Grenville 02 - Lord John's Dilemma (9 page)

“I think I can manage Lady Lindsay. My only concern is that Miss Lindsay seems to want to live in London. I am hoping that when we have children, she will see the advantages of the country. And, of course, I am to be Alex’s estate agent.”

Eyebrows raised, his sister asked, “Why? Miss Lindsay comes with the Lindsay property and fortune, as I understand it.”

“I have no desire to be a man of leisure. I would not want to live off her money. I would manage the Lindsay property along with Alex’s.”

“Alex said he feared you had become a Radical.” Her smile turned to a grin. “I do so love you, John. No one ever had better brothers.” Standing, she put her hand to the doorknob. “You can count on me to promote the match. I shall see if Felicity will invite the Lindsays to take Sunday dinner with us tomorrow. If you are feeling more the thing, that is.”

“I should be able to bear it,” he said, smiling back at her. “Sunday dinner in one’s own house is a different proposition to an all-day fête in the North County.”

As she was leaving, his mind returned to the daisy field and he thought of what he would have missed if he had driven Marianne Lindsay to the fête. He called after Anabella, “Make certain Felicity includes the governess in the invitation.”

She poked her head back through the door. “The governess?”

“She is a mystery Leticia and I are trying to solve.”

Anabella’s eyes kindled with interest. Before she could ask a question, John said, “I shall discuss Miss Haverley with you another time.”

As John attempted to return to the ledger, he found his mind wandering to yellow daisies.

I should have kissed her.

{ 10 }

T
he invitation to dinner at Grenville Manor surprised Delia and Lady Lindsay in equal measures, it seemed.

“This is not at all the usual thing,” said her ladyship to the governess. “Have you even anything to wear?”

“Yes, my lady. I have a green silk gown that will do nicely.” It was her favorite gown because it drew notice to her eyes, which she considered her best feature. She had been unable to leave it behind in Dorset, she loved it so much.

“You will have to do your own hair. Miss Lindsay’s maid will be quite run off her feet, having to do Miss Molly and Miss Mariah’s hair.”

“I will manage,” Delia said. “I am very aware of the honor Lady Grenville does me by including me in the invitation.”

“You certainly should be,” said Lady Lindsay, looking her governess up and down as though seeing her for the first time.

Delia was in two minds as to whether she should wear the green silk as it was or denude it of its embellishments. She knew she could not risk outshining the Misses Lindsay, and the dress had been designed by the best French modiste in London. Its soft green was the exact shade of her eyes, and its cut displayed her petite but well-rounded figure to advantage. Under the bosom was a cluster of small pink roses made of ribbon, the ends of which trailed to the floor. There were also rosebuds around the edges of the puffed sleeves. In the end, she left them, too afraid of ruining the fragile silk of the dress by attempting to remove them.

She arranged her hair simply by braiding the upper half and coiling it on top of her head, letting the lower half fall down her back in natural curls. Delia knew her looks could not hold a candle to Marianne’s cameo perfection, but at least she no longer looked like someone’s poor relation. Putting on her matching pelisse, she descended from the third floor down to the entry hall to meet the family.

Lady Lindsay was fussing about her girls like a hummingbird, tucking a curl here, twitching a flounce there. She did not even look up when Delia entered.

In the governess’s opinion, the girls’ dresses were far too over-embellished for their slight figures—too many flounces and furbelows.

Soon they were all ensconced in the family carriage bound for Grenville Manor.

“I am so excited to see the twins,” said Mariah. “Last time I saw them, they were barely walking.”

Lady Lindsay tapped Mariah on the knee with her fan. “They may have grown, but not enough to join us for dinner.”

“Oh, I intend to ask permission to visit the nursery,” said Mariah. “I just want to help tuck them in. All of you will be drinking that ghastly Madeira before dinner. I will not be missed.”

“I do not drink sherry either,” said Molly. “I shall go with you.”

“Only if you have permission,” said Lady Lindsay.

Delia was watching Miss Lindsay look out the carriage window. Beating her closed fan into her palm, the girl appeared completely oblivious to the conversation. Was she nervous? Or was she irritated at Major Lambeth over his neglect the day before?

Delia was inclined to think it was the latter. Soon she would find out. She admitted to herself that she was very interested to see the interior of the castle, as she had immediately thought Grenville Manor to be when she had first seen it.

The entry hall proved to be a vast, high-ceilinged room with wooden beams and a polished wooden floor overlaid with jewel-toned Oriental rugs. The walls were hung with ruby silk. They were greeted by a stiff-backed butler and footmen who helped remove the ladies’ pelisses and then led them to a monstrously large drawing room.

Delia counted six crystal chandeliers before she was greeted by Lady Grenville with a warm smile.

“Miss Haverley, it is good to see you again. My, what an enchanting gown!” Her honey-colored eyes were warm with welcome.

Lady Lindsay caught the comment, and flashed a look in her governess’s direction. She opened her mouth as though to say something and immediately snapped it shut. Her eyes sparked fire as she pressed her lips together, her nostrils distended in silent rage. Delia was very glad she had kept her pelisse on until now.

“Thank you so much for the invitation,” she said. “You have a magnificent home.”

“Thank you. I admit it is a bit of a challenge to make it seem inviting. It was built during the days when intimidation was the motive behind design. “

Mariah approached and curtseyed. “Lady Grenville, may I have permission to go to the nursery to say good night to the twins?”

Delia was not even aware of the answer, as Major Lambeth approached her at that moment. “Good evening, Sprite,” he said in low tones. “That gown was made for a
ton
party, and you are only masquerading as a governess. You will never be able to convince me otherwise.” Then quite smoothly, he said in normal tones, “I do not believe you have met my sister, Lady Anabella, who has come down from London to stay with us just now. Anabella, this is Miss Haverley, governess to Molly and Mariah.”

Lady Anabella was a handsome woman with nearly black hair fixed in a modish style and dressed in a comely maroon organdy gown trimmed in black velvet. She acknowledged Delia with a slight bow of the head. “You shall have to give me the name of your
modiste,
Miss Haverley. That is a most lovely gown.”

Delia knew another moment of misgivings for the vanity which had dictated her choice of evening wear. She lied, “I have a very talented friend in Kent who amuses herself with fashion design. She does all her own gowns and many of mine.”

“Clever woman,” the major said with an impish smile. Without another word, he moved off to greet Miss Lindsay. “I am so terribly sorry to have missed squiring you to the fête yesterday.”

Miss Lindsay’s response was cool. “I hope you are quite recovered?”

Major Lambeth gave a short bow. “I am well, thank you. You are looking lovely, as usual.”

Lady Anabella joined them, and Delia walked away to examine the paintings which decorated the walls. It was difficult to tell by candlelight, but they appeared to be quite fine. She was lost in admiration of the depiction of a village fête from the Georgian period when Lord Grenville came up behind her.

“That is my favorite of all the paintings in this room,” he said. “The artist captured so many different emotions—avarice, pomposity, innocence. I like it.”

“Yes. It is very well done,” she agreed. “He did a skillful job with the eyes of the subjects, even though they are so small. It reminds me quite favorably of a Bruegel.”

“You are an artist, Miss Haverley?”

“I dabble in watercolors,” she answered.

“You are teaching your skill to your charges?” he asked, raising an interested eyebrow.

“I would like to, surely, but they show no inclination. Miss Molly and Miss Mariah are very fond of games and the out of doors.”

The earl laughed, looking at her with a twinkle in his eye. “Besides watercolors, what are your particular interests, Miss Haverley?”

She thought it very kind of the Earl of Grenville to be concerned with the supposed Miss Haverley’s likes and dislikes. “I am very fond of poetry. Especially Mr. Wordsworth and Mr. Blake.”

“Ah. You have that in common with my brother then.”

“Do I? That is interesting.” She decided she needed to change the subject. “I understand from a few things Lord Lindsay has said that you are a very active member of the House of Lords.”

He laughed again. “And you, Miss Haverley, are an atypical governess, surely. Women do not generally concern themselves with politics.”

Delia willed herself not to blush without success, and bit her lip. Just in time, she stopped herself from saying that her father had been a noted Whig. Instead, she said, “Please do not tell Lady Lindsay, but I find myself greatly interested in a number of things that are out of the common way. The late war, for instance. And the fate of the foot soldiers, now that it is ended.”

“I find myself concerned with their fate as well. My brother has enlisted me in their cause. He is very disturbed about what is to become of them.”

“I have also given some thought to the subject. My brother was a lieutenant on the Peninsula before he was killed, and used to write to me of the woeful fate of the wounded who had to leave service.”

“You have my sincere condolences on the death of your brother,” Lord Grenville said. “Was it recent?”

A wave of sadness caused her to look down, and she blinked quickly to disperse sudden tears. “Eighteen months ago. I am but recently out of mourning. I am fortunate to have many happy memories.”

“That is fortunate indeed. I know that I thank the Lord that my brother was spared,” he said. “He was twice wounded.” His eyes narrowed in memory. “But come, I am keeping you from the others. We should not be discussing such melancholy things.”

Taking her arm in his, he led her to his wife, who was speaking with Miss Leticia. “Felicity, Miss Haverley was admiring your artists. She is a watercolorist.”

Delia colored again. “Only in a very minor capacity, my lady.”

“That is something beyond my own skill,” Lady Grenville said with a smile. “John told me he found you admiring our wild daisies. If ever you would like to paint them, you must do so. Do not stand on ceremony, my dear.”

Miss Lindsay joined them at these words. “Unfortunately, Miss Haverley has very little time to herself. My sisters are a handful and do not aspire to paint watercolors.”

Delia knew Miss Lindsay was not happy that the conversation was centering on the lowly governess, especially as Major Lambeth took that moment to join the circle. Fortunately, the dinner gong sounded. The major offered Miss Lindsay his arm. As the least in consequence, Delia walked in last and alone behind Molly and Mariah. It was not the status she deserved, and even though she did not enjoy feeling like Cinderella, she was resigned to it.

The dinner conversation began around the Lindsay family’s decision to go to London for the Little Season, which was to begin shortly. This was news to Delia; however, it was soon made clear that her charges were to remain in the country.

Lord Grenville said, “Yes. Our family will be going up as well. I have business in Parliament.”

Miss Lindsay inquired, “Shall you be going up, Lord John?”

He answered, “I am going to London next week before I take up my duties as Estate Agent. I shall only be there a short time, however. This autumn, I will be here to oversee the harvest. There will be no time for London then, I am afraid.”

Miss Lindsay’s features lowered into a pout, but she said nothing. Her mother’s lips pressed into the firm line that Delia was familiar with. The woman was vexed. However, as quickly as it came, the look was gone, and her ladyship said, “My daughter is very popular with the
ton.
She has many faithful suitors. No doubt Lord Lindsay will be receiving an offer from more than one of them before Christmas.”

Delia shot a quick glance at Major Lambeth, who frowned at the words. Miss Leticia, who sat next to Delia, said merrily, “She is very particular, however. My sister has never found anyone to match her childhood hero.”

Watching Miss Lindsay, Delia saw her eyebrows draw together in annoyance. “You are such a tease, Leticia.”

Lady Anabella intervened. “I remember the very day that John rescued you, dear Marianne. He was stung himself, you know.”

“All in a good cause,” said Major Lambeth cheerfully.

Lord Lindsay engaged him in a discussion about the harvest, and the conversation broke up into smaller groups. Delia noticed that Lady Anabella, her other neighbor, scarcely touched her food.

“Do you enjoy living in London?” she asked her.

“I do, myself, but my children much prefer the country, just as Alex and John and I did when we were children. We always spent part of the year here at the Manor,” Lady Anabella answered.

“Tell me about your children,” Delia said.

With this encouragement, Major Lambeth’s sister embarked on a history of pranks her son and daughter had perpetrated in the short time since their arrival. Soon she had Delia giggling.

“Where are you from in Kent?” Lady Anabella asked. “I have a very dear friend who is the Marchioness of Deal.”

Delia nearly choked on her lamb. The place she supposedly hailed from was quite near Deal. “Oh, just a small village. I doubt she would have heard of it. It is in the south. Hanford.” The name was the first to come into her head.

The woman shot her a questioning look but did not press the matter. Instead, she asked Leticia, “Will you be going up to London with your family?”