Leslie Lafoy (13 page)

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If Seraphina hadn’t been so obviously miserable just a moment before, Carden might have smiled at the look of utter relief that came over her beautiful face as he approached the parlor doors. Still, it did a man good to know that his presence was welcomed and appreciated. It made engaging in parlor talk an almost worthwhile torture.

“Carden,” Honoria said a bit too sharply, turning to follow Sera’s line of sight. If her tone hadn’t adequately conveyed her annoyance at having them join them, her frown most certainly did. “Don’t tell me that the three of you have had your fill of port and smoke already.”

He ignored her disapproval. “We discovered the pleasures of both to be sorely lacking in the absence of sparkling feminine conversation.”

“That,” Barrett added, “and we’re rather hoping to find that you’ve solved all the problems of the empire while we’ve been gone.”

“We were making our way in that direction,” Honoria countered with a tight, obviously false smile. “A pity that you didn’t have a bit more patience. We’ve been discussing tomorrow’s proposed foray to the dressmaker.”

Sera started. Only slightly and she recovered quickly, but the reaction was sufficient to tell him that Honoria was about to try to lead him down a primrose path. He always figured it out sooner or later, but it was nice to know at the outset for a change. Bless Seraphina and her innate honesty.

“Considering the size of the order, Carden, I don’t think it would be at all inappropriate to ask the dressmaker to come to Seraphina and the girls. Why should they bundle themselves in and out of carriages and through town so that Mr. Gauthier can make a handsome profit?”

“Gauthier?” he repeated, watching Seraphina out of the corner of his eye. He’d guess she’d never heard the name before, either.

“My dressmaker, Carden. He’s newly arrived from the Continent and already the toast of London. Surely you don’t intend for our nieces and Sera to be clothed by a second-rate seamstress, do you?”

“Of course not,” he said, deliberately reminding himself that Honoria didn’t mean to insult nearly as often as she did. “If you want to send for the great Gauthier, then by all means send for him.”

“Thank you for being agreeable.”

His sister-in-law turned her attention fully to Sera—who visibly squared her shoulders as Honoria drew breath. “Would the day after tomorrow be soon enough, Seraphina? I know the girls are in desperate need, but the initial meeting with a dressmaker is always an exhausting ordeal and I’m afraid that conferring with Mr. Gauthier in addition to moving might be just a bit much for them to manage well in a single day.”

Sera’s brows came together for a split second. In the next, she touched her tongue to her lower lip. It was enough to tell him that this was the very first she’d heard of the notion.

“Moving?” he asked casually. “Who’s moving?”

Honoria’s shoulders sagged dramatically. She added to her performance by looking at him and then rolling her eyes and sighing. “Why, Seraphina and the girls, of course. They can’t possibly stay here with you. An unmarried man keeping an unmarried woman under his roof? Really, Carden. You know the tawdry kind of speculation that would invite.”

The look Sera shot him was one of almost panic. He might have thought she was truly concerned about scandal had she not immediately glanced toward Honoria and suppressed a tiny shudder. Lord knew he could understand how she felt.

“Seraphina is our nieces’ companion,” he explained kindly, but firmly. “A full and good step up from being an employee but hardly an elevation to the pedestal of being a mistress. The distinction is clear and I’m sure everyone will be able to make it without undue fuss. There’s absolutely no need to uproot Sera and the girls and cart them across town to live with you.”

“Seraphina, my dear,” Honoria pressed. “In light of our—”

“I understand your concerns, Lady Lansdown,” Sera interrupted, her smile so tight it made Carden’s face ache. “And I most certainly appreciate them. But truth be told, the girls and I have just today concluded a very long, very draining journey. We’ve barely begun to unpack and settle in. But begun we have and the very idea of putting our things back into our trunks and setting forth again…”

She slowly shook her head. “The distance doesn’t matter. Even were it a matter of a few feet down a public walkway, I think I’d rather let you pick up that spyglass from the end table and beat me about the head and shoulders with it.”

“Please think of your reputation, my dear.”

“Whatever Mr. Reeves chooses to call me,” Sera answered, “I am, in essence an employee. I’m no different than Mrs. Blaylock, the new housekeeper, or her daughter, Anne. If society chooses to speculate as to the possibility of untoward goings-on in his household, then it really should find a more productive use for its time. I refuse to exhaust myself and the girls because those in society are bored with their own lives.”

“Bravo, Seraphina!” Aiden cheered, clapping. “Bravo!”

Barrett lifted his port glass in salute. “Exceedingly well said.”

Yes, Carden had to agree, Seraphina Treadwell was truly magnificent. Honoria had finally met her match in the grand feminine contest of wills. And he’d seen it with his own eyes. He’d have to buy her a suitably wonderful present to thank her for the rare gift she’d just given him.

“In the belief that one should always retire while holding the high note,” Sera went on, “I do believe that I shall ask you all to excuse me. While it has been a most enjoyable evening, it’s come at the end of an arduous day.”

“Of course, Sera,” Carden said, aware of the fragile edge that had suddenly come to her voice. “My sincerest apologies for having contributed to the length of it. Sleep well and soundly.”

“Thank you,” she replied, her smile truly relieved as she set aside her full sherry glass. “I believe I shall.”

Honoria, as always never content to let someone else have the last word on anything, nodded and said, “Not to worry yourself concerning Mr. Gauthier, Seraphina. I shall take care of it all and make myself available to assist you in any manner necessary.”

Sera was gracious in her exhaustion and her victory. “Thank you, Lady Lansdown. It’s most kind of you. I’m sure I’ll need all the help anyone would care to give. Your nieces and I are here at your convenience.”

Her gaze touched his for a long moment in which he could have sworn he heard her offer her heartfelt thanks and then it was gone, touching the gazes of Barrett and John Aiden briefly as she softly said, “Gentlemen, good evening.”

There was nothing the least bit disrespectful in his friends’ regard as they watched her leave. If anything they looked like besotted fools. It occurred to him that—given their obvious approval—he should feel a certain sense of masculine pride for having such an incredible woman living under his roof. And yet that wasn’t what he was feeling at all. It was a gnawing sensation, deep in the center of his chest, and he found it decidedly irritating.

“Carden, if you would be so kind as to have Sawyer inform my driver that I am ready to go home.”

“Of course, Honoria,” he said, bowing briefly, grateful that she’d offered a distraction. “I’ll leave Aiden and Barrett to entertain you for the moment. Please don’t marry them off while I’m gone. They’re my only friends.”

Barrett and Aiden laughed—were still laughing as he walked out of the parlor. But he’d seen the look in Honoria’s eyes and knew they wouldn’t be laughing long. He grinned.
That
would take their minds off Seraphina Treadwell.

C
HAPTER
8

Seraphina glanced up through the roof of the greenhouse, smiling at the sun. Lord only knew how long it would last but she intended to enjoy every instant of it that she could. Life sometimes took unexpected turns that worked out in the most wonderfully convenient ways. She owed a morning of time to paint to the fact nothing around her had gone according to her well-made and carefully laid out plans.

Sawyer had brought breakfast to the schoolroom, informing her in the process that Carden had gone out to take care of some pressing professional concerns. He didn’t know when he’d be back and she gathered from Sawyer’s manner that they should all hope that it would be a good long while. His absence had been something of a fly in the soup of her plans, but Sera had been grateful to postpone the less than pleasant prospect of having to tell Carden Reeves that Honoria was on to his game.

Mrs. Blaylock and Anne had arrived shortly after that, tossed their few belongings into their quarters, and then set about earning their keep with a steely-eyed, polishing-cloth vengeance. It was patently obvious that nothing was going to stand in Mrs. Blaylock’s way of fully imposing a new household order by sundown. No room was ignored, no surface untouched. Deciding to take herself and the girls to the seclusion of the greenhouse had been more an act of self-preservation than mere courtesy.

She’d still been organizing their supplies for the retreat when the front bell had begun ringing. The first had been a messenger from Mr. Gauthier. He’d been informed of a desperate fashion need, was honored to be considered the only man in Christendom able to perform the rescue, and would be there as soon as was humanly possible. She was to be brave until then. She’d laughed outright, jumped in front of Mrs. Blaylock just long enough to tell the housekeeper of the courtier’s impending arrival, and then vaulted clear of the dervish she’d set off.

The second bell had been rung by Honoria’s footman who had handed Sawyer a quickly scribbled note of regret and dashed away. Sera smiled, remembering how she’d still been thanking the gods for the merciful reprieve when the bell had rung a third time and Sawyer had admitted a grinning Barrett Stanbridge.

The bell was ringing—and Sawyer was answering—yet again when Barrett had gallantly offered to carry their easels and paint boxes to the greenhouse for them. She’d graciously allowed him to do so, and as she carried her portfolio herself, they’d all set off for the rear of the house in a happy, laughing entourage that to her mind greatly resembled a group of picnickers. The thought had still been with her when she’d caught a glimpse of Monroe in the butler’s pantry and she’d paused to ask him if it might be possible to have lunch brought to them in a basket. He’d been agreeable and she’d left the ringing doorbell and the household chaos behind.

Helpful though Barrett genuinely tried to be, he’d proven himself to be largely worthless in getting the easels set to the best advantage of the sunlight and so she’d eventually sent him off to subtly oversee the girls as they explored the conservatory while she took care of the placements herself. Of course, she admitted, looking around herself now, there wasn’t a specimen in the whole of the greenhouse that was worthy of being painted.

It boggled her mind to think that Carden Reeves had allowed it all to come to the sad state it had, that he hadn’t considered the employment of a gardener to be as essential as that of a butler, a cook, and a footman. Or of a housekeeping staff, for that matter. His priorities were so typically male.

But then, she admitted in the spirit of fairness, she saw plants differently than most people did. They were her life, the center around which every other facet of her waking hours had always revolved.

Undistracted this time by Carden’s presence, Seraphina took the opportunity to carefully study the greenhouse. She appreciated the structure of it, noting the solid construction and the well-designed areas for specialized cultivation. With time and effort, it would be a magical place to spend the mornings. And in the coming winter, it would be a haven for the cold-numbed senses. Assuming, of course, that she and the girls were still here then. Carden Reeves had, after all, announced his intention to send them off to the country house as soon as the renovations were completed and it was habitable.

Of course that had been yesterday when he’d thought sending them away could actually keep Arthur’s fate—and his own—a secret. He might have been able to cling to the illusion into today had Honoria not descended on them for dinner last night. Now …

Sera chuckled and shook her head as she set about arranging the small grouping of well-cushioned rattan furniture that had been haphazardly left about beneath a nearby arrangement of huge but sickly looking potted palms. There was a nice little, low table that would be perfect for serving when Monroe brought their lunch basket. Around it, she placed the four armchairs and used their individual footrests as side tables for the beverages that would no doubt accompany their meal.

The chaise longue—a long and decadently comfortable-looking piece of wicker artistry—didn’t fit into the grouping with any sort of natural ease and so she dragged it slightly off to the side and took a few moments to create what she could of a miniature world for it to anchor. Surrounded by a wide variety of brightly glazed pots containing some straggling bits of determined green and with her easel angled just so, she decided that it was all surprisingly cozy despite the quickness of the effort and the lack of decent botanical accents. Nodding with satisfaction, she brought her supplies and portfolio into her little island and then prepared a collection of empty pots and interestingly dried plant materials for the girls to use as a subject.

Watercolors, she decided as she considered the various mediums they could explore that day. The thought gave her sudden pause. Water. Everything so desperately needed a long, healthy drink of water. There had been a lovely if slightly dented watering can under the bench she’d worked at a bit yesterday. There had been a stack of buckets, too, if she remembered correctly. Somewhere, likely tucked discreetly behind a bank of dead plants, there had to be a water pump. And just as there had to be a pump, there had to be a coal stove. If she could get Barrett to find it, light it, coax just a bit of heat out of it …

It certainly wasn’t how she’d planned to spend her day when she’d risen that morning, but she knew that nothing else would give her even half the satisfaction. And it had been a very, very long time since she’d felt such high excitement about any course of action. There was definitely something to be said for that.