Regency Rumors (The Sinclair Society Series, #1)

by Swafford, Bethany

  “Well, what an interesting young man,” she said, looking immensely pleased for some reason. “I can see why you lost your heart to him, Juliet. He is a handsome one.”

  “Handsome is as handsome does, Aunt.” I pushed myself out of my chair and went to the window, watching him walk through the gate. Not wishing to be caught spying, I hovered behind the curtain. He might think—why did I care what he thought? Feeling confused, I moved back to my chair. “Let us not forget he is the one who left me without a word of explanation.”

  “Perhaps you will have that explanation now,” Aunt Beth said, her tone stubborn. “You cannot judge him when you know nothing of the circumstances!”

  “And I cannot trust him for the same reason.” Lifting up my teacup, which I had barely touched during Mr. Bladen’s entire visit, I sipped the liquid without really thinking about it.

  “Now, why do you have that look on your face?” Aunt Beth narrowed her eyes at me.

  “Do you think—could Uncle Frederick be the reason Mr. Bladen left?” I asked, getting straight to the heart of my concern. “Uncle Frederick never mentioned meeting Mr. Bladen, but he must have known o-of my hopes and expectations.”

  Aunt Beth poured herself more tea. “Why would Frederick scare away a prospective match? No, I cannot believe he would do such a thing, not when it is his responsibility to see you happily settled.”

  Scoffing, I shook my head. “Well, he hasn’t exactly made any effort to accomplish that objective now, has he?”

  “He is also occupied with his work,” Aunt Beth exclaimed in protest. “He has always been busy with his studies. Once he returns from the dig, I’m sure he will do everything in his power to find you a husband, or put you in the way of finding a husband.”

  Raising my eyebrow, I forced a laugh. “Somehow, I don’t think I want the kind of husband Uncle Frederick will choose for me. Some priggish professor of something or other? No, thank you.”

  “You cannot know Frederick would choose one of his colleagues.”

  Sometimes, there was just no way to reason with her. I sipped my tea again, wrinkling my nose as I realized it was cold. Setting it down I sent a glance towards the clock on the mantel. “I must get back before I am missed,” I said with a mixture of regret and relief.

  “You only just arrived! We haven’t had a chance to talk, Juliet!”

  “I’m sorry, but this is how it has to be.” I went to her side and placed a kiss on her cheek. “I will return on my next free day. And I promise I will write if anything happens.”

  Aunt Beth scowled at me. “There is a letter for you.” She selected it from the table beside her. “I do hope you will be able to spare a moment to read it in your busy days to come.”

  Nothing I could have said right then would appease her. I accepted the message from her hand and tucked it into my reticule as I turned to leave.

  “Simmons will take you. Tell him where to pick you up next time as well. I can’t have you walking so far alone. Who knows what would happen to you?”

  “You know I cannot allow that, Aunt,” I said, pausing in the doorway. Even when she was irritated with me, she couldn’t help but show her concern for my welfare. “It would draw too much attention to me. Now, try not to exert yourself too much while I am away.”

  Carter stood in the hall with my pelisse and bonnet in her hands. “Miss Juliet,” she said, keeping her expression neutral. She couldn’t hide the curiosity in her eyes, though.

  “Hello, Carter,” I said with a smile. As I tied my bonnet on, it occurred to me she was the perfect person to help me with my knotty problem. “If you were in charge of dressing a head of unfortunate thick, curly hair, how would you manage it?”

  The maid’s eyebrow raised. “Are you finding your work troublesome, Miss Juliet?”

  “More than I thought I would.” I kept my tone low. “I know how to fix the unflattering state of her wardrobe, but her hair is impossible!”

  “Has the young lady considered cutting it?”

  CARTER’S SUGGESTION remained with me as I returned to the Burnham household. Miss Burnham and her mother were out, and I found myself with time on my hands. Returning to my room, I set myself to make further repairs to Mrs. Burnham’s wardrobe.

  As I occupied myself with my thread and needle, there was a knock on my door. “Yes, who is it?” I asked, looking up from the delicate repair I was attempting on the hem of one of the dresses. I waited a few moments before I tried again. “Yes? Hello?”

  No answer. Shaking my head, I turned my attention back to my work. A second later, there was another knock, louder than before. “Yes?” I said, lifting my head once more. No response and I clenched my jaw. “If this is someone’s idea of a prank, I warn you I am not amused!”

  Still, nothing was said from the hallway. Standing up, I set aside my work and moved carefully to the door without making a sound. When there came, as I had suspected there would, a third knock, I grabbed the doorknob and swung the door wide.

  Startled, Daphne and Calliope fell onto their backsides in the hallway. “Is there something you wish, Miss Daphne, Miss Calliope?” I speared them with my best interpretation of Miss Graham’s most disapproving glare.

  “Well, we just wanted to know what you’re doing,” Daphne said, scrambling up first. She stepped forward as if she were going to come into my room.

  I blocked her way. “I am working. What are you doing?”

  They exchanged glances. “We want to see,” Calliope said, joining her sister. Her hair was an abominable mess. “Step aside and let us in, Nelson.”

  “I will not.” I pulled the door closed so that only half of me was in the doorway. “Shouldn’t you be with Miss Graham?”

  “Ol’ Gray Boots is on a walk with Genie,” Daphne said, trying to push on the door. Quite honestly, her behavior was closer to that expected from a three-year-old, not a fifteen-year-old, and her nickname for Miss Graham was hardly flattering. “This is our house, and you have to do what we tell you!”

  I had never dealt well with children. At least, not ones who were old enough to walk and talk and generally make nuisances of themselves. I much preferred adorable babies who slept most of the time, though even then I’d had little contact with the creatures.

  So being faced with two teenage girls who behaved like spoiled toddlers, was quickly grating on my nerves.

  “Unfortunately for you, that’s not quite true.” My words caused confused looks to cross their faces. Clearly, they were not accustomed to not having their own way. “You see, I was given this room to stay in while I’m here, therefore it belongs to me and I can choose who to allow in.”

  “It doesn’t work like that!” Calliope said in protest.

  “It does, in fact, work like that. If you don’t like it, I suggest you find your father and ask him.”

  The girls exchanged looks. They seemed to hold a silent conversation and then turned away. They raced down the corridor, and I pulled myself back into my room, leaning against the door with a sigh of relief.

  I had no doubt they would return. Hazarding a guess, I surmised they were desperate for attention and didn’t care what kind or where it came from. Mrs. Burnham seemed caught up in marrying Eugenia to the wealthiest man she could while avoiding unnecessary inconvenience. Their father being away so much did not help the situation; not that he’d have any interest in them were he there.

  Deep down, I did feel sorry for the girls. But they were not the reason I was there. If I could, I would do something for them but I had no intention of being in the house long enough for them to grow up.

  Of course, my second objective was to help Eugenia, and I still had yet to find a way to gain her trust. I knew Miss Graham would never betray the girl’s confidence, so I could not expect anything from her on the matter.

  My thoughts were interrupted by another knock on the door. “Yes?” There was no answer. Spinning around, I pulled the door open. No one stood right in front of the door, so I poked my
head out. To my left was Daphne and to my right was Calliope.

  “Is there something I can do for you, Miss Daphne, Miss Calliope?” I asked in an all too formal tone of voice.

  “You can let us in,” Daphne said as if the matter was obvious.

  Without a doubt, I knew they weren’t going to leave me alone. I sighed, considering just how much work I would be able to do if I tried to ignore them. It wouldn’t be that much. “Perhaps if you asked nicely, I might do so.”

  Again, they looked at each other, this time with surprise. “Ask...nicely?” Calliope repeated as though the words were foreign.

  “Yes.”

  Daphne frowned. “Let us in. Please?” she said, slowly.

  I shook my head, unable to keep a smile off my face. “That’s not asking nicely. That was telling in a nice-ish way. You both have to ask politely.”

  Miss Graham was a stickler for manners, so they must be familiar with the concept. But I had the feeling their governess was the only one who ever enforced it.

  “May we please come in?” Daphne asked, dragging out each word.

  Shifting my gaze to the older girl, I waited. Calliope scowled. “Will you please let us in, Miss Nelson?”

  I took a full minute to consider their request, and they both fidgeted more and more. “Very well,” I finally said, stepping back. “You may sit with me and practice your stitches. That ought to keep you both out of trouble.”

  “I hate sewing,” Calliope declared, pushing her way in ahead of her sister. “There’s always going to be someone else to do it for me, so why should I bother?”

  I could sympathize completely, but I wasn’t going to let her know that.

  She jumped onto my bed, trying to bounce. Daphne went straight to my trunk and opened it. “Did I give you permission to touch my things?” I said as I moved back to my chair. I’d planned on working with some intricate sewing but guessed a more basic task would suit them better. “I will have to ask you to leave if you do not behave yourselves.”

  Calliope flopped back on my bed, but Daphne obediently closed my trunk and came over. “What are you doing?”

  “I am getting the socks for you to darn.”

  “I won’t do your darning!” she said, a whining note in her voice. “It’s so boring! You will have to do something else with us.”

  My eyes must have been sparking with annoyance when I looked at her because she flinched away. “Miss Daphne, this is what you were so desperate to watch. I told you when you came in you would be sewing. Did you think I was jesting?”

  Her nose wrinkled with disgust, but she sat down on the floor and took the sock into her hands. “I want Ol’ Gray Boots to come back,” she said as she stabbed the needle into the sock. “She always pays more attention to Genie than she does us.”

  “Perhaps if you were kinder to her, she might be willing to give you more attention,” I said, falling back on my list of what grown-ups were supposed to say. “Then again, you’ll have her full attention once your sister is married.”

  “Who would want to marry Eugenia?” Calliope asked from where she still lounged on my bed.

  I hesitated to include her in the conversation, feeling a strong desire to punish her for ignoring my warning not to touch my things. “Your sister is a pretty girl,” I said, keeping my eyes on my work. “All young ladies aim to make excellent matches.”

  “So, why didn’t you?”

  My jaw clenched. Henry. Would I never be able to think of the man without making my heart hurt? I was still angry with him, as today had proved.

  “Silly, servants don’t get married!” Daphne objected before I could say a thing. “Besides, she just said young ladies want to find a match, and she’s not a lady.”

  That made me laugh, even though I was aware she was insulting me, and the old pain faded away once again. “If that’s the case, then how do you explain Mr. and Mrs. Wilder? You don’t imagine they were always married, do you?”

  Daphne’s hands went still as she frowned. “I don’t want to think about it!”

  “Then, why aren’t you married?” Calliope asked, sliding off the bed.

  “There was someone, once,” I said, hoping the admission would be enough to keep her satisfied. “But it didn’t work out between us and so, here I am.”

  To my surprise, Daphne reached out and patted my hand. “Maybe you’ll find someone else, like father’s valet! You’re not old, Nelson. And some men like older women, do they not?”

  If I had been drinking anything, I would have choked on it. “How do you know about that?”

  She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “Mama says if father ever dies, she’ll find someone who appreciates the charms of an older, experienced woman,” she said, her tone matter of fact. Daphne pulled her hand back and continued with the rather poor repair of the sock in her hand. “But I hope nothing ever happens to father.”

  For the second time in five minutes, I felt a twinge in my chest. “That’s good,” I managed to say. “You need to appreciate your parents. You never know when they might be taken away from you.”

  “I’m so bored,” Calliope wailed, ignoring my heartfelt advice completely.

  “I have more needles, and there are plenty of things in need of repair.”

  She groaned, stretching her hand out. “Fine, but you can’t tell Ol’ Gray Boots! If you do, I’ll-I’ll put bugs in your bed!”

  I raised an eyebrow. “First of all, of course, I will not tell her. The only reason I would have to reveal your presence here to Miss Graham is if you cause trouble. Other than that, whatever happens in this room, stays in this room. Second, why should Miss Graham not know of your activity if you do it well? Thirdly, you should never warn someone what you plan to do to them. You’ll just give them time to retaliate.”

  Her eyes widened. “Retaliate?”

  “How do you know so much about it?” Daphne asked in awe.

  “Because I’m smart, that’s why,” was my rather inelegant response to that. “Now, start sewing.”

  Chapter Nine

  Once they settled down to their task, the girls became rather calm. They chatted easily about a few of the things Miss Graham had been teaching them. I realized with some surprise that they were fond of their governess, a situation I would not have guessed at given how they detested her presence. I learned Daphne had a love for history, while Calliope preferred to read. Both were emphatic in their dislike of French, Italian, and the pianoforte.

  I sent them on their way when it neared the hour to dress Mrs. Burnham for her evening. She and Eugenia were to join another family at the opera. No doubt the idea was to display Eugenia in the box for all to see.

  I was aware that few went to the opera house to savor the music. I, admittedly, had been more interested in the sights to be seen when I had attended, even though I enjoyed a musical performance as much as the next person. Going to the shops for fabric and ribbons, walking in St. James’ Park, and exploring the wonders contained in the British Museum had been my favorite activities to spend my time.

  Bracing myself for my task, I made my way up to the dressing room. I flinched at the gown that Mrs. Burnham had already selected. It was, for once, not pink, but a garish gold that I knew instantly would look horrible on her. The multitude of bows, of the same color, did not help to flatter her appearance.

  If this was where Eugenia received her sense of fashion, the poor girl truly needed help. Especially if she never had a reliable lady’s maid to guide her. I knew without being told that Mrs. Burnham would never accept the opinion of the dressmaker, who would know what would and would not compliment a woman’s figure.

  Perhaps that was the first place I could start with Eugenia. She would feel more confident if she knew she looked her best and the first step in that direction would be dresses that suited her. On that note, I would have to do something different with her hair, perhaps trying for an entirely different style; one that was also popular. It wasn’t that long hair was out of
fashion, but Eugenia’s hair would not hold a curl for longer than a few minutes and those curls were necessary for the usual hairstyles.

  Mrs. Burnham would have a conniption fit when she learned my plans. Hopefully, I would be able to swear Eugenia to secrecy long enough for me to be able to make it happen. And then, there would be little Mrs. Burnham could do about it.

  With that thought in mind, I worked through Mrs. Burnham’s complaints and demands. I had a suspicion that the attitude of the servants wasn’t all that prevented the house from keeping a lady’s maid in residence.

  Since that last night I had seen Mary working with Eugenia’s hair, the maid hadn’t been in sight near the young lady’s bedroom. Thankfully Eugenia had changed into one of the few gowns that suited her: a pale blue that matched her eyes. “Nelson, you’re here,” she said in relief. Her hair was loose as though she’d attempted to arrange it herself.

  “Your mother had specific needs.” What else could I say? Nothing that wouldn’t be taken as rudeness or complaining. “Allow me to take over, Miss Burnham.”

  “Mama was demanding.” Eugenia relinquished the hairbrush to me with a sigh. “I know her all too well.”

  “Yes, I suppose you would.” I couldn’t waste time with anything fancy, and I wasn’t entirely sure if her hair would cooperate if I even attempted. “I’m going to be completely honest with you; we can’t keep doing this.”

  Eugenia’s face screwed up with a mixture of emotions. “I knew I was a hopeless case.”

  “That’s not what I said.” I hadn’t meant for her to take my words that way at all. “I meant that we’re going to have to try something different with your hair.”

  “But what else can we do?”

  “We can discuss it sometime when you do not have to go to the opera.” Carter had given me a tiny hope, but I wasn’t sure if it would work or not. I would need to send a message before I could hint at there being a plan. I threaded a ribbon through her hair, trying to move quickly without making it worse than it already was. “I would like you to give me permission to alter a few of your dresses.”