Frederica blinked. “A spy?”
“Yes, someone who can get close enough to him, or at least to his servants, to discover everything there is to know about Lord Seabrooke. It’s a time-honoured strategy, and just the one we need. After all, Alexander the Great had his spies, Caesar his exploratores—”
“But who? How?” interrupted Frederica eagerly. Her friend’s mounting enthusiasm was contagious.
“Well, I don’t precisely know,” admitted Miss Milliken. “It would have to be someone we could trust implicitly—someone who could not be corrupted by the enemy. This may take some time ”
“We don’t have time, Milly! Thomas says I am to be married at Christmas, and I’ve no desire to wed a rake, I assure you. Can we not do it ourselves? Lord Seabrooke has never seen me, after all.”
Miss Milliken’s eyes began to gleam. “Us, act as spies? How intriguing. I might manage to obtain the position, I suppose. It would be frightfully improper for you to reside under his roof in any capacity but as his wife, so of course that is out of the question. Let me see…”
“Why out of the question? No one need discover it.” Now Frederica’s imagination was becoming fired with the idea. “As I have scarcely any acquaintance in London, it would be unlikely in the extreme that anyone I know should see me. And I can disguise myself somehow, so that even if they did, they would not recognize me.” She recalled her recent conversation with Thomas. “It would give me a perfect chance to discover Lord Seabrooke’s true character, the one he keeps hidden from his fashionable friends. Come, Milly, let me do it. It would only be for a few days.”
Miss Milliken regarded her onetime charge thoughtfully. Perhaps there was something to what Frederica said. If there really were something to be found to the man’s discredit, she could be counted upon to discover it, for she had the strongest of motives. And if there were not—well, what better way for her to get to know her future husband?
Miss Milliken nodded slowly. “I’ll see what I can arrange,” she said.
CHAPTER 3
“Are you certain that you still wish to do this?” asked Miss Milliken as she opened the large trunk she had retrieved from the attic.
“Yes, yes of course!” replied Frederica eagerly. She had been able to think of little else during the past two days. Until now, her existence had been so ordered, so routine, that the prospect of spying on Lord Seabrooke had taken on the aspect of a major adventure. “Have you arranged for me to receive an interview?”
“I have. At eleven o’clock this morning. The position open is for that of housekeeper’s assistant, as Mrs. Long mentioned. Your work will not be easy, I fear.”
“As it was at Maple Hill?” asked Frederica mockingly.
Miss Milliken smiled. “You’re right, of course. You should be well prepared. Now, we must take thought for your disguise. I believe there may be a few useful items in here.”
Frederica looked in surprise at the jumble of things in the trunk. “Gracious! Wherever did you come by wigs and paints, Milly? You never mentioned a connection with the theatre.”
“Nor shall I now,” said Miss Milliken dampingly. “These things were given to me. Sit here at my dressing-table and let us see what we can do.”
Still burning with curiosity, Frederica sat down to face the mirror. She knew very little about Milly’s past, she realized. It had never occurred to her before to wonder what she had done before coming to Maple Hill. Her father would never knowingly have hired a former actress as a governess, nor could she imagine the strictly proper Miss Milliken in such a profession. Much as she wished to, however, she did not quite dare to probe further. “What will you do with that?” she asked instead, indicating the thick brown pencil her friend had pulled from the trunk.
“I had thought we might give you freckles. Hold still, now.” She worked in silence, dusting Frederica’s nose and cheeks with remarkably realistic-looking freckles. “What color hair would you like?” she asked when she was done.
Frederica looked over the choice of wigs “The blond one is lovely, but I suppose I would be less noticeable in the brown.” Miss Milliken nodded in agreement and helped her to fit the nondescript wig over her profusion of coppery curls.
“Now we must do something about your eyes. They are far too striking to be easily forgotten.”
Frederica glanced at the mirror in surprise. She had never given a thought to her eyes before, but she supposed it might be true that that deep shade of green was unusual. Wide and thickly lashed, they tended to dominate her small, heart-shaped face.
“How about these?” asked Miss Milliken, holding up a pair of spectacles, fitted with clear glass, that she had fished out of a flat box in the bottom of the trunk. Frederica put them on.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I suppose it will have to do.” Miss Milliken scrutinized Frederica’s still-trim figure with some misgiving. “You could wear padding to make yourself appear plump,” she said, “but that might make your movements awkward.”
Frederica grimaced. “I'd rather not. I should think padding would be most uncomfortable. I believe the changes we’ve wrought already are quite sufficient,” she said, examining herself closely in the mirror. “Why, Thomas himself would not recognize me like this, I daresay. I vow, I scarcely recognize myself!”
“Your eyes are the hardest to disguise,” said Miss Milliken, regarding her critically. “You must remember to wear the spectacles at all times. Yes, I think you’ll do. The references I have collected should enable you to secure any respectable position Lord Seabrooke is looking to fill. Otherwise, well, we must hope that the freckles and spectacles will provide enough protection.”
“Protection? From what?” asked Frederica curiously.
Miss Milliken hesitated. “From improper advances,” she finally said. “I suppose you should know that Mrs. Long thought it probable that Lord Seabrooke was looking for a young woman to perform completely different duties from those of assistant housekeeper. To be blunt, she felt that he may be looking for a live-in mistress.”
“Oh!” Frederica’s cheeks grew hot beneath the concealing freckles. “I—I had not thought of that!” She rallied quickly, however. “But if that is the case, surely it will be enough to convince Thomas. He can scarcely expect me to marry a man who would engage a mistress to live in his very house!” She glanced again at her reflection. “And you are right—I scarcely look that part. I should be safe enough.”
Miss Milliken devoutly hoped so.
* * *
Lord Seabrooke chafed at spending yet another morning at home when he would far rather be looking over the new thoroughbreds Tattersall’s had got in just yesterday. With the settlement he had received from his betrothal to Sir Thomas Chesterton’s sister, he could well afford to replace the old hack he had been riding for the past year. In fact, he was finding his sudden wealth a boon in ways he had not foreseen.
No longer did he have to send his valet to pawn one of the few remaining pieces of his mother’s jewelry every time he wished to purchase a new coat. Nor did he have to content himself with a single stringy cutlet for dinner each night before going out to the gaming hells in hopes of picking up a few pounds to see him through the next week. Now he could afford decent meals, served in the elegant dining-room that he had previously used only for entertaining. He had been able to hire a butler, to the great relief of his valet, who no longer had to double in that capacity, as well as a footman and two new maids to assist his long-suffering housekeeper.
It was another, very necessary, addition to his staff that kept him at home this morning. He had thought it a clever idea to advertise for an assistant housekeeper to keep the world in the dark as to his real requirement, but that pretense was making it deuced difficult to find the right woman for the job he had in mind. Mrs. Abbott had told him last night that she could not continue with things as they were for much longer, and he knew that she was right. He fervently hoped that this next applicant might
be what he was looking for.
* * *
Clutching her sheaf of false references, Frederica let fall the knocker at Lord Seabrooke’s imposing Town house. The door was opened at once by a portly butler who looked down his nose at her.
“I am Miss Erica Cherrystone, come to apply for the post of assistant housekeeper,” she said, using the name she and Miss Milliken had agreed upon. “I have an eleven o’clock appointment with Lord Seabrooke.”
“Of course, miss. Right this way.” The butler motioned for her to precede him, with a gleam in his eye that made Frederica unaccountably nervous. “His lordship is awaiting you in the library.”
For a moment Frederica considered retreating, but quickly chastised herself for being such a craven. If she allowed herself to be frightened by the man’s butler, she would never manage a confrontation with Lord Seabrooke himself! Reminding herself why she was there, she lifted her chin and opened the library door.
Gavin put away the watch he had been checking as the door opened. This one was punctual, at least. As she crossed the room toward him, he doubtfully examined this newest applicant. The girl was unremarkable, her mousy brown hair caught up in a conservative chignon and her serviceable grey gown years out of fashion. In spite of the spectacles, which lent her a studious air, he thought she looked rather young for the position of responsibility he had in mind.
“Pray have a seat, Miss Cherrystone,” he said with a sigh. He feared that this one would be no better than the others. “You have references, I presume. May I see them?”
“Of course, my lord,” she replied.
At the sound of her voice, Seabrooke looked up sharply. “Would you be so kind as to read me a passage from that book on the table beside you?” he asked as she proffered the papers.
Showing none of the surprise that previous applicants had evidenced at the odd request, Miss Cherrystone picked up the volume and opened it. “Any passage in particular?” she asked.
“You may start at the beginning. I shall tell you when to stop,” he replied. He picked up the references she had brought and leafed through them as she read the opening paragraphs of Walter Scott’s latest novel. “That will do,” he said before she could turn the page. “Your speech is rather better educated than I would have expected from your background.” He indicated the pages in front of him.
“I was raised in a genteel household, my lord,” said Frederica, glad that Milly had thought of a story to account for that apparent anomaly. “It was not until my parents died that I was forced to seek work. As a girl, I received an excellent education.”
“Ah, yes. Well, that would explain it.”
Lord Seabrooke leaned back in his chair and finished reading through the references while Frederica studied him thoughtfully. She had to admit that he was every bit as handsome as she had been told. Thick waves of chestnut hair fell carelessly across a noble brow, his features were aristocratic without appearing harsh, and his eyes were a startlingly bright blue. She wondered, though, where he had come by his reputation for charm. Perhaps he did not deign to waste it on the hired help, she thought sourly.
Just then he looked up from the papers and smiled. Oh! She fought a powerful urge to respond with a smile of her own, keeping her face prim and rigid.
“Miss Cherrystone, I believe you may be just the person I have been looking for. Tell me, can you be discreet? The person I hire for this position must be able to keep her own counsel.”
“Discreet?” Mrs. Long’s suspicions came surging back to her mind. “I am no gossip, if that is what you mean, my lord,” she said carefully.
Lord Seabrooke rose and came around the desk to sit next to her, revealing a slight limp as he traversed the short distance. Placing one hand on the arm of her chair, he leaned toward her confidentially, so that Frederica became aware of the clean, masculine scent of him. “You see, Miss Cherrystone, the post I wish you to fill is not precisely that of assistant housekeeper, in spite of my advertisement.”
“It...it isn’t?” she asked weakly. She knew that she should be rejoicing that she was obtaining proof of his debauchery so easily, but somehow his close proximity was making it difficult for her to think clearly. Glancing down, she noticed the dark hairs curling on the back of his hand, a hand that appeared remarkably strong.
“No. It is a position of far greater responsibility and...delicacy.”
“I, ah, I see.” Frederica tried to force her brain to work. She must get an open admission from him, something that she could take to Thomas. Once she had that, she could leave. “How...how delicate?” she managed to ask, her heart beginning to pound. Milly would never have allowed her to come alone if she had known how right she was, Frederica was certain.
Lord Seabrooke moved even closer, lowering his voice. “I would prefer that the precise nature of your duties remain hidden even from some of the other servants, at least for the present.”
“And pray, just what are those duties to be, my lord?” she asked in a high, breathless voice that sounded quite different from her natural one.
The Earl drew back slightly, regarding her closely through narrowed eyes. He nodded then, as though reaching an inner decision. “What would be your feelings toward an illegitimate child?” he asked abruptly.
Frederica gasped and sprang to her feet. “It is the outside of enough that you wish to hire a...a fancy woman in the first place, my lord. But that you would actually plan for children to result from such a union—!” She headed for the library door. “I believe I have heard quite enough, Lord Seabrooke,” she said scathingly over her shoulder. What could Thomas possibly say in defense of that ridiculous betrothal now? She had all the proof she needed.
With two long strides, Lord Seabrooke placed himself between her and the door. “Miss Cherrystone, I’m not sure what bee you have in your bonnet, but I beg you to sit down and hear me out. I’ll not have you leaving in this state of mind to spread scandal about the streets of London when I have been at such pains to keep this quiet.”
“Scandal! You deserve to have scandal spread about you!” exclaimed Frederica. She was so angry that she was near tears. How dared he betroth himself to her and then advertise openly for a mistress! “Pray let me pass, sir. I will not remain here to be insulted.”
To her astonishment, Lord Seabrooke began to laugh. Far from stepping out of her way, he took her hand in his, leading her back to her chair. She pulled against his grip but her strength was no match for his.
“Let me go!” she panted. “I’ll have the authorities on you for this!” She was afraid to struggle too violently for fear that her wig might be knocked askew. What would it do to her reputation to be discovered here, in such a situation? Thomas would surely insist on her marriage as a result, she realized.
Still chuckling, the Earl pushed her firmly into the chair. “Sit, Miss Cherrystone,” he said, and there was an edge of steel under the laughter that kept Frederica from immediately disobeying him. “You are laboring under a misapprehension, and I intend to clear it up. I would never dream of insulting a paragon such as yourself, I assure you.”
“But...but you said—”
“I phrased things poorly, I must admit. Now hear me out, I beg you.” He again seated himself behind his desk and picked up her references. “I see here that you had charge of Mrs. Henderson’s children for a time,” he said, as though their interview had never been interrupted.
Frederica nodded uncertainly. Not knowing what Lord Seabrooke was really looking for, Milly had provided her with quite a variety of references, though she was careful not to claim any skills for Frederica that she did not actually possess. Certainly she had ample experience with children after her work with the village school, though she could not imagine why that should be important to an unmarried man like Lord Seabrooke.
“I have recently become the guardian of a child, a little girl, four years of age. Her antecedents are, ah, dubious, but I wish to provide her with the upbringing of a young lady of Quali
ty. My housekeeper has found herself unequal to the task of caring for the child in addition to her other duties, nor does Mrs. Abbott, though an admirable woman, have the, ah, background I would wish the child exposed to. For the present, I would prefer that the child’s residence here, indeed her very existence, not become public knowledge. Of course, this has made it exceedingly difficult to find the proper person to care for her. I could scarcely advertise for a nanny or governess, could I?” He gave Frederica a wry smile.
This time she felt no inclination to smile back, though the truth was not quite as reprehensible as she had first thought. Still, it was bad enough. He wished her to care for his illegitimate child! Doubtless, he wanted the child kept a secret so that his wealthy fiancée would not hear of it and cry off. Although she could see the irony in the situation, somehow she was not tempted to laugh.
“I suppose not,” she replied through clenched teeth.
“I realize that being nursemaid to such a child may not exactly suit your notions of what is proper, Miss Cherrystone,” Lord Seabrooke continued, “but then, if it did, you would not be the sort of person I want.” That disarming smile was still on his face. “Can I at least prevail upon you to meet Christabel before leaving in a huff?”
Frederica considered. Would Thomas find an illegitimate child in residence under Lord Seabrooke’s roof reason enough to cancel her betrothal? Possibly not. He had already admitted that the man had a reputation of sorts, and whatever incident had led to this child’s conception must have occurred nearly five years before. Distasteful as it seemed, she needed to discover more. Forcing her lips into a stiff smile, she met Lord Seabrooke’s bright blue gaze.
“Very well, my lord, if you insist.”
“Excellent!” He was beaming now. “She should be almost ready for her midday meal. This way, Miss Cherrystone.”
Frederica silently followed him from the room, trying not to let her eyes linger on the broad shoulders or long legs in front of her. His limp was scarcely noticeable now. The man’s clothing was impeccable, and of fine workmanship. He certainly didn’t dress as though he were in need of money, she thought reluctantly.
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