“My... parlor, actually,” Daisy replied, grinning at Mrs. Fitzgerald’s antics. “May I help with anything?”
Mrs. Fitzgerald shook her head. “I’m finished, I tell you. Done. And not a moment too soon.”
“Oh?” Daisy wondered what might have happened to have the teacher make such a comment.
“It’s nothing, really. It always takes me some time to leave the characters behind and return to my own skin.”
Giving the older woman a knowing glance—she had played parts in her past that were sometimes hard to give up—Daisy clasped her hands behind her back as they made their way toward Omega House. “How long have you been teaching here?”
“Nearly twenty years now. I should have been an actress, I think, but society has such a low opinion of those who tread the boards.”
“Unless they’re men,” Daisy commented, attempting to walk without the limp that threatened at any moment.
Mrs. Fitzgerald nodded. “Which reminds me. The Brutus is at the Drury Lane Theatre. I think I shall attend the rehearsal. Decide if it’s appropriate for our girls to see.”
Daisy agreed, but then remembered the tea on Saturday. “If you haven’t already, please don’t make plans for Saturday afternoon. Mr. Streater is hosting a tea for all the instructors, and he’d like all of us to be there. His hostess is seeing to the invitations,” she explained.
“A man, hosting a tea?” Mrs. Fitzgerald replied, sounding ever so scandalized by the idea.
Daisy grinned. “Think of it as a soirée but with better food,” she murmured. “It was Lady Bostwick’s idea.”
“Ah, the viscountess with that famous charity,” the theatre instructor replied, one gloved hand lifting in front of them as if she was about to recite some lines from a play. “Are the rumors true? She and our illustrious owner are secret lovers?”
Nearly stopping in her tracks, Daisy wondered if the woman was serious. “Doubtful,” she replied, barely able to suppress a giggle. “No. They cannot be.” After paying witness to the way in which Lord and Lady Bostwick behaved with one another, she couldn’t imagine either of them carrying on affaires with others.
“Then perhaps the rumor is about you and him, then,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said as they entered Omega House.
Not bothering to suppress her amusement, Daisy’s laughter was abruptly halted when she realized the topic of their discussion was standing at her office door. “Mr. Streater,” she said as she dipped a curtsy, hoping he hadn’t overheard any of their conversation.
“Miss Albright,” Teddy said, bowing as he held his beaver top hat in his only hand.
“Mrs. Fitzgerald, may I introduce you to Mr. Streater, the new owner of Warwick’s?”
The instructor gave a deep curtsy, one more suited to the stage. “’Tis a true pleasure to make your most esteemed acquaintance,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said, a gloved hand held out.
Teddy managed to tuck his hat beneath his arm and then intercept her hand with his before bestowing a kiss on the back of it. “And yours,” he replied, giving Daisy a quick glance that proved he was a bit flummoxed as to how to respond to the exaggerated greeting.
“Mrs. Fitzgerald teaches the theatre appreciation class,” Daisy said, deciding that would be explanation enough.
“Drama, too,” the instructor added. “Even though these young ladies will only ever use the skills they learn to play charades or put on productions during house parties.” From the comment, it was apparent she approved of neither pastime.
“We’ve just returned from our last class,” Daisy said. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”
Teddy shook his head. “I’ve only just arrived.” He didn’t add that he had overhead something about a rumor that might have involved his headmistress and him. Several rather unsavory and rather scandalous thoughts came and went before he decided that, from his perspective, a rumor involving him and the headmistress couldn’t be all bad.
If only it were true!
“Thought I should make myself available should you have questions or... concerns.” His attention was squarely on Mrs. Fitzgerald when he finished this last.
“That’s rather kind of you, given your position and all,” Daisy replied. “Will you join us for tea? In my parlor?”
Teddy had been about to decline, but the additional comment about just where the tea would be served had him changing his mind. “I accept, of course,” he said.
Daisy allowed a slight grin as she led the two to her apartment. “With any luck, the kettle will already be hot,” she said as she opened the door to her apartment and waved them in. “Please excuse the walls. I still have two to finish,” she added. She had stayed up far too late the night before, pinning peach silk to the walls in an effort to cover the old plaster.
Mrs. Fitzgerald breezed into the room and promptly took a seat, her gaze sweeping the parlor with a critical eye. “Such a wonderful color scheme,” she said. “So restful.”
Pausing at the threshold, Teddy took a step back, glanced both ways down the hallway, and then stared into the room. “I could have sworn this was my mother’s apartment,” he murmured, almost to himself. He glanced down at the Aubusson carpet covering most of the floor, then gazed at the walls, and finally studied each piece of furniture.
Daisy indicated the other upholstered chair and said, “I’ll just be a moment.” She hurried into the kitchen and repeated what she had done the day before, glad for the second tin of biscuits and the bit of milk left in the cold box. When she reappeared in the parlor with the tray, Teddy stood up and waited for her to be seated before settling himself again.
“This was Mrs. Streater’s apartment, was it not?” he asked as Daisy handed a cup and saucer to Mrs. Fitzgerald.
Mrs. Fitzgerald answered before Daisy could. “It was, although I don’t recall ever being invited in.”
“Me, neither,” Teddy claimed, a slight grin suggesting he might be teasing. His heart did an odd palpitation when he saw Daisy’s dimple appear, just as she handed him a cup and saucer. She had already added the milk, bless her heart, and she had been generous with the sugar. “Thank you, Miss Albright.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Streater,” Daisy replied. “Mrs. Fitzgerald and I have only just met. I am on a mission to invite every instructor for tea in the afternoons in order to learn as much as I can about their classes and the students,” she explained, hoping he didn’t think she was shirking her responsibilities when it came to running Warwick’s.
“What a capital idea,” he replied. Suddenly nervous, Teddy remembered at least one of the reasons he was at the school. “I paid a call in the hopes you have received your invitations to Saturday’s tea,” he said. “Have you?”
Mrs. Fitzgerald straightened in her chair. “A tea party? Why, that sounds...” She turned to stare at him. “Just where are you hosting this tea, Mr. Streater?” she asked, a hint of alarm in voice.
“Bostwick Place,” Teddy replied. “The viscountess is married to a friend of mine, and she is seeing to the particulars,” he added, his gaze darting to see that Daisy was watching him with a most curious expression.
Oh, he really wished she didn’t look at him so. As if she were imagining him with two arms.
If that was what she was really doing.
Perhaps she was merely gauging his reaction to the dramatic drama teacher.
Her eyes wide and her smile wide, Mrs. Fitzgerald fairly vibrated with excitement. “Oh, I shall look forward to it. I haven’t paid a call in Mayfair in an age,” she claimed.
“Me, as well,” Daisy said, sure her white lie would go unnoticed. “I have been telling the other instructors in the hope they can free up their Saturday afternoon if they already have plans.”
Teddy allowed a nod. “That’s very kind of you. May I inquire as to how it goes here at Warwick’s? I realize it’s only been two days.”
Daisy allowed a grin. “It’s going quite well, I should think.” She turned her attention to the other woman. “
Mrs. Fitzgerald? Would you agree?”
Mrs. Fitzgerald’s eyes widened at being singled out for her opinion. “Indeed. Nothing seems to have changed, so it’s almost as if Mrs. Streater is still with us,” she claimed with a shrug. She turned her attention to her tea as Daisy and Teddy exchanged startled glances.
“I do hope you find The Brutus an appropriate play for your students,” Daisy remarked, not sure what else to say just then. She noted how Teddy jerked at the comment, and wondered if he knew something about the play that she did not. “Mrs. Fitzgerald is considering it for her theatre appreciation class,” she explained.
“I have been invited to share a box at Saturday’s performance,” Teddy said, his gaze on Daisy. “I expect the tea will be concluded in time for us to make the curtain.”
Daisy arched an elegant eyebrow. Was he inviting her to attend the play with him? If so, he was being quite bold in front of Mrs. Fitzgerald. “I should think a three o’clock tea would be concluded by four,” she said. She tried to imagine changing clothes and being ready to leave by half-past five in order to ride in a conveyance and make it to the Drury Lane Theatre by six or so. There would be a crush in front of the theatre, of course. There always was. The plays started promptly, though, at half-past six!
“Well, that’s a relief,” Teddy replied, relief evident in his voice.
“Now where is it you reside, Mr. Streater?” Mrs. Fitzgerald asked, her attention having been on a biscuit.
Teddy angled his head and said, “I’ve a townhouse in Bruton Street.”
From the way Mrs. Fitzgerald’s eyes widened, Daisy could tell the woman was impressed. “And how is it at the bank, Mr. Streater?” she asked, knowing there could be no thread of conversation coming from where the bank clerk resided. “I understand you’ve recently accepted a promotion.”
Teddy blinked, at first wondering how she might know. Then he remembered that Lady Bostwick would have told her. “I have,” he stated, a hint of pride in his voice. “And all is well.”
“Well, this is certainly a surprise,” Mrs. Fitzgerald remarked. “I thought you were a baron.”
Reining in his annoyance at being confused with his older brother, Teddy shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied, a bit of spite sounding in the words. When he noted how Daisy seemed embarrassed on his behalf, he found he really wished the theatre instructor would make her excuses and take her leave. Although he would be uncomfortable in the company of Miss Albright, he knew he would prefer her—alone—to the current arrangement.
“I must be taking my leave,” Mrs. Fitzgerald announced, as if she could read his mind. “I’ve a guest coming for dinner at Beta House this evening,” she said as she stood up.
Teddy managed to stand, as did Daisy, and he said, “Good afternoon. It’s been very good to meet you,” before he watched Daisy escort her guest to the door.
“You will let me know about The Brutus, won’t you?” Daisy asked of the drama teacher.
Mrs. Fitzgerald angled her head to one side. “You shall be the first to know,” she replied. “Thank you for the tea.” And with that, she made her way out of the apartment and then out of Omega House.
Daisy breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of the second door closing. She turned to find Teddy regarding her from where he stood. “Mrs. Fitzgerald is appropriate to her position,” she remarked.
“Indeed,” Teddy agreed. He was suddenly at a loss as to what to do. On the one hand, he knew he should take his leave—there wasn’t another woman to act as chaperone—and on the other... well, he didn’t have another, so he merely stood and regarded Daisy for a moment. “Lord Bostwick has asked that I escort you to Saturday night’s performance of The Brutus,” he said then, as if he was laying the blame for the invitation squarely at the feet of the viscount.
Daisy managed to maintain a passive expression. What else could she do? From the sound of his invitation, she wondered if he was annoyed by having to invite her. “Do you consider it an inconvenience?” she countered.
Teddy shook his head, his eyes widening at her query. “I do not. In fact, I rather look forward to spending the evening in their company, but not alone, if you catch my meaning.”
Daisy wondered at his words. “You don’t like to be their sole guest?” she clarified, wondering at his nervousness.
He shook his head. “They’re rather affectionate with one another. I knew Lord Bostwick would like Lady Bostwick back before they met, but I did not know they would be a love match,” he explained.
Remembering how affectionate her father had been with her mother, Daisy allowed a grin. “I am happy for them,” she said in a quiet voice. She moved back to the settee. “I should look forward to an evening at the theatre.” A thought as to how she might get ready in time—managing a hackney back to Warwick’s and then another trip to make it to Drury Lane would allow her little time to dress—she added, “I’ll be sure to bring a change of clothes with me to the Bostwick’s so we aren’t late. I’m sure Lady Bostwick would grant me a room in which to change.”
Having a hard time controlling his arousal at imagining Daisy changing clothes after the tea, Teddy stared at her for a moment. “That is a capital idea. I think I shall do the same.”
Perhaps Lady Bostwick would accidentally assign him to the same room as Daisy, so then they could help dress one other.
Then he remembered his lack of a right arm.
“Although, my townhouse is not so very far away as to make them late,” he added with a sigh.
Daisy wondered at the disappointment she felt just then. What if Lady Bostwick had accidentally assigned Mr. Streater and her to the same room to change clothes? She could imagine him requiring a bit of help when it came to dressing. He could probably manage her buttons one-handed, though, judging from his long, tapered fingers. He could manage draping a shawl across her shoulders. Maybe even a mantle, if the butler didn’t do it.
Why, Mr. Streater could probably manage quite a bit with that one hand. A frisson passed through her entire body at the thought of what it would be like to be stroked by the fingers on that one hand. To have her hand held by that hand. To be held by that one arm. To have her entire body pressed against his as they settled into the same bed for a night of passion. A night of satisfying sleep. A morning of quiet, slow lovemaking.
For the past year, she had only ever imagined such a night with Ethan Range, Marquess of Plymouth. Now, she couldn’t even conjure an image of the marquess in her mind’s eye.
Could time be credited with such a change in how she viewed the men with whom she had shared a bed? Or had Mr. Streater cast a spell that helped her forget both men to whom she had been assigned in the misguided mission to expose a smuggler, as well as the man to whom she had given her virtue?
She rather hoped it was the latter, for she was having difficulty remembering the first man she had bedded. At one point, she had thought they might remain lovers, off and on, for the rest of their lives.
Alex was married now, though. She would never again warm his bed, nor did she want to.
“I’ve not been to the theatre in a long time,” Daisy murmured, waving Teddy to retake his seat. She settled herself onto the settee and leaned over to pour more tea. “I look forward to attending.” She added milk and sugar to his cup. “Forgive me. You probably came to discuss the school, and I have kept you from your purpose,” she said.
A bit concerned at being in the apartment—alone—with Miss Albright, Teddy realized Mrs. Fitzgerald was the only one who knew they were meeting. “I simply wished to discover how you were faring,” he said as he lifted the teacup to his lips.
“Very well, thank you. I met with the headmaster of St. Martin’s this morning. He will provide some young gentlemen to act as partners for the students in my dance classes. They are to be here Friday at eleven o’clock,” she explained.
“Boys?”
From the sound of the word, Daisy wondered if she had been mistaken in her reasoning. The girls w
ould only properly learn to dance if they danced with those of the opposite sex.
“Yes,” she hedged. “They need to learn, too.”
“But, they will be chaperoned?” Teddy half-asked.
Daisy allowed a grin. “Mr. Lusk will be with them. As headmaster, I expect he will be quite stern with his charges, as I will be with mine,” she replied. Pausing a moment, Daisy wondered if she should bring up the pending repairs.
Before she could, Teddy asked, “Will they be here every day?”
Giving her head a shake, Daisy said, “No. Maybe once or twice a week.”
Teddy nodded, apparently satisfied with the arrangement. “You’ve done wonders with this apartment,” he said. “Made it look as if it belongs in Mayfair.”
Daisy angled her head to one side. “The furnishings did come from a house in Mayfair,” she admitted. “As did the silk on the walls. I just thought it would be appropriate to have a parlor in which to host the instructors on a regular basis. To get to know them and their concerns. Learn what I can from their experiences here.”
Teddy regarded her for a moment before saying, “Then you have already succeeded. My mother never would have socialized with the instructors—”
“Do you think I should not?” Daisy interrupted, a look of worry creasing her brow.
Teddy held up his hand. “I think you should run this school as you see fit. Mrs. Streater’s way was not the only one, I am sure,” he replied.
Daisy couldn’t help but notice how he referred to his mother. She wondered if they had been estranged. If Agnes Streater had sequestered herself at Warwick’s whilst her sons lived without a mother at home most of the time. “I suppose you did not see her much in your youth,” she murmured.
Teddy shook his head. “I did not. But I knew where I could find her if I needed her,” he said. “We lived only a few houses down in Kingly Street.”
The mention of Kingly Street had Daisy straightening. “Somewhere near the Simpsons?”
Recoiling, as if shocked by her query, he said, “They were our landlords in fact. We lived in a terrace at the very end of their properties.” He angled his head. “How is it you’re familiar with the Simpsons?”
The Conundrum of a Clerk Page 15