Papa’s Joy

by Sue Lyndon

  “Well, he simply got on my bad side, I suppose,” Cynny finally said, and Daisy glanced at her friend’s hands to see they were badly trembling. She appeared even paler than moments ago. Yes, something was indeed amiss.

  Daisy looked outside again, having heard more movement around the carriage. “Who is that man?” Her stomach flipped at the sight of a second man, this one not appearing kindly in the least.

  “He looks very serious,” Rosie said.

  “Is that a pistol in his hand?” Daisy asked, feeling her eyes grow wide. Oh, something suspicious was definitely afoot this morning, all right. But what? And why did Cynny look so scared?

  Rosie emitted a dreamy sigh. “Oh, I believe the man with the pistol might be more handsome than the other man. Honestly, Cynny will you at least tell us his name?”

  Daisy was about to insist that Lord Kensington was the most handsome of all three gentlemen visitors at Talcott House this morning, but as soon as she opened her mouth she promptly shut it. What would her friends think if she said such a thing aloud about Cynny’s betrothed? She didn’t want Cynny believing she was jealous of her new papa, even though a small part of her—all right, perhaps more than a small part of her—burned with longing for the handsome and kindly appearing Lord Kensington.

  “Grayson,” Cynny finally answered. “He is Lord Grayson. I have no idea who the other man is.”

  The two unexpected visitors hurried toward the entryway and were soon out of sight. A second later, the walls of the bedchamber rattled with the slamming of the front door below.

  “They are inside now,” Daisy said excitedly as she moved toward the door, determined to get to the bottom of this mystery. Her stomach tightened with nerves and worry as she considered the man with the pistol. She hoped he didn’t intend to hurt anyone, and she wondered if he’d been the one to slam the front door so hard. “I am going to find out what is happening. What an exciting day.”

  Daisy scampered down the stairs, keeping her footfalls as quiet as possible, and pressed herself flat against the wall near the great room. She heard the two visitors speaking to one another and held her breath, listening with rapt interest as her heart hammered in her chest.

  “Do you suppose we’ve arrived in time?” one of the men asked.

  “I believe so. It’s still a bit early in the day. Don’t look so dour, man. You are soon to have a sweet bride to call your own.”

  A bride? But who was the bride they were speaking of?

  Luckily, the men kept moving toward Miss Wickersham’s study, neither of them seeming to hear Daisy. She was very good at eavesdropping. Once the door to Miss Wickersham’s office opened and then slammed shut, she inched closer to the sounds of raised voices.

  “Lord Grayson, you and your equally ill-mannered friend are not welcome here this morning. I insist you both leave at once.”

  “I will happily leave, as soon as Miss Heathrow is brought to me. I will not leave the premises without her.”

  “Absolutely not! Do as Miss Wickersham has asked and leave Talcott House immediately!” came another man’s voice. Was that Lord Kensington? Oh, he sounded most stern and serious. An excited shiver coursed through Daisy. Lord Kensington had a deep, masculine voice that set off the most delicious flutters in her tummy.

  “The girl called Miss Heathrow shall be his! Lord Grayson will make her a fine husband!” Hm. Was that man with the pistol speaking now?

  Daisy clasped a hand over her mouth. Oh, how exciting! Lord Grayson, the man who had visited Talcott House and spoken with Cynny days ago in the garden, had arrived just in time to stop Cynny’s wedding to Lord Kensington. Apparently, Lord Grayson wanted Cynny for himself. All the events clicked together in her head as she raced back upstairs and burst into the bedchamber where Rosie and Cynny were waiting.

  “Cynny, you must come. They are talking about you in Miss Wickersham’s study and the men are shouting. Lord Grayson says he will not leave the premises without you!”

  A look of dread and doom fell over Cynny, darkening her normally light and pretty features. But there was no time to waste, even if Cynny was feeling unwell for some reason. The shouting concerned her and she needed to hear every word that was said about her.

  Daisy ushered her friends out of their bedchamber and the three girls hurried to the closet above the headmistress’s study. It was the perfect place for spying on the events unfolding in Miss Wickersham’s study, even better than eavesdropping from the hallway, since there was a peephole in one of the floorboards. And as far as Daisy knew, Garland nor any of the other caretakers knew of this hiding spot.

  As they spied on the events unfolding below, Daisy couldn’t help but keep peeking at the handsome Lord Kensington. Her heart ached for him, because he’d come to Talcott House today believing he was going to be married to Cynny. Despite the fact that Cynny and Lord Kensington had never actually met one another, she supposed the lord had likely been looking forward to getting married today. How disappointed he must be at the prospect of losing his bride to this Lord Grayson fellow. Furthermore, Lord Grayson must be terribly in love with Cynny if he’d rushed here and brought a friend with a pistol.

  Her pulse quickened as she peeked through the spy hole and spotted Lord Kensington again. He was glaring at the other two men. A ripple of excitement wound through her at how intimidating he looked when angry. She suspected if the man Rosie had thought exceedingly handsome wasn’t holding a pistol and Miss Wickersham wasn’t standing in the midst of the fray clutching a ruler, Lord Kensington would have used his fists against Lord Grayson.

  Her heart continued to hammer in her chest. If Lord Kensington did not end up marrying Cynny today, would he decide to marry another girl from Talcott House?

  She moved aside so Cynny—beautiful Cynny with the golden waves of hair that everyone loved—could have a better look at the argument unfolding below. Daisy touched her plain brown locks and glanced down at her ill-fitting second hand dress. She was no prime article compared to most of the girls at Talcott House, especially Cynny.

  Even if Lord Kensington picked another girl from Talcott House, Daisy realized with a sinking heart, it likely would not be her.

  Chapter 2

  Lord Edward Kensington, Earl of Sterling, glared at the two men who’d barged into Miss Wickersham’s study. If not for the presence of the formidable headmistress of Talcott House, not to mention the pistol one of the men had pointed at him, he would have launched himself across the room at the dastardly scoundrels. The man who had insisted he would not leave without Hyacinth, in particular. Yes, Edward would greatly enjoy planting a facer on that man if the opportunity to do so presented itself. He clenched his fists in anticipation of inflicting violence.

  He’d come here for an important purpose this morning—to marry Miss Hyacinth Heathrow himself—and he had no tolerance for interruptions. He had waited long enough to claim his bride, allowing Miss Wickersham ample time to determine whether or not he would make a suitable husband and papa to one of the little ladies of Talcott House. In the letters he’d exchanged with Miss Wickersham after writing to introduce himself and announce his interest in acquiring a bride from Talcott House, it hadn’t been long before the headmistress had written to say she had the perfect young lady in mind for him. However, for reasons unclear to him, even after matching him with the perfect young lady, Miss Wickersham had made him wait several months before their wedding, vaguely claiming Miss Heathrow was not quite prepared to leave her home but would be ready to be his wife and little girl soon, if he would only be patient.

  Well, he had been patient enough, and it now appeared there was more to the picture.

  Apparently, his bride-to-be had been called upon by this awful Lord Grayson person at least once. Clearly, the two of them had met at some point recently, and it irked Edward that Miss Wickersham had allowed such a thing to transpire. After all, the girl was betrothed to him. He’d recently sent a large amount of money to Talcott House, as was expected of any
gentleman who wished to marry one of Miss Wickersham’s little ladies. He understood the money went to the upkeep of the house and its occupants, as the headmistress had made clear to him on more than one occasion, however, knowing that he had already paid what constituted a bride price for Miss Hyacinth “Cynny” Heathrow, he was furthermore infuriated that his betrothed had somehow received a gentleman caller.

  “Lord Grayson, I thought I made it clear to you on your last unannounced visit that Talcott House is not a continuous open door for the whims of callers, regardless of their social rank.”

  The tension in the room thickened as the man holding the pistol adjusted his aim directly at Edward’s face. Well, Edward wouldn’t mind planting a facer on this fellow, either, he thought with increasing annoyance as he imagined the man’s nose crunching under his flying fist. He didn’t think the man would actually shoot him, as he appeared to be dressed as a gentleman of a high station much like Edward himself, but Edward wisely remained still and hoped these two men decided their mission to Talcott House was futile.

  “Give me the weapon.” Miss Wickersham moved in front of the gun-toting man and held her hand out, staring him down as if he were a naughty pupil. To Edward’s amusement, the man actually looked a bit embarrassed and reluctantly passed the headmistress his weapon after an encouraging nod from Lord Grayson, damn his eyes.

  Miss Wickersham promptly locked the pistol in her desk, sticking the key in her pocket and then turning to glare at Lord Grayson. “I am available Thursday next at ten o’clock in the morning, I shall schedule an appointment for you at that time. As you can see, we here at Talcott House have urgent matters to resolve to which your presence is neither invited nor required.” The woman moved to escort the two intruders from her study, and Edward was relieved when Lord Grayson stepped toward the door. But the blasted man soon stopped and turned.

  “No,” Lord Grayson said. “I am here for Miss Heathrow and I shall not leave without her.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Edward took a step forward, his fists still clenched. “Have you gone mad? I am to marry the girl within the hour and I would thank you to leave the premises as Miss Wickersham has requested. Are you in the habit of causing disruption everywhere you go?” How dare the man think he could set claim to Edward’s betrothed? He doubted Miss Heathrow would want anything to do with such an ill-mannered clout of a man, least of all marry him, and Edward would not allow such an event to take place this morning.

  At that moment, Edward thought he heard voices above his head, but he didn’t look up, not daring to take his eyes off Lord Grayson and the man’s over exuberant friend. The ceiling then made an odd creaking noise, but still Edward kept his gaze on the other two men.

  “I believe perhaps I have gone mad,” Lord Grayson suddenly said, brushing a hand through his disheveled hair as a crazed gleam entered his eyes. The man looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. “What other explanation is there for this type of behavior? Regardless, I can think of no other and I must have the girl.”

  Edward’s patience was quickly unraveling. He took another step forward. “That is all well and good, my lord, but she is to be Lady Kensington. My bride, not yours. The arrangements have been made. Money has changed hands and the vicar is on his way here. I am sure Miss Wickersham has other young ladies who will be acceptable to you, but you shall not have my bride.”

  Lord Grayson stood taller and met Edward’s stare, his gaze taking on a pleading yet determined look that surprisingly made Edward feel somewhat sympathetic to his plight. The lovestruck man cleared his throat and said, “What makes you think that you are the proper gentleman to marry her? Have you spoken with her? Have you ever even seen her? Have you...”

  The man continued on, speaking in rather poetic terms of how he cared for Miss Heathrow and would be a good papa to her, which only left Edward even more frustrated. It was not Edward’s fault he had not yet met his betrothed. He’d sought an arranged marriage for a reason—to forgo the social ceremonies that came with the traditional courting of a bride. Had this Lord Grayson indeed gone mad? How could he care for the girl so much that he would barge into a house uninvited and demand her hand in marriage? An odd tug of jealousy swept through Edward, because he had never known such feelings for a woman before and he was not sure if he ever would. He had planned to care for Miss Heathrow as a good husband and papa ought to care for a little bride, and he knew that in caring for her he would likely grow to feel true affection for her in due time. But this Grayson fellow was apparently madly in love with her already.

  A knot twisted in Edward’s stomach. How could he compete with true love?

  “It is true that I have not yet met her,” Edward finally admitted, “but that does not mean I am not suitable as a husband and papa for her. I at least do not storm into other people’s homes and disrupt social engagements, which is more than I can say for the likes of you, my lord.” He took another step toward Grayson, his irritation flaring hotter.

  “Lord Grayson,” Miss Wickersham said, “Hyacinth has been promised to Lord Kensington, and, as he states, they are to be wed in just a few moments.”

  “But until vows have been exchanged and the marriage license has been filed, the young lady is free to marry whomever she chooses, is she not?” It was the man who’d pointed a pistol at Edward’s head moments ago who spoke now, and though Edward would not admit it aloud, the man did have a point. How could Edward force this young lady to marry him if she instead wished to marry Lord Grayson? He realized, with a sinking heart, that indeed he could do no such thing. Damn and blast. He felt his carefully laid out plans to find a wife soon, start a family, and move on from the darkness in his past crumble around him.

  “And how are we to know that marrying you is the young lady’s choice at all?” Edward found himself asking, though he despaired over hearing the truth from the lady herself when she finally arrived. What if Miss Heathrow entered the room, looked Edward apologetically in the eye, and declared her love for Lord Grayson?

  Miss Wickersham rapped on her desk with a ruler. “All of the young ladies under my care are well aware that I am the one who makes the choice of spouse for them. I have seen to their care and done my utmost to decipher their personalities and make the best matches possible. All of my young ladies have had happy marriages and I have no reason to think that the union of Lord Kensington and Miss Heathrow will be anything other than blissful as well.”

  Edward appreciated Miss Wickersham’s support at the moment, but he was still not happy she had apparently allowed Lord Grayson to call upon Miss Heathrow at some point under her roof. How could the woman permit the occurrence of such an improper and scandalous event? The thought of leaving Talcott House empty-handed, so to speak, prompted him to say, “In addition, my payment has been deposited and I refuse to accept a refund. Therefore the obligation is upon Miss Wickersham. If she fails to keep her agreement, I shall instruct my barrister to bring suit against her.”

  Miss Wickersham spun on Edward with an angry look as she clutched the ruler in her hand. Her face reddened as she stared at him for a tense moment. “I beg your pardon, sir, but if you are under the impression that I am in the business of selling young ladies, then you are quite mistaken. While I appreciate your kind donation to Talcott House, it was a gift, not a purchase, and I will thank you to remember that.”

  Before Edward could reply, Grayson shouted, “Whatever he has donated, I shall double it.”

  “What?” Edward stared at the awful interloper. “You do not even know the amount.”

  “Nor do I care. I must have her for my own.” Lord Grayson hastily pulled a wad of bills from his pocket, as well as a bag, and tossed them on the headmistress’s desk. Gold coins spilled out of the bag and over the polished wooden surface. “Now, bring Miss Heathrow here at once. And tell the vicar to hurry.”

  Edward had heard enough. His fists still clenched, he bounded toward Lord Grayson. He had never considered himself a hotheaded sort of individ
ual, and he had not been in an actual fight since his days as a young school boy, but he had no choice in the matter. When another man tries to steal your betrothed, one has no other option but to resort to violence.

  But before Edward could reach Lord Grayson, there was a great explosion.

  Or rather, the creaking ceiling gave way and crashed down upon them all.

  Dust and pieces of wood fell to the floor—along with four squealing and gasping young ladies. Well, three of them were young, the other one, who had apparently landed on a chair and broken it, was a bit older than her three companions.

  “Oh, Miss Wickersham,” the older girl said, “my apologies. I have broken the naughty chair.”

  “Naughty chair?” Edward, along with Lord Grayson and his friend, all three asked at once, and their mutual exclamation served to lessen the tension in the room.

  One of the girls emerged from the rubble and ran straight to Lord Grayson, an anxious yet hopeful gleam filling her gaze. Edward realized at once that it was Miss Heathrow and she was apparently as enraptured by Lord Grayson as he was with her, despite the man’s exceedingly ill manners. A cough below him drew his attention to the girl who had landed at his feet, and Edward soon forgot all about his betrothed and the rude lord who liked to throw his money around.

  There, covered in dust, was the prettiest and sweetest looking dark-haired young lady Edward had ever set eyes on. Something strange in his chest tightened and warmth flooded through him. Without conscious thought, he found himself lifting her from the floor, holding her waist between his hands and unable to let her go. The girl stared at him speechlessly, her beautiful dark eyes wide and her lips slightly parted. Still keeping one hand on her waist, he reached in his pocket to retrieve a clean handkerchief, which he used to wipe the dust from her face.

  The chaos unfolding around them faded, and it seemed as if they were the only two people left in the world, this pretty young woman whose name Edward did not yet know.