by Regina Scott
Hannah swallowed, making herself lower her arms and step back. David chucked her under the chin and winked at her, forcing an answering smile from her. She willed her heart beat to return to normal as he turned to motion Mr. Asheram to help her over the debris.
Lady Brentfield was waiting in the corridor as Hannah and Lady Emily were handed out. Other servants hurried from the kitchens.
“I heard the commotion from upstairs,” her ladyship explained. “What’s happened? Was anyone hurt?”
“We’re fine,” Hannah assured her and was surprised to see a frown that could only be annoyance appear on the woman’s face. Was she worried about how this accident would affect the success of her house party? Before she could wonder further, Daphne scrambled out of the room.
“A bookcase fell and nearly crushed me,” she declared. “Lord Brentfield saved my life. He is a hero!”
The frown deepened. “But he wasn’t hurt?”
Hannah peered closer. Was the woman truly worried about David? Somehow, she would not have thought it of her. Lady Brentfield ignored her pointed look.
“No,” Mr. Asheram answered for them as he helped Priscilla out as well. “His lordship is quite well.”
“How . . . marvelous,” Lady Brentfield remarked. To Hannah’s mind, she looked anything but pleased. Then she glanced about at the girls. “Why, you’re filthy. Haversham, see that baths are drawn for Priscilla and her friends immediately.”
“Right after we clean up the battlefield,” Mr. Asheram assured her, nodding to two of the footmen to come assist him. Hannah tightened her lips to keep from smiling.
David poked his head out of the doorway. “Go along, you all. Asheram and I will take care of this. How about we regroup in the blue room in an hour for tea?”
“The Blue Salon,” Lady Brentfield snapped. “And it will take us much longer to recover from this catastrophe. We will have tea in our rooms and a nap to restore our sensibilities. I do not see how we can possibly join you until dinner.”
David raised an eyebrow. “Very well, if you’re sure.” He glanced down at his own ruined apparel. “It will probably take me longer than an hour to clean up anyway, now that you mention it. Dinner it is.”
Hannah did not argue as Lady Brentfield shepherded the girls upstairs. Indeed, her nerves were raw. He had nearly been killed! She said another prayer of thanksgiving that he had been spared. She could not think of a single classical reference for the moment. It was just as well. She knew if she had tried to draw right then, her trembling hands would have betrayed her.
She also knew she had a duty to perform before she could retire to the quiet of her room. She went first to Ariadne. As she had suspected, the girl had also heard the crash and was anxious to learn what had happened. Hannah gave her a sketchy account, promising to return after she herself had had a bath and changed.
Despite Lady Brentfield’s assessment, it did not take Hannah longer than an hour to set herself to rights. Her hair unbound and falling past her thighs, she padded about the room in her dressing gown and bare feet. She had just resigned herself to wearing her other uniform when there was a knock at the door. Daphne bounded in on her response, Lady Emily and Priscilla trailing her.
They were still in their dressing gowns as well, although their gowns were satin to her flannel and dotted with laces and bows. Their hair curled in damp swirls about their faces. “We could not wait,” Daphne announced, throwing herself down on Hannah’s bed. “We simply had to talk to you about it.”
“About what?” Hannah asked. She should have felt dismayed that they had sought her out. She wasn’t entirely sure what to say to them when she wasn’t teaching them about painting. Nonetheless, it pleased her that they would voluntarily seek her.
“About the ordeal through which we have all passed,” Lady Emily intoned.
Priscilla shook her head, golden hair falling into natural waves about her shoulders. “They continue to go on and on about that silly accident in the library, Miss Alexander. Do tell them to stop being so childish.”
“I’m not being childish,” Daphne maintained. “It’s perfectly natural to want to discuss something of great importance.”
“Particularly when it involves life and death,” Lady Emily agreed.
Hannah glanced between their earnest faces and Priscilla’s scornful smirk. “I suppose it is only natural to see how others might feel about the same event,” she allowed. “It helps us to put our own feelings in perspective.”
“Exactly!” Daphne crowed, beaming.
Priscilla sniffed. “Well, I can tell you my feelings are not the least swayed by the entire affair. If you ask me, this house must have fallen in to a shocking state of disrepair since the previous earl died for something as sturdy as that bookcase to give way. When I’m mistress of Brentfield . . .” She stopped suddenly and looked away, biting her lip.
Hannah felt for the girl, who was clearly never going to be mistress of Brentfield. She patted Priscilla’s shoulder. “When you marry and have a great house such as this, I’m sure you’ll run it with style and elegance.”
Priscilla smiled at her. “Yes, I shall. And my house parties will be the talk of the country. Everyone will want to visit me.”
“I don’t see why,” Daphne grumbled. “One can only take so much bragging.”
Priscilla’s green eyes flashed. “Well, I like that. See if I ever take pity on you again, Daphne Courdebas. And I’ll have you know that it isn’t bragging when it’s perfectly true!”
“Oh, give it up, Pris,” Lady Emily said. “Nothing you’ve said has been true. You promised us sport, and until the bookcase came down I must say I’ve been bored nearly to distraction. You promised us stimulating conversation, and even though his lordship has an interesting sense of humor, all you’ve done is brag and belittle us. You promised us beautiful surroundings, and while the art works are interesting, you are right that the house seems to need work. You promised us we’d see a betrothal before we left, and his lordship doesn’t seem the least interested in you. In fact, I’d say he has developed quite a tendre for Miss Alexander.”
“That’s enough,” Hannah interceded, hoping to prevent a discussion of her own affairs and avoid the war that was brewing between the girls. To her surprise, Priscilla’s haughty face melted into sorrow.
“You’re right,” she murmured, tears pooling. “It’s all perfectly horrid, and I know you all must hate me!”
“Certainly not,” Hannah declared, glancing at the other girls sternly. Daphne instantly looked contrite; Lady Emily looked skeptical.
“Well,” Lady Emily declared, “realization is the first step toward salvation. I daresay we don’t hate you, Pris, but you could go a long way to making things more pleasant around here.”
Priscilla sniffed back her tears. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll try harder, really I will. It’s amazing how a near-death experience can change one.”
“There, you see?” Daphne beamed. “We did need to discuss it. What are you going to wear to dinner tonight, Miss Alexander?”
Hannah hid a smile at their quick retreat into their normal concerns. What a shame adult difficulties were not resolved so easily.
“I’ll be wearing my other uniform, of course,” Hannah told them.
They all looked disappointed.
“That will never do,” Lady Emily declared. “While I enjoy the dark colors myself, when one is courting, one should try to look more festive. Bright colors attract the male.”
Hannah choked on her laughter. “Girls, please! I’m not courting.”
“Of course you are,” Priscilla declared. “Even the countess has accepted that fact.”
Hannah started to protest, but Daphne jumped off the bed and stalked to the wardrobe, throwing open the doors. “She’s right,” she announced. “There’s nothing in here but her other uniform, some drab navy thing, and her painting smock.”
“Which should have been expected for a teacher,” Lady Emily confessed.
“We shall simply have to take matters into our own hands.”
“Now, girls,” Hannah tried again, alarm rising.
Priscilla walked around her as if in study. “She’s taller than either of you and has a better figure than Ariadne. It will have to be one of my gowns.”
“It will have to be no such thing,” Hannah maintained heatedly. “Your aunt would never forgive me if I wore one of your dresses, Priscilla. Besides, I’m not a schoolroom miss. You cannot expect me to wear white.”
“That lavender thing your great aunt sent you for Easter last year,” Lady Emily replied as if Hannah had not uttered a word. “The one with the runching about the hem, which you hated. It might do.”
“It would not,” Hannah protested. “Girls, this has gone far enough. I will not wear Priscilla’s dress.”
Priscilla smiled at her in commiseration. “I would hate to wear hand-me-downs too, Miss Alexander, truly I would. But beggars cannot be choosers. I think Lady Emily is quite right about the lavender dress. And Daphne has a set of amethysts that might suffice.”
Daphne snapped her fingers. “The very things!”
“No,” Hannah told them sternly. “No, no, and no.”
Priscilla took her hands and looked at her beseechingly. “Oh, please, Miss Alexander? This is my first chance to do a good deed. You wouldn’t want me to have a relapse into selfishness, would you?”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t,” Daphne declared. “Do say yes, Miss Alexander.”
“I should feel like a great big doll,” Hannah told them, but, glancing about at the entreating faces, she was certain that nothing she could say would dissuade them. They all so badly needed a pleasant distraction after the dangers of the morning. While being dressed up might not amuse her, it would certainly amuse them.
She sighed. “Oh, all right. Do what you can. Just remember, you cannot make a silk purse from a sow’s ear. I have no expectations that anything will change just because you manage to gown me more suitably.”
“You’ll see,” Priscilla promised, eyes shining. “We’ll bring his lordship to propose, just you wait.”
And that, Hannah reflected as they set to work, would be the very worst that could happen.
Chapter Ten
It was a beautiful dress. The silk flowed over her hand in ripples the color of spring lilacs, shimmering in the candlelight. The cap sleeves and the square cut neck were edged in a darker purple satin, which also decorated the hem in a foot deep of swirled runching, the puffy folds of similar material curling like grape vines. The necklace and earbobs Daphne produced were a series of amethyst flowers, each center of black jet surrounding a single diamond. They glowed against Hannah’s skin.
“Nearly perfect,” Priscilla pronounced as Hannah stood before the Pier glass mirror in the girl’s bedchamber.
Hannah stared at herself, emotions warring. How wonderful it would be to wear something so lovely, bright, and happy! Yet truth be told, she was wearing it as much for David’s appreciation as her own. Somehow it seemed wrong to want to catch his eye when she had already resigned herself to refusing him. She glanced around at the three beaming faces and realized how much she would disappoint them if she cried off now. She forced a smile.
“It’s lovely,” she agreed.
Satisfied, they allowed her to go visit Ariadne while they changed as well.
To Hannah’s surprise, the girl was up and just finishing her own toilette. Though pale and a little thinner, Ariadne appeared ready to return to her regular routine. Her enthusiastic endorsement of Hannah’s attire made Hannah’s spirits rise despite herself. When the other girls joined them, each of them in bright silk, they made a merry group going down to supper.
As they stepped into the Blue Salon, Hannah’s stomach knotted. What if he didn’t notice? Worse, what if he didn’t approve? She instinctively sought him out against the windows and when she saw him, it was her own reaction she suddenly feared.
For whatever reason, David had finally decided to change out of his habitual tweed suit. Tonight he wore the black cutaway coat and breeches of a cultured gentleman. The white cravat, folded elegantly about his long neck, brought out the blue of his eyes. The cut of the coat and the tightness of the breeches made her acutely aware of how broad his shoulders were and how long his legs. When she had first encountered him, he had been David the Shepherd. Tonight, he was David the King.
The girls dropped curtseys around her, and when she continued to stare like someone demented, Priscilla tugged her down as well. Have I learned nothing in three days? Hannah thought as she lowered her gaze. I still cannot seem to stop devouring him with my eyes!
When she rose it was to find David staring at her just as fixedly. The warmth of his gaze only served to discompose her further. She was not so far gone, however, that she failed to notice Daphne elbowing Lady Emily in the ribs, grinning in obvious pleasure at the response to their efforts.
“Ladies,” he greeted, bowing low. “Thank you for joining me, and Miss Ariadne too! What a welcome surprise. We’re just waiting for her ladyship before we can go in to dinner.”
“Wait no longer,” Lady Brentfield replied from behind them. She stepped around them with a smile, which faded as she caught sight of Hannah. Hannah stiffened.
“How lovely you all look this evening,” she declared, eyes narrowing. “That is a delightful dress, Miss Alexander. It puts me in mind of one in Priscilla’s closet.”
Hannah swallowed, guilt pouring over her anew. Lady Brentfield had offered her niece the perfect opening, and Hannah feared Priscilla’s generous streak had not lived long enough to endure such a blatant call for attention.
The girl surprised her. “Miss Alexander’s is much prettier,” she replied, although she did accompany the remark with her customary toss of her head. “Besides, purple makes me look bilious.”
Lady Brentfield managed a smile. “Yes, it is a difficult color to carry off. That’s why it’s generally reserved for spinsters and dowagers.”
“What a shame,” David remarked, reaching out to bring Hannah’s suddenly cold fingers to his lips. “For it’s a lovely color, especially on Miss Alexander.”
He kissed her fingertips, his warm breath heating her skin inside the silk gloves. The girls stared, fascinated. Hannah, knowing all eyes were on her, tried to remain cool and composed, but she could not seem to keep herself from trembling at his touch. The girls obviously noticed, for they exchanged looks of triumph. Lady Brentfield turned away.
Despite her ladyship’s attitude, dinner was a merry affair, and David retired with them immediately afterward to the Blue Salon rather than wait for his port alone. Even Mr. Asheram joined them, taking his solitary place beside the doors. Hannah smiled at him, and he returned the smile with a kindly nod. Then he focused on Lady Brentfield, and his look became decidedly cooler. Glancing at her ladyship, Hannah saw the countess had seen the look and was glaring back. She could only hope that there would not be another conflict to spoil the evening.
Priscilla hurried to the piano and set about playing a waltz, casting insistent glances at Hannah while David tapped his feet to the tune. Much as she would have liked to feel his arms around her again, Hannah refused to gratify them by providing further entertainment. Lady Brentfield was angry enough as it was. She sat with her back glued to the chair, her slippers stuck firmly to the Oriental carpet. After a time, Priscilla gave up playing in obvious disgust.
“After such a difficult day,” Lady Brentfield remarked to no one in particular, “I would think we should all retire early.”
This raised a chorus of protests from the girls, all, Hannah heard with surprise, directed at her.
“Oh, must we, Miss Alexander?” Ariadne pleaded. “I feel as if I’ve been in that bed forever.”
“I don’t think it all that difficult a day,” Daphne proclaimed. “I could stay up for hours!”
“In my family,” Lady Emily announced, “we do not go to bed until after midnight, even in th
e country.”
“Well, I’m tired of playing,” Priscilla pouted, at last retreating to her usual self-absorbed attitude. Her friends turned on her with quelling frowns.
“Well, I am,” she insisted. “Why don’t one of you play for a change?”
“Do you play, Miss Alexander?” Daphne urged, nodding her head in David’s direction and winking boldly at Hannah.
All eyes swiveled in her direction again. The only people who didn’t look entreating were Lady Brentfield, who glared, and David, who looked amused.
“Sorry,” she demurred. “I never learned.”
“Poverty prevents one from learning so many of the social graces,” Lady Brentfield put in with a complacent nod. Hannah felt herself pale.
“Where are my manners?” David declared, rising. “You all have played and danced to entertain me. I should return the favor.”
“Do you play, my lord?” Ariadne asked eagerly, even as Hannah blinked in surprise at his gesture.
“No,” he replied regretfully. “But I have been told I have a reasonably fine singing voice. If someone would consent to accompany me, we’ll put that theory to the test.”
Priscilla hurried back to the piano bench, previous weariness obviously forgotten. “What shall I play, my lord?”
He looked thoughtful. “We’ll have to think of something known on both sides of the ocean. Any ideas?”
“Do you know, ‘Greensleeves’?,” Ariadne asked.
“No, not that,” Daphne chided. “What about some native folk song?”
“I wouldn’t know how to play that, silly,” Priscilla scolded.
“We need something more meaningful,” Lady Emily put in, and Hannah was sure she would suggest some funereal song. To her surprise, the girl had other ideas. “What about ‘My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose’?”
David grinned at her. “One of my favorites. We’ve heard of the Bard of Scotland even in Boston. Robert Burns it is.”
David and Priscilla put their heads together behind the piano. Hannah felt a spark of jealousy flare within her and quickly put it out. The girl was getting attention for once for her talent. She had every right to enjoy it. Lady Brentfield evidently thought so as well, for she was watching the two of them closely. Hannah hoped she was not still harboring a desire to see the two of them wed, for David clearly had no such ideas. Then Priscilla played a run up the keys, and David began to sing.
