“You could do it for me, you know,” said Annabel.
“Do what?” Temperance murmured distractedly, her thoughts as far from Beethoven as they could possibly be. It had been exactly three days since the village festival and she’d yet to come any closer to tracking down Hugh than when she’d first begun her search the morning after their steamy kiss. She wanted to find him. She needed to find him. And the fact that she couldn’t was a constant source of irritation.
No one she talked to – including the servants – had ever heard of him. In such a close knit community, it was unfathomable that no one had any idea who he was, let alone where he was staying. He could have returned to London for all Temperance knew, although there was a part of her that instinctively sensed he was somewhere near. As ridiculous as it seemed, she could feel Hugh’s presence.
Rather like a pimple about to erupt.
“The recital.” Spinning away from the window in a dramatic swirl, Annabel looked pleadingly at Temperance and even went so far as to clasp her palms together and bring them up beneath her chin. “Please, please, please Tempy.”
“Do not call me that,” Temperance said automatically. ‘Tempy’ was a childhood name invented by Delilah when she’d been too young to properly pronounce her c’s. It was also what her father used to call her…and every time she heard it a fresh wave of pain sliced through her heart all over again.
“I am sorry,” Annabel said at once. “I forgot. Temperance, can you please–
“No,” she said shortly. With one last, remorseless glance at Annabel’s complicated sheet music she stood up. “I am sorry, but I cannot play the recital for you. Even if I wanted to, I haven’t practiced the pianoforte in months.” In a desperate effort to keep them out of the poor house as long as possible, Lynette had sold off nearly all of their belongings, including all of their instruments. “Keep at it. When is the recital?”
“On Friday evening,” Annabel said glumly. “Mother has invited everyone she could possibly think of and they are all going to laugh at me.”
“Do not be ridiculous. No one would be so crass as to laugh at a Blackbourne.” A mischievous smile curled the corners of Temperance’s mouth as she added, “They will at least have the good grace to wait until they are in their carriages and on their way home before they mock you.”
Plucking up a lace-trimmed pillow from the nearest chair, Annabel threw it half-heartedly at Temperance’s head. She ducked nimbly to the side and it went sailing over her left shoulder before bouncing harmlessly against a table and falling to the floor.
“Missed.”
Annabel huffed out a breath. “Must you always gain so much pleasure at other’s misfortune?”
“Playing a recital for family and friends is not a misfortune. You’ll get through it, just as you’ve gotten through all the others. You know,” Temperance said as a rather devious thought occurred to her. “If you were to try your worst instead of your best there is a high chance your mother would be so embarrassed she’d never dream of hosting another recital ever again.”
Annabel’s eyes widened. “You mean bungle it on purpose?”
“That is precisely what I mean.”
“Brilliant,” Annabel declared as a bright smile lit up her entire face. “Absolutely brilliant! I do not know why I never thought of it before.”
“Because you are an honest person who is accustomed to doing the right thing?” Temperance suggested dryly.
“Hogwash,” said Nathaniel’s sister with a flippant wave of her hand. “From this moment forward I shall endeavor to be more like you, Temperance.”
“Conniving and duplicitous?”
Annabel grinned. “Exactly.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning Temperance woke to a cold wet nose pressed against her cheek and the slide of a warm tongue between her lips. Her arms flailed in opposite directions as she shot upright, sending the perpetrator of the kiss tumbling off the bed and onto the floor. Rolling over onto his back, he grinned up at her with pointy white teeth and a mischievous glint in his brown eyes.
“Bad Mr. Humphrey,” she scolded as she shook her finger at the impenitent pup. “Bad!”
Completely unfazed by the scolding, Mr. Humphrey rolled to his feet and shook himself off. Black and white hair flew in every direction, causing Temperance to sneeze. Floppy ears pricking at the sound, the pup gave a hopeful whine and perched his front paws on the edge of the mattress, his expression shamelessly begging for Temperance to allow him on the bed.
“Oh no you don’t,” she said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wooden headrest with a scowl. Morning sunlight streamed in through the open windows on either side of the canopied bed, illuminating the tawny undertones in Temperance’s hair and the annoyed flush of pink color in her cheeks. “You shouldn’t even be in here, let alone putting your dirty paws on the linens! Shoo now. Go on. Shoo!”
Feigning deafness, Mr. Humphrey wagged his tail.
Temperance rolled her eyes.
It was not that she disliked her sister’s pet. Mr. Humphrey was a sweet thing, if a bit simple-minded at times (particularly when he was being given a direct order). What she could not abide was being woken at the crack of dawn every morning. If there was one thing Temperance held in very high regard, it was her sleep. Something which had been in alarmingly short supply as of late courtesy of her early morning visitor!
“DELILAH!” Bellowing her sister’s name without a care for who else she woke – if she had to be up with the birds, she saw no reason anyone else should get to sleep in – Temperance waited impatiently for her summons to be answered while Mr. Humphrey chased after a spot of light on the floor, blissfully oblivious to the problems he was causing. “Delilah, you had best get in here this instant and take control of your wild hound or so help me–”
“Mr. Humphrey is not wild. Are you Mr. Humphrey?” Only half dressed in a white shift and drawers with her honey brown hair a wild tangle around her pale countenance, Delilah marched into the bedroom and immediately took Mr. Humphrey into her arms. Practically bouncing with delight, the pup bathed her face in kisses while she giggled and told him, in no uncertain terms, how ‘positively perfect’ he was.
“You are going to make him conceited if you keep talking to him like that.” Watching the affectionate exchange with an arched brow, Temperance disguised her reluctant smile behind a frown. The last thing she wanted was for her sister to know she’d actually grown a little fond of the furry rascal.
“You are just jealous,” said Delilah before she carefully lowered Mr. Humphrey onto the floor and sat down beside him in a pool of warm sunlight. A faint breeze blew in from outside, brushing Delilah’s uncombed hair away from her temple and bringing with it the fresh scent of fallen leaves. After it had rained for an entire day and night the sizable grounds of Dunhill were covered in vibrant blankets of red and orange. It would be a while yet before the trees were completely stripped bare of their leaves, but many of them were well on their way.
“Jealous?” Temperance scoffed. “Of a dog? Please. I am nothing of the sort.”
Delilah glanced up at her sister as she obliged Mr. Humphrey’s shameless request for a belly scratch. “You are,” she said. “You are jealous that I have found a man who loves me and you haven’t.”
Oh for heaven’s sake.
“Mr. Humphrey is not a man.”
“You are correct,” Delilah said as she gathered her pup close and kissed the top of his head. “He is better than any man I have ever met. He is polite and obedient and always listens to what I have to say.”
“You forgot housebroken.”
Delilah’s brows knitted. “We are getting there.”
“I would suggest getting there a little faster,” Temperance said dryly. “If Lady Townsend stumbles across any more ‘accidents’ Mr. Humphrey is going straight to the barn.”
“She wouldn’t dare.” Aghast, Delilah bit her lip. “Would she?”
Temper
ance sighed. She enjoyed poking fun at her sister, but sometimes trying to jest with Delilah made her feel as though she were kicking a tiny, defenseless kitten. All wide-eyed and innocent, the youngest Swan sister was most certainly the most naïve. With her head stuck in the clouds more often than not, she lived in a fantasy world where people were always kind and any sort of problem, no matter how large, could be solved with a smile.
“You know Lynette would not let her.”
“But Lynette is not here.”
“Not here? What do you mean she is not here?”
Delilah set Mr. Humphrey down on the floor. After chasing his tail for a few moments, he promptly rolled onto his belly and fell fast asleep. “She and Nathaniel had a row and she left early this morning. Didn’t you hear them yelling?”
“No.” Temperance shook her head and bit her bottom lip as she suffered an unexpected pang of guilt.
On the day of the village festival she had entered Lynette’s room to discover her sister perilously close to tears. When she’d asked her what was wrong, Lynette had revealed that her marriage – though seemingly perfect on the outside – was slowly crumbling on the inside. The news had come as no surprise to Temperance. Lynette and Nathaniel may have managed to fool everyone else with their happy little charade, but they certainly hadn’t fooled her. She knew misery and discontent when she saw it. Which was why she’d suggested that her sister show her husband just how much he had to lose by leaving him.
In hindsight, it may not have been the best advice. Especially now that she knew Lynette had actually gone through with it.
“When did she leave?” Shoving the covers aside, Temperance slid off the mattress and – careful to avoid the snoring Mr. Humphrey – padded barefoot to her armoire. Opening it, she did a quick study of the dresses hanging neatly side by side before selecting a rose colored muslin trimmed in ivory lace. Like the rest of her wardrobe, it was brand new. No more hand-me-downs from Lynette or dresses falling apart at the seams. She was the sister-in-law of a viscount now, and her clothing reflected as much.
“Early this morning.” Leaning back on her palms, Delilah averted her gaze as Temperance stepped behind the dressing curtain. “I thought you knew.”
“Clearly not,” said Temperance, her voice muffled as she pulled her nightgown over her head. She had a delightful lady’s maid by the name of Darla, but having grown accustomed to readying herself over the past year she was uncomfortable with being dressed by another as though she were some sort of doll whose arms and legs did not work. “Does Nathaniel know she left?”
“Of course he does.”
“And?” Temperance demanded. Poking her head around the side of the dressing curtain, she saw Delilah blink in confusion.
“And what?”
“And what is he going to do about it? I swear,” she muttered under her breath as she stepped into the muslin dress and pulled it up to her chest, “sometimes I might as well be talking to myself.”
“Well he is going after her of course,” Delilah said as though it should have been obvious. “He just left a few minutes ago if I am not mistaken.”
“He did?” The surprise in her voice mirroring the surprise on her face, Temperance held her dress in place as she hurried to the middle of the bedroom. “Can you do the buttons? I cannot reach them. And tell me absolutely everything you know.”
“You stay right there Mr. Humphrey,” Delilah ordered as she stood up. Working deftly, she began to hook the tiny pearl buttons through their fabric loops, pulling the dress snugly against Temperance’s breasts. “All I know is that they had a row, Lynette left, and Nathaniel has gone after her.”
“You said that already.” Craning her neck around, Temperance attempted to track Delilah’s progress. “Are you finished yet? I need to go find Annabel. She will know what is going on.”
A notorious eavesdropper, Annabel knew absolutely everything about everyone.
“Not yet. Although it will go a lot quicker if you stop fidgeting.”
Temperance bit back a sharp retort. “Just please hurry.”
“Why are you so concerned?”
“Because…oh, bugger it. Because I said something to Lynette that may have caused her to leave and now I feel horribly guilty about it.”
“What did you say?” gasped Delilah.
“I told her to leave.”
“Yes, I imagine that would do it. All buttoned!”
“Finally.” Spinning around, she slipped her feet into the closest pair of slippers she could find and dashed out of the bedroom. Before she could get very far, however, she was intercepted by Lady Townsend.
A handsome woman in her early sixties, Nathaniel’s mother shared her son’s sparkling green eyes and charming smile. Her face was beginning to weather with age and there was more gray in her hair than blonde, but she retained a youthful energy that was, at times, rather exhausting.
“Up with the birds this morning, my dear?” Grasping both of Temperance’s hands before she could think to tuck them behind her back, Lady Townsend delivered a firm squeeze. “Good for you. Sleeping in is certainly a time honored tradition amidst the nobility, but it does one’s constitution a spot of good to breathe fresh air every once in a while.”
“Indeed,” Temperance said with a wan smile. It wasn’t that she disliked Lady Townsend. But she was suspicious of how much the countess liked to meddle. Now that she’d seen her firstborn son married, Lady Townsend had set her eye on a new victim she wished to guide to wedded bliss…and Temperance had the uncomfortable feeling that new victim was her.
“It is a beautiful day outside. Simply beautiful. Have you had breakfast?”
“No I–”
“Excellent! Come with me, dear. We shall dine together.”
Muffling a sigh, Temperance allowed herself to be led down the stairs and into the drawing room with all the enthusiasm of a child being dragged to lessons. A full breakfast service had already been set on the buffet, complete with spiced apples, neatly cut sausages, buttered toast, and a variety of different jams. Left with little choice, Temperance selected a plate and proceeded to pile it high with food. One of the things she had hated the most about being poor – besides the hand-me-down dresses and sharing with a bed with Delilah who kicked like a banshee in her sleep – was the abundance of potatoes.
Relatively inexpensive, the plain vegetable was perfectly suited for the poor man’s – or in this case, poor woman’s – wallet. Unfortunately, it was also rather tasteless, and after six months of eating potato stew for breakfast, lunch, and dinner Temperance would be quite happy if she never saw another potato for as long as she lived!
“Would you like hot chocolate or tea, dear?” Lady Townsend asked.
Her mouth watering at the mere thought of rich, decadent chocolate slowly melting in a mug of warm milk, Temperance quickly said, “Hot chocolate, please.”
“Here you are.” Setting down two steaming cups of frothy white milk, Lady Townsend selected a generous piece of chocolate for Temperance’s mug and a smaller one for herself from a sterling silver sugar bowl.
“Thank you, Lady Townsend.”
“Hosh posh,” the older woman declared as she took her seat and arranged her skirts. “What have I told you about that? We are family now, Temperance. Please refer to me as Rebecca. Is everything to your liking?”
Her mouth already filled with a liberal bite of sausage, Temperance nodded vigorously. “Yes,” she said once she’d swallowed and dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin. “Everything is very delicious Lady – er, Rebecca.”
“There you go.” Lady Townsend neatly applied a thin layer of blueberry jam to her toast. “What are your plans for the day, my dear?”
Temperance wondered if Nathaniel’s mother knew her daughter-in-law and son had taken off for parts unknown. Judging by her calm demeanor she sincerely doubted it, which meant she needed to tread very carefully. If Lady Townsend was unaware of Lynette and Nathaniel’s marital strife,
Temperance certainly wasn’t going to be the one to tell her. She had already done enough damage. “I was hoping to go on a walk with Annabel. Have you seen her?”
“Annabel is practicing for her recital at Lady Greer’s house today. I thought it best she be in an environment with…minimal distractions.” The countess smiled kindly. “I am sure you understand.”
Drats.
Without Annabel, how was she supposed to find out where Lynette had gone? The obvious choice was London, but given the erratic way her sister had been acting as of late there was no way to know for certain.
“You know dear,” Lady Townsend continued, “I am glad we have this opportunity for a little tête-à-tête.”
Temperance paused with a spoonful of spiced apple halfway to her lips. “You are?” she said warily.
“Yes. I have been meaning to speak with you, but with everything going on, well.” Setting down her fork, Lady Townsend rested her gloved hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward. “I am sure you understand.”
Not yet, Temperance thought silently, but I’m sure I am about to.
“It strikes me that you are a young woman of a certain age. A young woman of a marriageable age, some might say.”
Oh no.
This was precisely the topic she had been hoping to avoid. Unlike the majority of her peers, Temperance did not want a husband. To her mind, women married for one of three reasons: wealth, social prominence, or to avoid having a bastard child. Given that she had wealth, did not care a whit for social prominence, and had no intention of burdening herself with a bastard child, there was absolutely no need to marry. Why suffer a controlling, bullish lout when she already had everything she needed? She liked her independence, thank you very much, and she had absolutely no intention of crawling beneath the thumb of an overbearing husband.
Ever.
She knew some might call her cynical for not putting love in her reasons to marry, but how could she list something she had so rarely seen let alone felt for herself? She enjoyed flirting, it was true, but given that she was no longer a pink-cheeked debutante she knew flirting was as far from love as night was from a pickle. One did not equal the other, and the sort of men who enjoyed flirting were not the sort who made good husbands.
Taming Temperance Page 4