by Julia Donner
He didn’t stop to think when he swept through the bedchamber door and interrupted Leticia as Rosellyn was combing out her hair. Caught by the sight, he forgot his purpose for barging in without knocking. Leticia sat on a low stool in the sunlight. Waves of shimmering red-gold cascaded down her back. She widened those brown eyes on him and he was lost. He stood in the open doorway like a love-struck stripling with no ability to speak.
She greeted him with a happy smile. “Good morning, Bainbridge. Does it look like it’s coming on to rain? I had hoped to make a tour of the outside of the house and see the orangery. That will be all, Rosellyn.”
He shook his head in answer, barely noticing when the maid brushed by him. Fascinated, he watched Leticia gather up the mass of shiny hair into three sections. She thoughtlessly braided them into a single rope that looked as wide as his wrist. She did this while rising from the chair.
“I’ve lost most of my hairpins and hope Rosellyn can find some in your mother’s rooms. Is there something you need me to do today?”
He swallowed to find his voice. “You will need help.”
She picked up a bit of string from the litter on top of the credenza, tying off the braid as she approached. “With what?”
He waved his hand in a circular motion. “Everything. This house. Do you mind seeing to the place?”
She grinned. “Mind? I would love to set it to rights.”
“Then you will need proper help. Mrs. Graham isn’t up to it. She’s been bedridden for…actually, I don’t know how long.” A terrible thought sped through his cluttered thoughts. Had she died and no one told him?
Leticia prompted him. “You were saying?”
“Yes. You will need help. Didn’t you mention someone by the name of Taffy? Is that Mrs. Taffinton?”
“Yes. She’s housekeeper at Charhill and used to be my nurse. As much as I would love to have her here, I worry that contacting her will bring the cousins down on our heads. So I didn’t write the letter we discussed last night.”
“Your coming here won’t be a secret for long. I suggest you write to her. I will have it delivered and send a cart to bring her here.”
A radiant smile lit her face, closing off his throat and slowing his heart to heavy thuds. The freckles across her nose and cheeks had brightened from sitting in the sunlight. Did she have them elsewhere?
“Bainbridge?”
“Yes?”
“The note is an excellent idea, but I don’t think I should address it. Taffy will recognize my hand. I will have her tell Cousin Henry that her sister is ill and she must go immediately to her beside. You see, I didn’t let her know that I was leaving. A note from me will soothe her nerves.”
Bainbridge recalled the woman again—stern, pole-backed and sour-faced. He doubted a cannon blast would disturb her. She kept her iron-colored hair tucked under a plain cap, no ruffles or artifice. The housekeeper was the opposite of Mrs. Graham, a fluffy pigeon in comparison to Mrs. Taffinton’s fierce-eyed aspect. She’d have no trouble putting his servants and house in order with that visage.
“Bainbridge?”
“Sorry. I was recollecting Mrs. Taffinton.”
“It is such a perfect solution. Where do you keep parchment and quills?”
His mind went blank again, then came to life. He held out his hand. “Come with me. You should see the library. Holcombe has a table there where he does the accounts and whatnot. There is a secretariat with everything you need. I can have it brought upstairs if you like. Or to Mother’s morning room.”
He kept babbling, had no idea what, because he could only focus on the feel of her hand in his. The trip to the library ended too quickly. He was still nattering away as he opened the door.
Holcombe stood. “Lady Bainbridge. Good morning, my lord.”
“I need writing materials, Holcombe.” When Holcombe lifted his eyebrows, Bainbridge added, “The countess is writing letters this morning. Gather up what you think she needs and take it to Mother’s study. The inkwells on her desk will be dry and quills brittle after so long.”
As they left Holcombe behind and he led Leticia to his mother’s study, Bainbridge realized that he hadn’t been in the room for over a decade. A memory flashed of his mother’s smile when he’d join her after his breakfast. He’d sit and watch her go over meals and ledgers until his father made him leave for practice drills.
“Oh,” he heard Leticia’s soft exclamation when they entered. “What a charming room!”
“Mother spent a great deal of time here. It hasn’t been used for years. Mrs. Graham used to have it cleaned every day. I think she always hoped Mother would come back. They met here every morning to go over accounts and menus.”
Leticia looked up at him, her face a mixture of compassion and hope. “Your mother never wrote to you after she left?”
“Father said she died.”
A step brought her forward. The scent of her hair rose up when she wrapped her arms around his chest. “Oh, Geoffrey, how sad for you.”
She felt so small cuddled against his heart. There was nothing to the girl. Her shoulders felt soft and yet broad enough not to be weak. From having her draped over his lap for the ride here, he knew her legs were leaner than the rest of her. The firmness of her thighs revealed an active life and that she must walk and ride often. Everywhere else, her body was rounded and giving, lush and welcoming. He stepped back before enacting the ideas swamping his imagination.
To diminish his withdrawal, he took her hand and led her to the desk, a delicate thing with gracefully curved legs edged in gilt. A film covered its surface.
He pulled out a drawer. “This is where she kept her writing things. The drawers on the other side will have her account books. She used to keep household funds in a box, but I’m sure whatever was in it got pilfered long ago. If you’re in need of anything, use the money upstairs—”
He broke off when Holcombe entered and placed a capped inkwell, quills and parchment on the table.
Holcombe nodded a bow. “Please call for me should you require anything else, milady. His lordship allows me to do his franking.”
Bainbridge said, “The note she’s writing today will be hand delivered. That’s all, Holcombe.”
Leticia withdrew a handkerchief from her pocket and swiftly wiped the tufted seat and the desk’s dusty surface. She selected a sharpened quill, drew forward a sheet of paper, and dipped the quill tip in the ink in what seemed like a single motion. Scratching noises were the only sounds as the quill tip moved over the parchment, ceasing only when she paused to dip for more ink.
He used the time to enjoy how she’d plaited her shiny waves into that neat rope of hair. Her skin looked so creamy and smooth that he had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from touching. He imagined gently sinking his teeth into the curve of her shoulder, the way studs did when mounting a mare, but with tender care.
Parchment crackled, bringing him back to reality. She blew dust from the blotter, rocked it over the message, and quickly folded the letter.
Handing it to him, she said, “Thank you for doing this, Bainbridge. I haven’t sealed it, so you may read it if you like.”
“That isn’t necessary, Cia. You would only do what is right.”
She smiled, and he wasn’t sure if it came from the pet name or his complete trust in her. “I instructed Taffy that she’s to take the conveyance that delivered this letter. She’s to tell the servant hall that she must take the mail coach to her sister’s. I’m hoping that Cousin Henry is preoccupied with wondering where I am and takes no notice of her departure. He’s never dealt with her. I did that and will greatly enjoy having her here.”
She pulled him down by the lapel to place a kiss on his cheek. His skin burned from the contact and the warm appreciation in her gaze.
With a quick bow, he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I shall try to have her here by this evening.”
Chapter 8
Leticia tucked her arm through Taffy’s and walk
ed in the cool of evening in the neglected garden. “This oppressive heat shows no sign of relenting. I’m sorry that you had to come all this way in the most uncomfortable time of the day.”
“Not at all. I prefer the heat to the cold.” Taffy removed her arm. “The staff may be watching. Familiarity will compromise my position.”
Leticia puffed out a sigh. “You will always be nurse to me. I cannot help it.”
“Everyone at Charhill was accustomed to our arrangement. They won’t understand here, and I will need every bit of esteem to manage that slovenly group. It would help if they dressed properly.”
“We’ll check the storage areas tomorrow to find proper liveries. After things are more settled, we’ll have new ones and shoes made. Until then, I know you can manage them. And I don’t want them to think of you as housekeeper. It’s only temporary, until we complete the staffing. Stokebrook requires many more helpers to maintain its size. So far, I’ve seen only three maids and four footmen.”
“The house itself is sturdy enough but the interior is appallingly filthy. Mrs. Graham is entirely bed-ridden. If you can credit it, Cook said Mrs. Graham, has been so for two years! The servant hall is in ruins. The previous cook was a tippler, and there is no major domo. The only room in order is the library.”
Leticia waited for Taffy to finish her thought. She knew what was coming but preferred Taffy to say it out loud. She paused by the overgrown and half-blighted rose bushes.
When Taffy didn’t continue, Leticia said, “I would appreciate your impression of Mr. Holcombe.”
Taffy twitched her thin lips before answering. “A twisty one. He’s quite unexceptionable on the surface, but something is off-putting. I wouldn’t trust him and am frank enough to say that I have the unchristian suspicion that he’s taking advantage of Lord Bainbridge’s preoccupation of his horses.”
“I thank you for that. My impression is the same. As soon as the man vacates the library for any length of time, I will look into his ledgers.”
“But don’t you have the right to ask for that now?”
Leticia stopped walking and turned to face her former nurse. “Taffy, you know that we are living a lie. There is nothing for it until the special license arrives.”
Taffy’s features reflected her disapproval. “You must do what you think is necessary, miss.” She moved her mouth in a chewing motion before begrudgingly muttering, “Milady.”
“Taffy, Cousin Henry was going to force me to marry Cousin Joseph.”
That revelation had the desired result. Taffy’s narrowed gaze snapped sparks of indignation. Leticia suppressed a smile at the notion that if Taffy had feathers, they’d be fluffed.
Openly outraged, Taffy spat, “That revolting schemer! How dare he use you to pay for his indulgences? I should love to march all the way back to Charhill and slap his face.”
Leticia didn’t care who was looking. She threw her arms around Taffy’s narrow shoulders and hugged her bony frame. Taffy immediately stiffened from the contact and stepped away from the embrace.
“Mind your place, young lady. You are a countess now and must act the position.”
“Tell me you’ve forgiven me for the deception, and for causing you worry?”
Taffy smoothed her hands over her pristine apron and searched the edges of her cap to insure no wayward hairs had escaped.
“There is nothing to forgive, child, with the exception of you making a spectacle of us with your exuberance. Let us turn our thoughts and endeavors to putting this place to rights. I will manage the household staff. I expect that you would prefer to marshal the grounds people and do something with what had once been an excellent park and gardens.”
Leticia looked around at the snarls in untended flowerbeds, lawns that needed rolling and sheep to graze. There were missing stones in the walkways, trees that hadn’t been pruned, weeds that sprouted everywhere, and massive walls of rhododendron that had been allowed to sprawl unchecked.
She felt a smile lift her cheeks. “I cannot think of a more delightful chore.”
Taffy answered that remark with a sniff, and Leticia asked, “What? The only time you do that is when I’ve done something I ought not to have done.”
“I cannot say whether or not you’ve done what you should not, but as your former teacher, I am responsible for educating you in doing what is proper. Therefore, I must ask.” She paused and shifted her gaze to the garden’s weedy havoc. Unable to hide her discomfort, she asked, “Have you given thought to the other duties required of your new position? Or perhaps that is a forgone topic.”
As her cheeks filled with tingly heat, Leticia said, “Since you are the only female I have for guidance, I must ask your forbearance to help me with that aspect. You see, his lordship will not…uhm…will not until a special license arrives and the vows have been said in front of clergy. He prefers, for now, that everyone in the house think we were wed over the anvil.”
“But you sleep in his chambers.”
“Yes, Taffy, but only for the sake of maintaining my position in the eyes of the world. He retires to his dressing room. I am still…untouched.”
They resumed walking and did so in silence while Taffy considered the situation. When the pathway darkened with late evening shadows, they turned to head back to the house. As they strolled by tangled rose bushes, Taffy said, “I will see you in my mind as Lady Bainbridge. I have the firm impression his lordship views you as such. Fortunately for you, this is an excellent match. Bainbridge could look as high as he liked for a bride. Your family line is nothing out of the ordinary, but in every way respectable. You have the distinction of being an heiress in a minor way.”
“And our properties are joined and compliment each other. I know Bainbridge would love the use of the fells. That is the practical side of things, but Taffy, what about the other? I understand the basic principles, but I cannot imagine what I can do to keep a husband interested.”
After a few moments, Taffy said, “I take it we are speaking of the Widow Rawlins?”
Mortified, Leticia mumbled, “You’ve seen her. What am I in comparison?”
“You are Countess Bainbridge. That is the difference. I can only speak from what I have learned by overhearing the whispers. If you are requesting instruction as to your marital duties, there is little I can tell you with any degree of comfort. I would suggest that you allow your husband to lead you.”
“I thought as much. And what do I do about Mrs. Rawlins?”
“I am sorry to say that there is little you can do. Men have the rights. Females do not. But,” and Leticia waited, eager for any shred of advice, “I’ve noticed how the earl looks at you. If you are diligent in the acceptance of your duty, I would suggest that he might lose his fascination with the widow.”
Chapter 9
Leticia finished her supper in lonely state in the banquet hall, seated at a table so long that she couldn’t see its end in the shadows. The room had been one of the first to be cleaned after Taffy’s arrival. Bainbridge had sent word to the house that he wouldn’t be present. A foaling mare kept him at the stable, leaving her with the determination to never sit in this hall alone. It was a room meant for parties and elaborate entertainments expected of great houses in prior centuries. The practical side of her nature had no time for that sort of scandalously expensive entertaining. She and Bainbridge were not that social, although, she was aware he maintained friendships with notables in the ton.
Her own friendships from school had been sustained through letters, reminding her to write to Emily and Tatiana to tell them of her marriage. A niggling something she couldn’t precisely articulate had stopped her from informing her closest friends. The instant that thought formed, she scolded herself and confronted the real reason. She was hesitant to tell them until the church ceremony had been performed. In her heart, she had married, but persistent social standards remained firm, and she was still chaste.
Bainbridge’s perceptions played a role in her not feeling co
mpletely married. It was her understanding that most men wouldn’t decline an offer of sexual favors. The thought that he might not be attracted to her robbed her of appetite. Unable to finish the meal, she sent down her apologies to the kitchen and went up to bed.
The stifling heat had finally moved off, leaving a lingering musty scent. She had the windows opened slightly to freshen the rooms but not so wide to allow swarms of winged undesirables.
After her talk with Taffy, she worried that perhaps she should encourage Bainbridge to consummate their pretend arrangement prior to the arrival of the special license. Accomplishing the physical part might relieve her concerns that Bainbridge was only doing her a favor. Once consummated, he would never abandon her.
The problem was that her ignorance combined with her practical nature didn’t know how to go about staging a seduction. The notion of attempting to do it, or even how to do it, made her so anxious she felt like crying. To calm herself, she picked up a book, got in bed, and read by the light of a candelabra placed on the bedside table. In order to clear a space for the light, she had to shove a jumble of bridle bits and horse paraphernalia out of the way. Tomorrow, she and Taffy would give his rooms a thorough cleaning.
The words on the page had begun to blur, and her eyes to droop, when he came through the door. Awakened by the jolt of her heart, she hopped out of bed and hurried to greet him. She skidded to a halt, stopping herself from the urge to hug him or kiss him, she wasn’t sure what. She only knew profound gratitude for bringing Taffy to Stokebrook and an eagerness to show her willingness to learn her duties. The intimate ones.
He put out a hand, halting her. “I need to bathe first.”
“Oh, certainly. I had water brought up but I’m afraid it’s gone cold. There’s supper left, if you’re hungry.”
