Carola Dunn (9 page)

Do you?
Lissa longed to ask, but did not quite dare. “I fear so,” she murmured.

At the top of the stairs, he stopped and turned, still frowning. “We shall have to be very discreet,” he said abruptly, then swung round and headed for a door towards the front of the house.

So he did intend to make further attempts upon her virtue. Her heart sinking, Lissa followed him into the schoolroom.

Chapter 7

“Lissa, look at me!” Michael shouted joyfully. Eyes shining, he rode a gaily caparisoned rocking horse with all the verve of a knight charging into battle.

The horse galloped away in the corner of a spacious, airy room overlooking the street. Daffodil yellow curtains gave an impression of sunshine though the day was too far advanced for the sun to strike the three large windows, which faced slightly north of east. A cheerful room, Lissa thought, ideal for children, especially with the thick carpet on the floor to deaden the sounds of their play.

Michael’s mount’s bright paint suggested that its owner had rarely ridden it. Lissa’s heart went out to a child so frail he took little pleasure in so splendid a toy.

“Very fine,” she said with a smile. “But you must dismount and make your bow to Lord Ashe.”

“I already did. He gave us breakfast, Lissa, a simply bang up breakfast. I had two eggs, and....”

“Tell me later, pet. First you stand. You know that is the rule whenever a grown-up enters the room you are in.”

“I though that was one of his rules,” Michael explained, sliding down from the wooden saddle.

Lissa darted a glance at Lord Ashe, but he did not ask to whom the “his” referred. Eyebrows raised, he was looking towards the scarred deal table behind which Peter had already risen to his feet. Beside Peter, a thin, sickly boy was just beginning to stand up, a mutinous pout on his sallow face.

“I don’t see why I should stand up when it’s only my uncle and a governess.”

Lord Ashe opened his mouth but Peter forestalled him.

“Your uncle’s a grown-up,” he said, “and you’re just a boy. And a gentleman always stands up for a lady. My sister’s a lady. Don’t you want to be a gentleman?”

Grinning, Lord Ashe glanced to Lissa. “You have no need of another champion, I see. I’ll be off. If you run into any difficulty my sister cannot solve, come to me.”

“I trust I shall have no reason to approach you, sir,” Lissa said primly.

His mouth quirked. “We shall see. Colin, let me remind you that you requested Miss Findlay as your governess.”

“Only because I want Peter and Michael here.”

“Well, we shan’t stay if you’re not nice to Lissa,” said Michael.

“Not for a minute,” Peter confirmed.

Colin’s mouth drooped. “I will be nice,” he cried.

“Of course you will.” Lissa moved hastily towards him. “Boys, you must make allowances for Lord Orton. He is not accustomed to having friends, but he will soon learn how to go on.”

“I let Michael ride my rocking horse,” Colin said hopefully.

“So you did. Michael, you may remount now. Does your steed have a name?”

“I call him Apollyon,” said Michael, “because he’s very fierce.”

Lissa thought a better name could be found than that of the king of the monstrous locust-horses in Revelation. She said nothing for the moment, however, not wishing to draw Lord Ashe’s attention to what was a distinctly odd choice for a small boy.

“I used to call him Dapple,” said Colin, “but I’m too big for him now. I let Peter look at my book, too, Miss Findlay.” He pointed at the volume lying open on the table before them, displaying a vivid-coloured picture of a knight in full panoply. “He says he hasn’t got any picture books at all.”

“I wasn’t allowed,” Peter explained, “but I may now, mayn’t I, Lissa? It’s not one of the Reasonable Rules?”

Lissa was dismayed to discover how revealing her brothers’ most innocent remarks seemed to turn out. “No, no, picture books are quite acceptable,” she hastily assured Peter, casting a nervous glance back at Lord Ashe.

He was gone. While she was engaged with the boys, he had slipped away, closing the door so quietly she had not heard him leave. How much he had overheard she had no idea.

Fortunately, young Lord Orton saw nothing odd in his new playfellows’ words. In fact he showed a disposition to believe that Peter, at least, could do no wrong. Whether he would extend the same indulgence to Lissa remained to be seen.

* * * *

“I say, old fellow.” Lord Quentin, arriving early to escort Daphne to the evening’s entertainment, caught Ashe in the hall on his way to dine with friends at his club. “A word with you.”

Sighing, Ashe led the way into the front parlour. He had hoped to postpone for a few days the inevitable explanations, but he should have known he could not evade Teague for long. The man positively haunted the house.

Inclined to be brusque, Ashe decided he’d brush through better if he did the pretty. After all, Teague was concerned for Daphne’s well-being. “Take a chair,” he invited, lounging against the mantlepiece. “A glass of Madeira?”

“Thank you, no.” With a distinctly uneasy air, Teague took a turn about the room, fiddling with his quizzing glass. His overtight nether garments forced a birdlike strut. In his mushroom-coloured coat and pink and green watered silk waistcoat, he looked to Ashe’s sardonic eye rather like a pouter pigeon. “Deuced bad ton!” he blurted at last.

Ashe constrained himself to mildness. “I shan’t pretend not to know what you are talking about, but perhaps you would be more specific?”

“Installing your opera dancer, your
fille de joie
, under the same roof as your sister, devil take it! Damned bad ton.”

“Ah, but I haven’t. Do sit down, there’s a good chap. You’re making me dizzy. Miss Findlay may have been an opera dancer, but she was never
my
opera dancer, you see. What is more, she is no
fille de joie
. I have every confidence in her innocence.”

“Damme if she didn’t as good as agree to accept my protection.”

After a momentary shock, which he hoped he had concealed, Ashe realized Lissa must have been trying to evade Teague without making him angry with an outright rejection. “As good as?” he queried.

“Said she wasn’t well. Feminine troubles, you know. Another day or two....”

“In that day or two she took steps to assure herself of a respectable future. I repeat, she is not, and never has been, my mistress.”

“If you say so,” Teague conceded, his voice full of doubt, “of course I must accept your word. You have no proof of her past, though, and even if you did, to foist an opera dancer on Lady Orton in the guise of a governess is the outside of enough.”

“My sister knows Miss Findlay was an actress. No one else will, if you don’t spread the news abroad.”

“As though I should! Make Lady Orton the laughing-stock of the
beau monde
. I want to marry her, remember. You’re telling me she offered the chit the post knowing she was an actress?”

“Daphne is ready to seize any straw. You should be glad she has found someone to take care of Colin.”

“If it works out,” Teague said gloomily. “What can an opera dancer know of bringing up difficult children that half a dozen experienced governesses don’t?”

Ashe debated whether to mention Miss Findlay’s brothers. An unnecessary complication for the moment, he decided, now that he had soothed Teague’s initial ire. They could hardly be kept hidden for long, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

“We must hope her tenure will be longer than the last several,” he said smoothly.

“Aye, but she’ll have to go, mind, if you seduce her now you’ve got her under your thumb.”

“Deuced bad ton, seducing one’s dependents!”

“Not near as bad,” Teague protested, “as a kept mistress under your own roof. That’s why most governesses are pudding-faced or past praying for. I know any number of fellows....”

“Not you, I trust?” Ashe snapped.

“No governesses in my household, I do assure you. There’s the odd toothsome maidservant, of course. Always make proper provision for ‘em and there’s no cause for complaint, I say.” Catching the kindling antipathy in Ashe’s eye, Teague hastily added, “Naturally I wouldn’t try anything with another man’s servants. Miss Findlay’s safe from me as long as she’s in your employ.”

They both turned with relief as Daphne came in, a beautiful sight in green-trimmed pink crêpe over a green sarcenet slip. After an exchange of compliments, the matched pair departed, leaving Ashe to stride across Piccadilly and down St. James’s Street to Boodle’s.

He found he had a great deal on his mind. Teague, though allowing himself to be quieted, had raised some valid points. Convinced as Ashe was of Lissa’s virtue, obvious as her respectable upbringing must be to discerning eyes, he knew next to nothing of her past. She was deucedly secretive about it. He had a nagging sense of something smoky in the background.

He realized he did not even know whether she was responsible for her brothers’ excellent conduct. Perhaps they had had another teacher. Was she really competent to take charge of Colin?

If not, he would have no excuse to retain her in his household.

Of course, that would reopen the way to an altogether different sort of relationship. A twinge in his loins told him he had by no means given up hope of taking the delectable Lissa Findlay to his bed.

Reaching Boodle’s Club, he was absorbed into its atmosphere of politics and cards, and he spared not another thought for Lissa until he strolled homeward through the dark streets. Slightly bosky, he wanted a woman, but as yet he had found no replacement for the Skylark. Until he had found a new chère amie, he decided, he had best see as little of possible of Miss Findlay.

* * * *

In the week after Lissa and her brothers removed to Dover Street, she caught scarce a glimpse of Lord Ashe.

The boys reported to her his daily brief visits to the schoolroom. These always took place after luncheon, when they were quietly reading and she had retired to her chamber to put up her feet for an hour to restore her flagging energy.

Her room was tiny but pleasant, with white walls and ceiling, blue gingham curtains at the windows, and a matching counterpane on the narrow bed. The chest of drawers had seen better days and the seat of the single chair was patched, but Lissa had no complaints. After Lambeth, it was heaven.

 Lounging back against two plump, feather-filled pillows, she revelled in the comfort and the lingering lavender scent of the bed-linens.

She could postpone her rest one day to see Lord Ashe, but she was afraid that would simply play into his hands. Having brought her to his house, he appeared to be making a deliberate effort to avoid her, and the only purpose she could guess at was to tantalize her. Instead of counting on constant nearness to win her over, he had changed tactics, unless he had always planned matters thus. In any case, he must hope to pique her interest by assumed indifference.

If it was assumed. More likely he had come to his senses on seeing her, drab, wan, and careworn, next to his beautiful sister amid elegant surroundings--yet it was after that he had spoken of being discreet.

That was it! He was being discreet, lulling Lady Orton’s suspicions before he attempted any familiarities with her son’s governess.

For Lissa, this was a breathing space, no more.

Very soon, she would feel no need of repose in the middle of the day. Already good food and proper rest were reviving her vitality, making her feel slightly guilty for deserting her charges. Not that they were far off. Her bedchamber adjoined the night nursery, which was next door to the schoolroom.

She heard footsteps, the firm, vigorous tread of booted feet, on the landing outside her door. Lord Ashe had come for his regular visit.

Lissa sat up and swung her legs off the bed, then caught herself up. With a deliberate effort she lay back again, forcing herself to relax. She would not run after him, must not let him think she courted his notice.

All the attention she wanted from him was his nod of greeting when their paths crossed in the front hall or on the pavement outside the house, his polite “good morning” or “good afternoon.” He tipped his hat, she sketched a curtsy, and they went their separate ways, their eyes never meeting.

Discretion or indifference?

Lady Orton’s neglect of her son’s governess was easier to explain. As long as Colin was well and happy and caused no trouble, she saw no need to discuss his requirements with Miss Findlay. She sent for him daily, to the drawing room when she had callers or to her dressing room before dinner. Lissa was prepared to believe her ladyship loved the boy dearly. It was just that her mind and her time were occupied with more important matters such as clothes, shopping, and an endless round of entertainments.

Though sad for Colin, Lissa did not blame Lady Orton for her frivolity. Such was the way of the Fashionable World. Lord Ashe, she gathered from the nurserymaid, spent a good deal of his time playing cards at his club, dancing at balls, and attending sporting events. That his morals were less than perfect she was all too well aware.

In short, however kind and generous, he was a shallow fribble like the greater part of the aristocracy. Lissa was sorry but unsurprised.

From the schoolroom came a sudden burst of laughter, three boyish trebles and a deeper chuckle which brought an involutary smile to her lips. She heard the click of the schoolroom door closing, and then receding footsteps.

At least Lord Ashe took the trouble to check frequently on his nephew’s welfare. Since she heard no complaints, Lissa assumed both he and Lady Orton were pleased with Colin’s improved behaviour and obvious contentment.

Rising, she tidied her hair and donned her grey worsted summer pelisse. With a moue of distaste she reached for her bonnet, wishing it had been practical to bring away more than one. Not that the other two were any more modish, but the chipstraw hat would be much more suitable to the present fine weather.

Given half a chance, she suspected she might develop quite an interest in pretty clothes, if not to quite the same extent as Lady Orton.