused herself.

  Mr Yates turned to Anna. ‘So you are here after all.’

  She nodded. ‘Very unhappily.’ She stole a glance towards Lord Brentmore. ‘Very unhappily, indeed.’

  * * *

  Brent’s gaze continued to seek out Anna. He was almost resigned to it, although he hoped it was not obvious to anyone else. Certainly in his party—Peter, Miss Rolfe and her parents—no one seemed to take notice.

  She could not have looked more beautiful. Her gown flowed around her like water. Its blue colour brought out the blue in her eyes, so vividly that in the carriage he’d had to look out the window to avoid staring at her.