'On the contrary, Desiree, it was exactly what it seemed,' Helen said. 'But I fear that is not how it will be made out to be. Come, my dear, we must get you ready to see Mrs Guarding.'
The interview conducted in the privacy of Mrs Guarding's sitting-room proceeded much as Desiree had expected it would. It was evident from the way the older woman spoke that she was deeply regretful of the circumstances which had precipitated the meeting, but nevertheless, the conclusion was inescapable.
'I am very sorry to have to do this, Miss Nash,' she said quietly, 'but under the circumstances, I have no choice but to dismiss you.'
Sitting on the faded chintz sofa across from her, Desiree raised her eyes to the level of the headmistress's. 'But I did not encourage Lord Perry's advances, Mrs Guarding. Please, you must believe me. I had.. .gone back to my classroom after dinner to collect a birthday present Miss de Coverdale had given me. He—Lord Perry—must have followed me. I did not hear his footsteps, but when I turned around, he was standing in the doorway. On my honour, I swear that is what happened.'
Mrs Guarding sighed, but it seemed to Desiree, a heavy sound filled with regret. 'Whether you are guilty or not does not signify, Miss Nash. What does, is that you were caught in an extremely compromising position by myself, another teacher, and two of our students.'
'One of whom is a young lady who makes no secret of the fact that she has no affection for me,' Desiree pointed out.
'I cannot deny that that is so, Miss Nash. But surely you can see that because of the rancour which exists between you and Miss Perry, what happened tonight will be used to destroy you.'
The words rang like a death knell in Desiree's head. 'Is there nothing I can say to convince you?'
Mrs Guarding rose slowly to her feet. She was a handsome woman still, her youthful beauty having been mellowed by the passage of the years. But her eyes were as sharp and as discerning as they had ever been. 'I am afraid there is nothing that anyone can say,' she said regretfully. 'Lord Perry's character is not unlike that of many of his peers. And as much as I might resent it, the word of a woman against a man such as that counts for little in this world. Young ladies will gossip, Miss Nash, and therein lies our problem. I do not expect for one minute that Elizabeth or Isabel will keep this to themselves, and once word gets back—as it inevitably will—to the parents of the other girls, questions will be raised and fingers will most certainly be pointed. For me to keep you here now would be to condone what happened.' Mrs Guarding paused. 'I have to think of the reputation of the school, my dear. I hope you can understand that. I have been longer in this world than you, and I know how unkind people can be. News of this will get about soon enough, and I have no doubt that it will be embellished and enhanced until it will rival the goings-on up at the Abbey.'
'Mrs Guarding,' Desiree began desperately, 'the last six years have been very special to me. To have had an opportunity to work with educated and intelligent women like yourself, and to try to foster that knowledge in other young women, has been more fulfilling than anything else I might have done with my life.'
Mrs Guarding nodded, and in the soft light of the candles, the grey strands in her hair glowed like silver. 'And you have been an excellent teacher, Miss Nash, which makes this all the more difficult for me to do. But I hope that under the circumstances you can understand why your tenure here must end. And why I cannot provide you with a reference.'
Desiree clasped her hands together in her lap to keep them from trembling. No, she could not understand. She could not understand or accept that the six years she had been a teacher here suddenly counted for nothing. That in the blink of an eye, her reputation and her future had been ruined by the thoughtless actions of an arrogant man.
'Have you anywhere to go, Miss Nash?' Mrs Guarding asked quietly. 'Any family with whom you can find a home until you manage to secure other employment?'
Like one awaking from a dream, Desiree slowly looked up at the headmistress and shook her head. 'No. There is...no one.'
Mrs Guarding sighed. 'I feared that might be the case. That is why I always like to keep a little aside for emergencies.' Turning towards the sideboard, the headmistress removed a small key from the ring at her waist and opened the bottom drawer. From within, she drew out a small velvet pouch and placed it in Desiree's hand. 'It is not a lot, but it should help tide you over. And I do not expect you to pay it back.'
Desiree glanced down at the bag in the palm of her hand, and felt her eyes fill with tears. There was so much she wanted to say, and yet, what could she say that would make any difference?
'You have been... more than kind, Mrs Guarding,' she said at last. 'Thank you.'
Then, knowing that it was time, she got up and turned to go.
'Miss Nash,' the older woman said abruptly, 'you are welcome to stay for a few days while you make enquiries into a new position.'
Desiree managed a feeble smile. 'Thank you, Mrs Guarding, but I think it is best that I leave as soon as possible. Word of this will get out soon enough and as you say, you have the reputation of the school to consider. And...while I know it won't change anything now, I do want you to know that...what happened tonight truly was not my fault.'
Sadness glowed in the warm blue eyes that looked back at her. 'If it is of any consolation at all, Miss Nash; I never believed that it was.'
In her tiny room on the top floor of the building, many things went through Desiree's mind that night, not the least of which were the extremely dim prospects for her immediate future. She had been dismissed in disgrace. Turned off without a reference. And without a reference, she could not hope to approach a reputable school or a respectable family for work. Even as a governess she would be expected to provide a letter from her past employer. The problem was, Mrs Guarding was the only employer Desiree had ever had, and she was coming away from her with nothing.
Stifling a groan, Desiree rolled over on to her back and stared up at the ceiling. What would it be like to leave Mrs Guarding's after all these years? This tiny room had become her home, and Mrs Guarding and the staff her friends and family. All of them had played an important part in her life. A part which, as of tonight, had come to an abrupt end.
So what were her choices now? Desiree's thoughts turned briefly to the likelihood of employment in the immediate area. There were several shops in Abbot Quincey, along with the post office and the coaching inn. And while she had no desire to work as a tavern maid at the Angel, perhaps she might apply to Mrs Hammond for a position in either the general store or the linen-drapers. Or even to Mr Westcott at the bakery.
But close on the heels of that came the realisation that she would be no more likely to find a job in the village than she would anywhere else. Word would soon spread that Miss Desiree Nash had been found in a compromising position with the father of one of her students, and what respectable doors would be opened to her then?
All right, then what other options did that leave her? Where would her tarnished reputation not work against her? Desiree thought hard for a moment. She might be able to get a job on one of the farms. There was always plenty of work to be had, and farmers generally didn't ask too many questions as long as the work was done. Nor was Desiree afraid of hard work. But she was afraid of the tedium her days would offer. She would find no intellectual companionship among the loutish farm lads, nor with the young maids who tended the goats or milked the cows. And if she ended up working in the kitchens, she would be at the beck and call of the cook or the housekeeper, both of which could make her existence a nightmare.
Her prospects were looking very dim indeed.
The answer finally came to Desiree about an hour later—and it was an indication of her state of mind that she did not dismiss it out of hand. In truth, it shocked her so very much that she abruptly got out of bed and began to pace back and forth the confines of her room.
Desiree Nash become a courtesan?
No, it was quite impossible, she assured herself. It was...too ridiculous for w
ords. She could never lower herself to such an unseemly and disgraceful existence. Indeed, the very thought of it made her shudder, as it would any educated, well-brought-up young lady.
No, there had to be another way. All she had to do was think of it.
Unfortunately, as hard as Desiree put herself to think of an alternative, nothing came to mind. For every good idea she came up with, logic provided twice as many reasons as to why it would not work. But there had to be something she could do. Something other than...throwing herself into the protection of a man who was not her husband— and was never likely to be. But what? She had lost both her reputation and her good name as a result of being found in Lord Perry's embrace tonight.
But that was an accident, a little voice whispered in her head. A mistake. You know the truth of it and so does Mrs Guarding.
Yes, she did, Desiree reflected grimly, but what did her own opinion and that of a school headmistress count for in the overall scheme of things? When word of this got out, society would draw its own conclusions as to her conduct, and she doubted they would be kind. Added to which was the undeniable fact that, should Lord Perry be questioned about his part in the proceedings, he would certainly deny any charges of guilt. He would be the first to proclaim that Desiree had lured him to her classroom, and that she had been perfectly amenable to a tumble...until they had been discovered, at which time she had cried foul.
Was that not what he had claimed this very evening when Mrs Guarding had questioned him about the matter?
As the first light of dawn stretched its golden fingers across the sky, Desiree made her decision. Crossing to her writing table, she pulled forth paper and ink and sat down to write the letter that would, if accepted, change the course of her life. She did not think too hard or too long about the content or the words, for she knew that if she did, she would surely change her mind. But when the missive was done and dispatched, she returned to her room, sat down upon her bed and closed her eyes in despair.
The deed was done. She could not change her mind now, even if she wanted to.
The response came three days later. The letter, scrawled in a bold, masculine hand on heavy cream vellum, was delivered personally into Desiree's hands by a liveried servant, and the content of it was mercifully brief and to the point.
It informed her that the gentleman in question would be pleased to take the young lady on in the capacity suggested, and that if she could arrange transportation as far as Bredington, he would endeavour to take care of the rest. It was signed with one word.
Buckworth.
Chapter Three
Sebastian Moore stood at ease in front of the long window in the study at Bredington. His hands were clasped lightly behind his back and his posture was relaxed as he surveyed the wooded hills beyond. The hunting-lodge had long been a favourite retreat of his. It belonged to his good friend, George Lyford, Viscount Wyndham, a gentleman whom Sebastian had first encountered at Angelo's Haymarket Room where he regularly went to practise his fencing skills. Although a good deal younger than Sebastian, Wyndham had proved himself a worthy adversary, and the two had soon become friends.
It was Wyndham who had first invited Sebastian to join him for a weekend at the remote country lodge. And ever ready for an excuse to get out of London, Sebastian had accepted with alacrity, knowing that Bredington offered some of the finest shooting and fishing in the land. And hidden as it was in the rich forests around Steepwood Abbey, it offered peace and tranquillity from the frenetic pace of London.
Now, as Sebastian gazed at the woodlands surrounding the lodge, he thought about his reasons for being at Bredington today, and about the meeting he was soon to have. How strange to think that, as a result of a casual swim in the river last summer, he was this very day to acquire a new mistress.
The thought brought a smile of expectation to Sebastian's face, just as it had the day the unusual letter had arrived at his townhouse in London. In fact, he'd had to read it twice before fully comprehending that the lady—who had identified herself only as Miss Nash, and their meeting by a geographical point of reference in her letter—was asking if the offer the gentleman had made to a certain young lady in July of last year was still in good standing?
It had taken only a moment for Sebastian to recall the occasion and even less for him to remember the young woman. The image of her rising out of the water to stand in a bright patch of sunlight, with her arms stretched out towards the sun and her glorious body clad in nothing but a sodden chemise, had lingered in his mind for a very long time. But never in his wildest dreams had he expected to hear from her again.
The fact that the lady had made no reference to his name—which Sebastian knew he had given her—lent an element of subterfuge to the correspondence, and had led him to believe that she was not willing to risk discovery. For that reason, he had likewise made no reference to anything in his response, except by the application of his title, which would hardly condemn him if the letter were to fall into the wrong hands. But Sebastian had no concerns that it would. He had given it to one of his own servants with the instructions that it was to be taken to the address the lady had specified in her letter and that it was to be put into none but the lady's own hands.
And very soon, she would be here. He had instructed her to meet him at Bredington, and to arrive early enough in the day that they could set off in time to reach London by nightfall. That way, he , would be able to settle her in the house he had rented for her, and possibly to commence their relationship forthwith.
Sebastian smiled in anticipation of the coming night. Yes, it made for a most pleasing prospect altogether.
* * *
Desiree had taken a quiet leave of Guarding's. She had said her goodbyes to Helen and Mrs Guarding the night before, knowing that it would be easier than at the actual time of departure. The following morning, she had waited until the girls were at class before slipping out through the back door to the waiting chaise. Now, as she travelled along the road she knew so well, she began to wonder what lay in store for her.
She had refused to think too long or too hard about the upcoming meeting with Lord Buckworth. Indeed, she found that if she thought about it for more than a few minutes, her palms began to grow damp and her heart to beat in a most alarming manner. But she knew that she could not back down. By sending her letter to Lord Buckworth, she had set her course. With his acceptance, she had committed herself to it.
The only bright spot in the proceedings was that since receiving his letter, Desiree had taken her plan one step further. If nothing else, agreeing to become Lord Buckworth's mistress would provide her with a means for getting to London. And once she was there, she intended to look around for alternate employment. She knew there were agencies in London that handled that type of thing.
The main thing now was to get to London as expediently as possible. Thanks to Mrs Guarding, she had a little extra money to look after expenses, but there was no question in her mind that travelling to London with Lord Buckworth would provide the most economical and comfortable way of doing so.
Desiree suffered a brief stab of conscience at the thought of misleading the man, but then decided that her sympathies were surely misplaced. After all, he was the one who had mistaken her for a woman of loose morals in the first place. To her mind, providing her with a means of getting to London was the very least he could do in the way of an apology!
*
In all too short a time, Desiree found herself following a liveried manservant through the panelled corridors of Bredington. Eventually he opened the door to a room which appeared to be a study. He then bowed towards the gentleman who was standing by the window watching her. 'Miss Nash, my lord.'
'Thank you, Manson. Have the carriage brought round and readied for departure. We leave within the half hour.'
'Very good, my lord.' The servant bowed and withdrew, leaving Desiree alone with the man she had encountered in such a humiliating way all those months ago.
'I am sur
prised you told him your name. Your letter led me to believe that discretion was of the utmost importance.'
Desiree inclined her head. 'Had the servant been connected to one of the local families hereabouts, I would not have vouchsafed it, even now.'
'So you are confident that he is not?'
'I know most of the families in the villages,' Desiree replied, 'and I know which sons and daughters work at the big houses. Your man has the look of a gentleman's valet, not of a household servant.'
Sebastian Moore leaned back against the edge of his desk and crossed his arms over his chest. 'Your assessment is quite correct, Miss Nash. Manson has been with me for some time and has travelled with me from London.'
Desiree again inclined her head and allowed herself a few minutes to study the man standing opposite. He had changed little since the occasion of their first meeting. He was every bit as large and as intimidating as she remembered. In the polished Hessians, he stood well over six feet and his long legs were clad in buckskins that fitted like a second skin. His beautifully tailored jacket had been made to accommodate the width of his massive shoulders and although the musculature of his chest was hidden now behind a silk shirt and cravat of impeccable whiteness, Desiree remembered how it had looked with a wet shirt clinging to its every ripple.
His face, too, was as she remembered it. Handsome enough to make any young girl's heart beat faster, but with a devil-may-care look in his eyes that warned anxious mamas to be wary. His lips were full and sensuous, his mouth curving upwards in a disturbing smile.
Desiree sighed. He was all that she remembered. His ease of manner and the quality of his clothes proclaimed him for the gentleman she'd known him to be. And despite the fact that this was their second meeting, she felt more than ever that she was standing in the presence of a complete stranger.
'Am I as you remembered, Aphrodite?'
The familiar term of endearment brought a flood of embarrassed colour to Desiree's cheeks. 'To be honest, I find that I remember...very little of our first encounter, Lord Buckworth,' she lied, hoping that it sounded more convincing to his ears that it did to hers. 'But I am moved to comment that you do look somewhat...different with your clothes on.'
A Most Improper Proposal Page 4
