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

As the pain of the blow began to wear off, Max glared at the clumsy girl. She had changed little since last he saw her. Visions of endless broken vases and knocked over tables flashed before his eyes. Her come out would be a debacle. He was much too old for such humiliation. He glowered down at the girl and watched the expressions flit across the too-open countenance: horror, embarrassment and then, of all things, amusement. When she started to laugh he was surprised at the soft lilting quality of her laughter.

"Only a harum-scarum girl would find amusement in such a social disaster." Max tried to keep his lips from twitching but could not control the twinkle in his eyes.

"I am most sorry, your lordship." Despite the sincerity of her words, Max noted the laughter in the crystal blue eyes. "Perhaps we might start over. Although I fear I must warn you I am not very expert." To her credit, she controlled her expression and dipped into a slightly more graceful curtsy, peeking up at him through a fringe of lashes.

In the woman grown, Maxwell remembered the steady blue eyes of the child. Now there was a sheen of laugh-tears that gave them an uncanny brilliance and he found himself disappointed when she lowered her lids, hiding them from him. He shook his head, narrowing his eyes at the taking child.

"Welcome to Edgeworth, Endurance."

"Thank you, my lord," Amity replied. She liked his deep voice that was rich and melodious for all that his words were stilted. She willed herself to say something else but no words appeared in her mind so for once she remained silent. A snore interrupted her and she fought down another bout of giggles as she looked down at Muffin.

When Amity dipped into her curtsy, the traitorous dog took it as a sign that he could relax. He had flopped down in front of Max who was now trapped against the fireplace. Amity nudged the dog with the toe of her slipper knowing from experience that it was a useless gesture but hopeful nonetheless. As expected, Muffin merely snuffled in his sleep.

"I'm sorry about Muffin, my lord. He's getting old and the journey tired him out. He's not much used to travel," Amity defended.

"Where did you get such a mangy beast?" Max asked, curious despite himself.

"He was abandoned on the roadside and near to death. He needed a home," she finished as if it were the most natural of occurrences.

"It is of no consequence," Max said waving his hand. With caution, he stepped over the recumbent figure and grasped Amity's elbow. He turned her toward the other occupant in the room and his ward made another shaky curtsy. "Cousin Hester, this irrepressible child is my ward, Endurance Fraser. Lady Grassmere will be your chaperone during your stay here and during your come out. With any luck the three of us will survive the enterprise," he amended drily.

Grey dress, grey face and grey hair. So self-effacing was Lady Grassmere that Amity thought it would be difficult to remember she was there. She noted the gentle kindness in the woman's brown eyes and resolved to treat the older woman with great respect. She suspected Lady Grassmere would find the experience of chaperoning her a rather wearing affair.

 "And I also bid you welcome to Edgeworth, my dear," Hester said. Her soft voice was just above a whisper and had the insubstantial quality of a summer breeze. "I met your mother many years ago. A beautiful woman. I must admit, Endurance, that you are nothing like I had pictured."

"I'm sorry, milady." Amity hung her head in embarrassment. "I am overused to my looks so that I forget what a disappointment I am to those who knew my mother."

"Disappointment, child?" Hester stared at the burnished head, wondering if she had heard correctly.

"I am nothing like my mother," Amity admitted.

"No, my dear, you are not," the old woman agreed. She had thought the girl's mother lovely but shallow in the extreme. By the look of intelligent curiosity she had seen in the girl's eyes, Hester suspected the child had far greater depth. "You are, I would guess, quite unique."

Max was much struck by the interchange and it took him several minutes to take in the import of his ward's remarks. He opened his mouth to comment but, before he could speak, dinner was announced. Giving an arm to each of the ladies he led them into the dining room.

The dinner progressed well and Max led the conversation to discover the extent of Amity's education and deportment. It appeared as though the governesses he had provided had done well by the girl. She was well read, her conversation showing she was a gently reared young lady. He noted she entered the discussions with perhaps a dash too much enthusiasm but for the most part, Max was well pleased with the girl's manners and ease of speech.

Throughout the meal Max's eyes were drawn to the shining face of his ward. He was surprised at his own feeling of well being since he had originally resented the appearance of the girl in his bachelor life. There was something appealing about the girl as he watched her fiery curls nod at a question from Lady Grassmere. He had been worried about sponsoring the girl but considered now that it might not be such a regrettable experience. After her initial painful curtsy, he recalled as he rubbed his chin, she had at least not knocked anything over. If she could remain seated through her come out, he might fire her off with little damage to vases, porcelain figurines and other assorted bric-a-brac.

The dinner was a novelty to Amity, used to the plain, nourishing fare that had been served up at Beech House. At each remove she questioned the footman about each dish, tasting a little of everything until she thought she might burst. She answered Max's questions and entered into the conversation on books and history. It was at the end of the meal that the subject turned to a discussion between Lady Grassmere and her guardian over the latest opera fare. Amity was pleased to be excluded since it gave her the opportunity to study Lord Max.

She was pleased that her memory of him as a young man had not been faulty. He had been handsome then with his fine features and wavy brown hair, but now his face had more character, a pride in himself that had been absent in his youth. He was tall and lean without appearing effete. He wore the black satin jacket and pantaloons with an air of elegance that owed nothing to his tailor. His waistcoat and linen were blinding white. All his raiment was simple and without doubt expensive.

His eyes don't match, Amity thought to herself. Everything about him was extremely proper, almost arrogant. His words were sarcastic and at times carried a cutting sneer. It was only in his green eyes that Amity found a wariness, a hesitancy that surprised her. Although earlier she suspected that he might have found her amusing there had also been puzzlement. It was almost as if he were unused to laughter.

After dinner Lady Grassmere sank into a chair beside the fireplace and took out her needlework. While she stitched, Max explained some of the plans that he had developed to launch her in society. She would remain at Edgeworth for several weeks while Lady Grassmere smoothed out some of her deficiencies in the art of social graces. Then they would remove to Max's townhouse in London for the season. Amity listened with curiosity, interjecting an occasional excited question. She was pleased when he mentioned that his particular friend Honoria would stand as her friend.

"I will try very hard not to give her a disgust of me, milord" Amity said, her blue eyes serious for once.

"Just act natural, Endurance, and I am sure in a few days you will be bosom bows," Max answered. "Have you any questions?"

"At the moment, your lordship, my head is whirling with excitement," Amity admitted. "Although there is something that I would like to ask. Would you find it pushing of me if I changed my name?" At the surprised look on her guardian's face, she hurried into speech. "My second name is Amity and I much prefer it. Would it be quite honest if I used that name, your lordship?"

"Lord love you, child," Max said, chuckling at the request. "It shows you have much sense. Endurance, indeed. I will take great pleasure in erasing the name from my memory. And in turn you shall call me Max. Every time you say your lordship I feel weighted down by another twenty years."

Amity smiled at her guardian, liking him very much better than she had expected. A snore from the direction of the fireplace alerted her to the fact that her chaperone had nodded off over her stitchery. Her eyes twinkled up at Max and he responded in kind.

"Perhaps you would care to walk in the long gallery?" Max asked, extending his hand. "I find myself restless after dinner and have a need to stretch my legs."

She accepted his invitation and soon they were strolling in front of a row of imposing portraits and Max was entertaining her with a history of his family. Amity could see that her guardian had inherited much of his good looks and was pleased that so many of his ancestors had his unusual green eyes. She stood before the portrait done just after Max had inherited and smiled at the slim, arrogant figure.

"Even then you were quite fierce, Max," Amity said.

"Fierce? Never say," Max drawled, enjoying the girl's concentrated gaze on his portrait. "I like to think I was feeling soulful elegance."

"That too of course, but there is the look of a rat terrier."

Max's chin raised in hauteur and he was just about to bite out a choice set down to the bold chit when he caught the gleam of laughter in her eyes. His own softened and he reached out to tweak her chin. "What a wretched child you are. With such an acid tongue, how am I ever to find a man to bring up to scratch?"

In the silence that followed, Amity's forehead puckered in concern. Taking her courage in hand, she asked the question that had been worrying her since she left Beech House. "Do you think someone might offer for me?"

"No need to fear, child," Max said, touched by the look of strain on the girl's face. "I will not marry you off to the first eligible parti. You will have plenty of time to enjoy the season."

"You mistake me, sir," Amity said. "I am eager to accept any proposal."

"You wish to marry?" Max could not understand why any one should wish to enter that unenviable state. "Why?"

"I would like to have a baby," Amity answered without hesitation. When she noticed the rise of color in her guardian's face, she chuckled and reached out to pat the sleeve of his jacket. "I apologize for my plain speaking, sir, but you did ask."

"More fool I," he muttered under his breath. Drawing himself up he tried to speak as casually as he could. "It is true that when you marry, a child follows thereafter. No need to discuss, any inconsistencies in that rule. Just take my word for it." It would seem that having a ward was not always clear sailing. He removed a spotless handkerchief and mopped his forehead before he could continue. As he returned the handkerchief to his pocket, he noted the amusement on the face of his ward. "Please tell me that you need no further information along these lines," he requested with a raised eyebrow.

At his harried attitude, Amity could not hold back her laughter. His expression changed to one of injury and she tried to sober her own expression to salve his feeling of ill usage. "I promise, Max, I will ask you no more inconvenient questions. It must be a great trial for you to have a ward."

"I am just beginning to suspect as much," he answered, waggling his eyebrows until she burst into a stream of musical laughter. As he looked down at the girl he realized that since Amity's arrival he had only given cursory thought to the disadvantages of sponsoring the girl. For the most part he was enjoying himself, watching the fascinating creature who was Miss Amity Fraser.

"Perhaps we might return to the salon to continue this discussion. I have the feeling I might require something strengthening to drink." Max pulled Amity's hand through his arm and turned her back along the hallway. "The noble Cartwright will bring the tea tray and some brandy and you shall tell me why you are in such a hurry to marry and set up a nursery."

Lady Grassmere woke when the butler brought in the tray and Amity served the old woman, taking time to praise the chair cover she was working. The stitchery was precise but the picture was an unimaginative floral pattern. After several minutes of conversation, she was free to join Max who was sitting beside a chess table. He patted the footstool in front of his chair and she sank down facing him.

He reached out to take the white queen, twirling the little carving in his hand. "Do you play?" he asked.

"A little."

"I shall have to see what I can do to brush up your skills. You seem bright enough to understand the game so it must be that you have not had enough opportunity to play."

Amity blushed at the compliment and vowed to pay close attention to any instructions he should give her. In truth, she enjoyed the game but her governesses eschewed it as a male pastime and she had found few others in the neighborhood who knew the rudiments of the game. Her eyes followed the movement of Max's hand as he returned the queen to her square and lifted a knight, his long fingers caressing the ivory figure. For some unknown reason her face felt hot and she shifted her eyes to the hands in her lap.

"Now, Amity," Max said, placing the chess piece back on the board and taking a heartening sip of his brandy. "What cockle-headed notion have you got that you must needs rush into marriage?"

"Well to be honest I should very much like to have a child. Someone of my own that I might love and cherish." Amity paused, looking up into Max face to see if he understood her words. "And of course the babe would love me," she finished softly.

Max noticed that the clear blue eyes shone with a particular brilliance as she spoke the last sentence. He was reminded again of her interchange with Cousin Hester earlier in the evening. His brows bunched over his forehead as he stared at the grave little figure across from him. Suddenly he thought he suspected the truth and he reached out cupping her chin in his hand.

"What was your mother like, Amity?" he asked, watching with pleasure the startled look at the abrupt change of subject. Her face was so expressive, shrouding few of her thoughts. He wondered if after a year in society she would still be so trusting. He was surprised at the dreamy expression that flitted across her face and the faraway look in her eyes as she remembered her mother.