“I have one right now,” said Frederica quickly as Mrs. Abbott stood, ready to leave. She had all the evidence she needed, but she felt an obligation of friendship, if nothing else, to Christabel. “A child cannot exist in this manner, as I said before. She must have fresh air and sunshine. I intend to take her to the Park at least twice a week, and preferably daily. You may tell his lordship I said so.”
If she were able to establish such a routine before she left, perhaps it would be continued with a new nanny. To that end, she decided she was willing to remain a few days, since she was obviously in no danger. That would also allow her to solidify her case against Lord Seabrooke, as Thomas might be reluctant to back down solely on the word of a servant.
Mrs. Abbott regarded her doubtfully. “I’ll tell him, miss, if you say so, but I can’t think he’ll like it. He’s not in habit of being ordered about.”
Nor am I, thought Frederica fiercely. Not by my brother, and certainly not by such a rake as Lord Seabrooke. To Mrs. Abbott, she only said, “I’m perfectly willing to discuss my intentions with his lordship if he finds it necessary, but I refuse to allow Christabel to suffer merely to protect his position in Society.” Mrs. Abbott shook her head and hurried out, no doubt to report most unfavorably on the new nanny to her employer.
Frederica shrugged and went to admire the drawing that Christabel held up for her inspection.
“It’s a lion,” the little girl said, pointing out the rudiments of a mane and tail. “Do you like it, Miss Cher... Chest... Chatterton?”
The child’s fumbling attempts at her name sounded alarmingly like her real one, prompting Frederica to say quickly, “Why don’t you just call me Cherry, Christabel? That will be easier, I think.”
“Cherry. I like that,” said Christabel with a satisfied nod.
“And so do I,” came a deep voice from the doorway. “May I call you by that name as well, Miss Cherrystone?”
Frederica whirled to see Lord Seabrooke striding into the nursery. All that she had just learned from the housekeeper colored her perception of him now, and she critically noticed that his eyes were slightly bleary and his hair tousled, doubtless signifying a late night about Town.
As though to confirm her suspicion, he said, “I pray you will excuse my appearance. I have but this moment come in and have yet to make it to my bed, but I met Mrs. Abbott on the stairs and she insisted that I speak to you at once. Apparently we are at some variance over the routine to be followed.”
Christabel ran forward eagerly at his entrance, and he scooped her up in a big hug. “How is my Sunshine today?” he asked while she giggled with delight.
Frederica sternly hardened her heart against the tableau before her, forcing herself to remember that he was a fortune-hunter and a rake. “I merely pointed out to Mrs. Abbott that a child, any child, needs plenty of fresh air and exercise to flourish, my lord,” she said stiffly. “The rules that you have set forth do not seem to allow for that. As I told Mrs. Abbott—”
“I can see that you and I need to talk.” Lord Seabrooke set Christabel down and yawned widely. “But not just now. I need a few hours’ sleep before attempting to think coherently. Before I go to my bed, however, will you answer my question?”
“Question?” Frederica had no idea what he meant.
“Yes. May I call you ‘Cherry’ as Christabel is to do? It might help me to stand less in awe of you.”
Frederica staunchly refused to smile. “As you wish, my lord,” she said primly. “I shall expect to speak with you this afternoon.”
“Very well. I’ll send word when I’m at liberty. Good day, Sunshine, Cherry.” He playfully saluted each of them and sauntered off towards the stairs, fatigue making his limp more pronounced than it had been yesterday.
What a thoroughly confusing man he was, Frederica thought, staring after him. He had an infuriating ability to disarm her even while she knew perfectly dreadful things about his character. No wonder he had such a reputation with the ladies! If his lightest word could all but make her forget her purpose, she trembled to think what effect the full force of his charm might have. Did he intend to use it to win over his wealthy fiancée? she wondered. If so, she definitely needed to have the match called off before she ever met him as Miss Frederica Chesterton, for she doubted her ability to withstand it.
“Why don’t I show you how to sew buttons?” she suggested to Christabel, determined to put him from her mind, at least until their conference that afternoon.
CHAPTER 5
Gavin rolled over and groaned, squinting against the blinding afternoon light that streamed in through just-opened curtains.
“I’m that sorry to wake you, m’lord, but you did say I was to call you at four,” said Metzger, his valet. During his many years of service, Metzger had doubled as batman, butler, footman and, on more than one occasion, groom. Now that he was restored to a single post, he took it that much more seriously, looking after his master’s dress and habits far more rigorously than did the Earl himself.
“Can it be four already? It feels as though I’ve just closed my eyes. Very well, Metzger, I’m awake. You needn’t hover,” said Gavin irascibly, earning a grin from his man. “Have a message sent to Miss Cherrystone to meet me in the library in half an hour, then come back to help me with my cravat. I doubt I can manage it myself just yet.”
When Metzger had gone to do his bidding, Gavin rose and regarded himself critically in the mirror. Such late nights—or early mornings, to be more accurate—were doing his looks no good at all. He had suggested to his future brother-in-law, Sir Thomas Chesterton, that he be formally introduced to his fiancée toward the end of the Little Season, thinking that would give him time to become used to the idea of matrimony. But if his antics the night before were any indication, he was as far from doing so as he ever had been.
The betrothal had seemed such a good idea at the time, a veritable godsend. Marriage to an heiress would solve his financial difficulties permanently and give Christabel a mother of sorts in one stroke. With each passing day, however, he found himself regretting that necessary decision more and more. He glanced again at his reflection and winced. If Miss Chesterton saw him like this, she would no doubt cry off at once, making his regrets needless. Nor would Miss Cherrystone—Cherry, he thought with a brief smile—appreciate his appearing in such a state. He reached for a razor.
Half an hour later, shaved, combed and impeccably dressed, Lord Seabrooke descended to the library, looking every inch a peer of the realm. It was odd, he supposed, that the thought of the new nanny’s disapproval moved him to action where the thought of Miss Chesterton’s could not. Already he had found Cherry an intriguing young woman of unusual intelligence, whose severity with himself was belied by her manner with Christabel. Not only did he value her good opinion, but he discovered also that he rather looked forward to the battle of wills about to be joined.
* * *
“I’m sorry, Christabel,” said Frederica soothingly for the tenth time. “When your things were brought here, your Molly doll must have been overlooked. I promise to ask Lord Seabrooke about it when I see him this afternoon.” She rocked the unhappy child in her lap in an attempt to comfort her.
Christabel had shown herself to possess a decided stubborn streak when, after her dinner, she had refused to nap without her “Molly Dolly.” Patient questioning had elicited the fact that she had not had it since removing to Seabrooke House, but on this particular afternoon, she suddenly wanted it desperately.
“Uncle Gavin will know,” sniffed Christabel. “He used to talk to Molly Dolly at our tea parties.”
“I’m sure he will,” agreed Frederica. This was the second time Christabel had referred to Lord Seabrooke by that name, but she decided against questioning the child about it. Doubtless the Earl himself, and possibly Christabel’s mother, had striven to hide the truth of the girl’s parentage from her. “With any luck, we can have Molly here in a few days.”
At that moment the
re came a tap at the door and a man of middle age whom Frederica had not seen before poked his head into the nursery. “Miss Cherrystone?”
“Yes?” She looked up. This must be the valet Mrs. Abbott had mentioned.
“His lordship asks that you join him in the library at your convenience.” His manner was thoroughly deferential, but Frederica doubted that those sharp brown eyes missed much. As he spoke, they took in every detail of herself and the child, as well as the nursery, now a comfortable jumble of toys and books far removed from the ruthless order that had prevailed under Mrs. Abbott’s rule. While Frederica valued order highly, she felt that in a nursery it could be inappropriate if taken to extremes.
“Very well. Lucy should be up in a moment with Miss Christabel’s afternoon morsel. I’ll be down as soon as she arrives.”
“Very good, miss.” Metzger bowed out of the room.
On her way down the long flights of steps to the library, Frederica took her three deep breaths and marshaled her thoughts for the confrontation ahead. During the few hours she had spent with Christabel, she had already formed a sort of bond with the child and was now determined to do all she could to make her lot easier. Again she could hear Miss Milliken’s voice drilling her in the value of thinking through one’s method of attack. With a militant gleam in her eye she tapped on the library door.
Lord Seabrooke stood as she entered, looking quite disturbingly handsome in a dark blue coat, matching waistcoat and crisp, snowy cravat. A few hours’ sleep had certainly done wonders for him, she found herself thinking. Thrusting out her chin, she met his gaze squarely through the spectacles on her nose. “I presume we may talk now, my lord?” she asked before he could speak.
“Yes, my mind is far less fuzzy than it was this morning, Cherry,” he said with a disarming grin that sent a most unwelcome tingle down her spine. “I almost feel I might hold my own in a debate with you now.”
As before, she fought the temptation to smile. “We need to discuss the rules you have laid down for Christabel’s routine. I find them totally unacceptable.”
“So you said earlier. I thought you understood when you took the post that I wished to keep her presence here a secret for as long as possible.”
Frederica was treated to a hint of that steel she had detected in him at their first meeting, but she was undeterred. “I quite understand, my lord, but you must realize that a child is not a mouse or a bird that you can cage in a comer and ignore. How long do you think it will be before Christabel notices what you are doing and begins to suspect that you are ashamed of her?”
The Earl blinked. “I had not thought of that, I must confess,” he said slowly, all trace of humor gone from his face. “I never want her to think that, for I am not. It is merely that her presence here just now could...complicate things.”
Frederica nodded, understanding far better than she intended to let on. She allowed no trace of irony to creep into her voice. “I will respect your wishes for secrecy as far as I am able without harm to Christabel. I propose to take her to the Park regularly, daily if possible, but I am perfectly willing to leave and return to the house via the back entrance and to draw no attention to ourselves when doing so. Once we are in the Park, no one will have reason to suspect that she has any link to you whatsoever. She does not resemble you strongly.”
A sad smile stole over Lord Seabrooke’s face. “No, she is the very image of her mother. Why, I remember—” He broke off abruptly. “I suppose what you suggest might be possible. But what of the servants? I fear I do not trust all of the more recently-arrived ones so thoroughly as I do yourself.”
The implicit compliment warmed her in spite of herself. “I really cannot think we will manage to keep Christabel’s existence a secret from them for long, my lord,” she felt obliged to tell him. “Could you not come up with a plausible excuse for her residence here? I have noticed that already she calls you ‘Uncle.’ Could you not pass her off as a niece? A sister’s child, perhaps?”
To her amazement, a stiff mask descended over the earl’s face. His bright blue eyes narrowed to slits and glittered dangerously at her.
“Absolutely not! If her existence must become known, I shall pass her off as my own. My reputation in Society is already colorful enough that the disclosure of a love child will not alter it appreciably. You will oblige me by not mentioning my sister in such a context again.”
Frederica’s mouth had fallen open. With an effort, she closed it and tried to retrieve her composure, though her cheeks were flaming. Of course no man would insult his sister so—why had she not thought of that before she spoke? “Forgive me, my lord. I—I was not aware that you even had a sister. You are right, of course.” Certainly he was right about his reputation!
“It is agreed, then. You may take Christabel to the Park whenever you see your way clear to doing so secretly. And if it should transpire that explanations must be given, you may say that she is my natural daughter. We shall hope, however, that such explanations will not be necessary.”
“I shall be exceedingly careful, my lord,” she assured him, pleased to have won that small victory for Christabel. He stood again, as though to dismiss her, but she quickly said, “There are one or two other matters, if you please.”
“Never quit while you’re winning, eh, Cherry?” asked the Earl, the twinkle returning to his eyes.
In spite of her resolve to resist his charm, Frederica felt the corners of her mouth twitching. “I would be foolish to do so, would I not, my lord? These are smaller requests, however.” At his nod, she continued. “Firstly, I had thought that Christabel might find her time indoors to hang less heavily if she had more to occupy her imagination and interest. At...at home, I have pet mice in a cage. If you do not object, I should like to bring them here—to amuse her.”
“Mice? You are even more unusual a young lady than I thought, Cherry. Very well. As long as you do not allow them to run rampant or scare the maids, you may bring any pets you wish. This is your home now, after all.” The warmth of his smile made something inside Frederica tighten unexpectedly.
“Thank you. The other matter concerns a doll of Christabel’s that seems to have been misplaced during her removal to this house. She has assured me that you know of it, and I promised her to ask about it.”
“That would be Molly Dolly, no doubt,” said the Earl with a grin. “I remember her well. A sorry-looking rag doll with very decided opinions, as I recall. Christabel cannot find her?”
“No, nor could I, and I assure you that no comer of the nursery went unsearched.”
“There are some boxes that were brought with Christabel that have been stored in the attics. I assumed they merely contained her mother’s things and have not gone through them, but it is entirely possible that Molly Dolly may be in one of them. I shall have them brought down this very afternoon.”
“Thank you, my lord. A special toy, or even a blanket, can be of immense importance to a child of Christabel’s age, particularly when she finds herself in a strange milieu. Will you wish to go through the boxes yourself?” She felt a small pang at the thought of him examining his dead mistress’s possessions.
“No, no,” he said quickly. “You and Christabel may do that. Is that the last of your requests?”
“For the moment,” she replied, smiling at him openly for the first time. “No doubt I shall think of others as time progresses.”
“No doubt.” He returned her smile.
Frederica stood abruptly. “I had best get back to the nursery, my lord. Thank you for your time.”
To her great surprise, the Earl moved around his desk to open the door for her. “Cherry, you must always feel free to come to me with any concerns you have about Christabel—or anything else,” he said seriously, looking down into her face.
For a brief moment their gazes met, and Frederica felt more strongly than ever that disturbing thrill. “Thank you, my lord. I shall,” she said breathlessly, feeling as though she were agreeing to something
quite different and far more important. “Good day.” Turning, she hurried from the library and all but fled up the stairs to the relative safety of the nursery.
* * *
The remainder of the afternoon was spent in going through the boxes that Lord Seabrooke had delivered to the nursery within the hour. Frederica had feared that the sight of her mother’s things might be disturbing to Christabel, but the child, rooting ruthlessly through gowns, trinkets and bandboxes, seemed intent only on finding her beloved doll.
Frederica was surprised at the clothing the boxes contained. The dresses were for the most part quite conservative—not at all what she would have expected a fancy-woman to wear. At the bottom of one box she discovered a sheaf of letters tied together with a red riband. Love letters from the Earl, perhaps? It occurred to her that the letters might very well be the tangible proof that Thomas would require, and despite a twinge of conscience at the idea of invading Lord Seabrooke’s and the late Miss Amity’s privacy in such a way, she tucked the stack of letters into a bottom drawer in her room.
“Molly Dolly! Here you are!” exclaimed Christabel as Frederica re-entered the nursery. “I’m sorry you had to spend all this time in a box.” She held the doll to her ear. “What? You did? I’m glad.” She turned to Frederica. “She says she had a very long nap and is feeling ever so refreshed now.”
“I’m so pleased that Molly did not suffer from her experience,” said Frederica, coming forward to shake the cloth hand that Christabel held out to her. “I’m honoured to make your acquaintance, Molly Dolly.”
Daring Deception Page 5