Always Come Home (Emerson 1) (2 page)

Colin would rather sleep in the inn’s stables than
spend another minute in Clayton’s company, but it wouldn’t be fair to Stemple.
And he already owed his valet enough as it was. “It would be my pleasure,” he
said, hating the way Clayton smirked at the obvious lie.

Colin couldn’t afford the flea-bitten inn and
everyone in the
ton
knew it.

This was going to be a very long night.

Ava Conway was not one to give in to pessimism. She
could find hope in almost all circumstances. Even when she was keeping the
landlord at bay as she was taking care of her father in his final days, she had
faith in what lay ahead. Even when she began her post as a governess for two
of the most willful girls in England, she looked forward to one day being able
to save enough money to travel. She didn’t even want to go that far. Brighton
would be nice. And perhaps, one day, Paris. Anywhere but the house in which
she was now employed.

To be fair, it wasn’t always that bad. She had her
own bed and enough food to eat. She even had a friend, Maude, who was one of
the cook’s assistants. She had five months of wages saved up and in just
another year, she would have enough to take a short holiday.

If she lasted that long.

For while the worst of her duties usually entailed
putting up with the antics of two spoiled sixteen-year-old twins with the
dispositions of rabid raccoons, her life had become that much more challenging
now that their brother Lord Clayton had returned.

Their parents, the earl and countess, were in London.
But with Clayton in residence, the estate had turned into one continuous house
party. It was nothing short of scandalous to do so with sixteen-year-old girls
at home. But his lordship cared little for propriety and the girls were in
alt. Ava herself had never cared all that much about appearances. As the
daughter of a university professor, she had not grown up in society, but had
been close enough to laugh at its peculiarities. However, she did not want the
girls to endanger either their persons or their reputations.

Sometimes she felt like she was the only one in the
household who felt that way.

The twins, Angelique and Anastasia, were determined
to partake in the festivities as much as possible. Clayton was negligent
enough to let them and the staff was in fear of being dismissed without a
character if they interfered.

To complicate matters further, Ava didn’t have to
worry about just the girls. The guests – and Lord Clayton – thought a
governess was fair game for amorous adventures. She spent quite a bit of time fending
off the advances of over-privileged lords, including the current master of the
house. Fortunately, she’d accompanied her father on enough archaeological digs
in dangerous parts of the world that she knew how to defend herself. That
didn’t mean she was safe, of course. But, she was better able to take care of
herself than the typical miss.

It was now but a few days before Christmas and Lord
Clayton had decided to have one last party. The girls were determined to enjoy
themselves to the fullest before their parents returned for the holiday.

“Conway! Come over here and put up my hair,” said
Anastasia, who was sitting in front of her vanity admiring herself.

The girls were both beautiful, with long fair hair
that couldn’t have been more different than Ava’s own mousy brown. A fact
both of the girls remarked upon with some regularity.

“Anastasia, dear, you know your mama does not like
you to put up your hair. There are other styles that will look just as
lovely.”

“Of course there are other styles to make me look
just as lovely. How could there not be? But dear Mama is not here right now
and I want to put it up. Are you going to help me or do I have to tell Clayton
you are being disobedient and lazy?”

“Anastasia, when you put your hair up you look older.
It could give the wrong idea to some of Lord Clayton’s guests.” Or all of
them, knowing the type of men who usually frequented these parties.

“Of course it will give ideas to his guests. Why
else would I be doing it? You have given up all hope of marrying, but I have
not. How old are you, anyway?”

“As I have mentioned before, I am four and twenty.”

Anastasia shuddered. “I cannot imagine being
unmarried at such an advanced age. I am sure I would die of shame.”

“Yet, I have muddled through just the same. Did you
have a chance to read any of the books I found in the library?”

“Spinsterhood has robbed you of your senses. Why
should I read books? That would surely ruin my eyes and it is a known fact
that gentlemen cannot abide a girl with spectacles.”

“They are not that fond of dullards, either.”

“I have yet to see evidence of that.”

The girl had a point, Ava conceded.
Tonnish
gentlemen liked their women wealthy and agreeable. Intelligence did not enter
into things much, which could explain the growing number of sapskulls in the
aristocracy.

Anastasia continued. “Look at what your
bluestocking tendencies have gotten you. You have to work for your keep and
cannot go to any balls at all, other than to sit on the side of the ballroom with
the other chaperones. You would have been better served to have run off with a
great explorer when you were in Egypt. But instead, you’re stuck here with no
future at all. Now, are you going to put my hair up or not?”

Ava wanted to put the girl’s hair up after first
ripping it from her head. But instead she smiled and said, “I am afraid not.”

Anastasia threw her hairbrush at Ava, narrowly
missing her. “Ring for my maid!”

Ava did as she was told. Then Angelique entered the
room looking deliriously happy.

And nothing good could come of that.

“Guess who Clayton found in the village?” asked
Angelique.

“It would be lovely if it were a new governess,”
said Anastasia. “One who knew her place.”

“What’s the matter? Is Conway refusing to put your
hair up again?” Angelique turned to Ava. “You would do well to remember that
you’re to do as we tell you.”

“Actually,” said Ava, sounding calmer than she
felt. “I am employed by the countess and she left explicit instructions about
how she wanted the two of you to dress and wear your hair.”

“But, Mama isn’t here now, is she?” said Anastasia.

“’Stas, be quiet! You can harangue Conway later. You
must hear my news. Clayton has brought Colin Emerson to the house, the Earl of
Ridgeway.”

“The poor one?” asked Anastasia with distaste.

“The one who must marry,” said Angelique.

“But he’s poor.”

“What does that have to do with anything? We each
come with a dowry worth a king’s ransom. And even the wife of a poor earl is a
countess.”

“But I want to be a duchess. Or at the very least,
a marchioness.”

“Very well, I shall be a countess. And you shall
see which old duke is looking for a wife. At least Ridgeway has all his teeth
and a fine form. I can only imagine what he looks like beneath that one suit
he is always forced to wear.”

“Gossip is unbecoming in young ladies,” said Ava.
“Especially when it’s salacious.”

“I don’t know what that word means,” said
Angelique. “And before you prose on to explain it, I wasn’t talking to you.
Neither of us were. So why don’t you do something useful like take yourself
off to the kitchens and tell Cook to make a meal to impress an earl?”

Ava considered staying because she knew that as soon
as she left, the girls would change into gowns that were all together too
mature for them. The countess was much too permissive in what she allowed the
girls to buy. But perhaps that was her way of compensating for never being
home.

Ava took another look at the girls, who had their
pretty heads together plotting, then took herself off to the kitchens. There
was only so much sense she could try to pour into young girls who were intent
on flirtation. And her head was beginning to ache from the strain.

*

While Colin was grateful to have a warm, dry place
for him and Stemple to sleep that night, he knew it would come at a cost.
Namely, having to listen to Clayton and his cronies prattle on about their
latest curricle race, mistress or curricle race with a mistress beside him. He
knew most of the men there, of course. They’d been at school together. The
ton
was a fairly small, tightly closed circle. Admission was granted by birth and
its ranks only rarely expanded for outsiders. It was a world Colin had been
born into, but he was bored and frustrated to have to play the game for even
one moment more.

Especially when he needed to get home.

When the butler showed him to his room, Stemple was
already there before him, unpacking his things.

“We shan’t be staying long, Stemple, so you needn’t
bother with most of it – what little there is, of course. But I suppose I must
dress for dinner.” It was a good thing he hadn’t sold his one set of evening
clothes.

“Very good, my lord.”

“Stop ‘my….”

“In this house, my lord, I choose to ‘my lord’ you
at every opportunity. My lord. Was there a reason Lord Clayton would not use
your title?”

“Besides his being a horse’s arse?”

“Yes, my lord. Besides that.”

“I think it always rankled him at school that I was
more popular than he, better at sports, more successful with women and received
higher marks. Not that he ever cared that much about academics, of course.
But he did care about losing. Now I am in possession of my title and he’s only
a ceremonial viscount. What’s more, his father is young and healthy. There’s
every chance Clayton won’t inherit until he’s well into middle age.”

“If I might ask, sir, do you like being an earl?”

Colin considered the question. “I guess there’s not
much point to liking it or not, since I have no choice in the matter. It
doesn’t help that every time I hear myself addressed as Lord Ridgeway, it
reminds me of my father. And the title does come with immense
responsibilities, including an entailed estate. If I could simply sell the
thing, I could easily provide for my family, at least until the two younger
girls married. As it is, I struggle to keep food on the table and to pay the
rather exorbitant taxes. But fear not, Stemple, I shall not expect you to
follow me to debtors’ prison.”

“I am relieved to hear it, sir. Do you know when we
will depart? And what means of transportation we shall employ when we do so?”

“Ideally, the answers to those two questions would
be ‘first thing in the morning’ and ‘in a well-sprung carriage with a couple of
courtesans.’ But, alas, I fear it shall be ‘some time in the next day or two’
and, possibly ‘on horseback’ if I can convince Clayton to lend us mounts from
his stable.”

“Very good, my lord.”

“Is there a bed in the dressing room for you?”
Colin had only briefly glanced at his suite.

“I am to stay in the servants’ quarters, my lord.”

“Do they have a proper room for you?”

“I will make do with whatever they offer.”

Colin studied the man who was both servant and
friend. “I have a feeling we will both have to make do quite a bit in the
coming months.”

Stemple smiled, though, as usual, his scars made the
motion uneven. “Very good, sir. I shall come back to dress you for dinner.”

After the servant left, Colin decided to get some
exercise by walking through the house. In town, his finances had meant he
walked whenever possible. After a long day of travel, it felt good to stretch
his legs.

He avoided going downstairs to the billiards room,
where he knew most of the guests would be congregated. Instead, he stayed
upstairs and strolled to the wing where he guessed the family portraits would
be. He would while away half an hour by making sport of Clayton’s ancestors.

The wing was gratifyingly cold. Even Clayton’s
money didn’t permit the lighting of fires in areas with few visitors. It was a
grey winter day outside, so the portrait wing itself was rather dark. Which
was why he didn’t see her at first.

But he heard her.

The last thing Colin wanted was to talk to anyone at
this party. He turned to leave without being seen by the woman in the gallery,
but then he heard something that made him stop.

He heard her curse.

He quietly stepped into the shadows to take a closer
look at – and a listen to – the woman he’d just seen. She had brown hair,
pulled back in a bun so tight it looked like it hurt. She was dressed in a brown
gown buttoned all the way up her neck and down to her wrists. She appeared to
have a good figure, though it was dark enough that he couldn’t tell for
certain. The dress wasn’t doing her any favors, either. It was too loose to
give him an exact idea of her shape, though what he could see was pleasing
enough.

But what was most extraordinary was what this prim
and proper woman was doing. For she was stopping in front of each portrait and
insulting it. Or, rather, insulting the portrait’s living relatives.

Currently she was talking about a woman named
Anastasia, whom Colin vaguely remembered as the name of one of Clayton’s
sisters.

“She is, your ladyship,” said the woman to the
portrait, “one of the most impatient, ill-mannered, and cruel lackwits I have
ever had the misfortune of knowing. She strikes her maid on a daily basis,
abuses the poor girl verbally and – it pains me to inform you of this – has
never read more than two pages of anything in one sitting. Were it not for the
scandal sheets, I believe she would give up reading all together. She is a
dullard. Thank you for listening.”