Claiming the Chaperon's Heart (3 page)

‘Nor mine,’ Paul said and laughed. ‘I imagine I can find someone to do it for me.’

‘Know what you need?’

‘No. What?’ Paul asked with his lazy smile.

‘What you need, my friend, is a wife,’ Adam said, a faint challenge in his eyes. ‘Just the thing for making a man’s house look comfortable. I’m thinking of getting one myself now I’ve given up adventuring—and if I were you I should do the same...’

‘It’s odd that you should say it,’ Paul said thoughtfully. ‘I have been wondering if perhaps I ought not to offer her marriage—Bellingham’s girl, you know. I’m damned if I wanted her father’s estate, but perhaps I ought to offer her a home. I could only do that if I married her...’

‘I should think about it for a while if I were you,’ Adam advised. ‘You haven’t seen her yet—and she is a little young for you, is she not?’

‘You are quite right, which is why my words were mere idle speculation. No, I shall not marry unless I find the right woman...’

‘You at least do not need to look for a fortune,’ Adam said and there was the faintest trace of envy in his voice. ‘You have more than enough for any man.’

‘Yes, I have been lucky,’ Paul agreed, ‘but it was honestly earned—and I have not yet decided where to settle...’

‘You won’t return to India?’

‘I do not know.’ Paul sighed. ‘It has been my home for several years—I am not sure there is anything to keep me here. You came home to settle your affairs, Adam—shall you return after you have done so?’

‘I am in two minds,’ Adam said and his eyes stared at a point beyond Paul’s shoulder. ‘It depends on many things. Not least whether I have sufficient funds to live decently here...’

‘Surely your father has not left anything away from you? You were his only son.’

‘No, but the question is—has he actually left me anything but debts?’ Adam asked wryly. ‘I did not earn a fortune out there as you did, Paul—and, for all I know, I may be a pauper...’

Chapter Three

‘T
his is so very kind of you,’ Melia cried, looking round the pretty bedroom with delight. ‘My aunt is very good to me, but, poor dear, she could hardly be expected to bring me to town. Such a delightful room...’

‘My brother was concerned that you should have the best guest room, Miss Bellingham,’ Jane said, smiling at the girl’s pleasure. ‘It is a lovely room. I have stayed here myself many times in the past.’

‘Oh, you should not have given me your room,’ Melia said. ‘I do not wish to put you out, dear Lady March.’

‘No, you have not,’ Jane said, shaking her head. ‘This was my room as a girl, but now I have a permanent suite of three rooms at the other side of the house. At least, it has been mine since...for a while now. Of course, when my brother marries I shall take a house of my own. I am thinking of making my home in Bath.’

‘You will not desert the viscount?’ Melia cried involuntarily. ‘I know he is so fond of you, relies on you for advice in almost everything.’

‘He will turn to the lady he marries once he becomes a devoted husband and I should not wish to interfere with her way of running the household.’

‘Oh, but perhaps she would rather leave it to you.’ Melia’s face was an open book. Jane held back her smile because it was obvious that the young woman had no interest in the duties of a chatelaine, but thought only of the amusement of being a bride and being spoiled by a devoted husband. ‘If his wife is young and knows little of household management. I hate dealing with servants; they are always so superior if they think you don’t know—don’t you find?’

Jane’s merriment left her and she answered seriously. ‘It is important that one does know what one wants. The first rule is to make your people respect you. It is good if they also like you—but a calm, firm manner when giving instructions is always best. You must have observed it in your aunt’s house.’

‘Oh, no,’ Melia said ingenuously. ‘Aunt is so lazy. Her butler rules the household and arranges everything as she likes it. He has been with her since she was a girl and treats her as if he were a benevolent uncle. She never seems to give orders. Benson just does everything without needing to be told.’

‘How fortunate is Mrs Bellingham to have such a devoted man in her service.’

‘She is always complaining about things, but never to Benson, of course. She might have everything as she likes if she stirred herself, but she can never be bothered and just leaves it all to him—and then she grumbles if the meals are not quite what she wanted.’

‘Well, at least you know how not to conduct your household,’ Jane said, amused by this description of the indolent Mrs Bellingham. ‘Now, my dear, I want you to settle in first and come down when you are ready. I shall order some tea in half an hour in my sitting room downstairs, but you may have a tray brought up if you wish to rest.’

‘I am not in the least tired,’ Melia declared. ‘I shall come down and join you... Do you mean that very pleasant sunny room at the back of the house?’

‘Yes, it was Mama’s until she remarried,’ Jane said. ‘Now, of course, she has a dozen pretty rooms she may choose from, and if she wants anything different she has only to ask Porky.’

‘Is that what you call the duke?’ Melia’s eyes sparkled with mischief as Jane nodded and laughed. ‘Oh, it does suit him—but it is a terrible thing to call such a lovely man. He was so kind to me when I attended the wedding as one of your mama’s bridesmaids—and he gave me a beautiful gold bracelet as a gift.’

‘Roshithe is a lovely man, and so kind to us all,’ Jane said. ‘I assure you, the name was given him years ago and stuck. He does not regard it, because he knows it is used with affection. His enemies are more likely to call him Roshithe in a supercilious manner, and that he does resent—though you should probably address him as sir, unless he gives you permission to use the name.’

‘I would not dare. I shall probably address him as Your Grace...’

‘He cannot abide that sort of toad-eating, as he calls it, Miss Bellingham. Much better just to use the simple sir.’

‘I’ll try to remember,’ Melia promised and gave Jane a small shy smile. ‘Will you not call me Melia?’

‘Yes, of course, if you wish it—and you must reciprocate. I am Jane to my family and friends.’

‘Yes, I know. Viscount Salisbury always speaks of you that way. He is very fond of you, Jane.’

‘We have always been close,’ Jane said. ‘I shall leave you to change if you wish.’

She left the bedchamber, which was indeed the prettiest in the house, its curtains pink and white striped silk, which matched the décor of pinks, cream and a deep crimson. Jane had ordered some pink roses to be placed on the dressing stand to complete the welcome offered to a lady who might, if she chose, become the next mistress here.

It would mean a big change in Jane’s life, she thought as she made her way down to the sitting room she favoured. She would miss playing hostess for her brother and it would be an upheaval making the move to Bath, but she intended to make way for her brother’s wife, despite Melia’s hints that she would be welcome to stay on to run the house for her. No, that would eventually lead to resentment and perhaps unkind words between them; Melia might need help at first but once she found her own confidence she would not wish for another woman in her home.

Jane had already begun to make inquiries about a house in Bath. She was unsure whether she wished to rent a place while she looked about her or buy something immediately. If she bought she would need to furnish it, and she intended to look for suitable items while she was in town this time. Even if her brother Will was not successful in securing his bride immediately, it would happen, and Jane had no wish to live in the country house left to her by her husband.

‘It’s a bit dull and quite lonely,’ Harry had told her the day he took her to see his small country house. ‘I know we can make it nice, Jane—and with servants and children it will soon become a home. I dare say we’ll make friends soon enough. There’s plenty of time before we have to retire to a country life, because I want to rise in the Army. We can live in London when we’re home on leave—and in time you will find a way to make this place into a home.’

Jane had assured him gaily that she would enjoy it, but that future had seemed so far away as not to be of much interest. Before they settled down to living off the land, they had so much fun to have—travelling overseas, putting up at the most frightful billets had all seemed amusing to the young couple in love. Her friends were Harry’s friends, the ladies she met officers’ wives, all living their nomad existence with a smile on their faces and secret fear in their hearts. Yet, even so, Jane had not thought it could all end so abruptly. She’d thought of her life as being married to Harry for years and years, but in fact she’d had only a year of happiness.

She would not think of that! Jane told herself severely that she must begin to look to the future. She had already written to her cousin. Sarah’s reply had not arrived before they left for London, but Will’s servants would send on any letters and, if Sarah wished, Jane would invite her to join them in town.

She would make a few inquiries about whom to consult on the matter of furnishing a house, but perhaps it might be better to hire a furnished house for a start, though Jane had some of her personal things at her brother’s country house. She had intended to set up her own home long ago but living in Will’s home had proved so pleasant for them both that she’d let her own plans drift.

‘It is lovely to have you here again, ma’am,’ Mrs Yates, Will’s London housekeeper, came up to her as she reached the hall. ‘There are quite a few letters waiting for you in the parlour, Lady March. I dare say your ladyship’s friends knew of your intention and most of them look like invitations.’

‘Yes, I dare say,’ Jane replied with a faint twist of her lips. ‘Mama knew we were coming, of course, and I imagine she has informed most of her friends—and that includes everyone who gives decent parties...’

Jane laughed softly as she saw an answering gleam in the housekeeper’s eyes, because Mama was well known in this house. She picked up the large pile of letters and cards awaiting her and flicked through them. Three were in her mother’s hand, each of them speaking of some party she really must attend or an exhibition she must see. Her mother intended to visit her the day after she arrived and she was to come to dinner that evening and bring the delightful young woman she’d invited as her guest.

Laying aside her mother’s letters, Jane opened some of the others. Most, as her housekeeper had guessed, were invitations to dances, masques, picnics, dinner and a grand ball. If she tried to attend them all, and this was the tip of the iceberg because as soon as it was known she was in town the invitations would pour in, she would need to attend three affairs in an evening so as not to offend the eager hostesses.

Picking up a neat cream-coloured envelope addressed to Lady March in a hand she did not recognise, Jane slit the seal and took out the piece of paper inside. She frowned as she read the few lines written on the single sheet.

Madam, Lady March,

Forgive me for writing when you do not know me, but I have been informed that my ward, Miss Amelia Bellingham, is to stay with you in town. I would ask that you let me know when it is convenient to call on you both.

Yours sincerely,

Paul Frant.

Brief and to the point, not particularly friendly, Jane thought as she scanned the lines again. She had not been aware that there was any other guardian than Mrs Bellingham. As Melia’s father’s widowed sister-in-law, she would surely be the proper person to have charge of the girl, Jane thought, but obviously Lord Frant—whoever he might be—thought differently.

It was slightly concerning, because the tone of the letter was distinctly cool. In fact, she would say that he’d been annoyed when he wrote the letter—only yesterday. She wondered if Melia knew of the gentleman and decided to ask when she came down for tea. Meanwhile, she continued to open her letters, discovering two more invitations for balls and one to the theatre from a close friend of her mother’s.

Major Harte was some years older than Jane, but he had taken a fancy to her the last time she was in London and she’d received more than one proposal from him. As she knew he was a widower with two daughters under fifteen and needed a wife to keep them in order, Jane understood his persistence, but always gave him the same answer. She was not yet ready to remarry...

She had just finished sorting her letters into piles, those needing replies in one pile and the others in another, when the door opened to admit the housekeeper carrying a tray. Melia followed her in and tea was poured.

‘I thought we would dine at home this evening,’ Jane told her. ‘It is the only night we shall be at home, because we are invited out almost every night for our entire stay, and will go from one to the other like bees gathering pollen from flowers.’

Melia laughed and looked delighted. ‘Could we visit the duchess this afternoon? I do so like your mama, Jane.’

‘She informed me that she would be out but would visit us tomorrow afternoon and expected us to dine at night. What we might do is visit my dressmaker and milliner, Melia. I think you might like some new clothes. Your own are pretty, but not quite as stylish as the fashions in town.’

‘My aunt gave me fifty pounds, but I’m not sure how many clothes that will buy...’ she said doubtfully and Jane smiled.

‘Your aunt told me to have your dressmaking bills sent to her, my love. She would not expect you to spend your pin money on clothes. No, we shall have your measurements taken, and see if there is anything already made up that might fit you with some alteration.’

‘Do you think there will be?’ Melia looked anxious. ‘At home it takes ages to have dresses made up.’

‘Oh, I am sure Madame François will be able to accommodate us sooner than that,’ Jane assured her. ‘She has many girls working under her and takes no more than a day or so to complete a simple gown—and often there is a half-finished dress from a cancellation that we may have finished to your specification if you care for it.’

‘Oh, good,’ Melia said, excitement rising. ‘How soon may we go?’

‘We shall have our tea and some of these delightful sandwiches and biscuits Mrs Yates has brought us, and then we may fetch our bonnets. I shall have the carriage sent for in one hour...’ She got up to ring the bell, then remembered the annoying letter.

‘Do you know of a Paul Frant?’ she asked. ‘Is that the person who inherited your father’s estate?’

‘Lord Frant, yes...’ Melia looked wary, her hand suspended as she was about to eat a tiny cucumber sandwich. ‘He is in India I think...’

‘According to the letter I received this morning, he must be in England as he has learned that you were coming to stay with me here—he has asked to meet us both at our earliest convenience. Did you know he was returning?’

‘I didn’t know when,’ Melia said a little guiltily. ‘He sent a letter but it was vague. I did not see why it should interfere with my plans...’

‘No,’ Jane replied, but she wasn’t sure. Melia was underage and if her guardian had chosen to withhold permission for this visit he might have done so: Melia had clearly chosen to ignore his letter. ‘What did he ask you to do?’

‘Oh, he spoke of my returning to my father’s estate and said that he would provide a chaperon for me,’ Melia said with a shrug of her pretty shoulders. ‘However, his meaning was vague, and I had already arranged this visit. If he wishes me to live at Willow House with a chaperon he must arrange it with my aunt—that is the proper way, do you not agree? After all, I know nothing of Lord Frant—or this lady he wishes to foist on me.’

‘It would certainly be best for him to speak to both you and your aunt, to ascertain what your wishes are,’ Jane agreed, but she felt slightly anxious on her young friend’s behalf, for she surely did not wish to antagonise the man who might do something for her if he chose. Not that a dowry would signify if she took Will, because he could well afford to provide for his wife.