Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 03] (11 page)

It was the first sign of emotion Octavia had ever seen from the woman.

"Oh, dear," repeated Mrs. Renfrew. She was so busy fretting over her spoiled handkerchief that she didn't notice the look of contempt that came to her employee's face. Octavia had to restrain the urge to go over and shake her until her teeth rattled. Instead, she took a deep breath and walked away.

Still fuming over the encounter, Octavia found herself muttering a number of unladylike words under her breath as she stalked down the hallway. It wasn't until she was halfway up the stairs that she realized she had forgotten to ask about borrowing the atlas from Mr. Renfrew's library. She paused, debating whether to return to the drawing room to make the request. Given her current mood, any further contact with her employer was not the wisest idea. Her patience, never great to begin with, was already stretched taut from the first meeting. It needing only the slightest tug to snap completely.

However, the door to the library had been left ajar, revealing that no one was there. It would only take a moment to fetch the volume.

The oversize book was easy to spot. Taking it under her arm, Octavia brushed past the large mahogany desk. In her haste to be gone, her sleeve caught one of the papers sitting on the tooled blotter, knocking it to the carpet. She snatched it up, fully intending to place it back where it belonged, when her eyes fell on the first line of the elegant script.

The corners of her mouth tightened as she read on.
Duty, indeed!
Why, the Renfrews were being paid handsomely out of Emma's trust to care for the child. Octavia did a bit of quick calculation. The young girl's clothing was adequate but hardly extravagant. Even adding a more than generous amount for food and shelter, as well as her own paltry salary, the couple was siphoning away a handsome profit for their so-called charity.

Quickly returning the letter to the top of the pile, she quit the room and made her way back to the stairs. Hypocrites, she raged, her heels beating an angry tattoo on the wooden treads. Dislike turned into loathing as she considered the callous indifference inflicted on young Emma by her guardians. Was there anything she could do, she wondered, anyone she could appeal to? Would a letter to the solicitors administering the trust amount to anything? She paused. The word of a insignificant governess against that of a respectable government functionary? Not likely! Besides, it was not as if they were doing anything illegal, simply immoral.

It would take some thought, but she vowed she would find a way to make the girl's situation less intolerable.

* * *

"You've seen this, I take it?" Thomas threw the newspaper down on the center of the table, a black look on his face.

William looked up from the chessboard. "Yes, I heard the news at White's this afternoon. Unfortunately, it comes as no surprise that Boney has dealt the Russian army yet another resounding defeat. He appears to be moving ever closer to Moscow."

"Is that all you can say?" exclaimed his brother. "Unfortunate? Unfortunate that Alex is alone in a strange country, facing not only cutthroat Russian relatives, but about to be engulfed in the general madness of war!"

Their uncle fingered one of the carved ivory pieces already removed from the game. "It is unfair to ring a peal over William's head," said Ivor. "If anyone is to be blamed, Thomas, it is me. I did not think Bonaparte would be able to advance so quickly against as canny a general as Kutusov."

Thomas took a deep breath. "Forgive me," he muttered. "I fear I'm feeling a bit overset at the moment."

"And with good reason. We are all concerned for Alex. I've managed to send a letter along with the latest government dispatches to our St. Petersburg mission asking for whatever help they can provide in locating him—"

Thomas let out an exasperated snort. "Oh, come, you know as well as I that they won't be able to do a thing! Not with the whole damn French army advancing on Moscow."

Ivor sighed. "Nonetheless, it is the best we can do."

His younger nephew stalked to the sideboard and poured himself a stiff brandy. "Perhaps not."

William's head snapped up. "What do you mean, Thomas?"

"What I mean is, I don't intend to sit by and watch another brother perish if there is aught I can do about it."

"Good Lord! You can't intend to—"

"To set off for Russia myself? That's exactly what I intend, William."

"And what of Olivia? And Ranleigh Hall?"

"Olivia is in full agreement with me, and my steward is perfectly capable of running the estate until my return." He cleared his throat. "A dispatch ship leaves from Gravesend in three day's time. The admiral has made room for my passage."

There was silence in the library, save for the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

"Dash it all," growled the marquess after some moments. "You had best make sure there are two berths in that cabin."

"Now, William, you know you cannot leave all your responsibilities—"

"Perhaps my responsibility as head of this family is the most important one right now," he answered softly. "It's high time we reach out a hand to Alex."

"You are sure Augusta shall not kick up a dust?"

He made a wry grimace. "The females of this family have always had a tender spot for Alex, you know. More likely she would rake me over the coals if I didn't go."

"Well then, we have much to do before—"

"I daresay the Admiral can be convinced to allow a third party to join in."

Both of the younger gentlemen nearly spilled their drinks. "Uncle Ivor," sputtered the marquess. "Don't you think the, er, rigors of a sea voyage and a Russian winter would be... rather uncomfortable for—"

"If you say for a man of my age, you young pup, I'll show I am not so deep in my dotage that I can't still take a birch to your backside! I set all of this in motion, so of course I shall join in seeing it set to rights." There was a slight twinkle in his eyes as he went on. "Besides, I have wanted to visit St. Petersburg ever since I was a young boy and heard tales of Tsar Peter striding along the streets of London in those magnificent tall boots of his."

His nephews knew the futility of arguing with their uncle when his mind was set.

"Ah, well, in for a penny, in for a pound," said the marquess with a sigh.

Ivor grinned. "Good, then it's settled." He turned toward the paneled oak door and raised his voice. "You ladies may as well come in now. No doubt you will have a number of suggestion to add as we begin to make plans."

The brass knob turned very slowly. Both Augusta and Olivia looked slightly abashed as they sought to smooth the telltale creases caused by kneeling from their skirts.

"We... We were just passing by, Uncle Ivor," said Augusta.

"Yes, I know, and the keyhole jumped up and took hold of that lovely ear of yours."

Augusta directed an indignant look at her uncle while Olivia contrived to look injured. "Well, we wouldn't have to stoop to such measures if you would admit that we are just as capable of rational thought as you are. It's not fair that you men skulk off and lock yourself in the library to discuss all the interesting matters. If you mean to make important decisions about the family, we should be included, too," she retorted. "After all," she added sharply, with a pointed glare at her husband, "we do play rather a large role in ensuring that there will be a Sheffield line in the future."

"An excellent point, my dear," said Ivor with a chuckle, ignoring the baleful expressions of his two nephews. "I have long since realized that my nieces are blessed with brains as well as beauty. Of course you should be included. Come take a seat on the sofa and let us start to make plans."

The two ladies settled themselves on the plump cushions with a deliberate flounce.

"Now, William," he continued. "Kindly take up a pen so that we may keep a list of all the things that we are going to need...."

* * *

The young man who opened the door scowled at the sight of the elegant gentleman. "He ain't here. He's left Town for a time, so if it's some debt you've come to collect, you'll have to wait."

Thomas's hand shot out to keep the door from slamming shut in his face. "I've not come about a loan, Squid—it is Squid, isn't it?"

The young man's scowl turned to a look of wariness. "How do ye know me name?" he asked, surprise causing a lapse in proper speech for a moment. "And who are ye, then? Don't recall having seen yer mug around here before."

"I'm Lord Thomas." At the blank look that greeted the announcement, he was forced to add, "Alex's brother."

Squid fell back in consternation as Thomas stepped into the modest set of rooms. "N-nothing has happened to Mister Alex, has it?" he asked quickly.

"As far as I know, my brother hasn't stuck his spoon in the wall yet." Thomas glanced at the battered desk and the stacks of books and papers piled haphazardly on its nicked surface. "I mean to see that it stays that way. So I've come to check whether he might have left a Russian lexicon lying around, and perhaps a more detailed atlas than the one I was able to purchase."

The valet eyed him with some suspicion. "Here now, why should I let you go through his things?"

Thomas was already thumbing through one of the thick leatherbound volumes on the top of one stack. "Because if I am to be of any help to him, I need to know all I can about Russia."

Squid took a moment to mull over the words. "You are going to Russia?" he asked very slowly, disbelief evident on his face.

Thomas nodded as he picked up another book.

"But... but Mister Alex says his family don't give a dam—deuce about him. Says you all wish him to the Devil."

"Yes, I know. And that is exactly where he has been driving himself these past years, with a vengeance. However, like the rest of us, my brother can be very wrong about certain things." A pause. "His proper title is
Lord
Alex, you know."

"Aye, well he doesn't like fer me to use it." Squid regarded Thomas with a cagey look that belied the youthful innocence of his features. "Yer serious," he said after a bit. "Ye really mean to go after him?"

"Yes."

"Then I mean to come too."

Thomas had to repress a laugh. At the rate things were going, they would need a troop transport to convey the veritable army that was volunteering in his brother's behalf.

"My thanks for your concern, but I don't think that will be necessary. My other brother and my uncle are to accompany me as well. The three of us shall manage adequately."

"Ha!" Squid pulled a face. "A marquess, an earl and a lord. How are the likes of you fine gentleman gonna know how to ferret out information from the locals? Or do some of the squirmy things that need be done in certain situations, like? Me, I got experience in such things. I could be... useful. Mister Alex has said so on any number of occasions."

Thomas's brows drew together in thought.

"I can brush a coat and press a cravat tolerably well," went on Squid in a dogged voice. "And I'm handy with me fives or a shiv or barking iron. Surely the three of you could do with a valet of my skills, rather than one of the useless slowtops that blacken yer boots."

"Well—"

"Mister Alex even taught me a bit of the lingo.
Das vedanya
. That means good day in Russian."

Thomas stroked his jaw. "Hmmm. I suppose you might prove helpful."

"I know Mister Alex better than anyone. Wherever he is in all that snow and ice, I'll track him down. I swear I will."

Surprised by the intensity of the young man's loyalty, Thomas took a moment to answer. "I shall discuss the matter with the rest of the family. If you care to bring around these books to Grosvenor Square this afternoon at four, we shall inform you of what we mean to do."

Squid grinned. "Yes, milord."

"It is Number—"

"Oh, I know where Wright House is, milord. Mister Alex may think I don't notice, but when he passes anywhere near, he can't help but stare up at those fancy steps and marble pillars with...." His voice trailed off and he swallowed uncomfortably.

Thomas's lips compressed. He spent some minutes in silence, perusing the rest of the papers and books, then arranged a neat pile of the things he had chosen. "At four, then?"

The valet moved to open the door. "I'll be there, sir."

* * *

Octavia pushed the sheet of foolscap back across the desk. "You must check your figures once more, Emma. I fear you have still not mastered the rudiments of geometry."

The young girl made a face. "I don't see why I have to fuss with all those numbers. It's not as if I will ever be a post captain in need of shooting the sun and figuring out my latitudes and longitudes."

"That may be so, but mathematics are part of a sound education. They challenge the mind, and you never know, geometry may come very in useful on some occasion."

Emma's lower lip jutted out. "Name one."

Octavia was forced to resort to a reply found effective by generations of governesses. "I'll not argue with you over this. Whether it pleases you or not, you will finish your lessons before we read another chapter of Miss Austen."