While Alys worried, Davenport and Merry were furthering their acquaintance. After a few moments of badinage, Meredith turned to Alys as if struck by a new thought. “Lady Alys, do you think Mr. Davenport might be persuaded to take his potluck with us tonight? Mrs. Haver is roasting a nice joint, more than enough for company.”
So that was Merry’s main purpose in this little charade! Not just to meet Davenport, but to inveigle him over for dinner.
In the face of Alys’s glower, Davenport hesitated. “I’m sorry, Miss Spenser, but your guardian has been in my company all day. It hardly seems fair to inflict me on her this evening as well.”
Meredith said, “She won’t mind, will you, Alys?” accompanying her statement with a speaking look.
Cornered, Alys said, “We dine en famille, Mr. Davenport. A bachelor might find it rather hectic.”
Merry turned to him and said coaxingly, “I shall endeavor to keep my younger brothers quiet. Do say you will come.”
Unable to refuse again without seeming churlish, he said, “It will be my pleasure, Miss Spenser.”
After suitable expressions of delight, Merry took her leave and departed. Davenport resumed his seat and gave Alys a companionable grin. “Have you ever considered buying her a chastity belt?”
“I certainly have!” Alys blurted out without thinking. At Davenport’s laughter she said in a doomed attempt at dignity, “That is a most improper thing to say.”
“I warned you, no missishness. I may assist you into a sidesaddle, but I have every intention of being my normal vulgar self the rest of the time.” His voice turned ironic. “She’s a taking little minx, and she looks a good deal less ‘minor’ than your words had led me to expect.”
“She’s nineteen, Mr. Davenport, and has seen little of the world.” Alys toyed with a Venetian glass paperweight. “Please remember that.”
His humor evaporated. “I shall endeavor not to debauch her this evening. If it’s any comfort, I find virgins boring.”
Alys tensed, wondering if the words were intended as an indirect insult toward her. “Merry is a bright, lively girl, and very sensible except for her flirtatiousness. She was only practicing her wiles on you because she meets so few new people.”
“Nonetheless, if you want an experienced rake’s advice, find her a husband, and soon,” he said dryly.
Alys glanced down at her hands, tensely linked on the desk. He had a talent for touching on sensitive issues. She’d invested considerable thought in the question of a husband for Merry. “I’d like to, but the choices are limited. All the eligible men in the neighborhood are mad for her, but they are either callow lads, or widowers looking for mothers for their children. She deserves better than that.” Alys sighed. “Actually, I think she would make quite a splash in London if she could make her come-out there.”
“The girl is definitely a diamond of the first water,” Davenport agreed, “but does she have the birth and fortune to match her face?”
“That’s the rub,” Alys admitted. “She’ll have a respectable portion, but it’s not a great fortune, and her father was a London merchant. She has no family connections that could introduce her to the ton.”
“She may be better off doing her husband hunting here. London can be a dangerous place for the innocent.” Dismissing the topic of Merry, he asked, “Whatever persuaded you to take charge of three young people? The girl represents one set of problems, and the boys will be just as much trouble in different ways. It would be a heavy burden for anyone, and you aren’t even a relative.”
It was none of his business, of course, but his question seemed to come from genuine interest rather than idle curiosity. She propped one elbow on the desk and rested her chin on her hand as she considered her reply. “The obvious answer is that there was no one else Mrs. Spenser trusted. She had no children of her own. In fact, she was only their aunt by marriage, no blood relation at all, but she loved them. She wanted to make sure they were properly cared for.”
“If that is the obvious answer, what is the unobvious one?”
“They were my students, and I’m very fond of them. I’ve known William, the youngest, since he was in leading strings.” Alys gave a brittle laugh. “And this is the closest I’m likely to come to having children. I would have been a fool to pass up the opportunity.” She stopped suddenly, wondering what had made her reveal a deep and painful truth like that.
Tactfully restraining himself from probing more deeply into what was obviously sensitive territory, Davenport said, “I hope they realize how fortunate they are to have you, Miss Weston.”
Shaking off her mood, she said with a grin, “Merry might, but the boys look on me in the light of a necessary evil. I’m always nagging them to do their studying, mind their manners, and make at least a token gesture to the proprieties.”
At the sight of her wide smile, Davenport sat up and leaned forward in his chair so he could scrutinize her face. “Lady Alys, you have dimples,” he said accusingly.
Caught, Alys blushed. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I think God made a mistake and gave me someone else’s dimples.”
Davenport stood, his tall form looming over her desk. “Don’t apologize. They’re quite delightful. Dimples are called the mark of Venus, you know.”
He smiled that lazy, intimate smile, the one designed to make proper ladies forget their virtue. Alys found herself smiling back.
He raised one hand and lightly brushed her cheek, right where a dimple lurked. It was a casual gesture that some women would hate, and others find utterly entrancing. Alys was of the latter persuasion. His touch was warm, and her hypersensitive skin recorded the faint roughness of the whorls on his fingertips. It was as erotic as a kiss, and she felt a reaction clear down to her toes.
Lord only knew what showed on her face, because he dropped his hand and stepped back, his expression growing cool and detached. “If you would prefer not having me for dinner, I can send my regrets to your ward. You really should not have your employer forced on you after normal work hours.”
She swallowed hard. “If you can bear it, it would be better if you came tonight. I’m afraid of what Merry might do to get you there tomorrow.”
“If you’re sure you don’t object, I’ll be over at half past six.” He gave her a wry smile. “I’m sure the conversation at your house will be more enlivening than at mine.”
He nodded and left the office, his head nearly brushing the lintel of the door. With a dazed mixture of alarm and amusement, Alys realized that it was not Meredith’s virtue she should be worried about. It was her own.
After clearing her correspondence, Alys had just enough time to return home, bathe, change for dinner, and stop by Meredith’s chamber for a serious discussion.
Merry sat at her dressing table trying a new hairstyle. She swiveled on her stool and gave her guardian a mischievous smile. “That worked very well, didn’t it? The boys will be delighted to meet Mr. Davenport.”
Alys sat down on the bed with an inward sigh. Clearly she had her work cut out for her. “Merry, I’m very upset about your forward behavior today. Not only did it pass the line of what is pleasing, it was potentially dangerous.”
Merry laughed and pulled a handful of blond hair to the crown of her head. She turned back to the mirror and studied the effect. “How could it be dangerous?”
“Meredith, stop fussing with your hair and look at me. This is serious.” When she used that tone, Alys was always obeyed. Her ward obligingly turned and faced her.
“Reginald Davenport is very different from your shy young local admirers,” Alys said warningly. “If you issue a blatant invitation, he may accept it.”
“We were only flirting,” Merry said, her wide blue eyes guileless. “He flirts very nicely, so it seemed a good chance to practice. He’s hardly likely to ravish me, is he?”
Snapping with exasperation, Alys said, “Being ravished is not the only danger. Davenport’s dealings with women are notorious—even flirti
ng with him could damage your reputation. Falling victim to his charm could damage you a good deal more. Falling in love with him would be a guarantee of breaking your heart. Can I spell it out any more plainly than that?”
Merry gave a peal of laughter. “Good heavens, Alys, I’m hardly likely to fall in love with a man old enough to be my father. He’s not even good-looking.”
Alys blinked with surprise. Surely Meredith could not be unaffected by Davenport’s mesmerizing aura of virility? She tried to remember what had attracted her when she was Merry’s age, and decided that even at nineteen she would not have been indifferent to a man like Reggie Davenport. Of course, she would have known better than to succumb to that kind of low animal appeal. Merry was just showing her common sense by refusing to find him attractive. Pray God she continued as wise.
Fixing her charge with a no-nonsense gaze, Alys said, “Will you take my word that it is better to be careful where Davenport is concerned? I’ve seen a good deal more of the world than you, and I promise you, the man is trouble.”
Merry stood and crossed to give her guardian a quick, affectionate hug. “Poor Lady Alys. We do lead you a miserable life, don’t we? If it isn’t William sneaking into the stables, it’s Peter trying to learn to drive to an inch, or hordes of my silly suitors underfoot. You must be sorry you ever took us on.”
Her tone had the teasing confidence of someone who knew she was wanted, and Alys found her lips curving into a smile of response. “I’ll admit that with the three of you, life is sometimes too full. But without you, it would be very empty.”
Meredith gave a wise, enchanting smile that made her seem more the parent than the child. “I promise I won’t do anything rash that will ruin me forever, but I don’t think I will be able to resist the temptation to flirt. Though Mr. Davenport is not at all the sort of man I could fall in love with, I did think he was rather sweet.”
Fascinated, Alys tried to imagine how Davenport would react to the knowledge that a young diamond of the first water considered him “rather sweet.” Suppressing a smile, she asked, “What is the sort of man you could fall in love with? We’ve never really discussed that.”
Merry frowned at her reflection. “I’m not absolutely sure because I haven’t met him yet, but I would want him to be a man of grace and charm. Reasonably intelligent, but not a great scholar or wit, or he would find me sadly frivolous.” She began deftly pinning her ringlets into place. “Naturally, I must find his appearance pleasing, but it will be better if he isn’t staggeringly handsome. I don’t want a man who is terribly vain.”
Alys leaned against one of the bedposts and folded her arms in a most unladylike fashion. “Need the gentleman be rich and titled?”
“Well, at least comfortably well-off—I don’t think I would find poverty very amusing.” She secured the last curl with a well-placed hairpin. “A title might be nice, but it’s hardly essential.” She turned to face her guardian, her heavenly blue eyes lit with humor. “If I ever did meet a nobleman, he would surely feel that he was conferring an enormous favor by marrying a girl of no great fortune or birth. I would prefer the gentleman to be so smitten that he thinks I am doing him a favor by accepting.”
“You’re a cold-blooded wench,” Alys said with some awe. She wasn’t sure if her ward was brilliantly clear-sighted, or merely endowed with more than her share of feminine wiles. Regrettably, wiles had been left out of Alys’s makeup. Perhaps her unwanted dimples were what she had been given instead “I gather that you want this future husband to keep you on a pedestal?”
“I wouldn’t mind a low one.” Merry looked down at her hands, flexing the fingers as if inspecting her carefully groomed nails. “When I find the right man, I’ll make sure he doesn’t regret his choice.” In a voice that for once was entirely serious, she added softly, “I do intend to be a very good wife, you know.”
Alys gave a nod of sudden understanding. What her ward really yearned for was security and comfort. Having lost both parents and her adoptive mother by the time she was fifteen, Merry’s ambitions were modest, practical ones rather than dreams of mad passion or social grandeur. Surely such a sensible young lady was unlikely to fall victim to the fleeting pleasures of a rake’s casual, lethal charm.
Relieved by the insight, Alys stood. “Our guest should arrive soon. I presume you will wait here so you can make a grand entrance?”
“But of course.” Merry laughed, gravity vanquished. “A new man in the neighborhood is an opportunity not to be wasted, even if he is rather stricken in years.”
Even though she knew Meredith was teasing, Alys shook her head in disbelief as she went down to the drawing room to await her guest. Stricken in years! Davenport looked like he could outride, outfight, and outwench any man in Dorsetshire.
She hoped he didn’t feel compelled to prove it.
Chapter 7
Reggie raised his hand to the knocker of Rose Hall, the steward’s residence, then hesitated. He had accepted the dinner invitation because he thought that anything would be better than another evening alone in the big house, but now he wasn’t so sure. Two young boys, an aspiring femme fatale, and a magnificent Amazon who despised him were odd company for a man who usually socialized with hard-drinking sportsmen like himself.
Well, too late to retreat now. He grasped the knocker and rapped firmly.
The little housemaid that answered had a face that Reggie was beginning to recognize as typical Herald physiognomy. After she bobbed a quick curtsy, she wordlessly led him to the drawing room. It was not a large house, having no more than four or five bedrooms, but it was comfortable and well-maintained. Reggie had regularly visited the kitchen as a child. His father’s steward had a cook gifted at making tarts, and Reggie had ingratiated himself in the manner of all small boys.
Miss Weston was waiting in the drawing room. She rose at his arrival. Her height and natural dignity made her look like a queen, even in her extremely conservative dark brown dress. Reggie spent a moment wondering how she would look in Gypsy red, with her hair tumbling around her shoulders rather than in a no-nonsense coronet. As he bowed, he decided that she would be quite splendid.
Smiling, she said, “I thought you might like a few minutes of peace before the children join us. Would you like a sherry?”
Sherry was hardly his favorite drink, but since it was better than nothing, he accepted. As she poured two glasses, Reggie felt an insistent pressure on his shin. He looked down to see a very large, very shaggy cat twining suggestively around his ankles. With a small sound of distaste, he stepped back. The cat followed, apparently determined to be his best friend.
His hostess turned and saw his predicament. “Sorry. I thought Attila was safely out of the way. He must have been lurking under the sofa.” She handed Reggie a drink, then bent to scoop up her pet “I gather that you don’t like cats?”
Even for a woman as tall as Alys Weston, the beast was a very substantial armful, a patchwork of striped and white fur with great curving whiskers that framed an expression of supreme disdain. “Not much,” Reggie admitted. “They’re sneaky, unreliable, and selfish.”
“That’s true,” Alys said gravely, “and they have many other fine qualities as well.”
For a moment he wasn’t sure he had heard correctly. Nothing earlier in the day had led him to believe that his steward numbered a sense of humor among her formidable virtues. But a suspicion of dimple showed in her right cheek; he had noticed earlier that it came out before the left one. “Perhaps I don’t like cats because they’re too much like me,” he said with a grin.
Laughing, she took the cat to the door and dumped him, protesting, on the other side. “Go down to the kitchen, Attila. There must be something there to interest you.” Closing the door before her pet could whisk back in, she turned to her guest. “So you’re sneaky, unreliable, and selfish?”
“Oh, indubitably,” he said, sipping at his sherry. “And I have many other fine qualities as well.”
This time
both dimples showed as she sat gracefully in one of the brocade-covered chairs. “What are your other fine qualities?” Then she paused, a stricken expression on her face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“Because it’s too personal a question, or because you’re afraid of what I might consider a fine quality?” Reggie asked as he took a seat opposite his steward.
“The latter reason, of course,” she said sweetly, then looked even more stricken at her unruly tongue.
Taking pity on her embarrassment, Reggie said, “Since you are not on duty, nothing you say can be held against you. Although I must say, I prefer your insults to having you frown me down.”
“Lord,” she said with a guilty start. “Is that what I was doing all day?”
“Yes,” he replied succinctly.
“It’s because of my eyebrows, you know,” she said earnestly. “Even when I’m in a good mood, people often think I’m about to bite them.”
“And when you’re in a bad mood?”
“Oh, then they fly in all directions.”
“I suppose that looking fearsome is a useful trait, given the work you do,” he said thoughtfully. “It can’t have been easy to get the Strickland tenants and workers to accept your authority.”
“There have been problems,” Alys admitted. “It is not a simple matter where one victory wins the war. They would take orders more easily if I owned the estate, but they don’t quite approve of a female steward. Still, after four years the tenants and I understand each other tolerably well.”
“I can understand their feelings. I don’t approve of you myself.” As she bridled, he raised one hand. “Nothing personal, but it’s a confounded nuisance that the ‘A’ in A. E. Weston doesn’t stand for Albert or Angus.” He studied her gravely. “If you value your reputation, you would be wise to look for another position.”
Alys froze, her sherry glass poised in midair halfway to her mouth. Then she lowered the glass, her face pale. “Are you discharging me?”