Clearly unaware of the direction of Trevor’s thoughts, Thistleback made the first conversational foray. “You are quite lucky to have someone like Lady Isabella assisting you with your sisters,” the man said, his piggish eyes knowing. “I was great friends with her husband,” he said, smoothing the sleeve of his blue coat. “I have known her for many years.”
Trevor was curious about Viscount Wharton. How could he not be when Wharton’s shadow seemed to loom so heavily over Isabella? There was the fact that his snuffbox had been used to terrify her. And the note reading Do you miss me? A taunt if ever he’d heard one.
She hardly ever mentioned the man, but there was something about the way she tiptoed around his name that let Trevor know her relationship with her husband had not been a happy one. That the man sitting before Trevor had been the fellow’s bosom companion only solidified his suspicions. No one who could claim Thistleback as friend could possibly be an honorable man.
“Then you must know that she is an honorable woman,” Trevor said at last, his words echoing his thoughts. He could not let the other man’s salacious words go without letting him know that Lady Isabella was not without friends. Men like Thistleback sought to belittle the women around them because they could not control them. Trevor would not be surprised if Thistleback had attempted to place Isabella under his own protection and been soundly rejected. His earlier accusations smacked of the fox and the sour grapes.
“I hardly think a social acquaintance is enough for me to make a judgment on the matter,” Thistleback retorted. “After all, seeing someone at various ton gatherings is hardly tantamount to knowing the contents of another’s soul. I do concede, however, that she seems to have behaved honorably despite the whispers surrounding her behavior these last months.”
“Perhaps you should tell me about these whispers so that I may judge for myself,” Trevor said, attempting to make the other man put his insinuations into more open terms. “After all, I should like to know what kind of person to whom I’m entrusting my sisters’ care.”
Thistleback’s eyes narrowed, as if he was attempting to determine Trevor’s sincerity. He was, of course, lying through his teeth. He had no fears at all regarding Isabella’s suitability to shepherd his sister through society. Isabella had shown herself to be levelheaded when it came to dealing with them. And she hadn’t tried once to seduce him into bending to her will. Given his suspicion that whatever hold the dowager had over her was something of vast importance to her, that alone was enough to convince him of her honor.
“Well, there is nothing overtly scandalous about her,” Thistleback said, confirming Trevor’s suspicions. “She has attended some rather risqué entertainments, but other than that she hasn’t been linked with any one man. And Wharton would not have tolerated her playing him false.” He scratched the side of his face. “He kept her on a rather tight leash, if you want to know the truth. He was not a man who would tolerate much in the way of independence from his wife.” Thistleback laughed. “Once when she demanded he give up his mistress, he beat her quite severely. I don’t think the poor woman could sit for a week.”
Trevor said nothing, as he wished fervently that he could go back in time and pummel the late Lord Wharton.
“You won’t tell her I told you, though,” Thistleback said, his eyes shadowed with worry. “I promised Wharton I wouldn’t ever speak of it. It’s quite ridiculous when you think of it. Wives aren’t supposed to know that mistresses even exist! Let alone demand that their husbands give them up. A man must be able to rule his own roost.”
Listening to Thistleback, Trevor was reminded of a long-forgotten incident from his childhood. One of his father’s tenants—a brute to begin with—had beaten his wife so badly that the poor woman had lost consciousness. Trevor could still remember how angry his father had been when he’d returned home from the woman’s bedside. He’d thrown the husband off the estate with the threat of having him impressed into the navy if he ever returned. It was true enough, Phillip had told Trevor, that the law said a wife was just another possession that a man could do with as he pleased, but a man who ruled his home through violence was not much of a man to begin with.
Neither was Thistleback, Trevor thought as the man continued to justify his friend’s abuse of his wife. “And it isn’t as if Lady Isabella has suffered for it. In the month after Wharton died, I believe she attended every entertainment society had to offer.”
The duke wasn’t surprised to learn that Isabella had run wild once her abuser was dead. She was probably starved for freedom and desperate to do all the things she’d been prevented from doing while he was alive. Trevor looked at Thistleback sitting there, looking as if he’d just done something naughty. If it were up to Trevor, he’d make the man pay for his former friend’s misdeeds. But that would only hurt Isabella, and she’d been tortured enough. Trevor wanted to know if beatings had been the extent of Wharton’s abuse of his wife, but he would have to wait and see if Isabella would tell him.
One thing was certain.
Trevor would be damned before he’d let Isabella anywhere near this man alone again.
* * *
Trevor was quiet on the ride back to Nettlefield, but Isabella attributed his silence to his having been forced to pass time with Sir Lionel. The duke wasn’t the most gregarious of men at the best of times, and any moments spent with her late husband’s friend could not be counted among the best of times.
She had been unhappy to see him approach back in the dressmaker’s shop, but she could hardly cut the man dead in front of the Ormondes’ neighbors. After all, if she wanted to convince the duke to travel back to London with her she would need to make nice with the people he socialized with here. She doubted Mrs. Palmer had much influence over her host, but every little bit helped.
Besides, Isabella did not wish to call attention to her previous relationship with Sir Lionel in front of Eleanor and Belinda. They were unaware of the vile sorts of things some men got up to, and Isabella would not strip them of their innocence if she could help it. She remembered being just as trusting they were now, and she would do whatever it took to make sure they were able to maintain that outlook for as long as possible.
What troubled her the most about seeing Thistleback, however, was the coincidence between her receiving what must be a replica of Ralph’s snuffbox and his bosom friend’s appearance in the neighborhood. Could Thistleback be the one who had sent the token? It was just the sort of cowardly taunt a man of his character would find amusing. But surely he was not also responsible for sabotaging the dowager’s carriage. After all, Sir Lionel had no notion that Isabella was even expected to travel to Yorkshire. Much less that she’d be doing so in the dowager’s carriage.
Something was definitely rotten about the number of coincidences, but she could not tell just what.
Yet.
“I cannot wait for my new gowns to be delivered,” Eleanor said, interrupting Isabella’s thoughts and all but clapping her hands at the prospect of her new wardrobe. “Thank you again for taking us today, Lady Wharton,” she gushed.
“Of course you are welcome,” Isabella responded, squeezing the girl’s hand. Isabella was surprised to realize it herself, but she enjoyed the girl’s company. She was unaffected and enthusiastic and had none of the guile or cunning that marked the demeanor of many young ladies of Isabella’s acquaintance. Though she was loath to admit it, Trevor had done a good job raising his sisters, the lack of steady governesses notwithstanding.” And you must call me Isabella. Though it is your brother you must thank. I was merely a guest on this trip.”
Indeed, even she was thinking of thanking Ormonde for taking them to York. Though there had been the unfortunate meeting with Thistleback, there had been enough other distraction that she was able to stop herself from dwelling upon the fact that someone was trying to frighten her witless.
She let Eleanor’s chatter wash over her as she thought about what her next step would be in her quest to convince the
duke to come to London. The next day she was supposed to attend the duke’s appearance as the local magistrate for the surrounding neighborhood. She’d never thought to find herself at such an event, but she could not help but admit to herself that she was looking forward to it. It was hardly the sort of thing ladies were encouraged to do in the regular course of things, and she was curious about the entire process. Of course, the fact that she’d have a front-row seat at watching the duke mete out justice had nothing to do with it.
Or very little to do with it, she amended.
Or not much to do with it, she amended again.
Really, she told herself, she was entirely neutral about the matter.
She was saved from further argument with herself by the slowing of the carriage before Nettlefield House. And if Isabella blushed a little when the duke handed her down from the carriage, she could blame it on the heat of the afternoon.
“Such chivalry,” Isabella teased her host, trying to pass off her breathlessness for mock enthusiasm rather than the real thing. “I might begin to think you wished to charm me, Your Grace.”
“Hardly that, Lady Wharton,” the duke said, holding her gloved hand for a just a fraction longer than necessary. “I am often given to performing little acts of kindness for my sisters. As you are with them today, you benefit from the habit as well.”
But she did not fail to notice that his eyes seemed troubled for the barest moment before he donned his mask of bluff kindness once more. Her heart sank, and all thoughts of flirtation left her. Could Sir Lionel have spoken to him during those few moments they’d been alone at the dressmaker’s? Surely not, she told herself, turning away from the duke to follow his sisters into the house.
She had never heard of Sir Lionel speaking out about her relationship with her husband before. Still, now that Wharton had been gone for some time, she would not be surprised to learn that his friend no longer felt quite so secretive about the matter. The idea of Trevor learning anything at all relating to her humiliation at her husband’s hands made Isabella’s skin crawl. She had endured more than her share of torture at her husband’s hands, and knowing that it might become the subject of offhand gossip was chilling in its mundanity. She had no wish for the world at large to know about her past, but even more, she did not wish the knowledge to become so commonplace as to be unremarkable.
Do you miss me? And just like that the distractions of the day disappeared and were replaced by fear. She certainly did not miss her husband. And if the reminders of him continued to loom large in her life, she would not be able to even if she wished it.
She was still lost in her thoughts when she stepped into the hall and was greeted by Templeton.
“There is a lady here to see you, Lady Wharton,” the butler said, taking her pelisse and bonnet and handing them over to a waiting maid.
When he first spoke, Isabella’s heart had leapt at the idea her sister, or perhaps Georgina, might have come to Yorkshire, but his next words shattered her hopes.
“She says she is acquainted with your sister. I have put her in the late mistress’s parlor.”
It was likely one of the candidates for the governess position, Isabella thought, masking her disappointment.
“I’ll see to her, Templeton,” she told the man. “Will you please ask Mrs. Templeton to send in a pot of tea and some biscuits?”
Isabella walked down the hallway toward the parlor, only to feel Trevor’s presence lurking behind her. She stopped and turned. “Your Grace?” She raised a questioning brow.
She was amused to see him looking sheepish. “I thought it best I’d ensure the visitor is a welcome one,” he said. If he’d had pockets he would have his hands in them.
Somewhat touched by his concern for her, Isabella said, “It is likely someone my sister has sent for the governess job.”
Visibly the duke relaxed. “I’d forgotten about that,” he admitted. “It seems a very long time since we spoke of the matter, though it’s only been a couple of days.”
“Time speeds along when you are enjoying yourself,” she said wryly.
He laughed. “Something like that, I suppose.” He motioned for her to continue and walked beside her toward the parlor. “I will sit with you for your interview with her, if you don’t mind. I know I asked you to handle the hiring of someone, but I do not feel comfortable putting someone in charge of my sisters without taking a hand in choosing the woman.”
Isabella thought better of him for it. She knew quite a few gentlemen who would rather walk over hot coals than discuss the care and education of the young ladies for whom they acted as guardians. Most would prefer not to set eyes on the young ladies themselves until they were of an age to be seen in company.
“Of course,” she told the duke, walking alongside him to the parlor. She couldn’t help but feel like they were working as a team in this as in so many other matters. It was nice to know that if something untoward happened she would have someone beside her who would guide her along. Even if it was only for a little while. “I am pleased you are taking an interest,” she said aloud. “First a trip to the dressmaker’s and now a visit with a governess.”
“Do not tell anyone,” Trevor said with a crooked grin. “I have a reputation to maintain.”
But Isabella knew that the only reputation this man could boast of was that of true gentleman. Definitely not something she could say about most men of her acquaintance.
Nine
The first thing to enter Isabella’s mind upon seeing the woman waiting for them in the sitting room was a mental image of a mourning dove.
The card Templeton had given Isabella noted the lady’s name as Miss Winifred Nightingale. Dressed from head to toe in gray, the governess whom Perdita had sent was certainly suited to the role. Of Miss Nightingale’s surname, however, she was woefully misrepresentative. Unless of course she liked to sing in the evenings.
As Isabella and Trevor entered the room, the woman rose from her perch on the settee and offered them both a very correct, very deep curtsy. And as befitting her station, the lady waited for them to speak first.
“Miss Nightingale,” Isabella said, acknowledging the woman’s greeting with an inclined head. “I presume you have been sent here by the Duchess of Ormonde.”
“Yes, my lady,” the governess said with a nod. Her golden hair was pulled quite severely atop her head in a very proper, very serviceable chignon. She had removed her bonnet, which was no doubt just as nondescript as her gown. But there was little she could do to hide the fineness of her features, try as she might to disguise her cornflower blue eyes behind a pair of spectacles. “I believe the duchess said that there are two young ladies here in need of a governess.”
Isabella and Trevor stepped farther into the chamber, and while Isabella took a seat on the chair opposite the newcomer Trevor stepped forward to stand with his back to the fire, his arms crossed, as if waiting for the women to begin the discussion.
For all that Miss Nightingale had tried to hide her fine looks, however, it was impossible not to see that in the right gown and the right coiffure the young woman would be stunning. Remembering the governesses who had gone before, Isabella slanted a glance at Trevor to determine whether he was moved by the beauty of the governess, but he did not seem to be affected. Instead he said, “I have two sisters who are in need of your care, ma’am. Eleanor, the eldest, is seventeen and will be making her come-out next year. Belinda, who is thirteen, is still in the schoolroom. I presume you are equally able to instruct them both?”
Showing no signs of infatuation with the duke, Miss Nightingale nodded. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said, pulling a letter from her reticule and handing it to him. “Here are my references. One from the Countess of Cornwall and one from Miss Beeton, who was my employer at Miss Beeton’s Home for Young Ladies. I believe you will find everything in order.”
Isabella noted with approval the mention of Miss Beeton’s school. The academy had a good reputation, and Isabella wondered i
f, like many other of the teachers, Miss Nightingale had once been a student there. “You have the usual abilities to instruct the girls in music and art, I hope. Miss Eleanor in particular is quite gifted artistically and could do with a bit of guidance on that score.”
Miss Nightingale turned to Isabella. “Yes, my lady. I am able to instruct the girls in art, music, needlework, geography, and even, if it is desired, the classics and Latin. I can assure you that I am well able to do whatever is necessary to prepare young ladies for their entrance into society. And I am able to do so without succumbing to the charms of the master of the house.”
If Isabella had been drinking something she would have showered the room with it. She could not hold back a laugh.
But Trevor did not find the words so amusing. “I am not in the habit of seducing the females in my employ, Miss Nightingale.”
“I take it my sister told you of the previous governesses in this household, Miss Nightingale?” Isabella asked, giving Trevor a speaking look. It would not do to frighten their only candidate for governess before she even began the job.
But Miss Nightingale was clearly not one to be scared away by a bit of masculine bluster. “Indeed she did, Lady Wharton,” the governess said carefully. “If I may be frank, I am quite capable of keeping to my station. I fear that young women who find themselves needing to seek employment as governesses are often too young and impressionable for the position. Though the master of the house, and at times the sons, do sometimes see the governess as an object of desire and take advantage, other times the governess strays into the unfortunate habit of seeing her employer as a romantic hero. I will not tolerate the former, and I would not stoop to the latter. I am here to do a job, and I will do so to the best of my abilities. And I have no intention of falling in love with anyone in the process.”
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