Caroline pressed her tongue against her teeth as she fought against another argument.
It would not be seemly to go against the wishes of her hostess and patroness. And she could not, in good conscience, take away the employment of the new maid because she was too stubborn to allow someone else to dress her hair and person.
Some things she would simply have to accept.
She forced a smile and told her tense frame to be calm, though it refused to listen. “Of course. Very well, then. I would be pleased to have Sally attend me.”
If the amount of relief that washed over Millie at her reply was any indication, Caroline would have to adjust to all manner of things living at Ashby House. Imagine having so much emotion over a woman accepting a maid to tend her.
Unfathomable.
“Very good, Miss Perkins,” Millie said with another bob.
Oh, this was intolerable. “Caroline, please,” she begged.
Millie’s complexion paled to match the linens in the room.
“Never mind,” Caroline grumbled, shaking her head. “That would be too much, yes?”
“Y-yes, miss.”
She sighed and moved to the fire that had been built up, warming her hands. “What are the chances of my being called ‘Miss Caroline’ instead?”
Millie seemed to think about that. “Give it a few days, miss. We may get there.”
Oh, good. Hope at least.
Still, it was better than nothing.
Caroline smiled again, this time genuinely. “Thank you, Millie.”
The maid curtseyed. “Mrs. Ramsay will be up shortly, miss, to make your acquaintance and see to your needs.”
The footmen appeared then with her trunk, and she could see with her own eyes that there were, in fact, male servants in the house. They set the trunk near the bureau, bowed, and left without a single word.
Caroline took two steps towards the trunk before Millie had a comment.
“Don’t do that, miss,” she advised, a touch of laughter in her voice. “Leave it for Sally.”
Foiled, Caroline turned and sank onto a chair, keeping her posture as proper as could be. “Consider me duly chastened,” she joked.
Millie did laugh now and nodded. “You’ll get used to it, miss. Welcome to Ashby House.” She curtseyed and left the room.
“Thank you,” Caroline murmured to the empty space. She glanced around the room, the faint light of evening and candles distorting shadows along the walls. A flash of lightning gave her a moment of illumination, but not in any way that gave her comfort. All of her worldly possessions lay in the carpet bag and trunk beside her, and now she was to be here in this grand house.
She prayed Lady Ashby had no elaborate plans for her, that she might be able to proceed as she wished without interference, and that somehow her father might keep his distance.
He likely already knew she had arrived. He always seemed to know.
Caroline exhaled and opened her carpetbag as various servants began to make preparations for her bath, and retrieved her journal. She moved to the small writing desk in the corner to find a pen, and then, in lieu of a letter, began an entry to her friends.
Dear friends,
You will not believe my journey from Miss Bell’s to Ashby House, and the nature of my arrival.
Chapter 2
William Debenham was a gentleman.
If it was said in the proper tone, the statement would portray all of the derision he currently felt about the words themselves, and likely receive sympathetic nods from those who needed no explanation of them.
He didn’t have a problem with being a gentleman. On the contrary, he was well aware that in order to advance in life, he must be a gentleman, both by birth and by manner.
The trouble was that Will was too much a gentleman.
There was such an affliction, despite any dubious regard for the idea, and he suffered from it.
He had never been so intoxicated as to be unable to walk on his own power. He had never been able to charm a young woman into something within five minutes of making her acquaintance. He had never said anything that would give offense or insult, let alone leave any questioning his better nature.
He had never managed to say no to his mother.
He apologized profusely.
He constantly felt guilt over the slightest perceived misstep.
He was, in effect, a complete milksop.
And, by all accounts, evidence, and observations, milksops did not win on the battlefields of life. Or attain the sort of wives that would make the state of marriage palatable.
Unfortunately, he was at the age where he was expected to view marriage as palatable, and to take action accordingly.
At the present, the only woman in the world that he knew of who had any interest in becoming the next Mrs. Debenham, or, in his particular case, the first, was the sister of his closest friend. And there was nothing in creation or imagination that would persuade him to offer for the hand of Anna Sheffield.
Especially not if his marriage was supposed to be a palatable one.
She was a good enough girl, he supposed, but ardent pursuit of his affections without the ability to sustain them gave the idea of her a rather bitter aftertaste. Will would much rather tolerate his future spouse at any given time than spend an inordinate amount of time avoiding them.
From his experience in Society, only those gentlemen who possessed some level of wickedness in any regard made love matches, and only the fortune hunters acquired heiresses. It was backwards and upside down, and the true gentlemen in the world, especially those without the blatant fortune to attract desperation, were left with the plain, the poor, and the wallflower. If any of the women in those categories had suited him, he would have proposed to them without delay. But as he knew all of them, and had tried to form good opinions of them, and had failed, he was, for the present, still a bachelor.
Much to his mother’s horror.
“I don’t understand,” David Sheffield was saying as they sat idly at their club, his high brow furrowed as he stared at Will. “You wish to be less of a gentleman?”
Will nodded once. “Yes.” Then he shook his head. “Well, no. That is to say, yes and no.”
The furrows in Sheffield’s brow deepened. “Now you’ve lost me.”
“I know,” Will admitted with a sigh. “I fear I have lost myself several times on the idea. The thing is, I cannot seem to convince any woman who has in any way raised an interest or curiosity in me that she ought to attempt to raise an interest or curiosity about me. My only recourse, as I see it, is to retreat from my perfection and rebel.”
Now the dark eyebrows that had lowered over equally dark eyes rose with alacrity. “Perfection? I wasn’t aware that had been decreed. Congratulations.”
Will chose not to acknowledge the idiocy of his friend and settled for a droll look. “I have been too stringent in my gentlemanly ways and haven’t developed any qualities that would make me attractive to the ladies of Society.”
“That’s not what Anna says,” Sheffield mused with the sort of smirk that ought to have rendered him a disloyal brother to his sister. “Especially with you being the son of Lord Sedley. You’re quite a catch, according to her, even if you are the second son.”
He knew exactly how Will felt about his sister, and he knew what sort of creature she had become. Spoiled, puffed up, condescending, ridiculous… Were Sheffield a bit more of a popinjay, he might have become the same, but he had inherited the better behavior, and thus was resolutely human.
And his loyalty to his sister did not extend to blindness as to her character.
“Well,” Sheffield continued when Will did not comment, “how are you going to sin so flagrantly as to render yourself rebellious rather than pious?”
“I’m not pious,” Will shot back. “I’m… I’m boring.”
“At the moment, yes, I would say so,” came the quick retort. “I’ve never wanted to ignore you more than right now.”<
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Will rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Now I know that is not true.”
“You are lamenting over your good nature and actively considering behaving badly as if it would be an improvement.” His friend shrugged without concern. “Besides being an absolutely ridiculous notion, it also seems remarkably high-handed. I have never found you perfect, and I doubt anyone in the world, including my sister, would find you so. You haven’t managed a wife because you haven’t done much to pursue one. You haven’t entered into any courtships because you haven’t exactly tried. And you would make the worst possible blackguard in the world, which is why you have not naturally become so. Just accept that you are one of the few genuine gentlemen of the world and embrace the fate.”
There was silence for a time as Will considered his friend’s words, then he scowled across the table at him. “I believe you said something complimentary in there, but the tone was so full of derision, I’m not sure that was quite clear enough.”
Sheffield smiled very thinly. “Good, then I was successful.”
It was a trifle awkward to express such sentiments, Will was well aware of that. It made very little sense, and he wouldn’t have been able to voice them aloud to very many of his friends if he wished to be taken seriously. He didn’t actually intend to commit a crime or tarnish his reputation. He only wished he weren’t quite the paragon that he seemed to have turned himself into.
He hadn’t even been tempted to cheat at school, and what did that say about him?
“I suspect,” Sheffield mused, clearly in the mood to be talkative, “that you might be bored, Deb. The Season is getting underway, and you aren’t looking forward to it. Am I right?”
He was right, but Will wasn’t sure he wanted to admit that to him.
He made a face and exhaled with a reluctant nod. “You are. I’m not sure I can bear going through the motions again. I don’t want to be seen as a man desperately seeking a wife, but I’m also not the sort to engage in the Society, or its social engagements, for my own pleasure. There is nothing to attract me to any of it, and I don’t have the excuse of escaping to the country. No one I know well enough is spending time at their country estates at the present, even if I did have an invitation.”
“I might be able to help you there,” Sheffield murmured slowly.
Will looked at him in surprise. “You don’t have your own country estate. And I thought your family were keeping to Hollydale this year.”
“They are,” Sheffield confirmed. “I’m not inviting you there, and I didn’t think you’d want the fuss of the Sheffield children, mob of them that there are.”
It was true, Will did not, much as he liked children in general. But he might have accepted any way just for the diversity of his scene and situation. He was never quite sure how many younger siblings Sheffield had, but it was enough to make one’s head spin, of that he was positive.
“Then… how are you able to help me?” Will asked, giving his old friend a quizzical look. “Are you inviting me to someone else’s country estate?”
“No,” Sheffield replied pointedly. Then his mouth curved in a faint smile. “I am inviting you to my aunt’s townhouse.”
Will stared at his friend for longer than was considered polite, blinking on occasion, waiting for the explanation to come as to how such a thing was supposed to be in any way helpful.
Sheffield was either unobservant, which he knew to be untrue, or he was impudent, which was far more likely, for no such explanation occurred on its own.
“Why?” Will asked, resigning himself to the ridiculous prod.
“Because she loves young people,” Sheffield informed him without any hint of lordliness. “She is always wanting guests to come, though not to stay, and she has the perfect ability to say exactly what anyone else would wish without the reservation Society would usually upholds. When she’s awake, that is.”
None of this was sounding particularly promising.
Will shook his head. “Just how old is your aunt, Sheffield?”
That had his friend laughing. “Not quite aged, thank you very much. She’s only graced with a sickly constitution that belies her true age. I quite like her, and I don’t say that lightly.”
“And coming to call on her would do what?” Will barely avoided making a face as he considered the prospect of calling upon a not-quite-aged, sickly woman of Society simply because he was bored. It certainly wouldn’t go very far to helping his too-gentlemanly nature become something more relatable, but it might raise a few questions.
“Help me survive being cooped up in the house with my sister,” Sheffield immediately replied.
Will sat up straighter, emphatic shaking of his head beginning without hesitation. “No. No, I’m not coming to stay in the same house as your sister just to spare you the trial. I am not so devoted to your happiness as to sacrifice mine.”
Sheffield threw his head back on a laugh. “Heavens, no. Deb, I would never ask you to do that. I do think Anna will behave herself better this time, given this is to be her first Season and she is desperate to make a good impression, but no.” He shook his head firmly. “I only need you to call regularly. My aunt requested that I stay at Ashby House, undoubtedly to keep Anna out of trouble, but also as a comfort to her, meaning my aunt. She’s really very fond of me.”
“Poor lady,” Will murmured without much sympathy.
That earned him a cold look, but Sheffield said nothing further.
Could he really spend a dedicated part of his time during the Season calling upon his friend, and, by extension, his friend’s aunt, without the visits providing him any sort of true benefit? Especially considering Miss Sheffield would be always about and having her in the vicinity would undoubtedly raise speculation and gossip.
He did not need that swirling around. He wanted to be less of a gentleman, it was true, but not so far gone as to be entirely without sense. He was polite to Miss Sheffield and doubted that would change any time soon no matter what his personal feelings towards her, but anything further than that, even in speculation, would only do him true harm.
“Will others be part of the regularly calling party?” Will carefully queried. “Or be staying with your aunt?”
Sheffield frowned at that. “Well, I doubt we will invite others to stay, as I do not believe Lady Ashby keeps many guest rooms in working order. But I daresay as we engage more and more in the events of the Season, we will surround ourselves with friends at Ashby House. For the present, I really only know you well enough, and we’ve been friends for years.”
It was true, they had been, and that association had been made through their years at school together, not in any real social gathering.
“Your sister may garner some attention for herself,” Will pointed out.
Sheffield groaned the self-same sound all elder brothers everywhere must have done when challenged with a younger sister. “I know. One can only hope it will be people with taste and respectability. Lord knows, Anna has never in her life listened to me.”
Will nodded, more in commiseration than in agreement. He had not had quite enough experience with Miss Sheffield to say how she behaved with her brother, for good or for ill, but Will did have a sister himself, though Nell was three years his senior. They hadn’t listened to each other at any given time in their youth, but their relationship hadn’t suffered much for it.
But then, Nell was sweet-tempered, for the most part, and had no airs.
He had endured enough experience with Miss Sheffield to say that.
“Very well,” he conceded with a heavy sigh. “When you are settled with your aunt at Ashby House, I will call upon you. I will make your aunt’s acquaintance, hopefully attain her good opinion, and I will accompany you to select events in Society at my discretion.”
Sheffield echoed his heavy sigh, though his was one of relief rather than resignation. “Thank you, Deb. I promise to make this worth your while.”
Will managed a smile at that. “I doubt
you can actually promise that, Sheffield, unless you are capable of accurately anticipating the unknown.”
“I have been known to guess correctly in the past,” Sheffield allowed with a sage nod. “That could be our first foray into the path of your sin. Gaming club, perhaps? I do know of one or two, and I won’t be free to venture there once I’m ensconced away at Ashby House next week.”
There was a promising thought. Will did occasionally opt to venture into the card room when he was forced to attend balls, and his skills at those tables, while not precisely excellent, were good enough to keep him from drastic losses. He never gambled recklessly, and rarely gambled at all, but if he were to make more a habit of cards and gaming…
“Capital idea,” he said, rapping a fist on their table and rising. “One can be always at the gaming tables and in the card room and still be a gentleman.”
Sheffield gave him a dry look. “Yes, that was my chief concern. How might we best give you faults while still retaining your status.” He shook his head and pushed his chair back, rising himself.
“I don’t want to be a cad,” Will protested as the left the room. “And I have no desire to become a villain.”
“What a relief.”
Will scowled at his friend’s back. “You are being remarkably unsupportive.”
Sheffield glanced over his shoulder. “That’s because this is idiotic, and I am only indulging you because I know none of this will work.”
“It will work,” Will insisted, already considering his strategy when they sat down to their first games. “I don’t think we ought to risk much in the gambling. One does not need to appear without financial responsibility in order to get ahead.”
Laughter reached his ears, and his scowl deepened. “You are a terrible sinner, Deb.”
“That phrase is usually said with some derision, not amusement,” Will pointed out.
Now Sheffield craned his neck to look almost fully at him. “I mean you are terrible at sinning, not that you sin in terrible way. The distinction changes the tone.”
The Beauty Page 2