A Summons From His Grace (Regency Christmas Summons Collection 4)

by Kelly, Olivia

  “Not to worry, brother dear,” she told him and lovingly patted his cheek. Goodness, he looked paler than before. “I’m fine now.” To prove it, she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and walked to check on another table.

  Jeremy gave up arguing with her, which he usually did, and sat by some of his friends. A frown claimed her face as she studied her sickly brother. No doctor could tell them what was wrong or why Jeremy grew weaker by the day. They couldn’t afford a real doctor, so they had to settle for the pathetic ones who didn’t have a practice any longer.

  The day moved in a slow pace into evening, and it was all she could do to keep busy and not think of the very handsome Mr. Seton. Calvin, she thought dreamily. As much as the feminine side of her wanted to hurry home, bathe in the hip-tub, and adorn herself in a lovely frock, her stubborn side reminded her of her goal.

  Scare the British man back to England.

  There was only one way she could do that, and it was to be herself. After all, her hoyden personality frightened most men away who considered courting her. Why not Mr. Seton?

  Time seemed to stand still, and she kept her eyes on the front door. When Mr. Seton finally walked in, she nearly lost her breath. He was dressed in different clothes, although they were still expensive and very clean. The grey color of his over-jacket and waistcoat looked good on him. And once again, the style of jacket made his shoulders appear wider than she’d first thought.

  He kept his gaze locked on hers as he strode towards her. With every step he took, her heart quickened.

  Swallowing the lump of desire in her throat, she waited until he stood in front of her before speaking.

  “Good evening,” he said in a voice as smooth as silk.

  “Drat. I had hoped you were just jesting about wanting to take me to dinner tonight.”

  He shook his head. “You’re not going to get out of it that easily.”

  “Fine.” She set her rag on the counter and walked around it.

  Mr. Seton’s gaze roamed over her, displeasure registering on his expression. A part of her died inside and made her wish she had dressed accordingly. But no. She would continue with her plan.

  He swept his hand through the air, indicating her attire. “Are you going to change?”

  “No, Mr. Seton. I do not plan on changing myself for anybody, no matter how charmingly they smile or how sensually they speak with a British accent.”

  He grinned. “Actually, I was referring to your clothes.”

  “So was I.”

  Chuckling, he shook his head. “You continue to amaze me with your forthright personality.”

  “Forthright? I don’t believe I have ever been described in such a way.”

  He offered his elbow. “Shall we?”

  “You still want to take me to dinner even though I’m not in proper dress?”

  “But of course. Since I now know you think me charming, I shall try my hardest to win you over.”

  A blush crept up her face even though she tried not to let it affect her. “Try all you want, but it won’t do you any good.” She glanced at the elbow he still offered. “Would you not like to stay here and dine? I know the cook personally, and I highly recommend the food served.”

  “I’m quite certain the meal is tasty, but I thought you may enjoy to get out and relax for a few hours.”

  Shrugging, she slipped her hand around his elbow and strolled out of the inn beside him. She couldn’t help but compare herself to a common street urchin next to his perfection. Still, it’s what she decided to do, and she mustn’t change her mind.

  It wasn’t until they started up the street that she noticed his limp. She’d thought he used the walking stick for show, like most proper men of nobility she had seen.

  “May I ask how you were injured?”

  He looked at her with hesitancy in his gaze. Finally, he nodded.

  “For three years, I’ve been in the cavalry as a high-ranked scout officer. Six months ago I was injured and nearly had my leg taken off.”

  She gasped but didn’t speak.

  “My brother saved me from the butcher who wanted to saw off my leg.” Mr. Seton shrugged. “I may have a limp for the rest of my life, but at least I still have a leg.”

  This poor soldier! To think what he must have endured. Suddenly, Mr. Seton didn’t seem a threat to her any longer. The contours of his face softened, as did her heart, as she stared at his handsome face. Green eyes warmed her as his gaze held hers, and his lips tempted her beyond anything she’d experienced before. She dared to admit she enjoyed the pitter-patter of her heart when he smiled.

  “Y—you are correct. At least you have your limb. And what a wonderful brother,” she said.

  “Indeed, he is. I literally owe him my life.” Mr. Seton took his eyes off her and looked straight ahead. “Ah, here we are. I trust this is a suitable place to dine?”

  Shaking herself out of the transfixed stupor he’d put her in, she looked at the establishment. “Yes, it is. I know Mrs. Belford personally.”

  Once she removed her hand from his arm, emptiness invaded her skin. She’d come to enjoy his warmth, and the ripple of his muscles, and she couldn’t understand the need for wanting to feel comfort again. Like a true gentleman—one she wasn’t used to—he pulled out the chair and she sat. Her heartbeat did a little flip. Confused, she rubbed her forehead. Something must be wrong with her to feel this way about a man she didn’t know.

  “Are you ill?” he asked, sitting across from her.

  “No.” She straightened and folded her arms, leaning on the table.

  His expression changed to that worried look he’d given her earlier when he assessed her clothes. But this time, his stare aimed at her arms on the table.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked. “Do I have a bug on me?”

  His gaze snapped up to hers. “No. I have seen no sign of insects on you.”

  “So why are you staring at me like that?”

  “Do you always place your arms on the table in such a way?”

  She glanced at her limbs. “I suppose. I never really thought of it.”

  “Tell me, have you been put through school?”

  “Of course. My mother had a friend who helped me out from time to time. Why do you ask?”

  “Do you know it’s bad manners for a lady to sit in that fashion at the table?”

  She snorted a laugh and leaned back in her chair, which of course made her arms fall at her side. “Manners, you say? What, pray tell, are manners? Apparently, you have no clue to my upbringing.”

  He studied her as his finger and thumb outlined his mustache. “Actually, I do, Miss Paxton. I know more than you think I do.”

  Her heart sank and she scolded herself for this reaction. She should have figured he’d know about her life. Yet for some reason, she didn’t want a man like him to think less of her, but disgust touched his expression. She’d failed.

  ~ 3 ~

  A series of expressions flickered across Miss Paxton’s face. None of them made Calvin happy. Perhaps he should have been a little gentler with his words, but it appalled him to think she had no manners. What appalled him more—he would have to teach her to become a lady before she met with the Duke of Danby. If Miss Paxton acted this way for five minutes in the duke’s presence, the old man wouldn’t last without keeling over when his heart stopped.

  Calvin took a deep breath. He definitely hadn’t expected Dorothy to be so very uneducated when it came to etiquette. Being a scout officer hadn’t taught him how to teach a woman to be a lady. Yet, it was something he’d have to do in order to earn his pay, and because Calvin had promised the duke he’d find his long-lost granddaughter.

  Finally, the woman across from him lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders. She linked her fingers together and rested them against the table. “There is something you should know about me, Mr. Seton. To survive in this life, I’ve had to deceive many people. I did all I could to reach my goals. Forgive me, my
lord, but I was not raised with a nanny who fed me with a golden spoon. I was not served sumptuous dishes around the clock for my meals, and I didn’t take tea with the high-and-mighty. You and I come from completely different worlds.”

  He nodded and opened his mouth to speak, but a server arrived with drinks. Calvin ordered the house specialty—not caring what it was at this point—and breathed a sigh of relief when the server left their table so he could return his focus to Miss Paxton.

  Sadness lurked in the depth of her eyes, yet a bit of pride had her lifting her stubborn chin. Apparently, she wasn’t ashamed of her upbringing.

  “So, Miss Paxton, where should we begin?” He drummed his fingers on the table.

  “I would like you to tell me why you’re here.”

  “Indeed, I shall.” He sipped his water, grimacing over the rusted taste in his mouth. “Your grandfather, the Duke of Danby, has sent me. He wants his family to come to Danby Castle for Christmas. Your grandfather requires your presence on this most special occasion.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I am not family, Mr. Seton, so sorry to disappoint you.”

  “You are family. Why else would he send me all this way to find you?”

  “Perhaps this is a form of punishment. Mayhap the duke is upset at you for some reason or another.”

  Calvin wanted to laugh, but held it in this time. “You are mistaken, Miss Paxton. I can assure you, the duke was quite serious when he hired me. Not only that, but he respects my father too much to punish me, as you so delicately put it.”

  Anger appeared in her blue eyes, hard as steel. She twisted the linen napkin on the table as if she were choking the devil himself. “Mr. Seton, believe me when I say I have no grandfather. When the old duke discovered his son had gotten my mother with child, old Dukie didn’t waste a shilling on helping my mother raise his granddaughter by herself. Danby made certain my mother and I lived in squalor and that nobody knew of Lord George’s mistake.” She shrugged. “Now tell me why would Danby want to bring me back into Lord George’s life after all this time when they went to great lengths to hide the bastard granddaughter? I’m quite certain the duke has a litter of grandchildren from Lord George by now, anyway.”

  Her voice dripped with pain and betrayal, tugging at Calvin’s heartstrings. He’d always been the one to side with those who wanted to hide their past transgressions. Never had he actually listened to the utter sadness from one of these transgressions to understand how they felt.

  Calvin shook his head. “Lord George married Ada Martin, and they had one child—Randall Whitton. After the death of his wife, Lord George lived a reckless life, during which time he met your mother and you were born. This is what I know of your father and half-brother.” He reached across the table and caressed Dorothy’s hand. “Your grandfather feels it is time for you to meet your brother, Rand.”

  Her gaze dropped to where his hand lay. Slowly, her anger disappeared and the lines in her lovely face turned soft. But within seconds, her expression changed again and she withdrew her hand from underneath his.

  “Forgive me, Mr. Seton, but I cannot go along with this. I refuse to acknowledge being related to a half-brother, an absentee father—and especially, a pompous grandfather.”

  Folding her arms smartly across her chest, she glanced around the room, doing all she could not to look at Calvin. Strange how he understood her so well, and his heart softened from hearing all of her struggles. Still, he had a job to do, and he would not fail. He could only hope Miss Paxton liked to barter, because this was the only way Calvin could think to get her to accompany him back to England.

  The server brought their plates of food to the table. Dorothy grabbed her fork and dove in like a starved woman. She ate so fast and stuffed her mouth so full, Calvin worried she’d choke on her food. After taking a few bites himself, he could stand no more. He must stop her from making such a scene.

  “Miss Paxton?” he said.

  She lifted her head and met his gaze. “Yes?” she answered around a mouthful of food.

  Inwardly, he groaned. “Tell me about your brother, Jeremy.”

  Dorothy nodded and swallowed, for which Calvin was relieved since he didn’t want to see the half-eaten food in her mouth.

  “A year after I was born, my mother married and had another child.”

  “So Jeremy works with you?”

  “He does, and he’s very good with our patrons. Not only that, his bookkeeping skills are highly commendable.” She smiled proudly.

  “I heard,” Calvin continued, “that he’s ill. Is this so?”

  Her smile dropped. “You heard correctly. He has some kind of lung ailment the doctors can’t seem to cure.”

  “What doctors have you taken him to, may I ask?”

  “Just the locals who come to the inn. We can’t afford anyone else.”

  “What of your mother and stepfather? Do they not earn a living?”

  Dorothy sipped her glass, keeping her pretty eyes on him. “No,” she said, placing the glass on the table. “My stepfather left my ma almost as quickly as Lord George did. Ma died a year ago. She was stabbed in the alleyway.”

  Sadness pierced his heart. “Accept my sympathy. Forgive me for not knowing.”

  “How could you have known?” She shrugged.

  Calvin released another relieved breath. For certain, the duke would not want a killer for a granddaughter. “So tell me, what would you do to have a skilled physician care for your brother?”

  “What wouldn’t I give? He means the world to me.” She shoved another forkful of food into her mouth.

  “If you return to England with me and let me take you to Danby Castle for Christmas, I assure you, your brother will get the best medical help I can afford.”

  Her fork froze on its way to her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at him. “You—you will pay for my brother’s doctor bills?”

  “Indeed I will, Miss Paxton, but only if you agree to accompany me back to England to meet your grandfather.”

  ~ * ~

  Dorothy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Nobody had offered to pay for anything she needed. Ever. As much as Dorothy didn’t want to take his bribe, she couldn’t let the chance of getting Jeremy in front of a real doctor who might save her brother’s life.

  “That’s not fair,” she said softly and set her fork on her plate. “You know my weakness, and you’re using it against me.”

  “You misunderstand,” Mr. Seton corrected. “It is imperative that I return you to Danby Castle before Christmas. If offering to pay for a good doctor will get me what I want, I’m willing to do it.” He sighed heavily. “I did notice how sickly your brother was this morning, and I must say, he needs medical help badly.”

  Dorothy’s mother would be turning over in her grave if she knew what was about to happen. “If I agree to this ridiculous deal, then part of the bargain must be paying for Jeremy’s care before we sail. I won’t have it any other way. He needs care now—not in three months.”

  “I can agree to that, but I do have one more stipulation.”

  She held her breath, afraid of what it might be. Would Mr. Seton prove to be like every other rich man she’d heard about? Only wanting a woman to pleasure them with nothing in return? Then again, Dorothy could handle anything as long as she knew her brother was well cared for. For some reason, thinking about Mr. Seton’s hands on her person and his mouth against hers wasn’t such a terrible thought any longer. “And what might your stipulation be, may I ask?”

  “During our trip to England, you will allow me to teach you how to become a lady.”

  Snorting a laugh, she quickly covered her mouth, grateful she had no food in it that time or it would have been sprayed all over Mr. Seton. A lady? For sure he wasn’t thinking the naughty thoughts that had been in her head. Unfortunately, the ideas she had were much easier than what he wanted her to do. “Are you jesting? You want me to be a lady?”

  “Miss Paxton, I’m quite serious, if you must
know. By the time we arrive at Danby Castle, I want you to be no different than the other lords and ladies who are related to you. No difference whatsoever.”

  ~ 4 ~

  “No, no, Miss Paxton. Keep your shoulders straight. And lift your chin ever so slightly.”

  Dorothy tried her best not to glare at Miss Peabody—the woman nearly twice her age, and still an old maid—whom Mr. Seton had hired to turn Dorothy into a lady. The older woman fussed over Dorothy as she adjusted the four-inch thick book on top of her head.

  “Please, Miss Peabody, just call me Dorothy.”

  The companion flipped her hand through the air in a dismissive wave. “Nonsense. It is not polite to call you that. I work for you now, so—”

  “To be precise, you work for Mr. Seton,” Dorothy corrected.

  “Very true, I do. But it still is not proper to call you by your first name. In England, you will mingle with society, and they will all refer to you as Miss Paxton. It is highly ill-mannered to call you by your Christian name.”

  The older woman stepped back slowly, keeping her eye on the book perched on Dorothy’s head. “There now. Slowly walk towards me and let’s try this again. Keep your back straight, head held high, and glide across the room just as we’ve been practicing all week.”

  Dorothy clamped her mouth tight for fear she’d say something to scare off Miss Peabody—just like she did on the first day they met. The poor older woman had never met a woman like Dorothy, and her hoyden personality frightened the companion. Dorothy had no idea what Mr. Seton did to convince Miss Peabody to stay, but she did. That day he’d also warned Dorothy to be a good lady or he’d stop paying for Jeremy’s medical treatment.

  Since the first day of this voyage from hell, that man had been suspiciously absent. She knew he was on the ship; she just didn’t see him much. Then again, Miss Peabody kept Dorothy quite busy with etiquette lessons—so the woman stated. Dorothy happened to think this was torture of the worst kind. While holed up for all this time, Miss Peabody was also pounding into Dorothy’s head etiquette lessons on how to sit at the table and how to converse, for heaven’s sake! She was able to catch on to most of this, but walking was more difficult. The reason why the slave driver kept making Dorothy walk over and over again was because she wasn’t used to wearing such frocks, and the dress would tangle in her legs. The barracuda explained it was because Dorothy’s strides were too wide.