by Sophia James
From behind him, Lady Springfield’s voice rang out, clear as a bell. ‘A gnome! I do declare she looks just like a gnome.’
Miss Miller stiffened. She said nothing, but a tide of red surged into her cheeks.
‘Lady Springfield,’ he said reprovingly, turning his head to frown at her.
He might have known it would be no easy matter to shake her off. She was due to make her debut in a month or two, and he was about the youngest and most eligible bachelor present at this house party. Last night, at dinner, it had amused him to let her practise her entire repertoire of eyelash batting, coy glances, fan fluttering and hair twirling upon him.
He wished now he had given her a sharp set down. He wished he could do so now. It was incredibly unkind of her to mock a person who had not the luxury of answering back.
It was not his place to reprove a lady publicly, but when she drew level with him, he said in an undertone, ‘That was not kind.’
‘No, I suppose not.’ She shrugged, flicking a derisive glance in Miss Miller’s direction. And then added in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, ‘She cannot help what she looks like, after all.’
The sneaky little cat. She’d made it sound as though he’d made another derogatory remark about Miss Miller, rather than attempting to remind Lady Springfield what she owed to her position.
At that point Miss Miller dropped them both a perfunctory curtsy.
‘Lord Chepstow,’ she said in a voice dripping with scorn, as though she held him entirely to blame for Lady Springfield’s behaviour. And expected nothing else.
And wouldn’t you just know it, but there was absolutely no advantage in being mounted on a magnificent stallion after all. He might not have been the one to call her a gnome, but it had been because he had laughed at her that Lady Springfield had felt free to let fly with that poisoned barb.
At that point Diamond sidled and tossed his head, as if to say, That fellow up on my back is nothing to do with me. I am very well bred. Shall I toss him into the dirt for you?
‘So this is your little governess,’ Lady Springfield said with scorn while he fought to bring Diamond back under control.
‘She is not my governess. She works for Lord and Lady Budworth…’
‘Oh, how very droll,’ she simpered, the look of scorn vanishing as she turned her face to him.
By heaven, she was an example of everything he most detested in society women. She did not see him as a real person at all, any more than she saw Miss Miller as a person with feelings that could be hurt. No, when she looked at him, she saw a matrimonial prize to be won at all costs. But what man in his right mind would ever want to get leg-shackled to a creature who could change her face as rapidly as that?
Not that there had ever been any chance of anything developing between them. He had left London precisely to avoid falling into the matrimonial trap. One of his friends, Havelock, had developed pressing personal circumstances that obliged him to marry quickly. And while he hadn’t minded sitting in the club, helping the poor fellow compile a list of characteristics to look out for in a potential bride, he had no intention of being there when he embarked upon his quest.
It didn’t do to stay too close to a man who was so intent on putting his neck in a noose. Ten to one the ladies would take his brotherly support as a sign he was ready to go down the same route. And from what he heard, some of them could be pretty ruthless once they saw a man as legitimate prey.
Naturally, he would have to marry and produce an heir, eventually. But nobody but a really dull dog, or a man with a set of problems as dire as the ones Havelock was facing, would dream of hampering himself with a wife and children before his thirtieth birthday.
Especially not to a woman who could speak of another lady as spitefully as that. It had been like…watching someone kicking a kitten.
‘Well, you have done what you set out to do,’ said Lady Springfield, all smiles. ‘We ought not to intrude upon her lesson, or whatever it is she thinks she is doing out here.’ She wheeled her horse away as though she had complete confidence that he would follow.
He shot one irritated glance in the direction Lady Springfield had gone, then turned his full attention back to Miss Miller. He might not actually like her, but she was still Pippa’s friend and, as such, deserving of his respect.
‘Miss Miller, I…’
She lifted her chin. ‘Well?’
‘Ah…’ Something about her proud carriage made him feel as though he ought to sit up straight and…attempt to measure up to her expectations.
How did she do that? With one hard look, she made him aware he had let not only her, but also himself, down.
He touched his riding crop to his hat in salute and made good his escape. Later, once she had recovered from this encounter, he would seek her out and devote at least an hour to actually examining her working conditions and really enquiring after her health.
And while he was at it, he could make it quite clear he thoroughly deplored the way Lady Springfield had behaved.
Chapter Two
And so, during the lull that always occurred after luncheon, when it was too early to think about changing for dinner, Lord Chepstow startled one of the footmen by asking for directions to the schoolroom.
He wasn’t looking forward to the encounter. He owed Miss Miller something very like an apology. And he wasn’t used to having to explain himself to anyone. Yet he couldn’t let it rest. He’d gone to that clearing anticipating the prospect of having the odds stacked in his favour. It had taken Lady Springfield to show him exactly how unsporting such behaviour really was. And he hated having even appeared to have participated.
He paused on the landing outside the schoolroom, somewhat surprised to hear, yet again, what sounded like a pack of children thoroughly enjoying themselves. He pushed open the door and stood quite still for a few moments, his brows raised. He would have expected Miss Miller to have the children all sat in neat rows at tidy desks, their heads bent over some books, while she prowled up and down, swishing a cane. Instead of which, a brace of boys were kneeling on a rug in front of a cheerfully blazing fire, roasting…chestnuts, he supposed, on coal shovels. Just to one side, on a mound of cushions, were two girls, peeling them, blowing on them and passing them out to an assortment of little ones.
There was greenery all over the place. In buckets, and on tables in various stages of assembly. And it smelled wonderful. Not just the pine, but the roasting chestnuts and damp clothing airing out after a day spent outdoors.
Though it looked a bit chaotic, it was probably a child’s version of paradise.
Miss Miller had been expecting Jane, with a tray of hot chocolate for the children, when the door opened. Lord Chepstow was the very last person she had ever expected to see up here, so very far from his natural habitat. It could only mean he was bored and looking for some distraction.
She braced herself for the impending confrontation, sensing it would be as painful as their last.
Two years it had been since she’d last seen him, and the first chance he got, he mocked her!
Just because she was short and couldn’t afford new clothing, let alone the latest fashions, wealthy, privileged people like Lord Chepstow and that haughty girl he’d been riding with thought they could treat her as if she was in some way a lesser being.
She firmed her mouth against the worst aspect of it all: the discovery he still had the power to hurt her. She had convinced herself she was cured of that particular complaint. But all it had taken was to know he was in the house and the feelings she’d had since she’d been a schoolgirl came surging painfully back to life. That morning, when she’d heard other riders pass by, all her senses had gone on the alert, because she’d been so certain he would be out there amongst them. He loved riding. And he always looked particularly attractive on horseback. There was something about the way he governed those massive beasts, with such little apparent effort, which made her very aware of his vitality. His strength.
And then he’d burst through the brake on a magnificent black stallion, dressed just as she’d known he would be in clothes that were both elegant, yet cut to permit him the freedom of movement his love of sporting pursuits demanded.
Something had happened in the region of her heart when she’d noted that he was still wearing his hair a touch too long, meaning he would be constantly having to flick the blond fringe out of his laughing blue eyes.
And then he’d crushed her by simply taking one look at her and laughing at her. Tacitly agreeing with that beautiful girl when she’d said she looked like a gnome.
Oh, she’d always known what he thought of her. She’d seen it in his dismissive looks, even before she’d overheard him complaining to Pippa that it was about time she brought a prettier, more amusing companion home to stay during the holidays: ‘Instead of which you seem to have let the dumpiest, dowdiest, dullest girl latch onto you.’
And to think that the girls in her school had sighed with envy whenever they’d heard she was to spend another holiday with the parlour boarder, Pippa Preston.
They had no idea of what torture it had been. She had tried to explain that it was not a pleasure to reside in the same house as a gorgeous man who, when he did actually notice her, looked upon her as though she were some sort of strange specimen of…insect, pinned on a card. She’d almost been able to make them understand, when she’d reminded them how it felt to stand with their noses pressed to the baker’s window, inhaling the scent of all the delicious goods on offer, all the while knowing they would never be able to taste them, since the majority of the pupils at Moulsham Lodge had not two farthings to rub together.
And she was doing it again. While he was looking round the room with a perplexed expression on his face, like an explorer venturing into hitherto uncharted waters, she was taking the opportunity to gaze her fill at him.
It had to stop.
‘Lord Chepstow.’
He started and turned in her direction, but he did not see her until she stood up from the table at which she had been sitting, trimming branches to fashion into garlands.
He bowed and flashed her one of those dazzling smiles that was designed to turn the legs of any woman in the vicinity to jelly. Well, she wasn’t going to melt. It would only encourage him to laugh at her even harder.
‘What are you doing up here?’ She was so tense her voice came out rather shrill. But at least it was better than letting him know what effect he was really having on her. Even if she could quantify it, which would be virtually impossible, since there were so many contradictory emotions surging through her all at the same time. Although uppermost at the moment was irritation with herself for longing to have a man so very far out of her league actually see her as a woman, rather than a figure of fun.
‘What do you want?’
He kept his smile in place only with considerable effort. He was not accustomed to having a woman behave as though she did not want him anywhere near her.
But then, she did have cause for being a touch upset with him. He would make allowances. For her. Just this once.
‘I have come to, well…’ he flicked his fringe out of his eyes ‘…to offer you an apology.’
‘What?’
He wasn’t at all sure he was gratified by her frank surprise.
‘I said,’ he repeated a little irritably, ‘that I am sorry I—’
‘Called her a gnome!’ One of the little boys by the fireplace was squirming round on his heels, a delighted grin on his face.
His brows knit in a frown. Not only had he not been the one to make such a nasty remark, but it now appeared that in doing so, Lady Springfield had undermined Miss Miller’s authority.
It was a good job he’d come up here. He could redress the balance—though heaven alone knew why he felt so protective towards a woman who looked as though she resented his very presence in her schoolroom.
‘It is not at all the thing to call a lady unflattering names,’ he said to the boy, then paused. ‘I was out of line,’ he said, deciding to keep Lady Springfield out of it. If he was too frank, it would call Lady Springfield’s character into question, which would negate the impact of the point he wanted to make. But he shot Miss Miller a look, hoping she would be able discern his intention.
‘I knew Miss Miller when she was quite a young girl, you see. And today, having not seen her for several years, I slipped back into speaking to her in a…in a sort of teasing manner.’
But the boy, who had not taken his eyes off his shovel full of chestnuts, remarked, ‘She ain’t a lady. She’s a governess.’
‘She is a lady by birth,’ said Lord Chepstow firmly. All the girls at Moulsham Lodge had come from good families, one way or another. Even the poorer ones, like Miss Miller, who were obliged to help earn their keep by teaching the younger pupils or doing various household tasks.
‘Besides, are not you a young gentleman? No matter what your opinions of a lady, it is not the gentlemanly thing to speak them aloud.’
The boy shrugged. His companion sniggered. And Lord Chepstow felt a twinge of…something rather like concern. He was sure Pippa had said Miss Miller was employed to educate Lord Budworth’s two girls. But she had a whole room full of children of all ages and both sexes. And these two, in particular, looked like total rascals.
‘Surely your schoolmasters have taught you some manners at whatever school you normally attend? Or your tutors? I can remember being birched for speaking out of turn when I was your age.’
‘Oh, but our Miss Miller would never, ever resort to using the birch,’ piped up one of the little girls from the mound of cushions, ‘no matter how naughty we are. She promised. And it is of parrot mount importance to keep promises. Isn’t it, Miss Miller?’
The little boys looked at each other and grinned as they perceived that, along with that nugget of information, they had just received licence to do exactly as they pleased. He marched across to where Miss Miller was just visible behind a mound of greenery.
‘Why are those boys here?’ He asked it in an urgent undertone. And why had she made such a ridiculous promise to her charges? He would have thought, from the impression he retained of her, that she would have become a veritable dragon of a governess. But the little girl, who he assumed must be one of the Budworths, had spoken of her with real affection.
Just as Pippa always did.
‘More to the point, why are you here?’
‘I was invited—’
‘I did not mean at Budworth Hall. Although I suppose I might have known you would prefer to go hunting than spend too much time with your family,’ she said with a sneer. ‘I meant, in the schoolroom.’
He winced. She obviously knew Pippa had invited him to spend the season with her oh-so-worthy, but oh-so-boring husband down in Kent. But Christmas was a time for making merry. And the last thing he wanted was to waste a week of his life enduring the company of a man who looked as though he was just itching to preach him a sermon on the value of abstinence, or chastity or any number of the virtues that robbed life of all its spice.
‘I did not exactly choose to come here in preference to anywhere else,’ he began. He’d just decided, after sitting up half the night helping Havelock compile his list, that it was high time he left the metropolis. ‘I had several invitations from which I could have decided, but in the event, I picked one up at random, from the sideboard…’
‘And just set out without bothering to inform your hosts you were about to grace them with your presence. It’s all of a piece,’ she huffed.
‘Well,’ he said, growing increasingly nettled, ‘at least you cannot accuse me of deliberately choosing the Boxing Day hunt over the company of my sister, though I cannot deny I shall enjoy the sport on offer here
. Nor do I care for the implication that I have ever failed in my duty to Pippa in the past.’
‘What about the way you packed her off to school while she was still mourning the loss of your parents? Or the fact that you only managed to dash off one or two terse little notes, in any given year, when she lived for the hope of a letter from home…’
‘I have never been much of a one for writing letters.’ But Pippa had lived for them? Why had she not said? ‘And what would I have put in them, anyway? What was there about my life I could have related to an innocent schoolgirl?’
That remark appeared to act upon her like pouring oil onto a flame.
‘Hardly anything, to judge from the rumours that came to us about your…doings! And from the reluctance you demonstrated in accommodating her in any of your houses when you did deign to notice her existence.’
‘That is most unfair. I put up with her bringing you to stay, didn’t I? That should tell you something.’
She looked as though she was about to explode.
‘It told us you were glad she had a companion to occupy her, so that you did not have to bother!’
‘I did my best to amuse the pair of you. I took you to Gunter’s for ices, and Vauxhall to see the fireworks…’
‘That was only on the very last occasion I stayed with you, or rather, with Pippa, in the hotel rooms you had booked. Do you have any idea how excited she was when you wrote to say she would benefit from some time in Town before she had her Season? Or how bitterly disappointed when it was not you who came to meet us from the stage, but that woman you hired? During that entire month, you graced us with your magnificent presence a total of four times. And what a sacrifice you considered it! Oh, yes, you made us very aware of how much you wished you could have been doing something more amusing.’
Had he? He had thought he had concealed his boredom at having to accompany two such very young ladies to the various insipid events the duenna he’d hired had recommended, with considerable aplomb.
‘If Pippa did not like the way things were, why did she not say so at the time? She has never complained. Not once.’