The Deceptive Lady Darby (Lost Ladies of London Book 2)

by Adele Clee

  “I expect some tutoring as part of their timetable.”

  Rose pursed her lips. “Trust me, my lord. It will be a very enlightening week.”

  “Only a week?” A mild sense of panic gripped him at the prospect of her leaving. Perhaps he was coming down with the fever. It was the only explanation to account for his erratic emotions.

  “We agreed to assess the situation once the week was out,” she reminded him. “You might want rid of me by then. Now, I promised Mrs Hibbet I’d be but an hour and she has a list of jobs as long as a bishop’s stole.” Rose offered a parting curtsy. “Good day, my lord.”

  “Good day, Rose.”

  Christian watched her walk away. Something told him she had no intention of staying at Everleigh any longer than necessary. But where would she go? What would force a woman to abandon the prospect of a secure home and a regular income?

  If he had any hope of making her stay, he had to find out.

  Chapter Six

  The private apartment allocated to the many governesses previously employed at Everleigh was located on the second floor, next door to the nursery. Mrs Hibbet insisted Rose move into the room right away. The housekeeper’s urgency stemmed from the need to prevent anyone else from catching the strange fever that had affected every member of the household at some point or other in the last two years.

  “Rose is to be your new governess,” Mrs Hibbet said, “just for the time being.”

  The children stood in the middle of the nursery and stared, their expressions solemn.

  “We don’t want a governess,” Jacob replied. He spoke with the self-assurance of a boy of twelve, not one swiftly approaching eight. “We want you to be the maid. We want a maid’s help that’s all.”

  “What is the difference?” Rose failed to understand the child's point. “Both are merely titles. I hope to be your maid, your governess and your friend. If you will allow it.” She turned to the housekeeper. “Thank you, Mrs Hibbet. But I shall be fine on my own with the children.”

  Mrs Hibbet had plenty of jobs to attend to, and so offered no objection. Once the housekeeper had left the room, Rose crouched down until eye level with the children.

  “I know nothing about being a governess and nothing of Mrs Booth’s schedule. So we’ll literally rub the slate clean and begin again.”

  Alice tugged her brother’s coat sleeve and looked up at him all doe-eyed.

  Jacob sighed: an old man’s weary exhalation not that of a frustrated boy. “On a Friday, Mrs Booth taught me mathematics in the morning and Latin in the afternoon.”

  “Mathematics and Latin in one day?” Rose said with a chuckle. No wonder the woman woke to find toads in her bed. It certainly seemed a fitting retribution.

  “I’m to go away to school next year.”

  As soon as the words left the boy’s lips, Alice clutched his arm as though the wicked schoolmaster was liable to burst into the room any minute and drag the helpless child away.

  At seven, Rose had felt the same unbreakable connection to her brother, even though he was much older and spent the majority of his time at school. Indeed, she would give anything to feel Oliver’s secure arms wrapped around her. To hear his words of comfort.

  “Will it be Eton or Harrow? Do you intend to follow in your father’s footsteps?” In Rose’s opinion, a child of eight should receive tutoring at home but who was she to argue with tradition.

  Jacob shrugged. “Mama said I’m to go to Eton.”

  His Mama? According to Mrs Hibbet, Lady Farleigh died two years ago. At six, surely Jacob would have been too young for a mature conversation. Then again, some mothers planned their offsprings’ education at birth.

  “There are better ways to prepare a boy for school,” Rose said by way of a distraction as the mere mention of going away made his lip tremble. And better ways to prepare Alice for his departure. “None of them require sitting at a desk for hours on end.”

  The boy appeared confused yet equally curious.

  Rose ventured over to the window. If she stood on tiptoes, she could just see the tops of the trees standing still, motionless. With the sky absent of clouds, it was a good day to take their lesson outside.

  “For our first task, we’ll need a few provisions.” Rose swung around and clapped her hands together in excitement much to their surprise. “Alice, you will need a jacket and a scarf of some sort. One that is easy to tie.”

  “You’re taking us outside?” Jacob’s expression grew grave. He pursed his lips and frowned. “We’re only allowed to walk on the path.”

  “Our lesson today will take place on the lawn.”

  No doubt the boy’s anxiety stemmed from a fear of becoming ill.

  “If you wrap up warm, you’ll not catch a chill.” Rose’s words of reassurance failed to appease him. “You cannot contract a fever from breathing fresh air.”

  “We were sick once before,” Alice said in the sweet melodic tone that couldn’t help but raise a smile. “Papa sat by our beds and told us stories.”

  Most children suffered from colds and sniffles. Such things passed from person to person. It was an inevitable part of growing up.

  “Was it the same illness that struck down the entire household?” Rose knew nothing about medicine or the nature of disease. Still, the sudden heaviness in the pit of her stomach warned her something was amiss. “Did you both contract the fever?”

  The children nodded.

  When kept a prisoner at Morton Manor, Rose had suffered from a similar illness. Mrs Gripes refused to send for the doctor and insisted the sweating and delirium would pass. The servants argued for hours. Stokes took the cart to Holdgate, some ten miles south, and returned with fresh provisions. Had Nicole not tended to her day and night, she might not have recovered.

  “Dr Taylor cured us.” Jacob’s comment broke Rose’s reverie. “And the reverend helped care for us so Papa could rest.”

  “Did the reverend tell you stories, too?” After hearing Mrs Hibbet’s words of caution, the man struck Rose as someone who used every available opportunity to lecture his flock, purely as a means to repent for his sinful deeds.

  “He told me about Lazarus while Alice slept. I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so he tidied the room.”

  Tidied the room? How odd.

  “No doubt Mrs Hibbet had a fit of apoplexy when she discovered the reverend working as a maid.”

  “He only organised the cupboards and straightened the clothes in the drawers,” Jacob said.

  “And he looked under the beds,” Alice added.

  Jacob scowled. “Don’t tell stories, Alice. You were asleep.”

  “But I saw him.” Alice squinted and peered through the tiny gaps between her lids to recreate the moment. “I saw him stand up and brush the dust off his hands.”

  Jacob tutted. “But you—”

  “I think we’ve strayed from the original topic.” Rose had no intention of listening to them bicker, even though she would have liked nothing more than to question them both about the reverend’s odd behaviour. “Now, let us adjourn to the lawn for today’s lesson.”

  As expected the children played the part of rebels with the skill most mercenaries struggled to master. The previous night, when it was time to sleep, they’d jumped on the beds until the creaking floorboards were liable to snap. Now, when it was time for exercise and fresh air, it took thirty minutes for them to put on their boots.

  When they eventually made it out onto the lawn, the children kept looking back over their shoulder at the house, surveying numerous windows before their eyes settled on one situated on the ground floor.

  “Papa is in the study.” Alice pointed to the window. “If he sees us, he might send us inside.”

  “No, he won’t.” Heavens, anyone would think they were trying to avoid catching the plague. “And it’s rude to point. Now, hand me the scarf.”

  Alice dragged her gaze away from the house and handed Rose the red silk scarf. It was an odd choice for a child
.

  “It belonged to Mama,” Alice said as though she’d read Rose’s mind. “We keep a few of her things in the trunk in our room. The reverend tidied that up, too.”

  “No, he didn’t,” Jacob snapped.

  “He did when you were asleep. I heard the lid creak when he opened it.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Rose drew the soft material through her fingers. A lump formed in her throat. “It’s a beautiful scarf. How fitting that we’re using something so special to help us learn such a valuable lesson.”

  A faint sliver of jealousy raced through her as she held the garment in her hand. It was foolish really. But she couldn’t shake the image of Lord Farleigh draping the scarf around his wife’s neck, tugging at the ends and pulling her in for a deep, passionate kiss.

  Instinctively, she glanced at the study, only to find the gentleman in question leaning against the wooden shutter, his arms folded as he watched them. Rose’s heart raced. She tried to speak but struggled to form a word.

  What was it about Lord Farleigh that affected her so? Not once had she experienced these odd sensations with Lord Cunningham.

  The children followed her gaze.

  “You see,” Jacob said with an air of arrogance unbefitting a child. “Papa will wave at us to come inside.”

  Alice bit down on her bottom lip to stifle her tears. “But I don’t want to go inside.”

  “Thankfully, once we begin our lesson, you’ll be unable to see him.”

  Who was she trying to fool?

  Rose did not need to look at the window to confirm his presence. Every fibre of her being, from the prickles at her nape to the tickling in her tummy, told her he was still there.

  “Now, who would like to go first?”

  That got the children’s attention.

  “Well, I’m the oldest by seven minutes,” Jacob said, and Rose expected him to press his case. “But Papa told me that a gentleman must let the lady go first.”

  “And your father is right. That is the gentlemanly thing to do.” Rose took Alice’s hand and drew her closer. “We’re going to play a game. It’s a game of trust. I’m going to cover your eyes with the scarf, spin you around and it’s your job to catch one of us. When you do, you must examine your prisoner. If you identify them correctly, you win a point.”

  Jacob glanced back to the study.

  “Jacob, you will tie the scarf around Alice. I’ve never been good at knots.” Rose’s thoughts flashed to Nicole. She knew how to tie the tightest knots. The guard, Baxter, would never have untied them on his own.

  “But I’m scared.” Alice stepped away.

  “Then you have a choice. Be brave or let Jacob go first. Blind man’s buff is not about trusting other people but about trusting your own instincts. It’s about ignoring the doubting voices in your head and listening to your heart.”

  With a soft sigh, Alice looked to her brother, and he gave a nod of reassurance. She turned around, and he tied the scarf.

  “Ooh, it smells like Mrs Booth’s cloak.”

  Alice meant musty. At least it didn’t smell of their mother’s favourite perfume. No one wanted to dwell on sad memories when they were having fun.

  Well, they would have fun if they ever got around to playing.

  With the blindfold secure, Rose spun Alice around a few times. It took a moment for the child to keep her balance and then, with arms stretched out she patted the air in front of her.

  “Have faith, Alice,” Rose shouted as she touched the girl’s arm and then darted out of the way. “Trust your inner voice and listen for the tell-tale sounds of our approach.”

  “I can’t catch you.”

  Jacob tapped Alice on the shoulder, and she swung around far too quickly and almost fell over.

  The game proved easier when played with a large group.

  “This time when we touch you, Alice, we will stand still, and you must make your guess based on nothing but instinct.” If Rose didn’t adapt the rules, they’d be racing about the garden all day.

  Rose gestured for Jacob to step forward. After mouthing silently to the count of three, they both placed the tips of their fingers on Alice’s arm.

  Alice pursed her lips and then giggled as she grabbed Jacob’s hand and called out his name. Even Jacob had the beginnings of a smile on his face.

  “Well done.” Rose was full of praise and helped Alice tie the scarf around Jacob’s head.

  “We will give you an extra spin,” Alice said, “as you are the oldest.”

  “Only by seven minutes, and I did let you go first.”

  Alice giggled again, and after a final spin they ran off in different directions.

  Lord Farleigh was still standing at the window. Heat crept up Rose’s neck as he watched her skip and dodge around the lawn in a bid to distract Jacob.

  Jacob’s method of playing involved remaining still as opposed to rushing about with open arms. The boy was astute although far too serious for his age. His tactic worked perfectly for as soon as Rose stepped up to him, he grabbed her and called her name.

  “Good heavens, Jacob.” Rose put her hand to her chest to calm her racing heart. “You’ve quick reflexes for a boy of seven.”

  The compliment brought another weak smile to the child’s face. “It’s your turn, Rose. I’ll tie the scarf.”

  Why did she get the impression things were about to become a little rough?

  She knelt on the grass and held the scarf in place. Jacob tugged on the ends as though trying to drag a stubborn horse from a stable.

  “You’re tying the scarf too tight,” Alice complained when Jacob yanked on the knot so hard he pulled out a few strands of Rose’s hair.

  “I have to make sure she can’t cheat.”

  “A gentleman never accuses a lady of cheating.” Rose rubbed the sore spot on her head, happy to discover she did not have a bald patch. “Surely your father told you that.”

  “People called Mama a cheat,” the boy blurted.

  It took a moment for Rose to recover from the initial shock of such a blunt comment, particularly one from a child. Why wait until she wore a blindfold to divulge such an important piece of information? If only she could have seen his face and examined his reaction.

  “Then I trust they were not gentlemen,” Rose replied.

  “No, just the servants.”

  Rose tried to ignore the sudden sadness filling her heart. “Help me to my feet. I must warn you both I am quite good at this game.”

  Encouraging a competitive spirit would surely quash their solemn thoughts. Indeed, the children tackled their mission to unbalance her with the passion and conviction of an advancing battalion.

  The prod in the back came first, followed by tufts of grass thrown at her neck and face. Culminating in Jacob, for who else could it be, dropping a worm into her outstretched hand.

  But his plan to annoy her backfired.

  While at Morton Manor she often woke to find a spider on her pillow. The infestation of horseflies proved equally troublesome. It was surprising how one grew accustomed to sharing a house with live creatures.

  Instead of screaming and throwing the worm in the air, Rose held it gently between her fingers and chased after the children until they were both squealing in terror, and then laughter.

  Without warning, they fell silent, no doubt planning something mischievous amongst themselves.

  “Even though I can't see you, I know you’re still there.” Well, she hoped they were. How foolish would she look if Lord Farleigh glanced out of the window to find her running around the lawn with a worm in her hand?

  Alice giggled again, but Jacob urged her to be quiet.

  One of them snatched the worm from her grasp, but Rose was too slow to react. Then, with loud whoops, they ran circles around her, patting her arm and back and shouting, “Catch us. Catch us if you can.”

  Rose twirled round and round until dizzy. With outstretched arms, she stumbled forward desperate to cling on to someth
ing solid. The children circled her, tapping her body as they went, their cries of excitement whipping past her ears.

  A fog of confusion filled her head. She took two unsteady steps to the left and then she fell. But she did not land on the grass. Wrapped in the vice-like grip of a pair of muscular arms, she landed on a hard body that was most definitely not one of the children.

  “Hurray! You caught her, Papa.”

  Papa?

  All the air left Rose’s lungs as she lay sprawled on top of Lord Farleigh. She did not dare remove the scarf for fear of swooning under the scrutiny of those mesmerising green eyes.

  “Shush,” Lord Farleigh whispered. “I cannot release her until she says my name.”

  Lord Farleigh had got the rules of the game confused. “I am the one who does the catching.”

  His warm breath breezed over her neck, and a deep chuckle burst from his lips. “Oh, you’ve caught me, Rose. Make no mistake about that.”

  She imagined saying something flirtatious in return, but all thoughts turned to the strange tingling surging through her body. She tried to move, but the feel of his thighs pressed against hers rendered her helpless. And the smell of his cologne. Good Lord. Never had she inhaled something so divine.

  “Lord … Lord Farleigh,” she managed to say.

  “Rose has won the point, Papa.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” he drawled. “I can’t help but feel I am the winner of this game.”

  “You can let her go now, Papa,” Jacob said.

  “Yes, I think you’re squashing her,” Alice added.

  The girl was right although the experience was far from unpleasant.

  “I would release her, but how can I be sure she won’t fall again?”

  Rose pulled the red scarf down to the bridge of her nose. White dots flashed in her eyes, and it took a few blinks until she could see Lord Farleigh’s handsome face clearly.

  Her heart flew to her throat at the sight of his warm smile. It was a breathtaking sight to behold.

  “Do you think you can stand?” he said.

  How could she stand when her limbs wobbled like blancmange?