Never Envy an Earl

by Regina Scott

  She must have been sufficiently commanding, for both women followed her from the room, Lady Carrolton leaning on her cane.

  Yvette had seen Lady Lilith come out of her suite often enough that she knew which door was hers on the long corridor. She was not prepared for what lay inside. Lady Lilith’s rooms were done in shades of rose, from the flowered chintz on the upholstery to the blossoms woven into the carpet.

  The sitting room boasted chairs and a chaise lounge framed in rosewood, the bedroom a box bed with roses carved into headboard, footboard, and cornice. Gilded vines tied back the chintz bed hangings and velvet drapes. Pink lilies, delicate and dewy, peered out of a silver vase on the mantel. With the sun coming through the window, it was as if Yvette had wandered into a garden.

  She directed Lady Lilith to sit at the mirrored table in her dressing room while the countess sat on a harp-backed chair nearby.

  “Your coloring is dark,” Yvette explained, meeting the lady’s gaze in the gilt-framed mirror. “You can emphasize the mystery.”

  Lady Lilith frowned. “How?”

  “Smile, like so.” Yvette gave her a knowing look, one corner of her mouth tilted up.

  Lady Lilith mimicked her, then spoiled it with a grin. “Oh, my. I see what you mean.”

  “And your hair should not be so severe,” Yvette continued. “Allow a few curls to come free.” She tugged the sleek tresses out of the bun, where they fell to tease the lady’s cheek. “Bon! You see how it hints of something more within?”

  Lady Lilith turned her head from side to side. “Oh, yes.”

  Yvette straightened. “And then your dress. Crimson, I think.”

  She paled. “Oh, I couldn’t wear something so bold.”

  “Why not?” Yvette strode to the closest trunk and shoved up the lid to lift the tissue paper that protected the dresses inside. Sorting through them, she frowned. Each layer held dark, drab gowns—grey and navy and brown and puce. The material might be rich—satin and velvet and lustring—but everything was understated.

  As Yvette straightened, Lady Lilith shook her head. “Don’t bother with the others. One is more of the same and the other holds nothing but black from when we were in mourning for Father.”

  Lady Carrolton coughed. For once, it sounded like more of an attempt to catch Yvette’s attention than a demand for it herself.

  “Lord Carrolton preferred that we did not dress in bright colors,” she told her when Yvette met her gaze.

  Yvette frowned. “But why would the earl protest such a thing?”

  Lady Lilith rose. “My father felt women should not call attention to themselves. He preferred to think of us as frail creatures requiring his instruction and protection.”

  Was that why his son was so protective? Had he inherited such a restrictive view? She could not believe it.

  “Then perhaps it is good he is not here to stop us,” she said, turning for the trunk again. There had been a few dresses, one a blue several shades deeper than Lady Lilith’s eyes, that might suffice.

  Behind her, she heard someone sigh. The voice that spoke was the countess’.

  “How odd. I hadn’t realized I was still living by his edicts. My husband was quite forceful in his opinions. And he could not abide anyone disagreeing with him. I told myself it was wicked to feel glad he was gone, but a part of me was relieved not to have to face him again.”

  “I know, Mother,” Lady Lilith murmured. “I felt the same way.”

  Another difference between them. Yvette had mourned her father for years. He had been a gentle soul, more interested in the paintings he collected than currying favor at court. He had always encouraged Yvette to dream. The former Lord Carrolton sounded just the opposite. Had he done nothing but berate his wife and daughter?

  She glanced from Lady Carrolton’s trembling mouth to Lady Lilith, who had hunched in on herself, and knew it was the truth. Small wonder Lady Carrolton felt the need for commiseration, if she had received none from her husband. And Lady Lilith clung to the control her father had taken from her. If he had had the prowess of his son, he would have been intimidating indeed. It seemed neither his wife nor his daughter had been successful in challenging him. Like Napoleon, he had ruled this household, and anyone who had disagreed had been made to feel his wrath.

  The injustice of it burned through her.

  “I will tell you a secret,” Yvette said, lowering her voice. Both women looked up in surprise. “Before I became a companion, I worked for years for my cousin. The rest of my family was gone. He should have been my protector, seeing to a better future for me. Instead, he put me to work in the vilest of jobs. And if he should come upon me while I was scrubbing the floors, he would laugh at me before aiming a kick my way.”

  Lady Carrolton bared her teeth. “The swine.”

  “Oh, yes, he is the vilest pig, and I malign the pig by saying so. But I would not let him win. I would not forget who I am, the woman I wish to be.” She turned to Lady Lilith. “Who do you wish to be, mademoiselle?”

  Lady Lilith straightened to her full height, a valiant Amazon. “A woman of breeding and taste.”

  Yvette turned to the countess. “And you, your ladyship?”

  The countess gazed at her daughter. “The mother of the most beautiful lady in England.”

  With a cry, Lady Lilith ran to throw her arms about her mother. Yvette turned away to give them a moment of privacy.

  Yet their stories were not so easy to turn from. It seemed the former Lord Carrolton had been a despot. Had he taught his son to be the same? Was that why Lady Carrolton had become so still when her son raised his voice? Had she feared he would lash out at her in anger?

  Yvette had come to expect such behavior from her cousin. If Gregory, Earl of Carrolton, ever treated her with such contempt, she knew it would hurt far more.

  ~~~

  Gregory returned from his ride with Villers to find the house strangely quiet. It was generally that quiet, but he’d become accustomed to having his guests underfoot.

  The woods had been just as quiet. The birds were silent, as if holding their breaths. Nothing moved among the bluebells. What had frightened the typical woodland creatures away?

  “Look there,” Villers had said, pointing to where a metal snare lay among the flowers at the side of the riding track. “You see? You do have a poacher.”

  Perhaps, but poachers generally hid their work so as not to get caught and to better lure in their prey. This snare was too obvious. Either Gregory had an inexperienced or stupid poacher on his land, or someone wanted him to think as much. He’d snapped the trap and returned home.

  He could not help a feeling of foreboding as he climbed the stairs with Villers now. It was as if a thundercloud hung over the house, and he kept waiting for the lightning to strike.

  As they reached the landing, Villers excused himself to change out of his riding clothes. Gregory nodded and went to do the same, heading down the north wing while Villers turned for the south. He had not traveled half the length when he heard voices from his sister’s suite. The door was ajar, so he peered in.

  “The eyes,” Yvette was saying as she stood beside his mother near the hearth. “Do not forget the eyes.”

  Seated on one of the rosewood chairs that graced the suite, in a low-necked blue gown he had not known she possessed, Lilith fluttered her dark lashes. She’d done something with her hair. The curls on either side of her face softened the firm line of her jaw.

  “Oh, Mr. Villers,” she said in a sultry voice. “How you do go on. I’ve never met a man so witty.”

  “What are you doing?” Gregory asked, pushing the door open wider.

  His sister stiffened, and his mother curled in on herself.

  Yvette turned to meet his gaze. Her look too had changed, but it had nothing to do with her hair or clothing. He had not realized how much he enjoyed her approval until he saw something less.

  “Your sister is completing her toilette,” she informed him. “You embarr
ass her by your presence.”

  There he went blushing again. “Forgive me. When you have a moment, I’d like to discuss plans for the rest of the day.”

  Lilith rose, all grace. “It’s all right, Gregory. You may enter.”

  Feeling a bit like a schoolboy brought before the dean, he moved into the suite. The lilies on the mantel were beginning to wilt. He frowned at them, frustration building.

  His mother straightened. “It’s time I retired to my room. I’ve been gallivanting about entirely too much. You can come read to me later, Gregory, if it isn’t an inconvenience.”

  “I’d be delighted, Mother,” he said. “Would you like me to escort you now?”

  “Mais non,” Yvette said. “You cannot retire, my lady. Did you forget we promised Lady Lilith we would go shopping for a new bonnet for the wedding?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Lilith said, moving to join her. “We want to look our best on such a festive occasion.”

  “Oh, all right,” his mother grumbled. “Might as well show up the governess.”

  They wanted to leave the estate to shop? They were intent on cutting up his peace. Still, if Yvette’s cousin came after them here, it would be far easier to deal with than at Wey’s wedding.

  “We’ll go to Chessington, then,” Gregory said. “I’ll have the carriage brought around. Mr. Villers will no doubt want to accompany you.”

  “No!” his sister cried.

  Even as Gregory frowned, Yvette moved to his sister’s side. She murmured something that sounded like breeding and taste.

  Lilith drew in a breath. “Forgive me, Gregory. Of course your friend may accompany us. I was merely concerned he might find the outing dull. He’s no doubt visited far better shops in London.”

  It was her protection and not the shopping that required the fellow’s company, but Gregory could not tell her that. “Chessington is likely livelier than Carrolton Park.”

  His sister blushed, and he realized belatedly she might take it that he found her company lacking.

  “Will you be attending us as well, my lord?” Yvette asked.

  He looked to her. Her face was bland, her look diffident. If he did not know better, he would have thought her no more than a servant. What had he done to make her retreat into this shell? Or was she merely better than usual about playing her part?

  Well, if she could play servant, he could play earl.

  “Certainly I’ll accompany you, Miss French,” he said. “Nothing could keep me from my mother and sister’s sides.”

  Or hers.

  Chapter Ten

  He did not look like a villain. Yvette tried to reconcile the open face of the earl, seated across from her and the ladies in the carriage, with what she had learned about his father. Since finding them in his sister’s room, he had worn a slight frown, as if he simply wasn’t sure of any of them. She shared his concern.

  She’d seen how easy it was for her cousin to pretend. In public, Claude was all charm, suave, sophisticated. Everyman’s friend, Napoleon had once called him. The Emperor could not know how true the statement was. Claude was capable of being friendly to men. It was the women, even his own wife, he held in contempt.

  She watched how the earl and the women in his life interacted as the driver let them off on the high street of Chessington. Lady Lilith was correct—the cozy hamlet was a far cry from London. A few red brick shops with glass fronts clustered around an inn, where some older men sat under a spreading oak, telling tall tales no doubt. More wagons than carriages trundled past. On a hill in the distance, the steeple of a church pointed heavenward.

  Likely used to the quaint surroundings, Lord Carrolton offered his mother his arm and slowed his steps to match her pace as they moved away from the carriage. He bent his head to listen to her usual litany of complaints—the day was overcast; she hated the rain; the flowers in the box in front of the shops made her sneeze; the cobbled pavement hurt her feet. Never once did he betray frustration or chagrin.

  Lady Lilith and her wished-for swain were a contrast. She walked beside Mr. Villers toward the shops, but he did not offer her his arm, and he did most of the talking, sneering at the plebian surroundings while extolling the virtues of London. Still, Lady Lilith did not seem unhappy.

  She seized Yvette’s arm the moment they entered the millinery shop. The two lady owners—sisters by the similar look of their round faces, neat brown hair, and wide blue eyes—were already curtseying and fussing over the countess.

  “I have no idea what to buy,” Lady Lilith whispered to Yvette, gaze darting from the white wicker cages that would become bonnets to the spools of bright ribbon that would decorate them.

  “Allow me,” Yvette said.

  Disengaging, she joined the countess and the shopkeepers. “Bonjour, madams. I am Miss French, the countess’ new companion. We are here for the finest of headdresses to wear to His Grace the Duke of Wey’s wedding.”

  Out of the corners of her eyes, she saw Mr. Villers sidle up to Lord Carrolton for a word. The two men stepped outside.

  The two sisters stepped forward. One brought over a somber black velvet bonnet with glass-eyed blackbirds on it. The countess reached to take it from them, but Yvette waved it away.

  “Non, non! Lady Carrolton must have something regal, befitting her station. A satin turban, perhaps, trimmed with pearls.”

  The sisters exchanged glances, then looked to Lady Carrolton.

  “Well, go on,” she ordered them. “You heard what I want.”

  One sister curtsied again, then hurried to the back of the shop. The other glanced at Lady Lilith before addressing herself to Yvette. “And for her ladyship?”

  “Blue velvet of a shade to compliment her eyes,” Yvette said. “High crowned, with ostrich plumes.”

  “Oh, daring.” With a smile, the woman headed toward the front window.

  Lady Lilith took the shopkeeper’s place beside Yvette. “High crowned? I already stand taller than half the men in the room.”

  “You are an Amazon,” Yvette told her. “Be proud of it.”

  She was watching the countess and Lady Lilith try on more appropriate headdresses when the earl returned and touched her arm. She stiffened at his touch and made herself smile. “Oui?”

  He tilted his head, and she joined him near the front window.

  “Villers is strolling the area around the shop, to make sure you are safe,” he murmured. “But I must ask: have I offended you in some way?”

  He looked so concerned, brow furrowed and eyes tight. Was he only posturing?

  “I do not know,” she replied. “Perhaps we can find time to talk later.”

  He nodded and stepped back, and she went to advise on the headdresses.

  In the end, they left with three pieces: a turban in royal purple, trimmed in pearls and white satin ribbon for the countess; a sky blue velvet shako with white ostrich plumes curling from the top and black satin braiding crisscrossing the front for Lady Lilith; and a close-fitting green velvet bonnet with a spray of pink silk roses along one side for Yvette.

  The countess had insisted on the last. “I want you to look good, too,” she said when Yvette protested. “Patience Ramsey will no doubt be attending. She must see that my new companion is far superior.”

  Yvette felt a pang. She had spent some time with Patience, who was to marry Harry, and knew the compassionate woman must have made a fine companion. Still, the countess had forced her to sleep on a cot. Lady Carrolton was being far more generous with Yvette. How would she feel when she learned of Yvette’s deception? Always before those she had deceived had been complicit in the Emperor’s crimes. They had, in a sense, deserved any disappointment in her. Lady Carrolton and her daughter were innocent.

  And extremely eager to put her suggestions into practice.

  They commandeered her for the rest of the day, begging her help to go over each item in their wardrobes, from ballgowns to gloves, pelisses to ear bobs. Yvette was able to locate several day dresses, an e
vening gown, and a ballgown suitable to Lady Lilith’s dark coloring. Others could be made passable with the addition of a fichu or shawl draped to advantage. The rest Yvette suggested donating to the staff.

  “Would they want such things?” Lady Lilith asked, making a face at the pile of silk and wool.

  “If not, they will know where to sell them,” Yvette assured her.

  Lady Carrolton’s wardrobe was more difficult. Most of her recent gowns were black; the older gowns were a bit behind the fashion. Yvette chose several that could be altered, including an amethyst-colored silk gown in matte satin that could be ready in time for the wedding.

  “You take this one,” the countess commanded, shoving an orchid-colored dress at Yvette. “Far too frivolous for me.”

  Yvette accepted the dress, fingering the gold lace overskirt. “Why did you buy it, then?”

  “My husband insisted on it.”

  The lace felt hot in her hands. She fought off the feeling. By wearing it, she was in no way condoning the actions of the former Lord Carrolton. And if the dress was seen at the wedding, perhaps it would become associated with happier memories.

  Between the countess’ usual needs and Lady Lilith’s requests for advice, however, Yvette was prevented from having a private word with Lord Carrolton until the following day, after services.

  She had forgotten it was Sunday until she answered the countess’ ring and found her dressed to go out. Ada too wore her best dress, blue with a dainty white collar.

  “I suppose you’re a Papist,” Lady Carrolton accused Yvette as she settled the lady’s breakfast tray across her lap on the chair by the hearth.

  “Mais non,” Yvette said, straightening. “The Emperor and the Pope are not on the best terms. But it has been a while since I attended services.”

  In truth, her first real church service in a decade had been two weeks ago—had it truly been so short a time?—when she’d attended Easter services with Harry and his bride-to-be. The simple chapel, the heartfelt prayers, had been so different from the pomp and circumstance that was every part of Napoleon’s court. There people attended services to see and be seen, and she had always been aware that she was on display. Today she need not fear. Her cousin would not dare attack her in church—too many witnesses and too few means of escape. She could truly worship.