Once Upon a Tower (21 page)

“ ‘His Grace’s borders’?” Layla repeated, throwing herself down on the seat again. “Have you noticed that they act as if your husband is a monarch?”

“Because he
is
a monarch to them, Layla. They practically kiss his toes every time he leaves a room.”

“I wouldn’t mind if people kissed my toes. You know, I might be a wee bit irritable in the next day or so,” Layla said, drumming her fingers against her seat. “Cheroots give me a sense of calm that seems to have gone missing at the moment.”

“You can howl all you wish, as long as you give them up,” Edie told her.

Layla sighed. “Right. Well, darling, what we’re going to do is set the scene for an evening of romantic bliss. Champagne, flowers, poetry.”

“Poetry?”

“I’ll instruct your husband myself. You know I’ve seen every romantic play performed in the West End in the last three years. I’m an expert.”

“You
cannot
tell Gowan what we’ve discussed!” Edie ordered.

“I would never do that,” Layla said, looking injured. “Trust me. I’m as wily as a fox.”

At that moment the carriage rocked around a turn. Edie looked out the window and gasped.

Before them lay a fairy-tale castle. It was pale yellow stone, the exact color of October beer, its battlements sharp-edged against a sky so pale that it looked like skim milk.

“God, I hope your husband had bathrooms put in,” Layla said, sliding across the seat so that she could look out her window. “Castles have garderobes; did you know that? I gather they’re nothing more than holes that empty straight into the moat.”

“No moat,” Edie said. “I’m looking at the flag.”

“Good Lord,” Layla said, in a shocked voice. “Just look at the size of that dragon’s sword. Either it’s a mighty boastful flag or you really do have something to complain about.”

Edie squinted at the sword the dragon held. “It’s a trifle out of proportion.”

“No wonder the man is so autocratic. Every time he comes home he likely forgets he’s a mere mortal. Do you suppose trumpets will sound when you step from the carriage?”

“I hope not.”

“That’s what happens in threepenny plays when the princess marries a swineherd who turns out to be a king,” Layla said. “Trumpets, and lots of them. Who would have known you’d marry someone like this? I can’t wait to see you drinking pearls dissolved in wine and generally carrying on like Cleopatra. Given the size of that castle, Gowan should be giving you a diamond for every squeak of pain you suffer.”

“Layla!”

Twenty-seven

E
die climbed down from the carriage, clutching the doll she’d bought for Susannah, to find Gowan and company waiting in front of the castle.

“I feel as if we’ve traveled through time to a medieval fiefdom,” Layla said, stepping onto the ground next to her. “Weren’t those the days when a returning duke was met by servants running in from the fields and the like?”

Edie was watching people stream out from the portcullis. “I suppose.”

Gowan moved to her other side, his expression as grave as ever. He had helped Edie from the carriage, but he hadn’t said much. Now he stood silently with his hands clasped behind his back. She had the feeling he was angry at her, but she wasn’t sure why. When he asked about her monthly courses, she’d told him the truth. If he had asked, she would have allowed him into her bed.

But he hadn’t asked.

At that moment, all the assembled servants bobbed up and down at the same time. Gowan lifted his hand.

They were so silent that Edie could hear a bird singing over the wall.

“I present to you the Duchess of Kinross,” Gowan said. His voice was quiet, but utterly commanding. “She is your mistress. Respect her as you respect me, obey her as you obey me, and love her as I bid you.”

They all bobbed more curtsies and bows.

“Thank you,” Edie called, looking from person to person with a hopeless sense that she would never come to know all the people who lived in her own house. What’s more, if she couldn’t talk Gowan out of his habit of allowing his retainers carte blanche in his bedchamber, in the breakfast room, and in the dining room, she’d have all these strangers wheeling through her life on a daily basis.

Bardolph stepped forward. “On behalf of your clansmen, Your Grace, we welcome you to Castle Craigievar.”

“Ah,” Edie said, fascinated to see Bardolph’s lumpy knees poking out from beneath a kilt. “I am grateful for your kindness.”

“I shall now introduce you to those who work here. The housekeeper, Mrs. Grisle.” Mrs. Grisle was a very tall woman, with teeth so large they seemed to rattle in her mouth when she spoke. She didn’t look like the sort of person who needed constant supervision, but Edie reserved judgment.

“You have already met Mr. Rillings, Mr. Bindle, and the chef, Monsieur Morney,” Bardolph continued.

“Good afternoon,” Edie said.

“The kitchen workers,” Bardolph announced. A group of some twenty stepped forward.

There was a short lull as the housekeeper marshaled a group of maids in preparation for presenting them en masse. Edie glanced at Gowan and had to restrain herself from shivering. There was an odd distance between them, but at the same time . . .

No woman could look at Gowan and not think about kissing him. He had such animal magnetism that his very walk promised a woman that he could pleasure her for hours.

“Edie, where’s your new daughter?” Layla asked. “Your father is not going to be happy if she turns out to have been a figment of the duke’s imagination. And neither will I, though I suppose I could eat the gingerbread I bought her myself.”

“Where is Susannah?” Edie asked, turning to Gowan.

Gowan lifted a finger. Bardolph snapped to attention.

“My sister.”

There was a bustle of activity toward the rear of the crowd, and another group was ushered forward. “Miss Pettigrew, the nanny,” Bardolph announced. “Alice, Joan, and Maisie, the nursery maids. Miss Susannah.”

Miss Pettigrew was quite large and swathed from neck to slippers in immaculate starched linen. She was flanked by three nursery maids, similarly attired. And to the side, arms folded over her narrow chest, was a child, dressed entirely in black, who looked like a very small crow next to four looming white storks.

Bardolph beckoned. “Miss Susannah, you may greet the duke and duchess.” There was a hint of asperity in his voice.

Lady Susannah bobbed in a knee flex that only remotely resembled a curtsy. She favored Gowan with a scowl that he seemed to find unsurprising.

“Susannah, this is my new wife, the Duchess of Kinross,” he said.

The child shifted her scowl to Edie. Her red hair stood out around her head like a flame in contrast to her attire. It suddenly came to Edie that although Susannah wore black from her slippers to her hair ribbon, Gowan was not wearing mourning for his mother. Indeed, she had never seen him in black.

“How do you do,” Edie offered.

Gowan folded his arms over his chest. “Curtsy to the new duchess, if you please.”

Susannah bobbed her knees again.

“She looks just like you!” Edie exclaimed.

“No, I don’t!” Susannah retorted, speaking for the first time. It was astonishing how such a very small person could look down her nose. A family trait, one had to suppose.

Edie threw a slightly panicked look at Layla, who whispered, “Stoop down so she doesn’t have to look up at you.”

Edie crouched down, balancing on her toes, and held out the doll she’d brought all the way from London. “I brought you a present.”

For a moment they both looked at the doll. She was very stylish lady, with painted yellow hair and a frock trimmed with real lace. Susannah did not reach out for the doll. Instead she looked away, to Gowan. “Is she my sister?” she demanded, pointing to Edie.

“She’s your new
mother
,” Gowan stated. “And ladies never point.”

Susannah’s chin firmed. “I wanted a sister. I told you. I said I wanted a sister. I don’t need a mother.” Her voice rose higher with each declaration. “I told you to bring me a sister smaller than I am.”

“And I informed you that I could not bring you a sister.” Gowan was clearly in danger of losing his usual imperturbability.

“I don’t need a mother because I’ve already had one of those,” the girl said, turning back to Edie, who was frozen in place. She came a step closer, so close that Edie could see a faint pattern of freckles on her nose.

“I’m sorry,” Edie said awkwardly. “I certainly don’t wish to replace your mother.”

Susannah’s eyes darkened. “No one can replace my mother because she’s
dead
. She’s gone. I don’t like you very much. And that doll is ugly.” She reached out and gave it a push.

Edie was still balanced precariously on her toes, and Susanna’s shove sent her tumbling backward, landing on her bottom in the gravel. Edie was so startled that she didn’t move, even though her legs were inelegantly splayed before her.

A murmur arose from the surrounding servants. They likely hadn’t witnessed such an interesting family drama since the death of the former duke. Not to mention a lady’s ankles, albeit ankles clad in lacy white stockings.

“Blast,” Layla muttered.

“Susannah!” Gowan bellowed. He bent down and helped Edie to her feet.

At the same moment, Miss Pettigrew stepped forward and grabbed the little girl by the elbow with one hand, giving her a hard whack on the bottom with the other. “You will apologize this moment,” she hissed. The nanny had red patches in her cheeks, and she was so furious that her eyes looked like black currants.

“It was just an accident,” Edie put in, not liking the way that Susannah’s body had jolted forward when she was spanked.

“No, it wasn’t!” Susannah retorted, her voice as strong as ever. “I don’t need a mother, and I told him. I don’t like you. So you can just go back where you came from. And take that ugly doll with you.” She tried to pull free of her nanny but couldn’t manage it.

Gowan stepped forward, his eyes kindling.

Edie quickly stooped down before the small girl. “I expect you are very sorry for hurting my feelings, aren’t you?”

“No.”

But something about Edie’s gaze must have sunk in. “I’m sorry,” Susannah said sullenly.

“If you don’t wish for this doll, I’m sure that someone here has a little girl at home who would love her.” Edie held out the doll again.

Susannah’s eyes went from the doll’s golden head to Edie’s. “I don’t want it,” she said, her tone hard. “You can throw it away.”

Edie straightened and handed the doll, rather blindly, to Bardolph. She felt as if she’d been kicked in the stomach.

“Edie, would you introduce me to Miss Susannah, please?” Layla asked gently.

“Susannah, this is my very dear stepmother, Lady Gilchrist.” Edie put a steel undertone in her voice. “Please make your curtsy.”

Susannah bobbed a curtsy.

Layla knelt down with no regard for her skirts. “Hello, Susannah.”

Edie was battling a sharp sense of utter failure. She looked down, trying to see Layla’s tip-tilted, smiling eyes and sweet mouth through a little girl’s eyes. Sure enough, Susannah’s shoulders softened a bit. “Hello.”

“I’ve brought you a present as well, though it’s not as nice as that beautiful doll.”

A cautious light shone in Susannah’s eye. “Really?”

Layla nodded. “It’s something I loved when I was your age.”

Susannah stepped closer, enough so that Layla could take her hand. “What is it?”

“A gingerbread princess. Have you ever eaten gingerbread?”

“No. Where is it?”

“She’s in the carriage,” Layla said, standing up. “Shall we find her?”

Miss Pettigrew moved forward. “I regret to say that it is time for Miss Susannah’s French lesson. Because she was extremely misbehaved this morning—which I am sorry to tell you is not uncharacteristic of her—she will have a double lesson, followed by an hour practicing deportment, after which she will lie on a board for an hour. Her posture is deplorable.”

Susannah slanted her nanny a look that was far too worldly for her age.

“Susannah!” Gowan thundered.

That scowl must also be a family trait, like the ability to look down one’s nose. And yet Edie thought she could see a heartbreaking vulnerability behind Susannah’s frown.

Layla said, very quietly, “Edie.”

Edie knew exactly what Layla wished to convey with that one word: to wit, that Miss Pettigrew wasn’t a suitable person for the nursery. If Edie didn’t dismiss her, Layla probably would, despite having no authority. Edie squared her shoulders. She had to take responsibility; this was her household now.

“You must be polite to your nanny,” Gowan was saying. “And to the duchess.”

Susannah bobbed up and down in her version of a curtsy, looking like a cork thrown into the water. “I apologize, Miss Pettigrew.” At the age of five, she had mastered a perfectly expressionless tone.

Miss Pettigrew lowered her chin in a gesture that bore no resemblance to a nod, and turned back to Edie. “As you can see, Your Grace, the child has been sorely spoiled. She has no languages, no music, and no understanding of polite comportment of any kind whatsoever.”

Edie didn’t think that Susannah looked spoiled. She looked like a person who had learned very young that it was better to be scornful than to cry. Frankly, Edie agreed with her.

“I myself speak no French,” she told Miss Pettigrew.

The nanny’s thin lips tightened. “As the daughter of a duchess, Miss Susannah ought to be fluent in at least three languages. Given her questionable paternity, her behavior must be exemplary. As you can see, much work remains to be done.”

After that speech, Edie needed no further prompting from Layla. She looked the woman squarely in the eye and said, “Miss Pettigrew, I thank you for your service to the family, but I am terminating your employment, effective immediately. Bardolph, make all due arrangements. Miss Pettigrew shall have a generous severance and transportation to wherever she wishes.”

Shockingly, the nanny opened her mouth as if she might argue, so Edie fixed her with a look. “As I said,” she repeated, “a generous severance. But there will be no letter of recommendation.”

Bardolph seemed rather stunned, but snapped to attention and drew Miss Pettigrew to the side.

Susannah’s eyes widened, though she didn’t move or say a word.

“Now then, shall we find that gingerbread?” Layla dropped her reticule on the ground, bent down, and scooped up the little girl. Susannah’s legs looked birdlike against Layla’s curves.

There was one long moment when Layla and Susannah stared at each other, and then the little girl smiled. Some of her teeth appeared to be missing, which was oddly adorable. Layla turned to Edie and said, “Susannah and I will find the gingerbread in the carriage and return shortly.” She walked away, holding Susannah as if she were very precious.

Edie took a deep breath and picked up Layla’s reticule.

“I see why you were concerned,” Gowan said, his voice offering no judgment. “Clearly, you are not accustomed to children, but Lady Gilchrist is. Perhaps she will offer a solution to the question of Susannah.”

Edie stared at him. Had he just offered to give away his sister?

“Are Lord and Lady Gilchrist permanently estranged?” he asked.

“I certainly hope not.”

“Perhaps we can persuade Lady Gilchrist to live here in the interim.” That was Gowan. When a solution to a problem presented itself, he moved swiftly to carry it out.

Edie gave herself a mental shake and turned to the nursemaids. “Do we truly need all three of you for one child?”

“The best nurseries have at least three nursemaids and a nanny, if not a governess as well,” Bardolph put in.

Edie looked at him, and he fell back a step. “Which of you does Susannah like best?” she asked the maids.

After some hesitance, a chubby-cheeked girl with a sweet mouth stepped forward and said, anxiously, “My name is Alice. But I don’t speak a word of French, Your Grace. Nor any other language except the King’s English.”

“You shall be the head nursery maid for the time being,” Edie said. “Susannah is still in blacks, so languages can wait. The more important thing is to find a music instructor. The younger she is when she begins, the more proficient she will become.” It was the one thing she felt confident about. She herself had picked up a cello around Susannah’s age.

Gowan seemed faintly amused. “Find a musician who can tutor the child,” he said to Bardolph.

The nursemaids curtsied and departed. Bardolph ushered forward a group of women who wore dark crimson gowns and snowy white aprons. “The downstairs maids.”