by Janet Woods
‘If the weather allows.’
Vivienne smiled at him. ‘Invite your young lady … Gracie, isn’t it? You must tell us all about her over dinner.’
Alex’s expression was all innocence. ‘It seems I was wrong, my dear. It turns out that Gracie is a Mr Gracie, and is Dom’s new clerk.’
Vivienne exchange a rueful smile with his brother then turned to him. ‘That will teach us to be presumptuous. What Alex hasn’t told you is that I’m trying to find a suitable woman to introduce you to. One you can learn to love.’
‘Vivienne, my dear, I have no wish to learn how to love. Like my brother I prefer to leave such things to fate. Alex fell instantly in love with you, and look how well that turned out. I’m thinking of running off with you when he’s not looking.’
A blush seeped into her cheeks and Dominic winked at his brother. Dominic liked Vivienne’s streak of shyness despite her outward display of confidence.
‘Vivienne has already painted a picture of your bride inside her head,’ Alex said.
Dominic was surprised. Were they that eager to get him settled? ‘Do tell me?’
‘She’s tall and has dark hair and brown eyes.’
Gracie was petite, her hair was mid-brown and burnished with red. It gleamed red sparks in the firelight. Her eyes were the colour of honey, and filled with laughter. Dominic already missed her.
He scrambled to enforce his lie anyway, in case his growing affection towards the delicious Gracie Ellis faded with their current parting and became merely carnal … though he wouldn’t object to a little bit more carnal either.
‘I’ve been going through the house inventory with the new clerk, counting the silverware and making a record of the house art.’
‘Good grief, how utterly boring,’ Eugenie said faintly. ‘May we ask, who does the will favour?’
‘The servants have a suitable loyalty portion. Then there is Brigadier Maximilian Crouch, the old lady’s nephew.’
‘Good grief, is the brigadier still alive?’
‘So I’m given to believe. Do you know him then, Eugenie?’
‘I met him a couple of times. I was about sixteen and he was fifteen years older. He was handsome but thoroughly obnoxious and an absolute bore. He had rather a high-pitched laugh, I recall. His father bought him a commission in the army in an attempt to make a man of him. Surprisingly, he survived, and has been mentioned in despatches on several occasions, I believe.’
‘He needs to wed before he inherits. I should put your name forward as a possible candidate perhaps.’
‘If you do I shall poison you, Dominic.’
Their conversation was interrupted by the appearance of the nursery maid who carried the sleepy-eyed son and heir. Nicholas Alexander LéSayres was dark-haired and blue-eyed, like his father. The boy accepted a parental kiss on his downy cheeks from his parents, and then gazed intently at Dominic for a short time. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and smiled around it when he recognized his uncle. Belching out a bubble he fell asleep.
Dominic kissed the infant’s delicate cheek, wondering if there was anything more precious or vulnerable than an infant … especially one belonging to the family. How a LéSayres miniature of such perfection could have been created by his brother was almost beyond his comprehension, though admittedly, Vivienne would have had quite a lot to do with it. The look of love in Vivienne’s eyes when she gazed tenderly upon her child equalled the one she bestowed on Alex.
Longing wrenched at his gut as he pictured Gracie with their infant in her arms. His child would have grey eyes, and he’d inherit a talent for numbers so he could join his business when he grew up. He would also inherit Dominic’s love of writing poetry.
He wondered if Gracie liked poetry, he’d never asked her. He might try some of his own on her. Or he might not. He grimaced. Lord Byron he was not, and she would probably tease him.
But for these things to come to pass he would need to wed. The thought of matrimony was sobering. Some men made suitable husbands and some did not. He suspected he might be in the latter group, since he’d never really considered he might find happiness with one woman – until now.
He ignored the intrusive little nudge, the one that reminded him his brother had settled to marriage after a less than faultless journey into manhood. Alex would be the first to admit he had won himself a prize in Vivienne, for she had a wit to match that of Alex, and had come with a fortune attached.
He gazed at Vivienne now, comparing her elegance to his petite Gracie, who trotted busily about like a hen in a chicken coop. Gracie amused him and he liked her company, especially in the evening when they sat in front of the fire, each sharing an awareness of the other.
Under his breath he murmured a first line of a poem as it occurred to him. ‘“Love should be declared in the evening”.’
‘Did you say something Dom?’
‘He’s a most handsome child, and he looks more like Vivienne every day.’
Alex chuckled. ‘The last time you were home you said he looked like me.’
‘That’s because I needed to borrow a sovereign. In actual fact, Nicholas resembles his favourite uncle.’
‘Did you pay the sovereign back?’
Dipping his fingers into his waistcoat pocket Dominic flipped a coin through the air. Alex caught it and slipped it into his own pocket. They’d been playing for the same sovereign for quite some time now.
‘Since you took it upon yourself to try and drown me in the bath earlier I’ve changed my mind. You’ve developed a mean streak and I’m throwing down the gauntlet … swords at dawn.’
Alex’s grin bordered on evil. ‘I’ve been taking tuition so will beat you this time, just wait and see.’
Dominic laughed. ‘The devil you will.’
‘Let’s alter the rules a bit. If you lose you get to tell me all about the clerk called Gracie.’
Dominic bestowed on his brother the most guileless of looks. ‘You have a vivid imagination, Alex.’
‘You’re trying to flummox me, brother mine.’
‘And succeeding by the sound of it.’
Vivienne gave a throaty laugh and joined in the game of teasing him. ‘Describe your new clerk to us in four words, Dominic.’
‘Black beard and eye-patch.’
Eugenie exchanged a glance with Vivienne. ‘Hooked nose and bent back?’
‘Do you ladies mean, his back is bent, or his hooked nose is bent back?’
‘Both,’ they said together.
Alex smiled. ‘There’s that … of course but then he might have eight legs and fangs like that creature skittering under the chair.’
Two skirts were raised off the floor in a shapely display of ankles. Vivienne gave an involuntary scream and Alex grinned when she did a stomping little dance, one designed to kill off any unfortunate spider within her reach. ‘Very elegant, my love,’ he said.
Eugenie gave a throaty laugh. ‘It’s about time the pair of you grew out of such unruly behaviour.’
Dominic raised an eyebrow. ‘May I remind you that you raised us, Eugenie dear, and I could almost swear that last month you patted yourself on the back when you told us we were fine examples of young men. Oh, by the way, I delivered your letter to John Howard. Did you receive a reply?’
All eyes turned to Eugenie, who seemed flustered when she said, ‘Yes … he has invited me to serve on the child welfare committee and interview deserving cases.’
The two men exchanged a grin. ‘And will you?’
‘When I decide, I will tell you.’
Eight
Dominic woke to the distant whinny of a horse and a morning that was barely there. Crawling out of bed he wrapped himself in a soft woollen blanket and dragged it with him to the window for warmth as he gazed out at the day.
He groaned when he thought of the duel he’d instigated with his brother. He’d rather build the fire up in the grate and stay in bed for another hour, wallowing in warmth. Alex had always been an early riser t
hough and would drag him out of bed by his ears if he backed down from the brotherly challenge.
Dawn was revealing a day of bitter wind that drove the occasional handful of sleet before it. The distant horizon uncovered a frothing sea, one that would spit spume on to the shore in its never-ending quest to grind the pebbles into sand. Between him and the shore a sloping home meadow was covered in frost. In spring that same meadow would be a tumble of bright wildflowers. When they were children they used to play there, guarded by two proud lions whose stone bodies were grey and grizzled with age, and spotted with moulds of various colours. Their sole duty was to guard a short flight of steps that went nowhere. Sometimes he and Alex had scrambled on to the lions’ backs, becoming knights in shining armour as they went about the business of rescuing a fair maiden from the dragon.
Dominic had dreamed of his own fair maiden the previous night. She’d called his name from a distance, as soft as a fingertip stroking a velvet ribbon, and he’d woken to a tender touch against his shoulder. Nobody had been there when he’d opened his eyes but he had felt she’d stood by his bed trying to get his attention.
Dominic … Dominic LéSayres.
He’d lain there, his neck hairs bristling, thinking of her. He hoped it wasn’t an omen and he’d discover she’d flown the coop when he returned to Oakford House.
What would he do then?
He’d go to Southampton and find the ship she was on. Then he would fall to his knees and tell her he loved her. It shouldn’t be too hard since the only ship sailing from Southampton to the hazardous southern ocean sailed on the Tuesday and was named Bonnie Kathleen.
The cold outside the canopy of his bed and his bare feet on the floorboards put paid to the result of his meanderings on the young lady’s delights. He shivered despite the warmth of the wrapped-around blanket.
The horses came into view on the other side of the garden, creating a line of energetic dancing bodies. His brother’s groom and stable lad had accompanied Sam on Argus, so the boy could learn the lay of the land, he imagined. Argus was behaving himself, though he crabbed sideways as a couple of seagulls circled the party to scream a greeting at them. Perhaps the horse was finally learning some manners. Sam had a light touch on the rein.
Dominic breathed on to the windowpane. The warmth of the breath froze immediately and a few moments later metamorphosed into a fragile melting crystal of perfect symmetry.
‘As delicate as the lace of a wedding veil,’ he murmured, and then he groaned with delight at the thought of the unveiling. Reluctantly putting the thought of Grace Ellis aside he turned away to ready himself for the coming duel.
Ten minutes’ exercise followed by some stretching should do to warm his muscles. If Alex ran true to form he’d go straight into the attack and wear himself out trying to score.
Dominic smiled … then he’d have him.
Alex was already in the ballroom when Dominic went down, a smile on his face. Alex’s man brought in the weapons.
‘Thank you, Edward.’
‘I’ve been practising in your absence.’ Alex swiped the weapon through the air and back, looking fierce and menacing, while Dominic stretched various parts of his body that were still a little stiff after the long ride the day before.
Someone should tell his brother that practice didn’t always make perfect, Dominic thought as Alex’s man stood by with his weapon and attempted to read the rules of fencing.
Alex interrupted him, ‘Yes … yes, we’re both aware of code duello, and we don’t need any seconds, so enough of that fancy stuff, Edward. It’s not a proper duel and I’m not going to kill him. It’s just exercise.’
‘Well, just you be careful, sir, you know how good Mr LéSayres is with a sword.’
‘You have my solemn promise that I will not kill him,’ Dominic offered. ‘Breakfast’s waiting, so let’s get this over with. First to get six touches in wins the golden sovereign.’
‘In addition, Dom, whether you win or lose, you must tell me all about Mr Gracie,’ Alex said.
Dominic grumbled. ‘Why do you think you need to know anything?’
‘There’s something decidedly rum about your reluctance to discuss this new clerk of yours.’
Edward handed him the remaining épée, a weapon that, in Dominic’s opinion, offered a faster duel than the foil because it was lighter and every touch on the body counted, whereas the foil was restricted to the duellists’ trunk.
Alex took the opposite view in the never-ending, and often quite heated, conversations about the niceties of fighting with the sword.
Dominic flexed the shining blade. He’d never fought a duel with intent to maim or kill anyone, but he could imagine the slim, shining blade sliding into Edward’s paunch and the air escaping in a flatulent rush while he deflated. Not when he was duelling with his brother, of course. They wore padded jackets and the weapons had their tips guarded.
Alex struck the opening stance, body side on, right leg forward and knee bent. Dominic followed suit.
‘En garde.’
There was a metallic shiver of sound when they clashed. It echoed around the empty ballroom and put Dominic’s teeth on edge. He circled his opponent evaluating Alex’s play while managing to keep him at arm’s length. It seemed that his brother had not yet learned that might wasn’t always better than matter.
Alex managed to register a point and he mocked, ‘All this secrecy about a bit of muslin.’
How the hell had his brother found that out? He took a point off him for his deceit.
A bit of muslin? Gracie Ellis was a far cry from a scatty-headed hussy, though there was a delightful touch of the hoyden about her. And neither did she appear knowledgeable about matters of love, except in a detached sort of way. Yes, she flirted a little, but that was instinct, without knowing where, or what it might lead to. Emotionally she was enjoying the fun of it but with an instinctive wariness.
A bit of muslin, indeed not. ‘Hah!’ Dominic threw an oath at him and took another point for the insult to his lady-love. He went into a flurry of showy movements and steel clashed. ‘How did you find out?’
‘I have my sources.’
After a secretive smile Dominic realized his brother was playing him at his own game. Alex certainly had been taking tuition, but he still danced around, wearing himself out.
Alex staggered backwards, swearing and the pair went to it hell for leather, and with both scoring a point. His brother was a good, instinctive fencer, but Dominic could read his opponent. He took another point.
‘Three all – to Mr LéSayres.’
Alex recovered and retaliated, and the duelling picked up speed. After a short, but fierce battle Alex scored another hard won point.
‘Four to Mr LéSayres – three points to the earl.’
Alex was breathing hard but managed to score the next point quite accidentally when he slipped. ‘Aha!’ he shouted.
‘Evens – four.’
Another point went Dominic’s way.
Dominic made his brother work hard for the next point, and perspiration covered the pair of them. Alex took his fifth point. He was almost jubilant now, sure of his win.
Dominic slid his sword along that of his brother’s and administered the final point, the coup de gras, touching the point of the sword against the padding over his brother’s heart.
‘Six – five. Match to Mr LéSayres.’
Alex fell on his back, arms flung open, his breath heaving in his chest. ‘You haven’t lost your touch, Dom.’
Grabbing his brother by the forearm Dominic pulled him up and Edward relieved them of the swords. Hands on hips they hung from the waist, breathing heavily.
Edward offered them towels.
Dominic smiled as he caught the sovereign tossed by his brother. ‘You’re out of condition, Alex. I hardly had to work at all.’
‘I allowed you to win.’
‘Liar … you’re wheezing like an old donkey.’
‘Never mind that. Tell
me about your new clerk.’
Dominic adopted a vague expression. ‘What do you need to know about my clerk?’
‘I need you to confirm she’s named Grace Ellis and you’ve hired her, a woman, as a clerk.’
Dominic gazed suspiciously at him, racking his brain in case he could think of something he’d let slip. ‘All right, you win. How did you find that out?’
‘You forgot one small item. I visited the stable when the staff were saddling up and asked Mr Rider. He was quite eager to extol the lady’s virtues.’
Dominic could have kicked himself. ‘I can see you haven’t lost any of your rat cunning in my absence.’
‘I prefer to call it my superior intelligence.’
Alex hooked an arm over his brother’s shoulder and they strode together to the bottom of the staircase, where they came to a halt. Alex asked, ‘Tell me, what’s the young lady like?’
‘She’s accomplished in the usual womanly things and comes from a medical background, since her father was a doctor.’
‘And you signed her up as a clerk … a woman?’
‘Ah … but she handles numbers so easily and confidently, and has good, legible handwriting to match. John Howard told me that if you throw a seed into the air it will land in the place where the best nourishment for it is to be found, and there it will thrive.’
‘But a woman working in a position usually reserved for men … it’s highly unusual, almost unheard of. It is unheard of.’
‘Doesn’t Vivienne keep your household books?’
‘That’s different. Vivienne is my wife.’
‘Don’t be so bloody pompous, Alex. Grace Ellis is a very capable young woman. Perhaps I should mention that she’s the daughter of the eminent and slightly infamous Dr Ellis, who was noted for his fine doctoring as well as his, not so fine, gambling. Gracie managed his books, but she was left entirely alone and destitute and was destined for the poorhouse until John Howard found employment for her as a carer companion to Lady Florence Digby. John Howard does not merely philosophize, he puts his words into action. He paid her wage while she was employed in her former position.’