What a Lady Craves (12 page)

“You know Ludlowe spooked that horse intentionally.” And Lind would always hold that belief.

“He couldn’t have known you’d end up in that pile of manure.” God, this old argument. Why was Lind even bringing it up? Unless he wanted to deflect Alexander’s attention from more pressing matters. Like Battencliffe. “It isn’t as if horses are predictable creatures.”

“The bastard would have been happier if that horse had run me down.”

“Then count yourself fortunate you only ruined a few of your garments.” The matter might even have ended there, but for two things—a female and a wager.

On his way to change, Lind had no choice but to parade, dirty and smelly, before a crowd of young ladies, including Lydia Bowles. He’d no choice but to laugh off the incident with everyone else, but inside, Alexander knew, he was seething. The following day, Lind challenged his rival to a race across the far pasture, but halfway through the mad gallop, the girth of Ludlowe’s saddle gave way. Inspection proved the strip of leather had been cut partway through.

“You might have got Ludlowe killed with your idiocy,” Alexander reminded Lind. “If not in the race, in the duel.”

Lind gave a half shrug and pointed his gaze out the window. “Ludlowe could have killed
me if that horse had run me down. Either way, we both survived.” He turned his unsettlingly green eyes on Alexander. “Either way, honor was satisfied.”

A challenge, that. Hang it, Alexander could come up with one of his own. “Things never should have been carried so far. And might I remind you who stood as your second that day?”

Certainly not Alexander.

“You think old memories will change my mind?” Lind pounded a fist against his thigh. “That’s for Battencliffe. When you’ve been gone so many years, things change. And if you must know, the news of your shipwreck is the best you could have given me.”

The carriage shuddered to a halt in front of the manor. The steps creaked as they were let down, but Alexander made no move to get out. “What? But what of your losses?”

Lind leaned forward, eyes glittering. “To the devil with my losses. They’re worth every last shilling if it means Battencliffe is ruined. And you’ve just ensured that he will be.”

“Francesca!” Helena jumped onto the bed, but her sister yanked the box out of her reach. “You know you’re not supposed to touch.”

Henrietta was inclined to agree with the older girl, but Francesca’s eyes had filled with tears. “Why don’t you show me your mama’s things?”

“We’re not allowed,” Helena insisted.

These jewels might well be the girls’ last connection to their mother. It was hardly the time to point out the woman would never learn of the transgression. “I think it’ll be all right, as long as we’re extra careful.”

Francesca nodded, her shoulders visibly relaxing. She pulled out a strand of luminous pearls, each one perfectly formed, and of uniform size. A tiny rainbow of color glowed on every orb.

Henrietta formed a picture in her mind of the woman who had worn such riches. Tall, slender, dark-haired if Helena was anything to judge by. Beautifully perfect and perfectly beautiful. Calm, mannerly. Someone who always knew just the right thing to say. In short, everything Henrietta wasn’t.

And Alexander had made his choice.

Francesca ran her finger along the strand of pearls, her stroke reverent, obviously imagining touching the perfection of her mother’s throat, and not simply the jewels that had adorned the soft skin. But Henrietta couldn’t allow jealousy to take hold. The girls would have only their memories of this woman.

“Perhaps …” Henrietta cleared a lump from her throat. “You can put these aside, and one day, when you’re all grown up, you can wear them yourself.” And just like that, they’d have a piece of their mother with them, always.

Francesca kept her eyes riveted on the pearls. “Mummy let me try them on.”

“She did not,” Helena snapped, but she fixed a covetous gaze on the matching set of earrings.

“If you are very careful not to lose anything and don’t leave this room, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for you to try something on.” A new thought struck. “Go ahead. We’ll see how you look in the mirror. And then we might imagine the sort of ball we’re all attending.” Anything to lighten the somber mood.

That did it. Francesca looked up, and a smile plumped her cheeks. Her eyes shone, not with unshed tears, but pure, girlish glee. Whatever she became in later years, she’d dashed well better find herself a rich suitor. She was going to cost the man she married a fortune in gowns and jewelry and accessories.

She set the pearls about her neck and dived into the box for a gold bracelet or two. Henrietta helped screw the earrings onto Helena’s lobes.

“Ow,” Helena complained.

Henrietta gave her a wry smile. “This is the price we women must pay for beauty. Society demands it of us and more’s the pity. When you get older, you shall have to wear stays and perhaps shoes that pinch, all in the name of fashion. And when you’re presented at court, you’ll have to wear the most outlandish outfit.”

Francesca tore her attention from the jewelry box. “What’s being presented at court?”

Heavens, their mother must have told them nothing of the
ton.
“When a young lady is old enough to make her entrance into polite society, she must make her bow to the king.”

“Did you do that?”

“I did—although at the time I bowed to Queen Charlotte.” At the tender age of eighteen, just before she’d met the girls’ father.

“Did Mummy?” asked Helena.

Henrietta had no idea, but surely their mother had been born and raised in England. “I’m certain she did. I don’t know what she might have worn,” she added, to keep the topic light, “but I’m sure it was as silly as what I had to wear.”

“If you’re to meet the queen, shouldn’t you wear your finest clothes?” Francesca asked seriously.

“You would think so, but when I made my bow, the queen had very particular ideas about young ladies’ dress. And since she was the queen, she made the rules. We all had to wear the most ridiculous ostrich feathers in our hair and the widest hoops beneath our gowns.” She took her skirts between her fingers and spread them out. “And then there were the trains. Our gowns had to have extra lengths of fabric trailing behind us. We practiced for ages learning to walk without getting tangled up.”

Both girls giggled, their jewels shimmering. They joined Henrietta in holding out their skirts, twirling about as if they were wearing their court dress to a ball.

“Oh, but we didn’t dance,” Henrietta said. “Not in front of the queen.”

“What did you do?” Helena asked. “You bowed before her and that was all?”

Henrietta nodded. “There were usually a lot of us to be presented at once, so we had to wait in line. And we were all rather frightened.”

“Was the queen scary?” Francesca asked.

“Not scary, just old. But there were so many people watching us constantly, and if one of us made a mistake, it would be a disaster. My mama took me when I made my bow, and there were the other mamas. And of course, their daughters were the most beautiful and most refined and had the best manners. They were only waiting for someone else to make a mistake.” The
ton
’s scrutiny had made the entire ordeal even more nerve-wracking. “It was a lot of waiting and worrying, and you had to make your curtsey just so.”

Caught up in her story, she demonstrated, holding her skirts out, setting one foot behind the other, and making a low bow.

With a giggle, Francesca tried to imitate the move, and nearly toppled over.

“Careful now.” Henrietta took her hand. “It’s easy if you have help at first. Now, this foot behind, bend your knees, and dip your head. And don’t forget to smile. One must always appear gracious. That’s it!”

“What is this?” said an accented voice. “We are having lessons?”

Henrietta froze. Satya paused on the threshold, his expression inscrutable, before entering the room soundlessly. Gracious, the man padded as softly as Albemarle.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said.

The girls smiled and ran to him, clambering about him and giggling. “Your papa has sent for you,” he said. “Look lively now.”

“Wait,” Henrietta interrupted. “We need to return our finery to its proper place.” And she must return the box to its rightful owner, although she was no longer certain who its rightful owner was. If the box contained their mother’s jewelry, it belonged to the girls more than Alexander. But he was also the logical choice for keeping the contents safe until the girls were old enough to wear the pieces.

Satya’s gaze snapped to the box, and he stiffened. “Mr. Sanford has been looking for that. Where did you find it?”

Henrietta looked up from helping Helena off with the earrings. “It washed up on the beach the other morning, and I happened across it.”

His dark brows lowered. “And worked out how to open it on your own?”

“No, the girls showed me.”

The muscles around his eyes tightened. Had she just given Francesca away? Was the girl
not supposed to know the secret to unlatching the lid?

“Never fear,” Henrietta said. “I plan on returning this to Mr. Sanford immediately.”

Satya grabbed her arm. “I will take it to him.”

A shiver crept down the back of her neck, and she recoiled. How dare he touch her? She did not know this man. Not only that, his manner since he’d entered the room—or more specifically, spied the box—had been nothing short of threatening. Granted, he was from India, and perhaps they did things a bit differently there, but if he intended to stay in England, he’d best learn English ways.

She stole a glance at the girls, but nothing about their posture or demeanor indicated anything was amiss. Still, she didn’t like simply handing over a box full of expensive jewelry to an essential stranger. No, the jewelry wasn’t merely expensive; for Helena and Francesca, it was priceless. Even if the pearls were false and the precious stones paste, they would be beyond cost. The finery was a final, concrete connection between two girls and their mother. Eventually, their memories would fade, but they’d always have this part of her.

She tightened her grip on the box and stepped back. “I was about to hand it over directly, but you may accompany me and make sure it falls into the proper hands.”

He stared at her for several seconds, his black eyes impenetrable. If he wished, he could snatch the box, lay her low, and she wouldn’t be able to do a thing to stop him. By the time she screamed, it would be too late.

But then the tension about his shoulders eased. “So be it.”

Henrietta let out a breath, even as the fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled with alarm.

“Off with you now,” she said to the girls, her voice loud and falsely cheery in her ears. “Go find your father before he has to come looking for you.”

Francesca and Helena scampered through the door. Gaze firmly on the floor in front of her, Henrietta made to follow them, but Satya placed himself in her path.

Part of her mind tolled a warning that it was unseemly for him to be alone with her in her chamber. She must keep her reputation spotless if she meant to retain another position. She moved sideways, trying to clear a path toward the corridor.

He advanced on her. “Are you frightened of me?”

She edged toward the door. “Of course not. Only I wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression.”

“You should not be frightened. You will find no one more loyal to Mr. Sanford than me.”

And why did he find it necessary to tell her this? “Oh?”

“It would reflect poorly on me and my entire family should I fail him.”

“Then perhaps we ought to hold this conversation somewhere safer.” She nodded toward the corridor, and finally, he allowed her to pass.

He slipped through the door in her wake. “I simply wanted you to know.”

She raised her brows at him. “Forgive me, but why me?”

“I know who you are.”

Her knees suddenly refused to support her weight, and she sagged against the wall. “You know who I am,” she repeated faintly. “How?”

“Mr. Sanford often spoke of a Miss Upperton.”

“I see.” The statement set her heart pattering. “How long have you known Mr. Sanford?” She might not feel completely at ease with this man, but curiosity pushed her to ask.

“He was in India nearly two years before he acquired me.”

Nearly two years? So he’d had time to meet his wife, and yet he’d spoken of Henrietta to a servant. She tightened her grip on the smooth teakwood of the box, as if that might steady her. “Acquired you?” she said to keep the conversation going as much as anything. “What an odd way of expressing it.”

He placed a hand over his heart and dipped his head. “It is our way. Mr. Sanford did a great deed. He received me as a reward. I must always conduct myself to the same standard as he has shown or risk bringing shame on my family.”

“Good heavens.” That Alexander had performed some good deed or other hardly surprised her—but something so great that he’d been rewarded with a servant? Another human being? “Do you think you might tell me about it?”

“It was simple enough. He saved the life of Raja Nilmani’s son. The boy sickened, and Mr. Sanford gave him your English medicine and saved his life. His poor cousin did not fare so well.”

“And you do not resent being given as a gift?”

A muscle ticked in his jaw, the barest flicker of movement. “It is an honor for me to serve such a man as Mr. Sanford.”

“I … I suppose …” Did she dare ask? She might as well, for she had nothing to lose. “I imagine the two of you have had a chance to become friends along the way. That is, if he talked about me.”

Another quiver passed over the man’s cheek—nothing so mundane as a suppressed smile.
While his expression remained firm, she was left with the impression he knew exactly why she was probing him.

“He admires you very much, miss. I would wish for him to continue to do so. Thus you ought to return his box without fail.”

With another bow, he took himself off, leaving Henrietta with her back pressed to the wall for support. Satya may have relented for now, but she couldn’t tamp out the feeling he’d be watching her.