Secrets and Sensibilities: A Regency Romance Mystery (The Lady Emily Capers Book 1) (3 page)

Her ladyship rolled her eyes, and David knew she did not
believe the story that Asheram had recently retired as a confidante to British
aristocracy. As far as David knew, the story was perfectly true. Asheram’s
English was far superior to David’s, and the man’s wide-spaced dark eyes were
too knowing for a British butler. He carried himself more like a warrior than a
servant. He certainly dressed well, and he even knew how to tie a cravat. Yet
her ladyship persisted in treating him as if he were an escaped slave David had
rescued from an American plantation.

“There you have it, your ladyship,” David concluded.
“Asheram and I will be staying here for some time. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your
trip to London.” He started to turn away from her, but she called out to keep
his attention.

“Oh, but my lord, I regret that I must leave you alone.” She
sighed as if to prove it. “But my niece Priscilla Tate is being presented this
year. I promised her mother that I would be her guide. My connections are so
much better than her parents’. And they know I dote on the girl. I will have to
go up for the Season, shortly after Easter. However, I would not feel right if
I did not provide you with some company before then. Anticipating your desires,
I have invited a few people over for the week until Easter.”

David knew he should be annoyed with her cavalier attitude
toward what was now his home, but having guests could only keep her ladyship
occupied and away from him. David spread his hands. “Not at all. I’m sure
you’ll have a fine time.”

“If I may ask,” Asheram put in, “how many guests is her ladyship
considering and when will they arrive?”

She scowled at him. Of anyone on the estate, she had not
been able to understand his friend’s role in the household. David respected
Asheram’s knowledge of how the aristocracy managed and had been more than willing
to let the man review the papers on Brentfield. His friend had already
identified a number of discrepancies between what was supposed to be inherited
and what was actually in evidence. He had also uncovered information that
indicated that the previous earl and his son might not have died accidentally,
as David had been told. To David’s mind, Asheram had every right to ask after
guests, as he would probably be making the arrangements. Her ladyship
apparently realized this as well, for she sighed again.

“I invited my niece. I wanted to spend some time with her
before we start the Season. And she requested to bring some of the girls from
her school, three, I believe. Their fathers are all influential.”

David could not find it in himself to be as impressed as she
would have no doubt liked. She obviously decided it was not worth the effort to
pursue that train of thought. “The school will of course send one of its staff
as a chaperone to assist me,” she continued. “You need not worry about her.
They should arrive by the end of the week.”

David eyed her thoughtfully. “Is that all? Somehow I thought
you’d want something bigger.”

She plucked at the silk skirt of her mourning gown. “It is
too early for that, I fear. No, Priscilla’s company will be sufficient. A young
lady on the verge of stepping out into Society is so lovely and untried, with a
fresh outlook on life. Do you not think so, my lord?” She watched him closely,
and David wondered what she was hinting at this time. She was certainly not a
young maiden in first bloom, and he had no intention of trying to convince her
she was.

“I only hope,” he replied, “that your niece won’t be
disappointed by this quiet country life.”

“Priscilla adores the country,” she cheerfully replied, and
he wondered whether that could be true if she was so close to her London-loving
aunt. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy her company as much as I do. She plays the piano
with the skill of an artist, and her singing would stop the birds in envy.”
Again she watched him, but this time he refused to acknowledge the bait. He
found it difficult to believe she had stopped throwing herself at him only to
throw her niece instead. He purposefully returned his gaze to the landscape.

“You will honor us with your attendance at our events, won’t
you, my lord?” she asked with the perfect note of humble anticipation.

“If I must,” he had told the view, knowing he sounded rude.
“Although I don’t think your niece and her friends will have much interest in
me.”

“On the contrary, my lord,” she had replied and he had heard
the smile in her voice. “I’m sure each of the girls will be delighted to make
your acquaintance.”

Now, he wasn’t so sure. They were certainly all staring at
him. Reluctantly releasing Miss Alexander, he bowed again.

“Ladies, welcome to Brentfield. I saw that the blossoms were
opening on the estate today, but I see the loveliest blooms were here waiting
for me.”

Two of the girls, a blonde and a brunette who stood
side-by-side, simpered and giggled. The dark-haired one opposite them managed a
disdainful half smile. The blonde siren batted her lashes at him. Her ladyship
glowered, but oddly enough her gaze seemed to be fixed on Miss Alexander, not
on him for a change. Miss Alexander looked as if she were going to be ill.

“Allow me to introduce you,” her ladyship said, stepping to
his side unbidden. She inserted herself so forcibly that Miss Alexander had no
choice but to step back out of the way. David wondered if her ladyship would
ever learn that he did not particularly need her help.

“Girls, this is David, soon to be confirmed as the Earl of
Brentfield. My lord, this is Lady Emily Southwell, youngest daughter of His
Grace the Duke of Emerson.” The dark-haired girl curtseyed. He bowed.

“I hope this is a pleasant visit,” she muttered, tone
implying she sincerely doubted it.

“And these are Miss Courdebas and Miss Ariadne Courdebas,
daughters of Viscount Rollings.”

The two who stood together bobbed, and he bowed again. “Very
pleased to make your acquaintance, my lord,” the taller of the two gushed. “And
may I say you don’t look American at all.”

“I left my bear skins and bone rattle upstairs,” he replied
with a wink. She looked interested, but her sister paled, grabbing her back out
of reach as if he were carrying some disease. Asheram scowled at him.

“And of course, my dear niece, Priscilla.” The siren glided
forward, dipping into a flawless curtsey. “My lord,” she said huskily, “we’re
so glad you came to Brentfield.”

The tone was warm but the words implied that it was he who
was the visitor. He bowed. “Miss Tate. Your aunt has told me a great deal about
you.”

The lanky brunette snickered.

Her ladyship did not spare her a glance. “My dears, there
are lovely rooms awaiting you in the west wing near my chambers. I thought
perhaps you’d like to tidy up before dinner. We keep country hours here at
Brentfield. Dinner will be at six. Haversham?”

Asheram visibly sighed as she turned his Ethiopian name into
English once again. David had to admit that the woman was focused on what she
wanted, often to the exclusion of all else and anyone else. He coughed, and she
deigned to glance at him.

“I believe you’ve forgotten Miss Alexander,” he put in.

Miss Alexander curled in on herself as if she wished he’d
forgotten her too. Asheram motioned the maids and footman to escort the girls,
who flounced out of the rotunda with animated giggles. Miss Alexander curtsied
and started after them, but her ladyship’s voice stopped her.

“Just a minute. Who are you, exactly?”

Miss Alexander curtsied again, eyes respectfully lowered.
“Miss Alexander, from the Barnsley School.”

“The school chaperone?” her ladyship frowned. David could
only wonder at her animosity. Had he done the poor thing a disservice by
keeping her from the girls?

“I’m the art teacher,” she gently corrected. “Miss Martingale
requested that I accompany the girls as you requested.”

Her ladyship coolly appraised the woman. “You are not what I
had expected.”

David looked again at the woman who had captured his
attention, standing stiffly now as if she expected to be taken off and hung for
some crime. His mind flashed to the shiny, overdone beauty of her ladyship and
her niece. He felt himself smiling. No, Miss Alexander was clearly not what her
ladyship had expected. Miss Alexander was entirely too pretty. And he had compounded
the problem by paying attention to her.

“I’m sorry if my conduct is not up to your ladyship’s
standards,” she replied with far more composure than David thought she was
feeling. “I shall try to be a good chaperone while we are here.”

“I don’t see that you need to be a chaperone at all,” her
ladyship replied. “I find my niece’s company more refreshing than I had
thought. I’m sure I will want to spend every minute in her company, so I will
not need help after all. And I doubt very much that they will have time for art
lessons during their visit.” She turned to Ash. “Have the carriage brought
around to return Miss Alexander to the school, immediately. I’m sure we should
not impose upon her time.”

Miss Alexander didn’t seem to know whether to be pleased or
dismayed by this turn of events. Head turning in her bonnet, she glanced first
to her ladyship and then to David. By far the shortest in the room, David
thought she must have felt surrounded. It seemed only natural to come to her
rescue.

“I bet we aren’t much of an imposition,” he put in. “Miss
Alexander seems the type to be devoted to her work. If we find her a nice sunny
corner to paint in, she ought to be happy here at Brentfield, and then she can
be ready to escort the girls back to the school when they are done visiting.”

Her ladyship’s eyes narrowed, and he hoped he hadn’t sounded
as eager as he felt to have the lovely art teacher stay.

Asheram had obviously heard his tone for he stepped forward
to offer a solution. “Didn’t you express a desire to be painted, Lady
Brentfield? Perhaps Miss Alexander could be persuaded to try.”

Miss Alexander’s eyes widened, even as her ladyship
sputtered. “Certainly not! I was referring to a real portrait painter, not an
amateur!”

David made ready to jump into the fray again, but to his
surprise, Miss Alexander spoke up. “Lady Brentfield might be interested in
knowing that I’ve painted Lady Prestwick.”

So, she wouldn’t defend herself, but she would defend her
work. It was much like his own philosophy.

“Lady Prestwick,” her ladyship sneered, “was once a
governess.”

“Perhaps that’s why she was so kind and patient,” Hannah
replied. “His Grace the Duke of Emerson has agreed to sit for me when he
returns from Vienna, and I delayed painting Squire Pentercast and his family to
make this trip.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to disappoint the
Pentercasts,” her ladyship proclaimed triumphantly. “Please, Miss Alexander,
feel free to return to your work.”

Miss Alexander squared her shoulders, and David could feel
her relief at being dismissed. She had work to do, he could understand that,
work that was most likely far more important than playing nursemaid to a set of
untried young ladies. But he and Asheram had been trying in vain to understand
what was happening to the Brentfield art treasures, and this woman might hold
the key.

“I think she should stay,” he proclaimed.

She jumped.

The countess frowned at him. “Why?”

They were all staring at him as if he’d lost his wits. Even
Asheram wore a frown, as if trying to understand David’s thoughts.

“I want to be painted,” he told them for want of anything
better to say.

Miss Alexander blinked.

Her ladyship’s frown deepened. “You cannot be serious. And
if you are, we will have Lawrence or Fuseli visit this summer.” Her very tone
dismissed the subject. David had no idea who she had cited, but he imagined
they must be famous painters in England. He had no intention of sitting for
hours in front of another stiff-necked Brit.

“Why wait?” he countered. “I’m in the mood now. What do you
say, Miss Alexander?”

She opened her mouth, and her ladyship started speaking
before the poor thing could say a word.

“No, now that I think on it, my lord, you are quite right.
We must keep her. I will need her. La, what was I thinking that I will have
time to be with four vivacious girls when I must help you with the estate?
Please forgive me, Miss Alexander. It has been a long time since I entertained.
Not since my dear Charles died.” A handkerchief appeared in her ladyship’s
hand, and she daubed at her eyes while sniffing. David wondered whether she had
ever considered going on the stage.

“Perhaps we should let Miss Alexander make the decision,”
Asheram said. Her ladyship’s hand froze in mid-daub. David found himself
holding his breath.

She glanced about at them all, then held David’s gaze. “Lord
Brentfield,” she said in her quiet voice, “I’m sure her ladyship can find you a
suitable painter. I would like to return to the school as soon as possible;
however, I promised Miss Martingale, the head mistress, that I would ensure her
students are well cared for and well educated. If Lady Brentfield needs me, I
will remain.”

It was the second time she had looked directly into his
eyes, and he found himself captivated. “You don’t have to convince me, Miss Alexander.
I never wanted you to leave in the first place.”

His honesty set her ladyship to sputtering and Miss
Alexander to blushing.

“With that settled,” Asheram said, “I believe we have a room
ready for Miss Alexander. If you’ll follow me.”

“I hope,” her ladyship managed with acid tones, “that you
will not dawdle in the servant’s quarters. I’ll need you shortly with the
girls.”

She had obviously meant it as a parting shot calculated to
remind the woman of her place, but David’s temper flared. He had never liked
bullies, especially those who kicked someone when they were down.