My Fair Gentleman

by Nancy Campbell Allen

  Jack shook his head. It was one more thing about his grandfather that disgusted him. Would the list never end? It seemed to grow exponentially every day. Perhaps, after the events over the next few weeks were concluded, he would take a trip back to the country estate and see about the tenants’ condition. It was something productive on the horizon, and he felt his spirits lift ever so slightly.

  He gave Anthony a half smile. “How much longer until you inherit, then?”

  “Not much longer, according to my mother. My father grows crazier by the day—he shows all the symptoms of a disease my mother would rather not acknowledge. One he likely contracted from his many visits to town without her.” Anthony paused, shaking his head. “Even if his body holds out, his mind is all but gone. I expect to hear from the family solicitor any day now.”

  “And if he is alive, but deemed unfit to carry out his duties as a peer, then you act in his place?”

  Anthony nodded. “Much to my eternal regret. I was content to live the life of the younger son.”

  Jack nodded. “And I was content to live the life of the disinherited grandson.”

  “Why are you doing this, then?”

  “For my mother and sister.”

  Anthony nodded. “Fair enough.” He looked around the room for a moment. “Rousing card games usually pick up by evening.”

  Jack shook his head in bewilderment. “And in the meantime, this is the whole of it? They stand around talking about fashion with Mr. Brummell and make ridiculous bets in the book?”

  Anthony Blake gave him a wide smile. “It’s a gentleman’s life, my friend. Who wouldn’t want it?” He spread his arms out for emphasis.

  “Ridiculous,” Jack muttered.

  “That it is. I have an appointment at Tattersall’s to buy a horse. You’re welcome to join me. Unless you’d rather compare notes with Beau.”

  Jack glanced again at Beau Brummell, who was showing his fans the finer details of his salmon colored waistcoat. “I do find it rather disturbing that he is the Prince Regent’s bosom friend.”

  Anthony laughed and rose with a stretch. “If nothing else, England can rest assured that she will always be at the height of fashion. Which is a good sight better than being ruled by a mad king, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “Life is so much simpler at sea,” Jack said as he stood and took another look around the room.

  As they made their way to the door, Anthony stopped and pointed at a pedestal that held a large book. “Take a look,” he said to Jack. “You’ll find your own name in it.”

  Jack’s brows pinched together as he examined the betting book; several of the entries were regarding him. How long he would remain at the earl’s estate. How long until he returned to the sea and lost his inheritance. How much longer it would be until his life of leisure caused him to gain weight. And then how much weight he would gain.

  As he turned to leave, he noticed several of the men in the group by the window watching him, likely hoping for a reaction of some sort. He cursed under his breath, knowing that Lady Ivy would have his head if he were to cause a scene out loud.

  “Let’s go buy a horse,” he said to Anthony, and they left the building to its dandy inhabitants.

  Chapter 14

  Tea time can be a delightful occasion to renew

  acquaintances and form new ones. Care should be

  taken to insure the comfort of all of one’s guests.

  Mistress Manners’ Tips for Every-day Etiquette

  Ivy was pressed for time, and her mother had suddenly become very interested in Ivy’s life. It irked her to no end—especially given the fact that Ivy had tried to catch her attention for years—and to be inundated with questions when she was trying to leave the house and meet Jack at the maritime museum was most inopportune.

  “I am helping Nana to ease the family’s entrance into Society, Mama, and that is all.” She tamped down an edge of extreme irritation that she knew was inappropriate to feel for one’s mother. Ivy had hardened her heart against the woman; if Lady Imogene Carlisle didn’t care to have a warm relationship with her daughter, so be it. Ivy found comfort in Nana, and it was enough.

  Ivy took her pelisse from the butler with a smile of thanks and made her way to the front door.

  “Ivy, I do think it unseemly for you to be spending so much time with the new earl, especially unchaperoned.”

  “We are never unchaperoned.” Well, that might be stretching the truth a bit. But they weren’t courting, for heaven’s sake. She was his tutor. “And more often than not, Nana is with me.” Hmm. That wasn’t entirely true, either.

  “I trust you understand, Ivy, the position you will put this family in if your behavior is anything but circumspect.”

  Ivy felt her nostrils flare and tried to tame her facial muscles into a mask of pleasantry. “Mama, you may trust me when I say that I am the last one you ever need worry over as it concerns good behavior. Caroline has made things difficult for all of us.”

  Imogene Carlisle flushed. “You needn’t mention it, Ivy.”

  Of course. They never discussed Caroline because it was unseemly. Ivy’s sister had always been self-absorbed, and Ivy had never enjoyed a warm relationship with her. Then Caroline’s dalliance with a soldier had plunged the entire Carlisle family into a terrible state. And once, just once, she wanted her mother to show even the slightest bit of affection rather than censure. Ivy had received far more attention from her nannies than her mother. That wasn’t unusual, she knew, but it had still stung.

  “And you know I do not approve of so much time spent with your grandmother.” Imogene’s lips were pinched. She and the dowager countess, her mother-in-law, had never seen eye-to-eye. Ivy hated the tension that often accompanied Lady Olivia Carlisle’s visits to her son and grandchildren. She found it far easier to leave the house to spend time with Nana.

  “Nana is all things good and proper, Mama, and you needn’t worry yourself on that count. Besides, I am a woman grown and am hardly going to be influenced at this point by someone else’s negative behavior.”

  Imogene opened her mouth as though to rebut, but apparently thought better of it. “You will be home for dinner, then?”

  Ivy nodded. “And if that changes, I will send word.”

  “Very well.”

  Ivy looked at Imogene for a moment longer before making her way outside. Ivy supposed her mother somehow equated affection with weakness. She was grateful beyond words for the close relationship she enjoyed with Nana. It was baffling, really, that her own father was nothing like his mother. In that regard, Ivy’s parents were a perfect match. Stern, proper, stoic. And perhaps a little bland. Observing life through Jack’s eyes had opened hers considerably. Small issues that had irritated her before had become significantly bothersome.

  The ride to the maritime museum proved uneventful, and Ivy was glad to see Jack’s tall frame near the entrance. My, but he was a handsome one. Once polished, he would make a young lady very happy by offering for her hand. Ivy felt a twinge of something near her heart but was unwilling to examine it further.

  Jack surprised her when she met him at the entrance by taking her hand and bowing, placing a kiss upon her gloved knuckles. “My lady,” he said with a ridiculous flourish.

  “For heaven’s sake,” she said with a laugh, “we are not treading the boards! One might mistake you for a Shakespearean actor.”

  “Not at all.” He offered his arm. “I merely seek to demonstrate the fruits of your labors.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him as they entered the building. “I do not trust you for a moment. I suspect you have an ulterior motive.”

  “On the contrary. Finally accepting my lot in life.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  They purchased tickets and began the stroll around the museum to different exhibits and artwork. They had gone along for some time in relative silence when Jack said, “Why, again, are you showing a sailor around the maritime museum?”

  “I am th
inking of ways to help you pass your time. A gentleman will often frequent museums, and this one seems particularly . . . manly.”

  “I do hate to disappoint, but I have lived most of my life at sea. Continual walks through this place will either bore me to tears or make me nostalgic to tears.”

  “Oh, dear.” Ivy smiled. “It seems you are destined to cry either way. I find that most refreshing: a man who can show his true emotions without fear of appearing emasculated.”

  “If you find it refreshing, then I shall endeavor to weep each time we meet.”

  Ivy stopped their stroll and faced him, brows drawn. “Jack, truly, why the sudden change of heart?”

  To his credit, he didn’t try to pretend he didn’t understand the question. “I’ve come to realize that the quicker I cooperate, the sooner I will see my mother and Sophia settled comfortably. I can then buy my own merchant vessel and return to the life I prefer.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, and she wasn’t certain why. “But I thought we had agreed you need a bride and an heir,” she said, looking up at his handsome face.

  He shrugged. “I can still procure a bride and an heir. We are frequently in port—I will visit home when I can, and of course, my wife and child would be well provided for. It is one of the few good things about my suddenly deep pockets, I suppose.”

  Ivy chewed on her lip for a moment. “I don’t imagine your bride will relish the thought of so much time apart from you.”

  “Lady Ivy,” he said as he drew her hand through his arm and propelled her forward once again, “you have told me yourself that more marriages than not are lacking in any deep affection. I simply need someone who wants a title and money. The more I dwell upon the subject, the more I find that my plan would be a most suitable arrangement.”

  Ivy frowned.

  “You can’t think of any young women who are seeking marriage as a business transaction rather than a love match?” he pressed.

  “You’re a good man, Jack, with a good heart.” Ivy tried to give voice to feelings that suddenly made no sense to her. It was true, she had told him that love matches were few and far between. So why, now, did the prospect of a loveless marriage based on nothing more than a few mutual goals seem so incredibly sad? “I suppose I had hoped for more for you.”

  He smiled at her in a manner that suggested brotherly affection, and it irritated her. “A very sweet sentiment, Lady Ivy, but highly unrealistic. I’ve accepted the fact that my parents’ union was the exception, not the rule.”

  As they continued their walk through the museum, Ivy noted two things. The first was that he was incredibly knowledgeable on the subject of all things maritime, which she realized shouldn’t have surprised her. The second was that she didn’t care to ever visit it again. He was clearly in his element, and she found it utterly depressing that he should be kept from it. But the thought of him leaving London altogether, to return home only a couple of times per year for visits, depressed her further still. She would never see him at soirees, parties, balls, or other functions in which their circles ran.

  But why that mattered, she couldn’t imagine. He would belong to someone else.

  They passed the better part of an hour, Jack defining and describing the items on display in such a way that Ivy found herself actually interested in what he said. When they left and stepped out again, she was surprised to hear Jack call out to someone on the street.

  “Blake!”

  Lord Anthony Blake paused and, with a smile, approached them.

  “You know Lady Ivy Carlisle, I would imagine?” Jack said by way of introduction.

  “I do indeed. My lady,” Blake said with a short bow.

  Ivy dropped into a curtsey with a smile. “I was not aware the two of you were acquainted.” Lord Blake was quickly garnering himself a reputation as a bit of a wastrel, but she liked him. Heir to the Wilshire earldom, he was genuine and honest. And at a dinner a few months earlier, he had come to the defense of a frightened footman who had dropped a tray of food all over the ballroom floor. His compassion had impressed Ivy no end.

  “I rescued him from White’s,” Blake said with a grin. “We purchased horses instead. He has told me you are showing him way of the elite. An admirable cause.”

  Jack snorted and Ivy laughed. “He is a very apt pupil.” She glanced at Jack. “Before long, nobody will ever know he wasn’t reared for the earldom from birth.”

  “Oh, dear lady, no. You will ruin him. You must turn him over to me.”

  At that, Ivy laughed harder. “My aim is to keep him respectable. You would be the one to ruin him, my lord.”

  “Psh,” Blake said. “I would do nothing of the sort.” He turned to Jack. “Check your stables, old man, and see if you need replacements. I’d be happy to join you at Tattersall’s.”

  “I’ll do that,” Jack told him, and they bid their farewells. When they were out of earshot, Jack regarded her with brows raised. “You are friends, of a sort? That rather surprises me, my lady. Blake is a bit of a rascal.”

  “He is,” she nodded and then smiled. “But he is a kind rascal. I like him.”

  “Perhaps you have your sights set on him, then?”

  “Goodness, no.” Ivy felt her face flush and hated it. “I am not entertaining any thoughts regarding any man at this time.”

  “Because your sister ruined the family reputation.” His voice was flat.

  “Yes, and we needn’t discuss it further.” Ivy heard her own mother’s phrase even as she said it and winced slightly.

  “It is ridiculous that you must pay for the sins of your sister.”

  Ivy agreed, but she kept it to herself. When she remained silent, he shrugged and took her umbrella, shielding her from the rain as they made their way out of the museum’s shelter and toward the street.

  Jack dropped Ivy by his mother’s home after the visit to the museum. They had “womanly things” to discuss, she had said, and he didn’t question it further. He figured he was much better off kept in the dark—it was a world entirely beyond his realm.

  He decided to take Anthony Blake’s advice and visit his stables. He knew next to nothing about horses, really, but he realized that if they were going to be a part of his life, perhaps he’d better learn. He had met the stable master briefly; Griffin was a hardened man who might have done well as a sailor, but there was something about his demeanor that Jack mistrusted. Perhaps Griffin was bitter about the old man’s death, or maybe he felt Jack had no right to be the earl.

  As he walked down the aisle in the stable, he began to wonder if perhaps he might need Blake’s opinion after all. Everything seemed in tip-top condition, but what did he really know? As he neared the end of the row, Jack noted an older mare whose head drooped. He put his hand out to touch her nose, and the horse shied away with a start.

  Talking to the animal as if trying to soothe a frightened child, he eventually gained enough of her trust to touch her gently without eliciting a startled reaction. He released her stall door and led her out into the aisle, noting several angry red marks about her flanks. His mind flashed to times aboard ship when discipline had been enforced—the appearance and demeanor of the horse mirrored that of sailors who had had the whip taken to them.

  “What kind of trouble have you been in, little missy?” he murmured as he ran a gentle hand over the worst of the marks. She jerked away again at the touch, and he frowned.

  “You there!”

  Jack turned at the bark to see Griffin approaching him in angry strides. When the stable master recognized Jack, he slowed a bit but continued toward him.

  “Didn’t recognize yeh, m’lord,” Griffin said. “Thought ye were a thief.”

  “If I were, Mr. Griffin, I would hardly choose this particular horse. Can you tell me how she came upon these wounds?”

  Griffin’s expression tightened. “She’s stubborn, that one, and lucky I haven’t sent her to the slaughterhouse.”

  “Might I assume she’s also quite aged? Perh
aps she would be better off at the country estate.”

  Griffin’s eyes narrowed. “The old earl had no problem with the way I handled the stables.”

  Jack met the man’s angry gaze and held it. “The old earl is dead now,” he murmured, “and I do not much care about his preferences. I’ll not have the animals abused.”

  Griffin flushed, the angry set of his jaw betraying his frustration. “Yer pardon, m’lord, but ye’re a sailor. What do ye know of horses?”

  “I know enough to insist that those I own not be beaten into submission. Training with fair methods is another matter altogether. Please send someone to fetch the veterinarian so that these wounds can be treated.”

  A muscle worked in Griffin’s jaw, but he acquiesced with a quick bow. “M’lord,” he said and left the stable in firm strides. Jack watched him leave, recognizing the sadistic vein he sometimes had seen aboard ship. There were those whose power over someone or something weaker manifested itself in very cruel forms.

  Jack nudged the mare and returned her to her stall. Suspicious, he began examining each horse for signs of harsh treatment, and his anger grew. There were telltale marks on every animal, some bearing scars that had tried to heal but were visible upon closer inspection.

  Jack summoned a stable boy and sent him with a message to Lord Anthony Blake. He wanted a second pair of eyes.

  It wasn’t the first thing Ivy would have listed on Things to Do with One’s Afternoon, but she realized that tea with Clista Elliot was unavoidable for Sophia and Mary. It had to be done, and perhaps once would suffice.

  Mary and Sophia had received the invitation from Clista the day before and had immediately contacted Ivy for her input. Ivy had spent the better part of that afternoon chatting with the two about what they might expect from Clista and how to best dodge any veiled barbs that might fly their way.

  As they waited for the carriage to be brought around, Ivy considered the situation. Sophia had been a lady’s maid in fine houses long enough to know how to sit, what to say, and how to eat and drink. Ivy wasn’t worried about Sophia’s abilities to dismiss Clista’s nonsense. Mary also certainly possessed good manners, but Ivy became defensive in advance just thinking about the gentle woman getting her feelings hurt.