Hannah had obviously imagined what being kissed might be like, but it had never come close to the reality that occurred in her hallway just then. She was absorbed in revelation when Ambrose knocked on the door of the study.
“Where were you earlier?” she asked suspiciously.
“Overseeing the unpacking of the new china,” He responded. “Have I done something wrong, miss?”
“No, of course not.” She waved his concern away.
“A Lady Hawthorne and her niece have arrived. Shall I send them in?” He stared at her very strangely. Hannah had the distinct impression he wanted her to say no.
“Of course. Please have a new tea service sent in, and make sure the peach room and the rose room are ready for them. They will be staying with us for a while.”
Ambrose nodded. He looked as though he wanted to say something further, but when Hannah raised an inquiring eyebrow, he turned and rushed off.
A few moments later, a young woman entered the study. She was tall and blond, with elegant bone structure and pretty features. She was everything a young lady was supposed to be, and Hannah felt drab and uncouth by comparison.
“Oh my. I was going to apologize for arriving early, but now I just hope we haven’t arrived too late.” The stranger was taking Hannah’s appearance in with concern.
“Miss Bailey?” Hannah asked.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Howard. My aunt isn’t feeling very well. She followed our luggage upstairs to have a lie down. I hope that’s all right.”
Hannah had a hard time believing this woman was a professional companion. She was more graceful than Hannah could ever hope to be. “Of course. What do you mean about arriving too late?”
“You appear as though—” Miss Bailey smoothed her skirts and averted her eyes. “You look like you’ve just been ravished.”
“I do?” Hannah searched for some reflective surface to confirm the claim.
Miss Bailey extracted a hand mirror from her reticule and offered it to her. The face Hannah saw staring back at her was not her own. This woman’s mouth was red and puffy. Her hair was a disaster. It looked like she’d just woken up from a night of fitful sleep.
“Oh my.”
Miss Bailey retrieved the mirror from Hannah before she could drop it. She put an arm around Hannah’s shoulder and led her to the sofa by the fireplace. Betsy entered with a new tea tray. Hannah caught the widening of her eyes when she set it down, before she hurried off.
“Rhone kissed me,” Hannah admitted.
“Was he . . . ?” Miss Bailey pursed her lips but continued. “Was he rough with you? Did he hurt you?”
“Hurt me? Of course not.” Hannah realized something suddenly. “You know, I pushed him down my stairs and he didn’t even mind.”
“I’m sure he minded, but I am very glad he was not harsh with you.” Miss Bailey’s smile was subdued, but there was a warmth to it that made Hannah like her instantly.
Betsy returned with a hairbrush and pins. She pulled a cloth out of her apron and gave it to Hannah. “The redness don’t last an hour, ma’am, but a cold cloth’ll take it down faster.”
She rearranged Hannah’s hair in record time and hurried from the room. Miss Bailey poured the tea and handed Hannah a cup. The familiar feeling of the warm china brought Hannah back to herself.
“I do hope you won’t let this color your opinion of me. I promise I am not in the habit of being ravished in hallways.” Hannah set down the cold cloth and tried to steer the conversation into less personally embarrassing waters. “Lord Rhone did not impart very much information about you, other than that you would be arriving. Would you tell me about yourself?”
Miss Bailey nodded, her posture managing to become even more perfect when she spoke. “My brother Charles is Lord Rhone’s man of business. I am afraid I don’t have much of a résumé—any résumé at all, really—but Charlie was led to believe there was some immediacy required.”
Hannah nodded encouragingly and credited herself for her first impression. Miss Bailey was not a companion by trade.
“I don’t want you to think that I am not qualified,” Miss Bailey said quickly. “I attended Miss Needlebright’s School for Refined Young Ladies in Somerset until my sixteenth birthday.”
“Miss Needlebright’s! That is quite prestigious.” As a girl, Hannah had dreamed of attending the famous school, surrounded by other girls her age and kindly instructors. “When I was eleven, I had a governess that would switch me if I spoke without being spoken to.” Hannah shifted in her seat reflexively. “I was certain Miss Needlebright would be far more enlightened. I always wondered, was that truly her name?”
“It seems a bit too convenient, doesn’t it? I suspect she did make it up, but no one had the heart to ask her. She was a very sweet woman.” Miss Bailey sipped her tea with perfect composure. “She did have an unfortunate tendency to prescribe castor oil, though.” Miss Bailey made a face, and Hannah laughed out loud.
“I was horrible at painting watercolors, and it was so mortifying,” Miss Bailey said conspiratorially. “I pretended headaches, stomachaches, melancholy, but every time she just brought out the castor oil. Eventually I decided the castor oil was worse than my paintings and stopped trying to get out of it.”
“I’m sure they weren’t that bad.”
“No matter how hard I try, they all turn into a watery brown mess on the page. My parents saved every horrid one of them and hung them in the library. Charlie called them the Mud Puddle collection.” Miss Bailey laughed self-consciously.
“Is your family from Somerset originally?” Hannah settled into the conversation and took a sip of her tea.
“Our family home was in Sussex, but my mother was very fond of Bath. I visited my parents there on weekends and short holidays.” Miss Bailey recalled with such warmth, Hannah found herself jealous of the childhood she must have had.
“You said was. Your family home isn’t in Sussex anymore?” She wanted to know everything about the Baileys and their seemingly perfect family.
“My father invested heavily in the South Sea Company. He came through it better than most, but we had to sell almost everything.” Miss Bailey’s chin came up with defiant pride.
“How terrible! Is that why . . . ?” She stopped the sentence before it finished. There was no telling if Miss Bailey was comfortable talking about how she came to be in Hannah’s employ.
“It is, but I don’t mind. My parents had enough left to give me a Season or finish my brother’s education.” Miss Bailey looked out the window before she continued. “I must confess I’m a bit of a coward. They could only afford one Season. I would have had to marry very well and quickly. Instead, I let Charlie bear the burden.”
A single tear rolled down Miss Bailey’s face, and Hannah couldn’t bear it. She took Miss Bailey’s hand in her own.
“Nonsense. I’m sure your brother would have been miserable without that opportunity.” Hannah patted Miss Bailey’s hand. Being forced to marry for money was a horrifying thought, and she was glad her new friend had escaped it.
“I still feel terrible.” Miss Bailey’s teary smile was heartbreaking. “Charlie should be dancing and flirting and getting into trouble. Instead he works for men he should be socializing with. Aunt Mathilda and I are happy with our little cottage in Hatfield, but he insists it’s not enough.”
“Are your parents . . . ?” Hannah knew it wasn’t entirely polite, but she felt emotionally invested in Miss Bailey’s tragedy.
“No, no. They moved to the Colonies last year. They’re trying to rebuild their fortune so that Charlie has something to inherit, but Mother couldn’t stand to stay in England after what happened.” Miss Bailey dabbed at the corner of her eyes with a lace handkerchief.
“The Colonies! How wonderful! Your parents must be quite the adventurers. How do they like it?” Hannah
breathed a sigh of relief to hear the Baileys were well. She had heard stories of men who took their own lives after they’d lost heavily in the market crash.
“My mother says it can be quite frightening, but also quite beautiful. My father is like a little boy in a sweet shop. He is enthralled by the natives and has convinced mother to make a go of it in Indian country.” Miss Bailey’s tears had stopped while she spoke of her parents, and she was fully composed once again.
“I am fascinated by adventures and faraway places,” Hannah confessed.
“I have their letters in the bottom of my trunk. Shall we read them together after supper?” Miss Bailey offered. “I should have us unpacked by then.”
“After supper sounds lovely, but you certainly don’t need to do all that unpacking yourself. Mary, one of the upstairs maids, will be at your disposal while you’re here.” Hannah was a great proponent of doing things for oneself, but she deeply regretted the circumstances that had forced Miss Bailey to become accustomed to it. They drank their tea in companionable silence for a few moments. It was Hannah who eventually broke the quiet.
“Miss Bailey, I need to beg a favor of you,” she said gravely. “I wouldn’t ask it, but I know no one else. Can I trust you with a secret?”
“Of course, but if we’re to be sharing secrets you must call me Jane.”
Hannah and Jane shared bright smiles.
“Oh! I would like that very much. Of course, you must call me Hannah.”
“Now, about this secret. What is the nature of it?” Jane’s attitude immediately changed to one of industrious efficiency.
“I need you to make sure I don’t make a fool of myself,” Hannah said seriously.
Jane’s expression was full of confusion. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I am afraid I am not at all prepared to enter society. I thought I was, but it is becoming abundantly clear that I haven’t had a proper upbringing. I’ve never painted or gone on a social call or danced.” The insecurity that Rhone’s kiss had pushed to the background came flooding back.
“Your mother didn’t—” Jane trailed off, uncertain.
“My mother died when I was very young.”
Sympathy filled Jane’s eyes. “But you had a governess, so you must have had some education.”
“Just basic comportment.” Hannah took a deep breath, preparing herself. She didn’t enjoy speaking about her childhood, but Jane had already shared so much of her own. “When my mother died, my father became a much different person. He stopped caring about anything except logic and facts.”
Jane patted her hand in sympathy. “That must have been awful!”
Hannah nodded. “I can speak Latin and Greek, perform any experiment published by the Royal Society of London, and accurately calculate the success of most financial ventures. However, I am supposed to attend a ball in my honor in twelve days, and I cannot dance.”
She felt mildly better when Jane didn’t immediately resign her position. Hannah’s new companion tapped her fingers on her teacup thoughtfully.
“Well,” Jane announced after a moment, “twelve days is a dreadfully short period of time, but, on the dancing front, if we dedicate ourselves completely to the project, I believe we can have you passable on the steps and form in time.”
“Really?” she asked hopefully.
“Really,” Jane said with confidence. “And if we can’t, you can pretend to turn your ankle and get out of it.”
“Jane, you’re brilliant!”
With the immediate crisis on its way to resolution, the conversation turned to the upcoming shopping trip. Jane had impeccable taste, and the two women spent the rest of the afternoon discussing color palette and the latest fashions coming over from Europe.
* * *
Gavan fled his fiancée’s town house and retreated to the safety of Number Fifteen. The dour face of his butler met him at the door and went a long way toward dispelling his passions. “Magnus! Just the man I’ve been looking for.”
“It is a wonder you were able to run me to ground, my lord,” Magnus said flatly. “Can we expect equal success in sussing out the location of your hat and coat?”
Gavan looked at his empty hands and realized he had left them both at Miss Howard’s. “They’re next door. Send someone for them later. Right now, locate Bailey and get him here immediately. We have work to do!” He strode into his study with great purpose. A few hundred more distractions and the urge to go back over and ravish Miss Howard within an inch of her life should completely subside.
Ewan was behind the desk with his shirtsleeves rolled up and a pair of spectacles perched on his nose, glaring at a stack of papers. Perfect.
“Ewan! Just the man I’ve been looking for,” Gavan repeated as he strode to the liquor cabinet, full of purpose.
“It’s a great day of looking for and finding folk, then. As it happens, I’m needing to speak with ye myself. What in the bloody hell did you spend a thousand pounds on?” He was studiously making notes and check marks.
Gavan shuddered from sheer proximity. “Why are you doing that? That’s Bailey’s job.” He poured himself a drink and flopped down in his favorite armchair.
“Ye should check it now and then, to be sure he’s not thieving ye blind.” He transferred his glare from the papers to his cousin, refusing to be distracted. “Where did the money go?”
“I’m certain I left a note.” Gavan sipped his whiskey benignly.
“Aye. It says”—Ewan paused to rifle through the stack and held up a torn off piece of a playbill— “Miscellaneous.”
“I bet one of the grooms he couldn’t beat me in a footrace,” Gavan said unapologetically.
“A thousand pounds?” Ewan asked.
“Ten wasn’t enough to get him to break Magnus’s precious rules of protocol.”
Ewan pinched the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not as though we can’t afford it. I hear he bought a home by the shore somewhere for his sick daughter. Or maybe it was an aunt. A cat?” Gavan mused as he shifted his position in the armchair. He never thought of this chair as uncomfortable, but after experiencing Miss Howard’s furniture, he decided it might be time to redecorate. Ewan’s brewing response on proper finance management was interrupted by the return of Magnus.
“My lord, Mr. Bailey has arrived.” He stepped aside to let the business manager pass.
“Bailey! Just the man I’ve been looking for!”
Ewan rolled his eyes.
Gavan waved Bailey in from his armchair. “That was remarkably fast. Did Magnus summon you with some sort of demonic power? I’ve always suspected him of sorcery.”
“Not that I know of. I was outside. Just dropped my sister and aunt next door.” Bailey stopped before the desk.
Ewan held up the scrap of paper. “Ye put up with this Miscellaneous nonsense?”
“It is not my place to judge, merely to make as much sense as can be made,” Bailey said politically.
Gavan motioned Bailey over to the decanter. “Enough about that. Gentlemen, we have a mission of tantamount importance.” He stood up to face his cohorts. “My fiancée requires a series of gifts to win her affections, the first of which is a conveyance and cattle.”
“Ye cannae be serious.” Ewan gaped from the desk.
“I am incredibly serious.” This was going to be fun.
“Could ye nae just send flowers? Perhaps a hat? Women love hats.” Ewan abandoned the ledger in an attempt to stem the tide of imminent new expenses.
“Oh, there will be plenty of hats, and God knows what else. We’re taking her to get kitted out tomorrow.” Gavan improvised the “we” and was quite pleased with himself for it. If he was going to suffer through a day of shopping, so was his meddling cousin. Pondering modiste visits gave mind to Hannah stripped down to her undergarments to be measured, so he moved th
e subject on straightaway. “We must lavish her with gifts so that people understand she is valued and treat her accordingly.”
Ewan’s expression dropped into a severe frown, but he didn’t argue. They both knew, even as a prospective countess, it was going to be an uphill battle for Miss Howard when it came to the ton.
“Back to the vehicle. People will be talking about her either way, so let’s make it something sensational that will steal the conversation.” Having delivered the impetus, he sat back down to witness the fruits of his labor. There was nothing seductive to him about carriages or, thank God, horses. He should be in safe territory now.
“Sensational, you say?” Bailey stared speculatively into his whiskey glass.
“Fit for a queen if we can manage it, but we’re on a bit of a deadline,” Gavan elaborated.
“An interesting prospect came across my desk for my other employer that might just . . .”
Bailey was cut off by Gavan’s gasp.
“Oh, here we go. Now ye’ve done it.” Ewan shook his head.
“You have another employer?” Gavan accused.
“I do. You don’t require very much of my time, so I took on a position for another gentleman with similarly minimal demands.” Bailey was alarmingly calm on the subject.
“Irrelevant. Quit this other position immediately. We will have all of your time, whether we need it or not,” Gavan declared. Honestly. Sharing time with another lord! What would they have him do next, share his boots with a neighbor to save a few shillings?
“No, we willnae. Ye wouldnae have even noticed if Bailey had kept his mouth shut.” Ewan gave Bailey a murderous look.
“We must. What if I need him suddenly and he’s not available? What if there is a week like this one, full of business, and my man of business is nowhere to be found? What would your stinginess have gained us then?” The thought was enough to drive Gavan out of his chair for a refill on his drink.
A Convenient Engagement Page 5