Regency 01 - The Schoolmistress and the Spy

by Julia Byrne

  For some reason, an image of Harbury popped into his head. He had dismissed the man as harmless, but perhaps he should consider him in another light. Thanks to the servants’ chatter, he knew that Harbury owned a couple of ships and a lucrative trading business. He could easily travel to and from the Continent in that capacity, but surely Emily would know if the man had been acquainted with her father.

  On the other hand, why would she mention such a fact to her man-of-all-work? Perhaps prior acquaintance was the reason Harbury’s daughter was enrolled at Emily’s school. Emily might even have chosen Lymingford for her school in the hope that Harbury would support her venture. A businessman of his stature could wield considerable influence on her behalf.

  Especially when he had a personal interest in her.

  Luke set his jaw. He was fast reaching the point where he’d have to tell Emily the truth, because he was going to have to question her.

  As if the thought conjured her up, he heard her mounting the stairs. He would know those quick, light footsteps anywhere, he thought. She was being a sprite again.

  An instant later, Emily appeared in the doorway, looking exceedingly sprite-like in a pale blue dress sporting several frivolous flounces, lined in amber, at the hem. She’d made a concession to the cool weather by adding a blue and amber striped spencer to the ensemble. An amber ribbon tried valiantly to keep her upswept curls in order, but, as usual, several tendrils were escaping.

  “Going to pay a morning call somewhere?” he growled, aware that he sounded grim, if not downright surly. He couldn’t help it; the thought of telling Emily the truth made him feel surly.

  She blinked up at him. “At this hour? Of course not. I came to see if you’ve found anything to explain those noises I heard last night, but since you’re impersonating a very annoyed lion, I presume you haven’t.”

  “A very annoyed lion?” A reluctant grin tugged at his mouth. “I don’t intimidate you at all, do I, Emily?”

  “Were you trying to?”

  “No,” he said, sobering. “But I do have a question that may annoy you.”

  “Oh?” Her gaze faltered for a moment, then returned to his. The faintest hint of color appeared in her cheeks. “What is it, Lucas?”

  “Would Harbury or Rupert Quadling or Monsieur Maurice, go so far as to search my room?”

  Her eyes blinked wide. She stared at him in astonishment. He wondered what sort of question she’d been expecting.

  “Are you saying that someone has looked through your belongings?” she finally demanded.

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Either someone in this house is very curious, or one of your admirers thinks I’m a threat to him.”

  “That’s ridiculous. And they’re not my admirers. Well, there’s Harbury, I suppose, but he couldn’t possibly see you as a threat.”

  His mouth quirked. “How long have you known him?”

  “Since I opened the school. Why?”

  “I’ve heard he’s a successful businessman. Such men often choose to bestow their patronage on schools or charities. In Harbury’s mind, that would also have the advantage of putting you under some obligation to him.”

  She grimaced. “Fortunately, I do not need a benefactor. And I very much doubt that Harbury or anyone else would be that curious about my man-of-all-work. Even if they were, how do you know someone searched your room?”

  “I always place a hair or thread in the buckle of my portmanteau when I leave it anywhere. It was there when I changed my coat to admit your guests yesterday afternoon; last night it was missing.”

  “Good heavens! Why would you do that here?”

  “It’s just a habit.”

  Emily studied him thoughtfully. “Yes. I know what you mean. When Papa and I lived on the Continent, I always found a hiding place for our money rather than leave it in our bags. Sometimes it wasn’t safe to carry a purse, even a hidden one. Slipping money into the hems of curtains or drapes always worked.”

  Luke stared at her. “Why would you need to employ such a trick?”

  “We didn’t always stay in superior accommodations,” she told him. “And Papa wasn’t above taking any money I’d saved. As long as there was enough for his brandy and his gaming, he didn’t care about the rent or that we might need to eat occasionally. Not to mention poor Tibby’s wages.”

  Luke closed the small distance between them and lifted his hand to cradle her cheek. “No wonder you want to be able to support yourself. You haven’t been able to rely on many people, have you, Emily?”

  She turned her face very slightly, as if she was going nestle into his touch before changing her mind. “Well, that was in the past, and we’re concerned with now.”

  “Yes.” He let his hand fall to his side. “And I doubt whoever rummaged through my portmanteau yesterday was after money or valuables. Nor do I think Mrs. Starling and the maids are particularly curious about me. Your teaching staff and guests are another matter.”

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “Really, Lucas, that is too much! I can’t believe that either Tibby or Charlotte would take the time to go hunting through your possessions while an afternoon tea was in progress.”

  “What better time?” he countered. “But let’s be logical about this. Did anyone leave the drawing room yesterday?”

  “Oh, yes, by all means let’s be logical,” she snapped.

  “Just answer the damn question, Emily.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Luke took a deep breath. “Emily, would you please answer the question.”

  “Very well, if only to prove you wrong. Tibby went to the kitchen for more cakes. Do you think she took a little side trip to your room while she was about it?”

  “Why didn’t she ring for them?” he asked, ignoring her sarcastic rider.

  “Because she needed an excuse to get away from Mr. Harbury who was asking questions about me. Tibby isn’t the type to tell him to mind his own business.”

  “All right. I know Miss Haymes left the drawing room at some point, because she heard me in here and came up to investigate.”

  “Yes, she went upstairs to fetch a book that someone wished to borrow. Then I heard Mr. Quadling say that he’d left his pastels in the classroom and he needed them.”

  “Did he return within a reasonable time?”

  “Yes,” she said with exaggerated patience. “At least, I didn’t really notice how long he was gone, but he had a box of pastels in his hand.”

  “What about Maurice and Harbury?”

  “Mr. Harbury never left the room. Monsieur Maurice…” For the first time she hesitated, frowning.

  He reached out and touched her arm gently. “Emily, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important to me.”

  “Monsieur Maurice spilt tea on his coat,” she said slowly. “I offered to take it out to the kitchen for him, so Annie could sponge it off, but he said he didn’t like to sit there in his shirt and waistcoat and would take it to the kitchen himself. Annie told me he went to the laundry-room with her.”

  “Which is next door to my room.”

  Now she looked distressed. “But how would he know that? Besides, Annie was with him.”

  “The whole time?”

  “Well…she would have needed water from the pump. And she may have taken the coat outside for a few minutes to air it as much as possible. Lucas, you’re not going to interrogate her, are you? She’ll think you’re accusing her and then she’ll give notice. What’s more,” she added crossly, “I wouldn’t blame her. But I can’t afford to lose a maid. Heaven knows, getting a man-of-all-work was difficult enough.”

  The last was accompanied by a heavy scowl in his direction.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to question your servants. I just needed to know who might have been in my room.”

  “You don’t know it was Monsieur Maurice. And I have better things to do with my time than be interrogated over nothing. You had better start clearing out this room. I do not want to hear any
more noises in the middle of the night.”

  “That wasn’t an interrogation,” he told her. “I just asked a few questions.”

  “That,” Emily countered, elevating her chin. “is a matter of opinion. And in this case, it is my opinion that matters.”

  Evidently concluding that she’d had the last word on the subject, she whisked around and stalked out of the room.

  He winced as he heard her stomp down the stairs in a distinctly unsprite-like manner.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Taking her morning classes went a long way toward soothing Emily’s anger. By the time luncheon was over and the girls were skipping upstairs to fetch bonnets, capes, and sketch books for a sojourn in the park with Charlotte and Tibby, she was much calmer.

  But she still felt unsettled, even sad. She’d actually been shaking inside while Lucas questioned her and she didn’t know why, because he hadn’t threatened her in any way or seemed angry. He had even tried to explain that the answers were important to him. By contrast, he’d been absolutely furious the night she’d come in through the kitchen door, and she hadn’t felt like this.

  Perhaps because no-one else had been involved, she thought. She hated to think that someone she trusted, someone who came into her school to teach her pupils, had taken a quick opportunity to snoop around. What on earth did they expect to find among the belongings of a man-of-all-work? It didn’t make sense.

  Emily wandered into the drawing room and sat down on the windowseat. In all fairness to Lucas, she was forced to admit that if someone went through her belongings, she’d be somewhat peeved also. Perhaps she would go up to the attic shortly to see how he was getting on, and to put them back on a friendly footing. And this time, she wouldn’t go up there anticipating another exciting, nerve-tingling encounter like last night in this very drawing room.

  Her spirits rose a little. She was about to retire to her study to catch up on some accounts, when a carriage drawn by a team of horses rattled up the street and stopped in front of the house. A groom sprang down from the perch and hurried to open the door and let down the steps. Emily stared in stunned disbelief at the tall, grey-haired gentleman who emerged.

  She closed her eyes and let her brow fall forward against the window pane. Could the day possibly get any worse? What on earth was her grandfather doing here?

  A peremptory assault on the front door told her she was about to find out. Emily sighed, got to her feet, and went out to the hall to admit her grandparent.

  “Do you make a habit of opening your own front door, Emily?” Sir John Proudfoot demanded as he stalked past her into the house. He stopped in the middle of the hall, dropped a carpet bag on the floor, and looked about. “Well, at least the place looks presentable.”

  Emily eyed the carpet bag with trepidation. “Good afternoon, grandfather. I hope you and grandmother are well. Are you expecting to stay overnight? We don’t have a spare bedchamber, but you may sleep in my room. I’ll share with Tibby.”

  Sir John glared at her. “Preposterous! I am glad I possessed the foresight to bespeak a room at the hotel where the standard of accommodation is clearly far superior to that which is offered here. One would think that after I’ve gone to all the trouble of travelling down from London, the least you could do—”

  “Why have you travelled down from London?” she interrupted, knowing from experience that the lecture would continue unabated for several minutes.

  “I hope you employ better manners when dealing with your students’ parents, Emily. As to the reason I am here, I have a matter to discuss that concerns you personally.”

  “We’d better go into the drawing room, in that case.” She led the way. “Please sit down, sir.”

  “Perhaps it wouldn’t be too much trouble to ring for some tea,” Sir John said testily, sitting on a sofa.

  “I’m afraid it’s the maids’ half-day off. However, if you don’t mind waiting, I’ll make you a cup of tea and there should be some cake about somewhere.”

  “Don’t bother,” he said coldly. “It is all of a piece. I am not surprised at your lack of management. One does not give all the servants the same half-day off.”

  “Mrs. Starling is doing the marketing. The maids are sisters, it’s natural that they would wish to spend their half-day together.”

  “I am not interested in your ridiculous excuses.”

  Emily sighed and sat down. “What did you wish to discuss with me, sir?”

  “Two days ago I received a letter from a Mr. Harbury,” Sir John began. “In which he requests my permission to address you.”

  “What? Are you telling me that Harbury had the unmitigated gall to write to you instead of addressing me directly? How old does he think I am? As if I need your permission before receiving any offers.”

  “I can only continue to deplore your appalling manners, Emily.”

  “Well, I’m sorry you’ve been put to so much trouble, grandfather. I can assure you I’ve never given Harbury the smallest encouragement.” An unwelcome thought occurred to her. “Did you reply to his letter?”

  “Not yet. There is the problem of your mother to be taken into account. It seems Mr. Harbury is in shipping, which is next door to trade in my opinion, but he appears to be a respectable person of some means. I would consider it my duty to inform him of your unfortunate maternal background before he makes an offer.”

  “My maternal background is not unfortunate,” Emily said through her teeth. “You may recall, sir, that my grandparents on Mama’s side were perfectly respectable.”

  “I suppose one must agree with that,” Sir John said, in the tones of one who wished to do no such thing. “However, it is still incumbent upon me to inform Mr. Harbury of your circumstances. He also mentioned that you have a man in your employ who is extremely disrespectful and, therefore, lowers the tone of your establishment. You will get rid of him at once.”

  “Good heavens! There is no end to Harbury’s effrontery. If his daughter wasn’t a pupil, and a delightful girl, I would tell him he is no longer welcome in this house. As for his addresses, there is no need for you to mention my mother to him. I wouldn’t accept an offer from the man if I was down to my last penny and desperate.”

  “Then you are making a very grave mistake, Emily. Surely you don’t intend to play with this silly little school for the rest of your life. Have you no notion of what you owe to the family?”

  Emily sprang to her feet, her hands clenched at her sides. “That is precisely what I intend to do, grandfather. Surely you haven’t forgotten that schools are very handy places for sending unwanted children. Where would you have been without one?”

  “How dare you?” Sir John stood up, his face unbecomingly flushed. “Your grandmother and I did our duty. We couldn’t let you go to your other relatives. Look how your mother turned out.”

  Emily dug her nails into her palms. Why was she bothering to argue? It had never done her any good before.

  “I apologize for that last remark,” she said grimly. “However, have you ever stopped to consider that if my mother had lived, your son may not have ended up a drunkard and inveterate gamester?”

  “Why you insolent little—” Sir John took a step toward her, his hand raised.

  The drawing room door flew wide and hit the wall with a crash.

  Sir John froze, his hand in the air. Emily seized the opportunity to get out of reach. Once she’d put the sofa between herself and danger, she looked around.

  Lucas stood in the doorway, tall and powerful, watching her grandfather as if waiting for him to make a move toward her. The light in the room was dim owing to the cloudy day, but Emily thought she could see the fierce glitter in his eyes.

  Sir John glanced briefly at Lucas then lowered his hand and looked at Emily. “This conversation is over. I shall advise Mr. Harbury that you are of age and therefore he must address you directly. Under those circumstances I will not mention your mother.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said. “Whil
e you may consider me insolent for defending my mother, sir, I am fully aware of Harbury’s likely reaction to my background. I appreciate you not putting my livelihood at risk.”

  “Since you persist in this foolishness, I have no choice. I do not wish to see the family name sullied by you sinking into bankruptcy and ending up in prison because your pupils have left.”

  By a supreme effort of will, Emily refrained from answering.

  Her grandfather eyed her coldly for a moment then turned toward the doorway. “Good God!” he exclaimed when he got a closer look at Lucas.

  “Sir John Proudfoot, isn’t it?” Lucas said smoothly, gliding into the room like a predator closing in on prey.

  When Emily took a good look at him, she understood her grandparent’s shock. Not only was Lucas dressed in his most disreputable clothes, he was liberally festooned with dust and cobwebs.

  “Yes. And you, by God, are—”

  “Miss Proudfoot’s man-of-all-work,” Lucas interjected swiftly. “I believe she was about to show you out, sir.” He seized Sir John by the elbow and propelled him out of the room and across the hall.

  “Now just a minute…” Sir John began.

  Emily saw Lucas do something with his grip on her grandfather’s arm before they disappeared from sight. “Allow me to explain something to you, Sir John,” she heard him say very softly as he opened the front door.

  She dashed to the window. Lucas and her grandfather were standing by the carriage, talking. At least Lucas was talking, and brushing dust and cobwebs off his coat as he did so. Her grandparent’s lips were compressed into such a thin line they had almost disappeared. She saw his hand clench and didn’t wait for more. If Sir John lashed out, Lucas would have no redress. Apart from the yawning gap in station, she didn’t think Lucas would strike a man nearly forty years his senior.

  Picking up her skirts, she raced out of the room toward the front door, intent only on preventing the one-sided brawl about to erupt on her doorstep. In the shadows cast by the half-open door, she didn’t realize her grandfather’s carpet bag had been forgotten until she tripped over it.