Not Plain Jane

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Not Plain Jane Page 2

by Sarita Leone


  Two heads hung. Neither looked up, but they echoed, “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Now, apologize. And not to the floor. Look at Miss Halifax and tell her you are sorry.”

  Obediently they met the woman’s gaze. A pair of short and somber apologies was offered. The governess nodded her acceptance, and the girls glanced at him for approval. He gave them a half-smile; they still were not off their hooks.

  “Now, clear this room up. Amanda, I believe that milk splatter is yours. And Diana, you can help your sister. I want this place to look fit for young ladies, not barn animals. Why, the stables are more orderly than this.”

  The girls moved so fast they brought a giggle from the woman beside him. He met her gaze and lifted his eyebrows questioningly.

  “What is so amusing, Miss Halifax?”

  “Why, you have them moving as if their feet are aflame while I cannot manage to get them to pay attention to one word I say. Oh!” She clapped a hand over her lips. That she spoke so honestly made him laugh.

  “Don’t fret. Your secret is safe with me.” He would have reached up to pull her hand away from those plump rosy lips, but she removed it herself. His gaze fell to the mouth that so alluringly curled up at the edges. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice. “Any other secrets you care to share? I promise, my lips button tightly.”

  And kiss hotly, he thought as a spark of desire ricocheted through him. He breathed in, inhaling the scent of lavender into his lungs. The woman looked and smelled delectable.

  She considered for a moment, then shook her head. A tendril fell from its tidy chignon and lay across one cheek. Without thinking, he reached out and pushed it behind her small ear with the tip of his index finger. As he did, she caught her lower lip between her teeth and held her breath.

  Edward had the feeling his nearness frightened her, so he straightened and took a step back. When she exhaled, his suspicions were confirmed. She was afraid of him.

  “Well, then. If you haven’t any confidences to share and since it seems the children are finally behaving, I shall take my leave.” He inclined his head, and she bobbed a quick curtsey. It was not deep and lavish the way the first one had been. This time, she seemed more servant than queen.

  A pity, he thought as he headed for the door. A woman with such regal bearing should never be subservient. Not even to him.

  Chapter 3

  Being a duke meant Edward rarely waited for anything or anyone. His needs were anticipated, his desires catered to—on any number of levels—and while he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the knowledge that his so-called superiority was a birthright rather than honestly earned and deserved, he’d become accustomed to the lifestyle he’d inherited.

  One that did not involve being kept waiting. Especially in his own home. By his own flesh and blood.

  Oh, the woman was exasperating. It was no wonder Letty couldn’t keep a husband—what man would tolerate her self-absorbed behavior? None, apparently. One husband already run off as if chased by hounds from hell. A string of ill-fated love affairs. And if the scuttlebutt around Town was to be believed, an association with a Spaniard, of all things.

  Dash it all—he would not tolerate being treated like a footman. If she wouldn’t come to his study when summoned, he would damn well find her. One way or another, he would be heard—and without delay.

  The heavy oak door slapped hard against the wall behind it when he stormed from the room. A maid jumped, dropping the dusting cloth she had been applying to a fireplace mantel. He strode past her, down the long corridor and toward the main staircase.

  Montgomery House was, as were so many other manor homes, a jumble of architectural styles. It had been under construction almost continuously for nearly two hundred years. Work on the west wing was even now in progress, but the place was so large construction noises were distant.

  The main staircase rose from a center hallway in the earliest portion of the manor. The stairs were much more opulent than the rooms which led off its upper corridors. His Hessian boot heels against highly polished treads sounded like gunshots. As a boy Edward had slid down the steps on his bottom. Now, he attacked them, taking the steps two at a time.

  His sister and her children occupied the far end of the second floor in the large part of the wing dubbed Rose Hall. An ancestor, famed for her love of roses and responsible for the lavish rose gardens still enriching the grounds, had turned the rooms into wallpapered and stenciled indoor gardens. Roses of every color dripped from cornices and ambled across walls. If walls could release a scent, this part of the manor would smell divine.

  Edward wasted no time admiring the hand-painted coral roses gracing the walls outside his sister’s study. This, in the clear light of day, was simply another ridiculous part of Letty’s lifestyle. What use could a woman whose studying was limited to ball gowns, dance cards, and lip rouge have for a book-lined study? He doubted she had read any of the leather-bound volumes lining the walls of the room.

  He rapped twice against the dark wooden door. Then, he grasped the glass doorknob and sent the door swinging wide.

  Satisfaction coursed through his veins at the astonished look he received when he walked in, unannounced and clearly uninvited. Childish of him to enjoy her annoyance at his appearance, but he could not help himself. Theirs was a relationship based on one-upmanship. He never wanted it that way, but she had forced him into the position. Now, it felt good to gain the upper hand—even if it was over something trivial.

  Letitia had been a beautiful woman in her younger days, a stunning addition to any soiree. Gentle and smiling, she had had her pick of suitors. Unfortunately for the one she chose, her gaiety had vanished once the courtship ended in marriage.

  Some women were meant to be wives. Others, evidently, were not.

  With a scowl, his sister dropped her pen on the leather blotter. A blob of black ink shot from its tip, across the white vellum and splashed onto the desk. She groaned, raising a fingertip to wipe the mess on the sheet of paper. At the last second, just when he thought her skin would touch ink, she halted, thinking better of trying to save what was so apparently already beyond repair.

  Edward dropped to the red leather chair across from her.

  “Look what you made me do.” She waved a hand at the paper in disgust. “You have no idea how long it took me to compose that letter. Now I shall have to begin again.”

  “I have been waiting for you downstairs.” No time for shilly-shallying. She was trying to divert his attention, and he knew it.

  “I am busy. You can see that, can’t you?” Furrowed brows and a straight-line grimace did nothing to soften her face. His sister was a hard, unhappy woman—and it showed.

  “You are inconsiderate, as usual.” Edward placed his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his fingers. He looked at her through eyes that wanted to see someone other than the woman in front of him. Where had his sister’s lovely heart and giving nature gone? Somewhere it had been lost, and the realization broke Edward’s own heart.

  But there were three children to consider. Neither his heart nor hers mattered.

  “How can you say that?” She narrowed her eyes and leaned forward. “Such a sanctimonious snake, aren’t you?”

  He held his anger—barely. “Name calling won’t do either of us any good. We need to talk. And this time, we need to make some decisions.”

  Letitia sat back in her chair.

  “What decisions?”

  Good. She was listening. For a change. Usually she spoke first and thought later—if at all.

  “About the direction of your life. About your out of control spending habits. About the girls, mostly.”

  The loud snort of disgust didn’t bode well. For either of them. Edward felt the shift in his sister’s attitude. So much for listening…

  “My life—and its direction—is not open for discussion. My life is exactly that, Edward—mine. I shall do as I please and remind you that it is none of your concern.”


  “It is when I am paying for it.”

  Letty’s eyes widened, giving her the appearance of a disgruntled owl. He swallowed the smirk threatening to erupt on his face. Even when she annoyed him, she had the capacity to amuse him, in an odd sort of way.

  “How dare you bring something so lowbrow as finances into my study? I’m appalled by your crassness.”

  “The subject is only objectionable because it hits a nerve. Perhaps two, dear sister. You should be appalled by your inability to take charge of your life—including your financial obligations. More to the point, you should be embarrassed by the way your daughters behave.” He paused, then went for the point that would hit her hardest because it had more to do with her and less with anyone else. And, after all, in Letitia’s world it was—always—all about her. “They cast you in a rather unfavorable light, you know.”

  As he knew they would, her eyebrows rose high on her forehead. Color drained from Letty’s face, leaving an apple of rouge on each cheek.

  “Unfavorable? Me? How so?”

  “I heard their commotion well before I reached the day room.” The memory brought a sour taste to his mouth. “I had intended to see you first thing upon my arrival, but the clamor coming from my nieces—your daughters—as they terrorized the new governess couldn’t be ignored. Good Lord, you are raising wild animals, not young women. They are deplorable—and it is a direct reflection on your lack of parenting ability.”

  Letitia stood so quickly the low, chintz-covered chair she had been sitting on tipped backward. The cherry wood arms made a dull thud as they hit the thick Persian rug.

  “How dare you? You have no right to impugn my expertise, you who have no children of your own and know absolutely nothing about rearing girls. Why, you have gone too far this time. Too far. I will not tolerate this treatment from you—or anyone!”

  Edward stood. The day seemed never-ending, the dust from the ride from Town still upon his boots. Weariness swept over him like a cloak, but he shrugged it off. There would be time later—much later, after several glasses of stiff whiskey—to rest. Now, family matters could not be avoided—crashing furniture, screeching sister, or any other unfortunate event notwithstanding.

  Determined to keep his temper in check, he spoke slowly, hopeful Letitia wasn’t so far off her pins she couldn’t grasp the magnitude of her situation.

  “You are correct, thinking what has been going on here is intolerable.” Her mouth opened wide, and he saw a retort about to fly out from between her lips so he held one hand up to cut her off. “I know that’s not what you said, but it’s what should be said. The situation here is deplorable. You have no respect for yourself. The family name. Our position in society. Those things can all be sidestepped, as one would dismiss a social fumble, but what cannot be ignored is the way you are raising your daughters. Damnation, Letty, those girls will never be happy. Not with the way you’re allowing them to behave.”

  “Happy? Happy? Is that all you are concerned with? Whether three spoiled children are happy?”

  “They are spoiled because it is far simpler for you to let them have their way—in all things—rather than deal with them as we were dealt with. You know better; our parents are rolling in their graves this instant, knowing their granddaughters are running wild while you ignore their needs.”

  “Their needs? Again with the children. My God, Edward—when will anyone think of me? Of my needs? My life? My happiness?”

  Waves of disgust rolled over him. He swallowed hard, fighting the bile rising in his throat. He had known for a long that his sister was unhappy and bitter, but he had never imagined her self-indulgence could eclipse the girls’ needs.

  Edward turned and headed for the door. It was clear there was no reasoning with someone who couldn’t see past her own nose. He stopped at the door, which still hung wide open and gave the servants an earful, something of which he was certain. It didn’t matter what anyone heard because eventually they would all know. Under the circumstances, Letitia had to be relieved of her motherly obligations.

  He stopped. Took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air while his mind worked furiously to find words to heal rather than harm. He loved his sister, despite her failings. Still, love only went so far when childrens’ lives were at stake.

  And he had no illusions. Unless he could find a way to save Melody, Diana, and Amanda, their lives would be ruined. Their futures, bleak. Any chance at happiness lost in the fog of their mother’s ineptitude.

  Edward looked back at Letitia. Like Lot’s wife, she stood immobile as a pillar of salt, an ugly statue in the rose-filled room.

  “I am sorry you are so unhappy.” It was true. So was what followed. “But it is not your happiness which concerns me. It is clear you are overwrought and incapable of attending to the children. I will help you in that regard. Consider the girls my concern for now. When you are…ah, happier, we shall discuss you returning to the familial role. Until then, you are relieved of the burden.”

  She raised a clenched fist and waved it at him.

  “You have no right to do that. They are my daughters, not yours.”

  “They are my nieces, and since I am the one paying for their upkeep—as well as yours, I might add—I shall take charge of their other needs, as well. I should think you would appreciate having them off your mind for a bit.” His gaze swept over her, and for the tenth time in as many minutes, he felt sorry for the woman standing before him. She wasn’t the sister he knew, but someone who allowed circumstances to rule her emotions. Not an admirable trait at all.

  Edward wanted to help his sister. Really, he did. But he could not facilitate her ruination any longer.

  He sighed. “I know about your latest conquest. It is all over Town that you are carrying on with a Spaniard.”

  When she began to sputter, he shook his head and raised his voice a notch.

  “No, don’t deny it. I am aware of your indiscretions. I do not care anymore what you do with your own life. But I will be damned if I will allow you to ruin those girls. Go off with the man, if you want. I won’t hold it against you. But the girls? They are part of our family line and as such will remain here at Montgomery Manor—under my watchful management. About that, there will be no discussion. You are not fit, and they deserve better than you are giving them. That’s all, sister.”

  Edward walked out into the hallway with a heavy heart. Removing the girls from his sister’s care was the right thing to do. He knew that. But she was right about one thing…he had no experience raising children. However was he going to manage on his own?

  Miss Halifax. He would have the attractive governess take over his nieces’ lives—and pay her well for the task. Maybe buy her some less-drab clothing than that dreadful brown outfit she wore this afternoon. Whatever it took, he planned to give it to the young woman in exchange for her help.

  Then, he would head back to his London townhouse, leaving things wonderfully improved out here in the country. He smiled as the plan fleshed itself out in his mind. Of course, the answer to his problems was the governess.

  He’d find her immediately. There was, after all, no sense in putting off such an excellent plan, was there?

  Chapter 4

  Neither Diana nor Amanda forgot the promise of dance lessons. Once the pair had put the day room to rights—more or less—they asked for the lessons. And since they asked rather nicely, instead of demanding rudely, as was their habit, Jane acquiesced.

  But she couldn’t stand the thought of remaining in that stuffy room—especially with the lingering smell of spilt milk in the air—one moment longer, so she sent the girls to grab their shawls and ushered them outdoors. Blue sky trumped painted ceiling any day, and the fresh air would hopefully do all their dispositions some good.

  Jane did not discount herself in that the morning’s trouble. It left her at sixes and sevens. Every day her lack of ability became more apparent. It was only a matter of time before she lost her place. And that, the idea of being t
ossed out and back into the world where anyone could find her, gave her the worst case of the collywobbles she had ever experienced.

  It just cannot happen, she thought. I will do whatever it takes, but I cannot lose this position.

  Amanda and Diana capered across the lawn. The smallest did a running handspring, landing hard on her back rather than on her feet, but rose with a giggle—and a green smear across the seat of her periwinkle blue frock. Jane knew she should put an end to the unladylike behavior but didn’t have the heart. It was the first time any of the children had done something silly and entirely childlike since she had arrived. She nearly laughed aloud when Diana attempted to demonstrate correct handspring technique—and landed squarely on her own backside. The pair collapsed on the ground, laughing hard, so Jane slowed her steps and let them have their fun. When they rose, it did not go unnoticed that they now had matching green stains across the backs of their dresses.

  The manor’s grounds were grand, with formal rose gardens and winding herb passages set in tight boxwood enclosures. Kitchen gardens hid behind brick walls and glass hothouses nestled at the end of cobblestone walkways. In her short time in residence, Jane had already explored the areas closest to the manor itself. The outlying acreage spread like an invitation, one she prayed she’d remain long enough to explore.

  Whatever it takes, she reminded herself. Losing her place at the manor would be a disaster. It couldn’t happen—and wouldn’t, she vowed.

  The girls dashed through a wrought iron gate set into a high hedge. Inside, a lovely garden waited, used almost exclusively by the young ladies. A brook meandered through the far side, dipping in between the hedgerows and slipping out beneath a stand of vine-clad cypress trees. Statuary peeked out between topiaries, and birds splashed in large birdbaths whose bases were covered with thick green moss.

  Scattered seating encouraged restful, quiet moments amidst the beauty.

  Amanda and Diana flung themselves down on an ornate metal bench beneath an ancient oak. The tree’s canopy soared high, its lowest branches spreading so wide a pool of shade became a midday oasis.

 

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