Earl's Ward (9781460320594)

by Scheidies, Carolyn R.

  Once they began to prepare for the trip, Angella felt the earl withdraw from her. Oh, he was unfailingly polite and all kindness itself, but he seemed to keep himself under tight control. It was a puzzle. All Angella knew was that she was relieved when they arrived at their destination.

  Alistair and Winter had already taken up residence in Alistair House. “Oh, look!” Angella pointed toward the three-story structure with its tall round tower facing the street. “This is where we’re staying?” Her gaze took in the dwelling as the driver pulled up the horses. The stone of the tower had been left rough, giving it character. The stonework was neatly pointed in red mortar. The rest of the building was of red-painted wood, with brick-red shutters on the tall windows.

  The earl escorted Angella to the door, with Alice following. As the butler opened the door and ushered them inside, Lady Alistair greeted her and Alice. As soon as he greeted his hostess, Spensor went to find Alistair.

  Lady Alistair led Angella and Alice through the lobby with its tiled floor polished until she could see her reflection. The spacious hall had a window seat, as did the arched library. At the far end, an elegant staircase with carved banister and gilt newels flowed upward to the chambers on the next floor.

  The parlor, with its cherry paneling, had a redbrick fireplace, tiled hearth and facings along with a hardwood mantel. The gracious dining room with its long Chippendale furnishings was trimmed in maple.

  “It’s magnificent.” Angella ran her slender fingers over the polished face of the built-in buffet with all its ornamented drawers holding the silver, and the shelves which held the Alistair crested china. The floor in the dining room and the library was a mosaic of oak, maple and mahogany.

  Alice asked to be shown to Angella’s room, and Winter summoned a maid for that purpose. “I’ll just start unpacking your things, Miss Denning.”

  Angella noted her drawn expression and touched her shoulder. “Then you rest a bit before dinner.”

  Alice smiled. “Thank you. I’ll do that.”

  After Alice’s departure, Winter took Angella through the up-to-snuff kitchens, wainscoted and trimmed in white pine. The staff bustled about them with a contented air.

  “Fixin’ yer favorite puddin’ fer dinner, Your Ladyship,” said the portly cook with apple cheeks.

  Angella’s admiration for Lady Alistair grew as she spoke personally and knowledgeably with the servants. “They think very highly of you, Winter,” she whispered. “You are wonderful to them.”

  Finally, she followed the countess up the wide staircase to the bedchambers. She was astonished at the large armoire and the necessary off her rooms. “Slap dash up to the mark.” She grinned as Lady Alistair groaned at her use of the cant phrase.

  “Truly, the room is beautiful.” She gazed about at the light graceful furniture, the blue velvet curtains and bed hangings. She smoothed the counterpane on the bed. “It looks new.”

  “I had it redone especially for you. I’m glad you like it.” Winter spread her arms. “I wanted you to be comfortable here. A London season is exhausting at best, and I want you to have some privacy and a place to rest.”

  Angella sat on the settee by the hearth. “I fear I am not ready to be flaunted in London drawing rooms. What do I have to flaunt? I’m the daughter of a poor vicar.”

  “With a starched-up grandfather, so I hear.”

  “True, but he wants nothing to do with either my brother or me.” The knowledge still stung.

  “Maybe not, but letting the ton know of the connection cannot hurt....”

  “I wish the Earl of Lucashire was not so insistent on my having a season.” Her clenched fists revealed her nervousness.

  Winter sat beside her. Her tone was quiet. “You will please him by making the most of this opportunity. With your portion...”

  Angella’s head snapped up. “I have no portion.”

  Winter bit her lip and turned away. “I thought you knew.”

  Reaching for Winter’s arm, Angella drew her attention. “Knew what?”

  “Lucashire settled a portion on you.”

  Finally Angella understood. She whispered, “He hopes some peer with pockets to let will ask for my hand. But I thought...” She turned away. Spensor wanted to rid himself of her, did he? Then she would take in the season, but never, never would she allow herself to be sold to the highest bidder. Never! Confused, Angella’s love for the stubborn man warred with her fury.

  Chapter 10

  Less than a week later, the earl, who seemed to have no notion of Angella’s feelings, reintroduced her to his aunt, Lady Carrington, a woman of ample proportions and a pleasant if not beautiful face. Angella curtsied, but Lady Carrington would have none of that. She surprised Angella with a hug. “Call me Aunt Helga, like Spensor here.”

  Angella blushed, not at all sure what to do. The earl shrugged. “Better do as she requests, Angella. She’s been bossing me around since I was in leading strings.”

  Angella couldn’t help but laugh at his expression of half horror and half admiration. “Thank you...Aunt Helga.”

  Spensor also reintroduced her to Betsy. The younger woman, of an age with Angella, had little to recommend her, being tall and thin with a rather plain face. What Angella remembered most was her merry brown eyes, which were a definite asset, and her gorgeous thick hair.

  Betsy also hugged her. “I’m so glad Spensor brought you to London, too. I won’t feel quite so alone in this venture.”

  Angella’s fears evaporated and she smiled in relief. “I’m glad you’re here, too. I was dreading the season. How is your arm? I am sorry you injured yourself.”

  Betsy moved her arm. “Still a little stiff and sore, but much better.”

  In the two days before Lady Carrington and Betsy’s arrival, Winter had lost no time in taking Angella to the dressmakers, shoemaker and a dozen other establishments in order to acquire all the accoutrements deemed necessary for the season.

  “This is too much!” Angella had exclaimed. “Surely I won’t require all of this.”

  “That is what I thought,” Winter told her. “I was horrified at the number of gowns and other fripperies purchased for me.” She sighed. “You’ll find you’ll need this and more. I’m afraid this is only the beginning. We will have more shopping to do once Betsy arrives.” Angella gulped.

  Lady Alistair also took her to afternoon tea and encouraged Spensor to ride with her in the park. “Afraid, my dear, it is all about being seen.” She rolled her eyes until Angella laughed. Somehow Winter made it all less frightening.

  At a quiet garden party, Angella overheard a couple of older ladies chatting over their tea and sweets. “She’s comely enough. The earl is doing well by her.”

  A lady in deep fuchsia nodded. “Yes, with the portion he’s settled on her, some dandy should come up to scratch. Good family on her mother’s side.”

  A third fanned her face. “Hear Lady Carrington is bringing out her daughter with Miss Denning.”

  “So I hear,” the second woman commented. “Not quite the thing. Her mother was top-drawer in her prime. Sad the daughter is more of an antidote.”

  “And with so little portion.”

  Angella started toward the women, angry and ready to speak her mind. Winter grabbed her arm. “It will do her no good and you harm, Angella. Let it go.”

  Now that Betsy had arrived, Angella found her to be a quiet but kind young woman, and the remarks she’d heard seemed even more unfair and cruel.

  Together with Lady Winter, Betsy and Lady Carrington, Angella spent the next couple of weeks in an endless round of shopping the posh shops on Bond Street and visiting those dressmakers catering to the whims of the ton. The women purchased a horrendous number of gowns, slippers and other fripperies the earl insisted she and Betsy required in order to be properly
presented. Winter was right. The shopping they did before Betsy’s arrival had been just the beginning.

  At the earl’s command, Angella forced herself to forget the prodigious cost of her purchases, especially after the earl assured her he was not spending money he did not have, nor was he taking what should have been spent on his estate.

  The whole exercise exhausted her, and she was glad they had arrived in London before the season opened. But shopping was only part of what awaited her. One morning Winter introduced the girls to their new dancing master. The man was tall, thin and dressed in the first stare of fashion. His expression was haughty, as though he lowered himself to teach two unfledged chits the finer steps in the dances currently all the rage.

  Betsy stifled a giggle and gained a glare. Angella rolled her eyes as the man positively pranced about the room. Nonetheless, his lessons did make Angella less concerned with that aspect of the balls, routs and other events that would require her to dance. The country dances in Little Cambrage were rather informal events, and Angella later told Betsy, “At least now I’ll know how to go on properly. Mayhap I won’t tread upon my partners’ toes.”

  She found Betsy of like mind about the lessons and the shopping. The two quickly became bosom bows and often shared a private coz in the afternoons—the few afternoons they had to themselves.

  One afternoon as they sat enjoying tea, Betsy confided, “I know I’m no beauty, but Mother insists I have the bronze of a town season.” Squeezing Angella’s hand, she added as color flushed her pale cheeks, “I’m glad you’re being presented, too, though it isn’t quite the same. As the ward of Lucashire, you already are accorded more consequence than his lowly cousin.” She smiled as if to take the sting from her comment.

  “Mayhap, Betsy, but I’m hardly the sort the ton expected the earl to bring to London. I’ve overheard some rather pointed remarks on that score.”

  “Mayhap we should run away,” suggested Betsy. “At least, me. I know I have little to recommend me but the family name and a small, but respectable portion.” Her eyes clouded. “But I don’t want to be foisted off on some fortune hunter. I want to have the sort of relationship my mother and father had, the sort of relationship Lord and Lady Winter have. I see how they look at each other.” She put her hands against her red cheeks. “Is that too much to ask for?”

  Angella hugged the girl. “No, it isn’t. God can do anything, Betsy. Trust Him and don’t lose hope.” Her words sounded hollow to her own ears, especially since the more she got involved in preparations for the season, the more Spensor absented himself from her life. She scarcely saw him anymore. All the preparations, clothes and lessons on behavior and manners seemed empty without his presence. “Lord,” she begged at night. “Please take this love from my heart.” But she felt the Lord was telling her to just love him. And wait.

  Angella went to sleep wondering how to accomplish that, when the earl was seldom around. When he was present, he treated her with the affection of an older brother. Did he realize how much that hurt? Up until meeting the countess and getting more acquainted with Betsy and her mother, she envisioned all members of the ton (almost all, she thought, thinking of Spensor) as frivolous, shallow and selfish as Margaret and her brothers.

  Had she not read of the fabulous parties, the disregard for the common man in the streets, the plight of the climbing boys and the homeless? Had she not scorned the prince regent for his excesses in entertainment and in his continual expensive improvements on Carlton House, as well as for his behavior with a succession of mistresses?

  Lady Carrington, though, did something about the problems and it was not but two weeks after Aunt Helga’s arrival in London that Angella found herself distributing food to the orphans in the orphan homes and clothes to those in workhouses. Lady Carrington did not just mouth platitudes of sorrow over the bleak situation in the streets, she and Betsy did their utmost to address the needs. On occasion, Lady Alistair, when she could get away from her obligations and the two children, joined them.

  Once Spensor realized what they were about, he insisted either he or Lord Alistair offer them support and protection on the sordid, dangerous backstreets where his aunt insisted on going. “Half her friends dread seeing her on their doorstep,” he teased. “They know she’ll have them out of one thing or another before she leaves.” He winked. “She is a past master at the guilt factor.”

  For all his jesting, Angella could see he was proud of his aunt. “I’ve not always admired her work,” he admitted to Angella, “but I always admired her spunk. She, at least, is no hypocrite.” His face darkened and Angella caught a glimpse of the cynical man he used to be.

  One afternoon, Lucashire took her arm as they ambled down the flagstone path in the newly awakening flower garden. “I fear you’ll find many who’ll toad eat to your face, then repeat vicious lies behind your back.” Pausing, he faced her, indecision on his face. “Angella, mayhap I should not have brought you to London after all. You are so innocent and inexperienced. I don’t want you hurt. You’ve suffered enough because of the pompous Reverend Carter, not to mention Margaret and her brothers.” His expression was pensive.

  “Thank you for your concern, Spensor, but it doesn’t signify. The reason still exists for my having a season now.” She managed a half smile. “At least I’ll have you and Winter, Betsy and your dear aunt beside me. It’ll be all right.” She sighed. “I just wish...”

  “What? What do you wish?”

  Angella turned from him, her voice low. “That you were not gone so often. I know about the portion you settled on me.”

  The silence forced her to glance up to find the earl frowning down at her. “I see.”

  “I won’t be sold off like one of your prized blood cattle.”

  Puzzlement crossed his face. “Of course not. Why would you think such a thing?” He held her arm more tightly. She pulled away.

  “You could have simply said you wanted to get me off your hands. No, instead you go to this elaborate, and expensive, ruse to get me... Where?”

  “No. You don’t understand, Angella. It isn’t like that at all.”

  She wanted to stamp her foot and march off. Instead, tears started in her eyes. A yawn hit her unprepared.

  Concern showed in his eyes. “You’ve been doing too much, Angella. What with running about doing good works with Aunt Helga, all that shopping and fitting. The season is exhausting enough without going into it fatigued.” He saw hesitation on her face.

  “You are dreading it, aren’t you?”

  Reluctantly, Angella nodded. “I am. I’m a bit run-down. And you are always any place but here.”

  He touched her face. “I’m sorry. But you did practically shame me into doing my duty in the chambers.”

  “Truly, you are getting involved?” Mayhap she’d had some positive influence.

  “I am. Politics takes time, my dear.”

  She sensed he held something back, but his apology did much to soothe her wounded heart.

  “I shall explain to Aunt Helga that you’ve had enough for now. No more running here and there. For a few days at least, we shall spend our days quietly.”

  Angella threw her arms about his neck. “Thank you. I’d like that above anything.”

  Betsy came on them in that moment. Later, she quizzed Angella. “I think I’m beginning to understand.”

  Angella bit her lip. “What?”

  “You and Spensor. You care for him.”

  “He is my guardian after all.”

  “Um, that explains the look in his eyes. He cares for you, too.”

  “Sure. That’s why he stays away so much of the time.” She realized she sounded petty. “I mean...”

  Betsy smiled. “No need to explain. I understand.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You do care for him?”

 
; Angella nodded. “I know I’m not some grand personage, but...I thought...”

  “He cares, as well. But he’s giving you a season.” Betsy giggled. “He’s taking the position of your parents...or your brother. He has to play the guardian, not the jealous suitor—don’t you see?”

  Could that be true? It was something to consider—especially since Betsy began to make it a point to find ways to throw them together. If only Edward would come home, things would be a whole lot less complicated.

  In her few quiet moments, she prayed for Edward’s safety and wondered where he was. Then, as the season got into full swing, Angella had little time to think of Edward or his inevitable visit. There was the ball at Lady Denton’s dark, Gothic home, and the musical at the home of a duke. She was excited to spend an evening at the theater and stroll with the earl in the company of Betsy, her mother and Lord and Lady Alistair down the Grand Walk of Vauxhall Gardens. She loved listening to organist Mr. James Hook. Alistair told them Hook had been featured at the gardens since 1774.

  At the events for young ladies being “popped off” during the season, she met other young women as unsure as she was herself. She found herself feeling older than some who were terrified they’d end up with some horrible, old, ugly or mean husband that satisfied their parents’ idea of a good match—someone with money and a title. At least she did not think she need worry about that, though Spensor seemed less than pleased when some eligible men paid her fulsome compliments and seemed eager to gain her favor.

  Baron Farnsworth was a fop of a man who spent most of the time talking about himself. He had little knowledge of anything outside his own interests. The older Viscount of Endenon hung on to her arm whenever he got close enough, making it difficult for her to evade him. Betsy, at times, came to her rescue. Others whom she met proved to be forgettable, especially when she compared them to Spensor.