The Lodestone (17 page)

Cleome kissed her mother and followed Drake out of the room, leaving Mary happily tending her charge. When they were back in the study, Cleome sat down at the desk, assuming he would be eager to get back to work. He was strangely silent, however. After a moment, she went to stand before him.

“Mr. Stoneham,” she said slowly. “Perhaps I have misjudged you.”

“Have you?”

“You didn’t know my father, of course; but I’m deeply grateful to you for pretending. I have never seen my mother so aware and until today, I had never heard the sound of her laughter. Please forgive me for thinking you . . . for thinking . . .”

“For thinking me a greedy, heartless brute?” he finished.

“Yes,” she answered truthfully. “That is what I was thinking. But I see now that I’ve been terribly unfair. I hope you can forgive me. At this moment, I feel as if you’ve handed me the world, and I thank you.” It was on the tip of her tongue to add, “If only I had something as precious to give in return,” but her better judgment prevented her.

She was surprised to see his face clouded with some dark, unreadable thought. He took her small hand and held it in his own large one for a moment; and then he squeezed it gently and let it go.

“No thanks are necessary,” he replied. “I would go the aid of anyone so distressed. Now, we must get back to our task. To complete it, we shall have to work straight through dinner. You will join me.”

“Oh, Mr. Stoneham, you must not spoil your meal with work. I wouldn’t mind in the least sitting up late to copy your letters, no matter how long it takes.”

“Well, I would.” He smiled down into her shining eyes. “I am not so energetic. I’d hoped to retire early, as I’ve promised Lord Foxworth I’ll join him for a ride tomorrow at first light. Besides,” he finished, gathering up the papers, quills and inkstand, “I’m not at all opposed to the sight of a fresh, interested face at my table. From now on, when I dine at home, I’ll expect the pleasure of your company.” She looked up at him, surprised, as a wave of apprehension settled over her. Such an order, to her limited experience, heralded the commencement of another kind of duty. He quickly relieved her fears, however. “I was about to write to my secretary to come up from London, as my work is falling behind.” He gazed down at her with an unreadable expression as he escorted her to what was now his private dining room. “How fortunate that I have so competent a helper at hand. I believe you’d make quite as efficient a secretary as any man. Besides, Collins is needed in London.” He opened the door for her and after placing the writing paraphernalia on the table, he held her chair for her. “I am soon opening to the public a gaming club, shortly before the New Year,” he said amiably. “It’s to be the biggest, most elaborate house in London—bigger than Crockford’s, and more exclusive. Have you ever heard of William Crockford?”

She shook her head, noting the pride in his voice when he spoke of his new business endeavor. As they ate, he told her about the man who had risen from the mire of poverty to become the gambling lord of London. She took comfort in his stories about some high-ranking noblemen who had fallen under the spell of the dice, for it made what her grandfather had done seem not quite so weak and selfish. London sounded a fascinating place and she found herself thinking the man sitting across from her a fascinating man.

The simple kindness he’d extended to her mother showed her a side of him she had not dreamed existed. He was charming and she felt as if she had fallen under a spell of enchantment, one from which she had no wish to extricate herself. As she surveyed him in this new light it was difficult to remember the surly disposition he directed at her in the presence of others. Not even Fanny’s look of surprise when she brought in the soup could draw Cleome’s attention away from Drake’s mouth which was curved upward in an inviting smile, making his rugged features quite handsome indeed, as he told her about his plans for Stoneham House.

Chapter Eight

At first, Cleome listened to the stories Drake told her mother with almost as much interest as Ramona; but when she found herself becoming entranced, almost believing them, she made herself busy in another part of the house. She dared to hope that her mother would recover sufficiently to challenge the master’s tall tales and demand to know what had become of Jimmy Parker. Cleome wondered if he had prepared a story for that purpose, too.

Jacqueline had to help Mary with household duties for more and more, Drake ordered Cleome to assist him with correspondence regarding his club in London. He had purchased a forty-room mansion in St. James Street, he explained one bright June morning as he showed her the architect’s sketches; and now that transforming the structure was nearly complete, decorating the interior would soon begin and the finer accouterments must be purchased and put into place. The club would be done entirely in the French mode, he told her, down to the smallest doorknob and bell pull.

Stoneham House was to have the finest cuisine in London and three French chefs were imported to that end. There was a virtual avalanche of correspondence from, and about, those exclusive gentlemen, as well as letters bonding the staff for Drake’s private residence, also in St. James Street, and the immense staff for the club. Besides waiters, ushers and porters to provide services for the ladies and gentlemen who came to lose their money, there would be two superintendents of play; a dozen operators to deal the cards or manage other games; three clerks; two collectors; a captain to defend the establishment against those who might physically attack the house; watchmen to open the club early in the evening and lock it up again when the last guest departed; and a runner to bring news of gambling cases currently in court. There were also a few decoys, who would play heavily with house money and win large sums, thus enticing more players into the games.

There were endless lists to make—a list of the duties Drake would require of Cleome before he left for London and a list of things he must see to personally upon his arrival there. There were lists of items to be ordered from abroad. He dictated to her a list of articles he wanted for his personal use and items which were to be placed in the small salons upstairs—exotic, intriguing things like scented bath oils and soaps, silk dressing gowns and satin bed coverlets
.
Although Cleome blushed fiercely when Drake named these items, she was much too fascinated with the project to protest.

She supposed it was a relief to him that not only was she a competent secretary, but he didn’t have to bother about tedious rules of etiquette in regard to certain delicate subjects. The vicar would disapprove of the many human weaknesses to which she was exposed by acting as Drake’s assistant, but she could see some advantage in having a questionable parentage. If she hadn’t been born on the wrong side of the blanket, she reasoned, she never would have been engaged to do such engrossing work. Her duties at the Eagle’s Head had been an excellent basis for the training she was receiving as Drake Stoneham’s secretary. As summer wore on to autumn, she realized that with the experience she had and the knowledge she was gaining, she would be able to find a respectable position in a large hotel in another town or perhaps a grand manor house in the countryside. By the time spring came round again, she thought, her mother could survive a move from the inn. In the meantime, they were safe in the only home they had ever known.

Drake always greeted Cleome at breakfast with a stack of letters he had to answer; and as they ate, he would hand them to her one by one with instructions as to their proper dispatch. Most of the time, he would leave it to her to compose the actual replies. “Tell this fellow we want his tablecloths,” he would say, or, “Order these goblets,” and even, “Look over these china patterns and tell me which you think the most elegant. We need place settings for two hundred. I swear, they all look alike to me.”

In the afternoons, he allowed Cleome an hour to sit with her mother, and then she accompanied him on short walks near the stream, or on rides through the forest. In the leather writing portfolio she’d placed in his room, Drake fitted a small cologne bottle to act as an inkwell, thereby converting it to a portable secretary; and although he told her to have it at the ready should he remember something else to add to the myriad lists, she hardly ever had to use it during their outings. She was uncomfortable with him at first, but since he never once referred to the intimate conversation that had taken place some weeks before in his bedroom, she soon grew to love these afternoons in the fresh air with Epitome and the new proprietor of the Eagle’s Head. She was genuinely interested in Drake’s various enterprises and she longed to see for herself the finished product when Stoneham House was finally opened to the public.

A new respect for the man who had taken away her home was blossoming too, no matter how she fought against it. She tried to remain loyal to her grandfather’s memory but it was difficult to hate someone who showed such concern for the one person she had left in the world. It wasn’t long before Drake noticed that her mother’s room was always dark. Cleome explained that despite her efforts to allow some sunshine to penetrate the gloom, Ramona preferred the darkness. He nodded.

“Soldiers, in shock from the horrors of battle, often take comfort in the darkness,” he told her solemnly.

He never mentioned the darkness to Ramona, but each morning when he went to appraise her meal tray, he pulled the curtain back an inch or so. As summer waned, he had the drapes completely open. The invalid did not protest; in fact, it had come about so gradually that she didn’t seem to notice. But the effect it had on her disposition was astounding. Her eyes had a new light in them, and her complexion was touched here and there with the faint promise of gradually returning good health.

The effect this event had on Mary and Cleome, and the entire staff, was even more uplifting for it followed several days of miserably inclement weather. If it wasn’t raining, it was cloudy and threatening, with a chill in the air. When Cleome went to awaken her mother one morning and found the sun spilling across her face and pillow, and when Drake entered the room a few minutes later and securely tied the curtains back for once and all, it seemed to Cleome that the whole world was singing.

She watched with an inexplicable emotion as Drake took something from his pocket and presented it to Ramona. She could see as he bent to tie it around her mother’s neck that it was a heart-shaped bit of rock, strung on a length of black silk ribbon.

“This is from your husband,” he told the invalid. “’Tis a lodestone that he used as a compass, and I often heard him declare that with it, he’d always be able to find his way back to you. Now you must keep it for him, as a reminder that you must do all you can to grow strong and healthy.”

Ramona touched fragile fingers to the trinket, then held it to her lips and kissed it. She looked up at Drake with a bright smile, her eyes full of a gratitude she could not speak. A few minutes later, Cleome skipped downstairs at Drake’s side; and when he suggested putting off the morning’s work in favor of a short ride, she readily agreed. It seemed ages since she’d felt so lighthearted. For the first time in weeks, she thought of Garnett Easton and how abruptly their new friendship had been interrupted by Drake’s increasing demands on her time. Garnett had stopped by the inn almost every day, as was his habit, but Cleome scarcely had time for more than a nod, so intent was she on performing the tasks Mr. Stoneham assigned her.

She stood holding Epitome’s bridle, waiting for Young Sam to secure her saddle; and as the colt nuzzled her neck, his damp nostrils quivering joyfully in her ear, it struck her suddenly that Drake’s pleasant change in attitude toward her had occurred the day he discovered Garnett talking to her in the parlor. A warm feeling rose from the pit of her stomach and spread hotly throughout her being, and she was glad the groom was engrossed in his work and could not see her color.

The sardonic, arrogant gambler certainly was not jealous,
she thought. To a man of his experience, she must appear terribly unsophisticated; but after all, he
had
begun to treat her with a new respect. That, she had attributed to the way she helped him with his plans for the club. And there was Fanny to consider. Cleome didn’t doubt for a moment the serving maid’s shocking admission of intimacy. Of course, Drake hadn’t exhibited any outward sign of affection for Fanny, but then a gentleman never would.

Cleome’s grandfather had been quite open about his high regard for Jacqueline, and she supposed she had expected the same thing from Drake regarding
his
country paramour. Anger flashed through her anew as she remembered how he’d described her relationship with Garnett. Then she looked up to see Drake entering the stable, his powerful form outlined by the bright morning sun and her anger dwindled rapidly, leaving in its place an odd shortness of breath. Would she never understand her feelings for this man, she wondered as she took the reins from Young Sam and led Epitome towards the door.

“I hope I’ve not kept you waiting, sir,” she managed.

“Not at all,” he replied. “It appears we’re to have a brief reprieve from the approach of winter.” He helped her onto Epitome’s back and then mounted his own horse. “Lady Easton should be delighted. It’s perfect weather for her ball this evening. You did tell Mary to press my evening suit and Young Sam to have the coach ready?”