The Earl Next Door: The Bachelor Lords of London

by Charis Michaels

  He affected a quick bow. “Eli Limpett,” he informed her. “Soon-to-be fiancé of dear Miss Grey. You have met her mother, Mrs. Idelle Grey-Limpett. And my brothers are in the carriage. I hope you meant what you said about all of us. Meeting a”—he affected an air of breathlessness—“marchioness? You wouldn’t believe the journey we’ve had.”

  Jocelyn led them all inside: the mother; the shark-eyed one; a fat one; a bald one; a tall one; and Edward, the smallest brother who had turned up in London the week before.

  Jocelyn led them to the blue room, the only space beside the ballroom or the dining room that could comfortably contain a party so large. It was uncommonly cold in the blue room. At the moment, all the rugs had been removed to be aired on the line. Their collective footfalls on the bare marble raised quiet a clatter. She bade Godfrey to stoke the fires and convey refreshment. When they were settled, she bowed and first walked—then ran—for the garden.

  Piety, she was frustrated to find, was covered in mud. Apparently the marchioness had taken issue with the way the gardener had cleared the weeds among the ivy. After several failed rounds of shouted instruction, Piety had shoved the beleaguered man aside and dropped to do it herself.

  “So it begins,” said the marchioness when she heard. She raised her parasol for a shaded view of the house. “Very good. But you cannot receive them like this, Miss Grey. Take the rear stairs and change and wash. Do you prefer Tiny to assist or Miss Breedlowe?”

  “We’d do well to keep Tiny hidden for the duration,” Piety said. “They are hateful to her. Truly awful.”

  “I am not afraid,” said Tiny from beneath her parasol.

  “Yes, but it unnerves me to hear the way they speak to you. Mother knows this, and she does it on purpose.”

  “You will not be unnerved by this or any other manipulation they play,” said the marchioness. “You will be confident. You will be at ease. You will be self-possessed—just as we discussed. But you must not be”—she scowled at her—“caked in filth. Take yourself inside to change. I will receive them in the . . . Where did you put them, Miss Breedlowe?”

  “They are waiting in the blue room.”

  “Douglas?” Lady Frinfrock turned to the gardener. “What is the time?”

  “Half-past ten, my lady.”

  “Excellent. We will convene luncheon at twelve o’clock noon. Miss Breedlowe, inform Godfrey and the kitchen. Miss Baker, what do you wish? Will you see them with me or wait until the meal?”

  “I’d just as soon help Miss Piety.”

  “As you will, then. Come along, Miss Breedlowe. Let us tame the beasts.”

  Jocelyn was the last to trail behind them into the blue room, and she was relieved to see that Godfrey had rallied since the encounter on the stoop.

  “Her ladyship, the Marchioness Frinfrock,” he announced, his spine pitchfork-straight, his eyes alert, fixed on the far wall.

  Jocelyn fought the urge to seek out the most shadowy, far-flung chair, drifting instead to a fairly visible spot on a nearby settee. The Americans paid her absolutely no mind. The Americans huddled in small groups, two or three of them together, whispering. Only Eli stood apart, watching, taking in every detail of the marchioness’s large, marble drawing room with fast, slitted eyes.

  Once settled in a chair, Lady Frinfrock’s expression was pleasant but unreadable as she examined each of the brothers. She studied Eli last, flicking him with a dismissive gaze before turning her attention to Mrs. Limpett. The American woman stared back, making no move to dip into a curtsy or even nod. None of them bobbed their heads—an absolutely glaring rudeness, and Piety would be mortified, Jocelyn thought, if she’d known. Behind them, the ebony grandfather clock marked the quiet with a slow and steady tick. No one spoke. Jocelyn twisted her hands into a tight, sweaty snarl. When she could endure the silent scrutiny no more, she wobbled to stand. “Your ladyship, may I introduce—”

  “Formal introductions won’t be necessary, Miss Breedlowe.” The marchioness gestured for her to return to her seat. “Clearly, the Limpetts intend this to be a cursory, casual sort of visit, as no one has made a move even to say how-do-you-do.”

  One of the brothers snickered, and Eli Limpett spoke over him.

  “Forgive our ignorance of proper custom, your ladyship,” he said, bowing deeply. “We were unsure of whether it was appropriate to address you first or to wait.”

  The marchioness stared at him. “Save your restraint for the prince. Who are you, and why have you come?”

  “Forgive me, again,” he said, repeating his bow. “I am Eli Limpett, of New York City. In America.”

  “I am aware of the location of New York City, Mr. Limpett. Why are you in my drawing room?”

  “We came here by invitation, actually,” he said. He snapped his fingers over his shoulder, and the small brother, Edward, trudged forward and placed a folded missive in his hand. “Our dear stepsister, Miss Piety Grey is residing here with you, I believe. Your excellence.”

  “Let us not be coy. Miss Grey has led us to expect your arrival. It should be said, however, that her expectations put us more in the mind of a happy reunion, considering the length of time you have been apart and the great distance you have traveled—”

  “Piety said that?” Edward Limpett cut off the marchioness’s comment.

  The marchioness ignored him. “Rather than a water stop for your livestock and the collection of Miss Grey’s effects in the road.” She stood.

  “Of course, we are anxious to reunite with Piety,” Eli Limpett said, “but we’re hardly here to ‘collect her effects.’ ” He laughed. “You make it sound as if she is, well, as if she were no longer among us.”

  “On the contrary, sir,” said the marchioness, plodding toward him with her cane. “She is very much among us. And, as a living, breathing, young woman of consequence, she alone will decide where she goes, when she departs, and what she takes when she goes. I am perfectly happy to host you, all of you, as guests of Miss Grey. However”—she eyed all of them—“the invitation will be revoked immediately if your group cannot be counted upon for, at the very least, the most basic vestiges of decorum and civility. That includes, but is not limited to, employing some courtesy to myself and my staff.”

  “And what of Piety?” demanded little Edward.

  “What of Miss Grey?” the marchioness replied coolly. “Her manners are impeccable. How impressed I have been from her first day I made her acquaintance. It begs the question, where was she trained?”

  Mrs. Grey-Limpett stepped forward, chuckling. “You have been fooled, my lady. I see now the problem, and how silly of me. My daughter has misled you. Good manners weigh very meekly against her greater crimes. Namely, flight from home and country without as much as a good-bye, plunging us into heartbreak and worry. Me—her own mother—piecing together the details of where she had gone and why. The purchase of property and God knows what else without a trusted male advisor looking after her. What impact may manners have when compared to this?”

  “Mrs. Limpett, I assume?” asked the marchioness.

  The American woman smiled and nodded. Still, no introductions. Jocelyn fought another urge to bob from her seat.

  “As her host, Mrs. Limpett,” continued the marchioness, “I find myself less concerned about where Mrs. Grey travels or whom she alerts before she goes. Was she properly comported when she arrived in my street? Does she treat others as she, herself, wishes to be treated? These are the behaviors that have bearing on my small corner of the world. In this, you’ll understand, I do not see myself as having been made a fool. Whatever foolishness you may or may not have earned as her mother is your business entirely.”

  The American woman’s expression went a little off. “How very right you are. My business, indeed. Yet how may I conduct it if you hold my daughter hostage? Restraining us here, subjecting us to open judgment, while she is nowhere to be seen?”

  Angrily, she looking at Eli. “Is this what you intended? To be at her me
rcy? I cannot see my own daughter without being scolded for manners!”

  “Mother.” Eli’s warning look encompassed them all.

  “On the contrary,” said the marchioness. “You are not at my mercy. By all means, tell me to go to the devil and take your leave from this house at once. However, I did make a promise to Miss Grey, and I intend to stand by it. It is at her mercy you find yourselves.”

  “But we haven’t even been allowed to see her!”

  “She was informed of your arrival at the same time as I. She comes and goes as she likes. I have no say as to who she sees and when.”

  “Then where is she?” demanded the American.

  “I have no idea. I am her friend, not her keeper.”

  “She lives with you, but you do not know where she is?”

  “She’s your daughter, and you do not know?”

  “I am here, Mother.” Piety’s voice rose softly from across the room. “I am sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  Every eye flew to the doorway where Piety, flanked by Tiny, stood solemnly.

  She looked more lovely, Jocelyn thought, than ever she had seen her. Her hair was swept up and off of her shoulders in a loose knot. The effect matured her, but she showed no age. Her dress was a sunny, yellow color, pretty without being precious.

  For a very long moment, no one spoke. Jocelyn rose from the settee, too nervous to sit. Eli blinked several times and then strode in her direction. Mrs. Limpett-Grey cut him off.

  “Piety,” she said eagerly, floating to the doorway with her arms outstretched. “You have scared the life out of us, my girl. The very life.”

  Their embrace was awkward, almost painful. Either they rarely hugged or Mrs. Grey-Limpett’s stiffness precluded genuine affection.

  “Forgive my lateness,” Piety said. “I was not presentable after a morning in the garden. I only needed time to change. I see you have met dear Lady Frinfrock in the interim. And Miss Breedlowe. I hope you have been gracious.”

  Stepping around her mother, she walked toward the marchioness. Her words were strong, but she appeared to be a little unsure of the route between door and center of the room. Jocelyn willed her to remain strong.

  “Have you been properly introduced to everyone, my lady?” Piety asked.

  “I have been introduced to no one,” said Lady Frinfrock.

  “As I’ve said at least a dozen times,” said Mrs. Limpett, trailing after her daughter, “introductions won’t be necessary. Now that you have finally graced us with your presence, we will not linger.”

  “What a pity,” said Piety. “No time to rest? Even for one night?”

  “Oh, Piety, do stop.” The woman laughed. “You cannot be serious. We’ve come all the way from America to collect you. You cannot believe we’d bide our time in the English countyside longer than necessary. Not when we have the house in London to sell.”

  “I don’t intend to sell the London house, Mother. Nor do I intend to return to London. Not for some time. If you wish to see me, I am enjoying Berkshire at the moment. Feel free to accept the marchioness’s kind offer to stay near me here at Garnettgate as her guest. However, as her guest, you must be cordial. Beginning with proper introductions, at the very least.”

  “I will not be cordial,” said Idelle. “And I will not take orders from you, you ungrateful child. I am your mother. You are but a twenty-five-year-old girl, unmarried, running wild across the ocean and bleeding dry the Grey estate with absolutely no supervision. I regret that we’re having to mete this out in front of your exalted new friends, but what choice do I have?

  “Now,” she said, “march upstairs and pack. Ah! And there is Tiny. I have a list for you, girl, you can count on it.”

  “No.”

  It was the loudest thing Piety had yet said.

  “I beg your pardon,” said Mrs. Limpett, spinning around.

  “I said, no. I will not go upstairs. I will not pack. Furthermore, I will not leave. And do not address Tiny unless it is to say hello. She is on holiday.”

  Mrs. Limpett made a noise of shrill frustration, “Oh, good God!” She threw up her hands. “Eli! Do something.”

  Eli cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Might we have a moment alone with Miss Grey?”

  “That is up to Miss Grey,” said the marchioness.

  “No,” Piety said again, louder still. “Speaking in private will not be necessary.”

  “Come now, Piety.” Eli spoke to her as if she were a petulant child. “You’re behaving as if you’re scared to be alone with us.”

  “I am scared to be alone with you, Eli, and you are fully aware why.”

  “Now you’re being outrageous simply for dramatic effect, Piety,” Mrs. Limpett said. “You’ve done enough damage without heaping slander on Eli. For God’s sakes, he is your fiancé.”

  “Eli is not my fiancé, Mother, and pray, do not say that again.”

  “All right, stop!” said Eli Limpett, his voice much harder than before. “Idelle,” he called, “brothers. Let us do as dear Piety bids. We are irritable from our travels, and the marchioness offers a generous repast. There is no reason for our reunion with Piety to be so contentious. Piety is, obviously, not yet ready to take her leave. Let us indulge her a few hours more. As guests in this lovely estate, I know we’ll all find quiet moments and private places to reunite. I cannot think why Piety would wish to air her family’s conflicts in full view of her new friend, the marchioness, a woman who clearly thinks so highly of the girl’s comportment. But then again, we are merely guests. And what good ones we intend to be.” He flashed his false, toothy smile around the room.

  He continued, “Pray, my lady, where should I tell our coachman to stable the livestock, and is there a place that we might wash?”

  Lady Frinfrock stared at him, considering. “Very well,” she finally said. “Godfrey will show you to rooms and instruct your grooms on baggage and the carriage. Luncheon convenes at twelve o’clock noon. Please plan to join us in the dining room.”

  “Splendid.” He bowed again. “Thank you so much for your hospitality.” He shot Mrs. Limpett a shrewd look.

  “Yes,” said the American woman flatly. “Your kindness is an unexpected delight.”

  Godfrey, bless him, appeared in the next instant, making further conversation unnecessary. “This way, if you will, madam, sirs,” he said, and they filed out behind him, some scowling at Piety, some whispering.

  Eli and Mrs. Limpett stared straight ahead.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “You were right all along, my girl, and how brilliant I am to have seen it,” the marchioness said, taking a sip of lemonade. “You may relax now, to be sure. Enjoy the histrionics. I intend to, certainly.”

  The marchioness sat on a high stool, cool drink in hand, while Piety stood beside her in the red parlor outside the dining room. Tiny and Jocelyn whispered in the corner.

  “We’ve merely made them angrier,” Piety said, shaking her head. She set her goblet, still full, on the sideboard and looked again to the main stair. Vacant. How very like them to convene for luncheon late, another arrogant rudeness. Piety nodded to herself. “How I wish I wasn’t right about this, my lady; but believe me, this is the quiet before the storm.”

  They’d gone upstairs an hour ago, all six of them, while Piety had smiled blankly, her trembling hands clutched behind her back. Godfrey had installed them in guest rooms on the third floor, and it was there that they remained—quiet, making no special requests—until well after the appointed time for luncheon.

  “They have used this time to conspire,” Piety said.

  “They’ve been huddled around a book of table manners, if they know what is good for them,” said the marchioness, chewing on a sprig of mint from her glass. “They may conspire all they wish, but you’ve told them what you intend, and they have stayed, haven’t they?” She chuckled. “What a sight it was!

  “To be honest,” the marchioness continued, “I wasn’t entirely sure of your claim
to this alleged fortune, myself. I was willing to help you regardless, mind you, but I half expected them to turn up with a court order that demanded you hand over the money and the house and all of it. God knows what kind of legal trip-trap they might have summoned. But what did they reveal? Nothing! Entirely empty-handed, with bad attitudes and even worse manners. And to stay after they embarrassed themselves and you behaved so stoically? It tells me but one thing. You hold all the cards, girl, just as you have been saying from the start. ’Tis brilliant. Brilliantly played and precisely what they deserve, the presumptive wretches. I insist you cease sulking this instant.”

  “I’m not sulking, my lady. I’m bolstering.”

  “Please! You look like a red fox with his ear to the ground, listening for the hooves of the hunt. How plainly I see it. And sloshing lemonade on my carpets to boot! What you need is to calm and settle yourself. Put some muscle into those pronouncements. They cannot force you; if they could, they would have already done it.”

  “You do not know them.”

  “They do not know you!”

  Collected footsteps rang on the stairs, and Piety looked up.

  They descended the stairwell in a flock. Eli and Idelle first, clutching hands, their expressions innocuously pleasant. The other brothers fanned out behind them in an arrow pattern, piranha in a school. Everyone wore a change of clothes—more feathers and fringe, copious cuffs and collars, jewelry. Ridiculous Ennis carried a new cane. They’d obviously come to a collective decision about their disposition. The greedy eyes and cunning smiles on each face were one and the same. They appeared pleased. Engaged. Eager. Like naughty children trying so hard to be well behaved the night before Christmas.

  Piety took a deep breath and snatched up her drink to keep her hands busy. She had endured a lifetime of her mother’s insults and intimidations, but the threat of Eli’s aggression was new and frightening. He had been easily managed until he realized how steadfast she was in her rejection. In the weeks before she left New York, he had grown bolder, more aggressive. He discovered new ways to come upon her when she was alone. Once he had tried to restrain her, to kiss her and touch her.