Testing Miss Toogood

by Stella Cameron

  Her pallor and the faint sheen of perspiration on her face worried him. If she was ill, this interview could wait. “Do you feel unwell?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “I told you to call me Dominic,” he roared. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “Fleur, you are to call me Dominic. We agreed on that.”

  “We did but you’ve been shouting at me ever since. And I don’t have any idea why you are so angry with me.”

  His eyes actually stung. Hell’s teeth, what was wrong with him? Her blue eyes had widened and she stared. She constantly plucked at the fringe on a shawl he wished she hadn’t worn. And she clamped the wretched journal beneath her arm.

  “How have I made you so angry?” she asked quietly.

  He covered the space between them in three strides and drew her roughly into an embrace. “Fleur, Fleur,” he said and closed his eyes while he rested his cheek on top of her head. “I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at…at everything that confuses me at present. Please, if not for my sake, then for my mother’s, don’t take more risks. When I told you to return to the house, I thought you had. I had no idea you had defied me and wandered off in the dark.”

  “I didn’t wander off. I decided how I would search for Chloe and set out. I had a plan. She’s just a little girl and I was afraid for her. I found Chloe. I wouldn’t have if I’d done as you and Lord Nathan told me.”

  “I would have found her. I was already close.”

  “Perhaps you would. But could it have been my voice speaking to Chloe that made you come in that direction?”

  She had not attempted to leave his embrace. He thought about what she said. “I did hear your voice—and Chloe’s—but I had already started that way.”

  Fleur made fists against his chest. “I was not wrong in what I did. Can’t you just admit it?”

  Dash it all but he hated to give in. “Very well, you did nothing wrong. But I have had time to think about the implications here and you can no longer wander in the grounds. You can’t be unaccounted for at any time. Whenever you decide to go out, even if it’s with Hattie, make sure I know about it. One of the men will go with you.”

  She took too long to say, “Very well.”

  “And when we are at some entertainment, you will not leave my sight. If a man asks you to go outside, refuse. You would refuse anyway, but it never hurts to be reminded. If he asks you to accompany him to the refreshments, feign tiredness and ask him to bring something for you. I’m not concerned for you when you dance because either Nathan or I will dance close to you.”

  Her body stiffened in his arms.

  “What is it?” he asked her.

  “You cannot stifle me…Dominic. I shall be very sensible, but if you make me a spectacle by hovering, I don’t think I can bear it. And I do know you mean well, and that you are kind.”

  The olive branch was puny but he’d take it. And he’d better stop holding her before she realized how much he enjoyed doing so. He let her go. “I will make sure you are not embarrassed. I take it your list is in the journal?” He held out a hand.

  She took the book and opened it to the pages she wanted him to see. Fleur sat down and he walked slowly back and forth in front of the fire, reading, a sense of disbelief growing with every second. When he reached the end of the list he closed the journal and stared at her.

  Her expression showed no trepidation. She actually thought there was a man on earth who could achieve the state of perfection she’d set out?

  Dominic moved the second chair close to hers and sat down where he looked directly into her face. “Are you cold?” he asked. Best keep things civil.

  “No.”

  “I thought you might be since you’re wearing a heavy shawl.”

  “It isn’t heavy, it’s sarcenet and quite light. It’s comforting.”

  Comforting. Why should she need to be comforted by some piece of clothing? “Very well.” He put the open book on his knees. “I commend you on your detail.”

  “Thank you. I’m an organized person.”

  “You entitle this The Man Who Wants to Marry Me. Then you go on with your so-called questions.”

  “They are questions.”

  She would insist upon having the last word, a most annoying feminine trait.

  “Now I’ll read off the questions.

  1. Does he accept and love my family?

  2. Does his family respect my family and accept me?

  3. Does he like cats?

  4. Does he like dogs?

  5. Is there the vaguest chance that he’s a prig?

  6. Does he think men are superior to women?

  7. Does he love and like me more than anyone else?

  8. Does he respect my opinions and give them equal weight with his own?

  9. How will he react if I ask him to walk outside with me on a rainy night? (Note to myself—will he refuse when I ask him to lie on the grass so we may feel the rain on our faces?)

  10. How does he behave with children? Will he make an affectionate, patient father?

  11. Will he be gentle and teach me how to please him without turning into a cruel animal?”

  Dominic paused for breath. He looked at Fleur with the intention of conveying the enormity of her expectations, but she stared into the distance with her arms crossed. “I’ll go on,” he said.

  “12. What does he wear to bed? And will he share the same bed with me other than during his gratification? Mama said he would probably return to his own bed, this being common with men of a certain class. Used and abandoned—I’ll have none of that.”

  “What do most men wear to bed?” Fleur asked suddenly. “What do you wear to bed?”

  He barely stopped himself from laughing. Over and over again she amazed him. “Some men wear nightshirts. I don’t wear anything to bed.”

  She tilted her head a bit and he’d never seen a more pensive expression on her face. Her regard slid down his length then returned to his face. “I see. Thank you for answering my question. I don’t think I should like nightshirts.”

  Before long she would drive him wild.

  “13. Will he include me in his business, talk to me about his problems and give consideration to my ideas?

  14. Will he drink too much—even on occasion?

  15. Will he find it necessary to spend raucous hours in the company of other men, gambling, drinking and encouraging loose women?”

  Dominic ran a forefinger around the inside of his neckcloth. “16. Will he manage to convince me that he doesn’t have a woman of convenience?

  17. Will he accept my need for love and close companionship? And will he enjoy my being a carnal person since I now believe I am?

  18. Will he join me in learning exotic ways of lovemaking? I have heard such things mentioned and believe I should enjoy them. If he is the right man he will want to research these matters with me.”

  Closing the book quietly—just to be sure he didn’t slam it shut and throw it—he placed it on her lap. “Do you have any idea how a man would react to your questions?”

  “If he wanted anything to do with me, he would respond well,” Fleur said. “Before a person gives their life to another they should be sure they won’t regret doing so. You’re a man. How did you react?”

  Telling her he’d like to start showing her how well he could do with the exotic forms of lovemaking might not be a good idea. “I think you have a great many probing questions that suggest they are demands. No man in his right mind would respond without having a chance to give you a similar list.”

  “The more similar, the better, don’t you think?” Her sweet smile touched him.

  “Of course. But you want to find out a lot of intimate details I’m surprised you know how to put into words.”

  Fleur opened her journal to the back and took out a copy of her list of questions. “Here,” she said. “I would appreciate any suggestion you might have for me. Places where you think I’ve been too outspoken. Questions I should add.”
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br />   Dominic tossed the papers aside and stood up. Fury of a kind he’d never felt rose through him. This anger was out of control. He gritted his teeth and curled his hands into fists.

  She had sensed his sudden flood of emotion and stood up quickly, staring at him as if she expected him to change into a monster.

  “You will go to your room now. I will walk with you until I see you enter and you tell me all is well.”

  He stayed behind her all the way to the second floor and to her room. She rushed inside and he heard her call out, “Good night,” before she slammed the door and he heard the key turn in the lock.

  But he had her to rights now. He knew exactly the nature of her devious plot and it wouldn’t work. Her so-called list of questions to potential suitors was meant for his eyes only. Why else would she make a second copy for him. He hadn’t been careful enough to hide his attraction to her. Hell, he hadn’t hidden it at all. He’d embraced her, kissed her—and he’d enjoyed it. But he wasn’t about to be tricked by a little fortune hunter capable of writing her “questions” in language provocative enough to arouse and, she hoped, ensnare him.

  Very provocative language. He thought about that while he slowly made his way back upstairs. Would he help her learn exotic ways of making love? Were those the words of an innocent? He thought not. It was time for him to run a test or two on Miss Toogood.

  15

  Everybody!” Their hosts stood in front of a dais where a string quartet waited to play. Sir Toby Herbert raised both hands, allowing cascades of lace to fall back from his wrists. “A debacle is about to happen.”

  Lady Herbert opened her eyes wide and clapped her hands in mock horror. “We shall be the failure of the Season.”

  Titters circulated in the small, elegant ballroom at Rose Place in Berkley Square.

  Fleur, wearing the brilliant orange-gold evening dress Dominic had requested of Mrs. Neville, did her best to sink behind an exotic, broad-leafed plant in a Chinese pot. Dominic caught her eye and frowned. She nodded politely, even if the effort did cost her a good deal. This had been a day filled with his demands and his stalking about to check security at Heatherly. Fortunately they had not spoken alone since the previous night.

  “You see,” Sir Toby said. “It appears that our world-renowned baritone, Monsieur Vilepain, is dissatisfied with the accompanists we provided—even though they are the King’s favorites—and he chooses to leave us.”

  A man who could only be the singer emerged from behind Chinese screens artfully used to create the back of the dais. Swathed in a dark, floor-length greatcoat with a fur cape, he swept forward and from the dais, parting a path through the guests as he went. He flipped back an unruly bob of oily black hair and avoided settling his dark eyes on anyone in particular.

  At the doors to the handsomely oversize music room, he paused and waved with the hand in which he held his hat. “Au revoir,” he said. “I shall shed tears to have missed my opportunity to thrill you, but the best can only perform with the best.”

  He glided from the room and Fleur said, “Poof,” much louder than she had intended.

  Lady Granville laughed and said, “Poof,” just as loud and soon there were dozens of “poofs” circling the room.

  “You were lucky that time,” Dominic said from behind Fleur. She hadn’t noticed when he moved. “Next time you may be left standing alone in a silent room with only your foolishness to keep you company. Why aren’t you wearing the necklace my mother sent to you for this evening?”

  Fleur touched her mother’s pin on a band of black velvet. “For my first outing I wanted to wear this to remind me of Mama.”

  “This is a business venture, not an occasion for sentimentality. The diamonds and sapphires would have been so much better.”

  “And may all your hopes turn to worms,” she said, stepping away.

  “A terrifying curse,” he murmured. His hand, firmly gripping her waist, brought her back. “Be quiet. Our hosts are dealing with a difficult situation.”

  “Quite. Try to reign in your nasty tongue.”

  “The chairs will be moved,” Lady Herbert said. “And we shall pass the evening in dance and conversation.”

  Wonderful, Fleur thought. She faced the inevitable—that she would have to dance and make small talk with gentlemen approved by Dominic.

  “And champagne and strawberries will be along,” Sir Toby said, beaming at his guests. “Perhaps chocolate, too. I’m sure we all know how to get along without dance cards.”

  Another chuckle followed and a number of servants cleared rows of chairs to the sides of a dance floor.

  The music struck up and couples took their places for a quadrille. Gussy Arbuthnot, fetching in mauve taffeta, craned her neck all about. Fleur felt awkward for her since she made it obvious that she searched for a partner.

  Fleur looked sideways at Dominic. Then she checked to see how many female eyes were upon him. Just as she’d thought—almost all of them, and some of the younger misses huddled together to sigh over him and Lord Nathan. The girls watched for any promising moves they might make toward them. Dominic made no moves. He appeared as still as a statue and his autocratic features turned Fleur’s heart. This man was deeply thoughtful and it showed.

  A cheer went up and cries of, “Hurrah, hurrah.” The host and hostess took to the floor, the myriad colors in Lady Herbert’s gauze gown shimmering.

  Fleur turned toward Dominic.

  He had left. Just like that. She searched the room but didn’t see him.

  A tall, thin man with a rather supercilious air approached. He bowed to Fleur and said, “Fritz Mergatroyd, your ladyship,” to Hattie. “We met at the Soamses’ last year.”

  Hattie said, “I remember. Good evening,” but didn’t sound enthusiastic.

  “May I have this dance with your charge?” Mr. Mergatroyd asked and Fleur turned cold with apprehension.

  “Um…” Hattie turned about, looking for Dominic, Fleur assumed. When she didn’t see him she inclined her head and said, “Take great care of her.”

  Fleur spent an unpleasant time with Mr. Mergatroyd, who leered down the front of her dress and repeatedly mopped his face with a large handkerchief.

  “The Mergatroyds are an old family,” he said, and gave a snort that turned into a braying laugh. “Very old. And much admired for our reputation as purveyors of fine merchandise for more than three generations.”

  He wrapped his fingers in hers, pulled her toward him, and trod on her toes. To which he said, “Ouch,” quite loudly.

  “How interesting,” she said, trying not to wince. “What sort of merchandise?”

  Mergatroyd made an airy gesture with the hand from which the damp handkerchief trailed. “All manner. Far too many to list. We are particularly well-known for our potted meats. Mergatroyd’s Meat Pots are in every home.”

  Fleur had never heard of the stuff. When the music stopped she made a determined move to return to Hattie and Mr. Mergatroyd went willingly enough. “May I call on you at Heatherly House?” he asked.

  “Well—”

  “Oh, do say I may or I shall be destroyed.”

  She looked up into his moist face and said, “I can’t have that. By all means, call.” Please don’t, oh, please don’t.

  The man gave another of his horsey laughs.

  As soon as Fleur returned Lady Granville stood close to her and said, “You’ve earned your first medal. Now, shall we sit down with those ladies over there and I’ll introduce you. They don’t approve of me, of course, but they’re rather sweet.”

  “Why don’t they approve of you?” Fleur asked, shocked.

  “Because I don’t have a pedigree.” She dimpled at Fleur. “However, they are in awe of John so they hide their disdain well.”

  “We don’t want to sit with them,” Fleur said. “How dare they consider themselves better than you.”

  “They aren’t better,” Lady Granville said. “And I don’t care what they think.”

 
Fleur smiled and thought how right Snowdrop was in her opinion of her mistress.

  They moved toward a gilt table where three ladies sat, their heads close together. When Lady Granville and Fleur approached the ladies stopped talking and their heads appeared to draw back into their necks but they gushed over Lady Granville and smiled suspiciously at Fleur.

  “Hattie.” Dominic arrived with another man in tow. “Do you recall Franklin Best? We were all at his parents’ Surry home for a house party last autumn.”

  “I certainly do. How are you, Franklin?”

  The pleasantries disposed of, Dominic made a formal introduction of Fleur to Franklin Best, a good-looking man in his late twenties or so with thick blond hair.

  “Franklin’s in his father’s banking business,” Dominic said and Lady Granville murmured, “I remember. Your father spoke highly of you.”

  “Fathers tend to see the best in their offspring,” Franklin said, grinning. “To be honest, my hope is to become a barrister. Money is the most boring thing in the world.”

  Fleur laughed. “I suppose it might be if one had any,” she said.

  Dominic’s face lost all expression but Hattie put an arm around Fleur and squeezed her. “You, my dear one, have what money can’t buy—a loyal heart.”

  “Excuse us,” Gussy said, much louder than necessary. “Nathan and I are going to dance.”

  The two of them went onto the floor and Gussy looked so happy she trembled.

  “With Lord Dominic’s approval, Miss Toogood?” Franklin Best offered his hand and Fleur stared at it. Seconds passed and Franklin said, “Will you dance with me?”

  Lady Granville gave Fleur a little push and she placed a hand on Franklin’s wrist.

  She liked him, Fleur decided. There was little doubt that the man had lots of money and, thanks to her careless mouth, knew she had none, but he made no secret of his pleasure in dancing with her.

  They moved in and out of the intricate formations and bowed. Fleur blessed her mother for being the accomplished dancer she was and for teaching all of her girls to acquit themselves well. Fleur had always had the most flair but that was, she thought, because she enjoyed dancing so.