The Virtuous Ward (Sweet Deception Regency #5) (4 page)

Before she could speak, the butler clicked his heels and inclined his upper body in greeting. "Welcome to Edgeworth, Miss Fraser."

"Thank you, Cartwright. I'm very pleased to be here," Amity said, extending her hand to the startled butler who shook it as though handling stolen goods.

"This is the housekeeper, Mrs. Trilby." Cartwright indicated a plump, matron whose work-roughened hands gripped her ring of keys.

"I'm very glad to meet you, Mrs. Trilby." Amity smiled at the woman who responded with a tentative smile of her own.

"If you'd be kind enough to follow me, Miss Fraser," the housekeeper said.

Amity hesitated, knowing that the household's first impression of her was very important. As always, she responded to instinct and placed a detaining hand on the older woman's arm. "If it's all right, Mrs. Trilby, I'd like to meet the others first so that I can begin sorting out names."

The housekeeper's mouth opened but no words came forth and in desperation the woman turned for instruction. Cartwright, more used to the idiosyncrasies of the gentry, coughed. The line of servants snapped to attention. Punctiliously the starchy butler introduced each of the members of the downstairs brigade, while Amity smiled and shook hands, wondering all the while how she would ever remember all of their names. They had just reached Jem, the pot scrubber, when the boy's shoulders began to shake with barely controlled laughter.

Amity had been aware of Muffin's cringing presence as she walked down the line. However she had tried to ignore him in order to maintain her dignity. Now at the touch of a cold nose on her leg she realized the dog had gone to extreme measures to gain reassurance. Turning, she looked down at the shaggy beast whose head was hidden beneath her skirts. She could feel the hot color washing across her face and she grasped Muffin's fur and tugged as her booted foot nudged his nose. Great soulful brown eyes peered up at her and she dropped to her knees to hug the dog.

"I'm afraid Muffin is as nervous as I am, coming to our new home," Amity apologized to the ring of interested faces.

There was a murmur of low-voiced encouragement before Cartwright extended his hand to help Amity to her feet. She murmured her gratitude as she and Muffin, followed Mrs. Trilby to the stone steps that swept up one side of the main hall. In her exhausted state she could not begin to focus on the myriad portraits that lined the stairs and the hallways they traversed. When the housekeeper stopped in front of a carved oak doorway, Amity sighed with relief.

"Lord Kampford said you were to have this room, miss."

As the door swung open, Amity emitted another sigh, this time of deep contentment and tiptoed across the exquisite oriental carpet. The room was square except for one corner where a rounded wall of windows jutted out from the building. On the one side she could look out at the rambling rooftops that towered above her and, on the other side, the gardens were spread out for her view. The four poster was hung with a billow of white material stitched with tiny violets. The windows were swathed in the same fabric and the walls were covered with a pale lilac silk. Whirling she turned to the housekeeper.

"I've never seen such a beautiful room, Mrs. Trilby. I know I shall be very happy here."

The housekeeper's face softened at the glowing look of the young girl. She was like a breath of spring, blowing through the old hall. It reminded her of how it used to be when Lord Max's mother was alive. For ten years there had been no laughter within the cold stonewalls of Edgeworth. A shadow crossed the older woman's face and she cleared her throat before she was able to speak.

"Will your abigail be following you, miss?" Mrs. Trilby asked.

"No, she, uh." Amity hesitated, unwilling to lie. "I didn't have an abigail to bring. You see, I've never had one."

"Never, miss?" The housekeeper looked astounded at this information but quickly recovered and ventured a suggestion. "Never mind, Miss Fraser. I'll take care of everything. While you're here, Emily's the girl for you. Good-hearted as a nanny for all that she's twenty. Has a brain in her head and a magical way with hair."

"She sounds wonderful," Amity said in relief.

"Of course, I'll have to ask his lordship's permission," the housekeeper reminded the young girl, "but I'm sure he'll agree to the arrangement. For now, miss, why don't you take a little lie-down and I'll send Emily up in time to get you ready for dinner."

"Thank you, Mrs. Trilby. For all your kindness," she said to the startled woman who blushed, bobbed a curtsy and exited with a surprised look in her eye.

As she closed the door after the housekeeper, Amity looked around the room for Muffin. The lumbering beast had taken possession of the chaise longue along one wall. The brown fur looked ludicrous against the lilac and silver satin, but Muffin appeared contented with his long pointed muzzle resting atop a fringed throw pillow. Amity kicked off her half boots on her way to the bed and sank onto the counterpane, unable to exert the energy necessary to undress. Snuggling into the pillows, she closed her eyes, delighted that the bed did not buck and heave like the motion of the carriage.

Sleep evaded her as her mind began to wonder what the evening ahead would bring. She had been surprised that Lord Max had not met her himself. As her guardian, Amity thought he might have extended the courtesy. But then she knew so little of the ways of the upper classes despite the fact she had been born into their ranks. In fact she knew almost nothing about her guardian. From things her governesses had said, Amity had learned that Lord Maxwell Kampford, was heir to a vast fortune. He owned a house in London and several large estates but Edgeworth was his preferred residence. From things left unsaid, she gathered that he was considered a prime catch on the marriage market but preferred his relationships among the muslin trade. For the rest she would have to wait and see what his sudden interest in her meant.

Lord Kampford's letter had arrived out of the blue and Amity was thrilled to discover her presence was requested at Edgeworth. Although the missive contained no specific information, there was much speculation at Beech House. While the servants and her latest governess/companion Miss Endicott packed her clothing, Amity met with the estate manager to prepare him for her absence. She had great faith in Henderson and knew he would care for the estate much as he always had. While Amity finished her packing, Miss Endicott fed her a continuous stream of strictures and aphorisms in a vain attempt to make up for any lapses in her pupil's education.

Amity was consumed by curiosity over Lord Maxwell's summons. She had assumed he had forgotten her existence and wondered what this reminder of his authority portended. She suspected he had decided she was of marriageable age and wished to discuss his plans for her. Although she might desire him to take a personal interest in her, her practical nature convinced her that Lord Max merely wanted to marry her off. She expected nothing else.

Amity knew from her childhood that it was useless to expect much. When she was quite young she had expected that her parents would love her. Afterwards it was borne in on her that her mother, dubbed "Goddess Divine" by the London dandies, was ashamed of her unbeautiful child. Her father was not fond of children. And of course she was a girl. He saw her as a means to make a favorable alliance, thus adding to his own consequence.

Her parents disinterest in her, combined with Max's neglect after their deaths, forced her to depend on herself for enjoyment. Another child might have viewed the world with a jaundiced eye, but Amity found much pleasure in her solitary life. She had a keen sense of humor and a deep well of curiosity which helped her to find joy in the smallest incidents of her life. Once she had discovered that she was responsible for her own happiness and as a consequence had grown into a cheerful and trusting person.

Amity flopped over on her back, staring up at the fluffy canopy. She was sure she was too excited to sleep. She thought about all the new experiences that awaited her and she wanted to shout in anticipation. The library at Beech House had been filled with books about London. Her curiosity had been whetted in the long bleak winter evenings as she read of the wonders of the city. Although she had been happy enough at her parents' home she had been starved of people to exchange ideas with and places to feed her desire for knowledge. There was a whole world waiting for her and she was anxious to grasp it.

Muffin moaned and snuffled, no doubt dreaming of rabbits he could chase. Amity sighed as her mind drifted into sleep.

Chapter Three

"Well, miss, iffen you ask me this is the only one what's fit to wear," Emily said. It was apparent that Amity's new abigail was not impressed by the items in her wardrobe. With pursed mouth and narrowed eyes, she had examined each dress, deciding that the singular possibility for the evening was a blue and green plaid wool with a high waist and a touch of white lace at the neck.

"Would you suggest I burn the rest?" Amity asked.

"Gor, miss!" Emily whirled around, shocked by the thought of such dreadful waste. Her brown eyes took in the wide grin on her mistress' face and she blinked. Catching the joke, she snorted aloud, hiding her laughter behind her hands. "Not that they don't deserve a proper funeral," she said when she could catch her breath.

"I know most of them are awful, Emily, but there was not much need for fashion in the north. Warmth was much more important."

"Makes good sense, miss," Emily agreed as she closed the doors of the wardrobe. "Soon you'll have new things, much more fittin' for London. Mrs. Trilby says iffen I suit, I'll be your abigail while you're at Edgeworth."

"I'm sure we'll do fine together," Amity said. She had been pleased by the arrival of the cheerful, efficient girl. She was bony and plain of face but her eyes, for all the sharpness of her glance, had the softness of a doe. Though younger by a year, Emily had an experienced quality about her that convinced Amity she would be wise to heed the girl's suggestions.

She put herself in the servant's capable hands and soon the room looked inhabited and she was dressed for dinner. The only disagreement they had was at the abigail's suggestion of a more elaborate hairstyle than she was used to.

"I'm sure it would be grand, Emily, but I'd rather not put it up. My hair's so long that by the end of the evening, I have a pounding headache." Amity sat at the mirrored vanity and caught the disapproving expression of her new abigail. Coaxingly, she added, "I promise you can concoct some fanciful creation at another time."

The girl's frown disappeared and she brushed the long swath of hair until the red curls shone in the candlelight. "I have ever so many ideas, miss," Emily said. "You have beautiful hair, but it could use a might of trimming."

"This time I know you're right," Amity said laughing. "I've not been in society and so there's never been a need. This is just an informal dinner so I'm sure no one will mind if my hair is undressed."

"The sash looks right perky." Emily's voice sounded as though she felt her new mistress needed encouragement.

After a cursory glance in the mirror, Amity stood up and shook out her skirt, searching the material for stray dog hairs. She had always liked the plaid dress; it was warm and comfortable. It had been perfect at Beech House with its long cold corridors and drafty rooms. Granted it was several years out of date but then she had never cared that much about the current fashions. For the moment, it would have to suffice. She knew her hair was neatly brushed and her face was scrubbed clean. She suspected that due to her nervous state, her skin was paler tonight so that the freckles would stand out even more than normal. Shrugging, she turned to the dog sprawled in front of the door.

"Come on, Muffin," Amity said. As if annoyed, the dog pushed himself upright, his tail wagging in triumph at his accomplishment. He pressed his head against her knee, and Amity reached down to rub his neck. "Well, old friend, we don't want to make a bad impression by being late."

Thanking Emily for all her help, Amity opened the door and started out into the hall. Although Muffin swung his head to follow her movements, the rest of his body remained rooted to the floor. Returning, Amity grasped a handful of hair at his neck and kneed him toward the hall. Soulful brown eyes lifted to her face and then, accepting the inevitable, the dog padded beside her toward the stairs. Peter, the helpful footman, was on duty in the foyer and he indicated the double doors to the yellow salon. Two other footmen threw open the doors and Amity braced herself, her hand tight in Muffin’s fur for support.

When the doors opened, Max thought for a moment that he had been transported back in time. Framed by the carved lintel, Amity looked like an ancient warrior queen, her hand resting on some noble beast. Crystal blue eyes, flashing with courage and intelligence, shone out of her white face. Burnished curls crowned her raised head and fell in a cascade down her back. Max blinked and the magical vision was gone.

The girl hesitated in the doorway, her sparkling eyes flashing around the room in curiosity. Max was amazed that this was the same girl he had seen eleven years ago. His ward was not the pink and white debutante so much in fashion; she was a far more exotic creature. Her skin was too pale, her hair too red. Her mouth was too generous and her eyes too large. Each feature was discordant but together they blended in a harmony of perfection. He wondered what had happened to the scrawny, clumsy child.

Max coughed to remind the girl of her duty. She lowered her eyes and came to stand in front of him. He was surprised at her height; somehow he had expected she would be tiny. The top of her head came above his shoulder and he was six foot tall. He coughed once more and she extended her hand, dropping into a curtsy. As Max bowed over her hand, she bobbed back up, her head crashing into his chin with a jolt that rattled every tooth in his head.

"Blast!" Amity said, blinking through the tears of pain as she held the sides of her head. Looking up through her blurred vision she saw the pained look on the face of her guardian. And she had so wanted to make a good impression. Suddenly she was overcome by the humor of the situation.