A Sensible Lady: A Traditional Regency Romance

by Judith Lown

  “I surely don’t know what a model peer is like, Miss Brampton, but I know what I like to look at in a man, and I’m here to tell you for certain, this new Lord Dracott is better’n handsome.”

  Sally shook her head, pulled a face, and put her hands on her hips.

  “Just my luck not to be born back in the olden days when the lord got to have his way with all the maids. Now that’d be a treat.”

  “Sally!”

  Katherine was shocked. Worse still, having personal experience of the new lord’s treatment of maidservants, she had a sinking feeling that Sally might discover some customs of the past were still practiced.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Brampton, I know my place, and I promise I’m a good girl. But dreamin’s no sin, is it?” Sally added with a dimpled smile. “An’, if I was you, Miss Brampton, I’d take some time and change gowns and fix myself up. Now might be a good time for you to change out of your blacks.”

  “You may tell his lordship that I will be with him directly,” Katherine replied firmly.

  She was not going to try to explain to her maid that she had neither the money nor interest to worry about a new wardrobe. Continuing to wear her black mourning gowns eliminated that concern and offered Katherine comfort for the losses she had sustained. She refused to let Sally see her so much as glance in the looking glass before speaking with Lord Henry Dracott.

  Sally sent her a silent don’t-say-I-didn’t-warn-you look, and flounced off, setting her mobcap at a more becoming angle as she went.

  Katherine delayed only to wash the garden dirt off her hands before entering the front parlor.

  She thought she had braced herself for meeting him again, but nothing could have prepared her for the reality of his overwhelming presence. He stood as she entered the old parlor with its heavy Jacobean furnishings, his head bowed as much to avoid hitting the low ceiling as in greeting.

  “Miss Brampton,” he said, without waiting for a flustered Aunt Prunella to present her formally.

  “Lord Dracott,” Katherine managed, curtseying.

  He looked directly at her, golden-brown eyes alive with devilment. “A pleasure meeting you again.”

  Again? Katherine almost panicked before understanding his gambit.

  “And you, my lord. One might be forgiven for not recognizing you after so many years.”

  Only a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth showed the baron’s appreciation of her rejoinder.

  Katherine managed to seat herself before her knees buckled.

  Lord Dracott sat in the large chair to the left of the hearth. Both Katherine and Aunt Prunella had avoided the throne-like chair, because their feet scarcely touched the floor when sitting even at its very edge. It barely accommodated the new baron.

  “Better’n handsome,” Sally had declared him. Katherine grudgingly agreed. Amazing how a shave, a haircut, and clean clothes could transform a man. He was dressed in a comfortably fitting riding coat, buckskins, and worn but polished boots; the usual attire of a country gentleman. If he knew a waistcoat button was hanging by a thread, he showed no concern. His freshly shaven face revealed a scar along his left jaw line that Katherine had not noticed the day before. It drew attention to a firm mouth, which she tried not to notice. A slightly aquiline nose and straight, dark brows added seriousness to his face in spite of the lively golden-brown eyes that this morning had hinted at mischief. His locks had been shorn, not in any recognizable style, but short enough to discourage their tendency to curl.

  An aging red setter that had been standing by his side, studying Katherine, ambled over to her and sniffed her skirts.

  “This cannot be Trinket, my lord,” Katherine declared in astonishment. “She has not moved from the kitchen hearth in years.”

  “Indeed it is Trinket,” Lord Dracott assured her.

  At the sound of his voice, the old setter returned to her master. He gave her a pat.

  “My red-haired beauty welcomed me home,” he added, scratching the dog’s ears. “Quite eagerly, as a matter of fact.”

  He smiled blandly at Katherine, who could only hope that her heightened color would be attributed to the brisk weather.

  “I was just expressing our deepest condolences to Lord Dracott on the sad loss of his dear father.” Aunt Prunella brought Katherine’s attention back to basic civilities.

  “Please forgive me, my lord, for neglecting to say how sorry I am over the death of Lord Cecil Dracott. He was extraordinarily thoughtful and kind,” Katherine said sincerely.

  “I do appreciate your sentiments, Miss Brampton. I am quite aware of the standards my father set, and by which I shall be measured. And I am also quite aware of the terrible losses you have sustained. Sir Alfred in January, and then Sir Richard in June. You cannot be sorry to see 1813 come to an end, I imagine.”

  “You are all kindness, Lord Dracott,” Aunt Prunella declared, dabbing at tears.

  “I do not doubt it would be easy enough to get witnesses to the contrary, Miss Summersville.” Henry Dracott shifted uneasily in his chair.

  “From what I hear, I owe you my sincere gratitude for attempting to instruct my daughter, Lizzie, in the rudiments of feminine deportment.”

  “Miss Dracott is a dear child,” Aunt Prunella said feelingly. “And while she can be a bit impatient with the social niceties, she shows marked aptitude for learning her letters and sums, which Katherine has been teaching her from time to time.”

  “Then I am in your debt even more than I knew.”

  “Nonsense, my lord,” Katherine answered quickly. “Miss Dracott is a breath of fresh air, and, given the generosity of your late father to us, it was a wonderful surprise that we could be of any help at all in exchange. But, of course we understand, now you are returned, you will no doubt wish to engage a governess for her. Miss Lizzie is certainly ready intellectually, if not temperamentally, for regular lessons.”

  Lord Dracott chuckled.

  “You have the right of it there, I fear, Miss Brampton. The only lessons for which Lizzie has any enthusiasm seem to be in horse riding and warfare. A regular Boadicea I have on my hands.”

  He sounded more proud than regretful.

  “But, I think it’s early days yet to tie her down to the disciplines of a governess. I would hate to have her associate my return with losing her freedom. Another year, I reckon, should be plenty early for Lizzie to settle down to serious lessons.”

  “And, by then, perhaps, she might have a new mama to guide her,” Aunt Prunella suggested.

  Instantly the merriment left the baron, and his warm, sparkling eyes turned cold.

  “I sincerely doubt that is likely, Miss Summersville,” he replied in flat tones. “Taking up the reins of this patch of Sussex will keep me more than occupied without my having to trot up to London and endure the inanities of the Marriage Mart.”

  “Lord Dracott! I do apologize for speaking out of turn.” Aunt Prunella was so stricken, Katherine feared she might be reduced to tears. “How thoughtless of me! How often my dear father, you will remember he was an archdeacon, cautioned against making such personally presumptuous statements.”

  “My dear Miss Summersville, please do not give it a moment’s thought.”

  Katherine was not alone in fearing Aunt Prunella might cry. Obviously, Lord Henry Dracott was the sort of man who would rather face a charge by the French army than the tears of a lady.

  “Such speculation is inevitable, I imagine. And I am sure it is rooted in sincere wishes for my happiness. But, all in good time, as they say.”

  “I am certain, my lord, that Aunt Prunella’s and my leasing of this house came as something of a surprise to you.” Katherine was eager to turn the direction of conversation. “The terms of the lease the late Lord Dracott gave us were most generous, and if you wish to change them, we would understand.”

  For all her good intentions, she received an even frostier glare from the baron than had her aunt.

  “Of course I will honor all agreement
s entered into by my father, Miss Brampton. How could you think otherwise?”

  “Please forgive my niece, my lord,” Aunt Prunella offered hastily. “Sometimes I fear her pride gets in the way of her judgment.”

  “It is a relief to know Miss Brampton has you to guide her in these matters, Miss Summersville,” Henry Dracott said solemnly, but Katherine detected the twitch at the corner of his mouth that betrayed amusement.

  She was not sorry that he chose that moment to take his leave. She was finding conversations with Lord Henry Dracott taxing.

  *****

  “Gracious me!” The front door had scarcely closed behind their guest before Aunt Prunella spoke. “Lord Henry Dracott is certainly not much like Lord Cecil Dracott! I had not remembered his being so…large. Greatly altered since I last saw him, but what can one expect after years of warfare following the sad loss of his wife and son. None of the refinement of his dear papa, but it does him credit that he intends to model himself on Lord Cecil. I daresay the gentility and sensitivity he must have inherited will soon shine through.”

  Katherine restrained herself from reminding her aunt that Dracott refinement was known to skip a generation. Since his youth, people had remarked on Master Harry’s resemblance to his namesake, the fourth baron, whose portrait dominated the entryway of Dracott Hall. Even though he was dressed in the fashion of his times—satin breeches, heavily laced shirt, powdered wig, high-heeled shoes, and patches—no one described the fourth Lord Dracott as “refined.” “Intimidating,” “overbearing,” but not “refined.” And certainly not “sensitive.”

  By the time they had finished luncheon and Aunt Prunella retreated to her room for her afternoon nap, Katherine was fatigued with the talk of the new baron. If, as he said, he wished to emulate his father, he would have acted the true gentleman during his morning call. Instead, he had followed his overtly offensive behavior of their first meeting with covert teasing in their second. Katherine already had to cope with one ungentlemanly gentleman in Sir Clive, but he was a familiar irritant. Lord Henry Dracott was another matter. He showed an unsettling talent for…Katherine tried to name it, but failed. Lord Henry Dracott showed an unsettling talent for being unsettling! And she would have to learn to cope with that new fact of her life.

  Meanwhile, a brisk walk to Drayford Village would clear her mind of irritating cousins and unsettling barons. And arranging the altar bouquet at St. Chrysostom’s was wonderfully soothing. Sally could help her with the water cans.

  They were less than a mile from their destination when a dogcart overtook them. To Katherine’s dismay, Lord Dracott was the driver.

  “Miss Brampton, if you don’t mind, I’d like to walk on ahead,” Sally asked before Katherine could form a polite dismissal of the baron. “My brother, Jimmy, has been helping the ostler at the King’s Arms, and I’d like to see him. I’ll just drop these things”—her arms were full of flowers and water cans—“by the church on the way.”

  Sally set off without waiting for Katherine’s permission.

  “Clever lass,” Lord Dracott observed, tying the horse’s reins to a nearby fence post and helping Trinket out of the dog box. “Knows when she’s not needed.”

  With an effort, Katherine stilled her anger at Sally’s insubordination and braced herself for yet another encounter with the baron.

  “Needed to apologize for my behavior yesterday.”

  At least he came right to the point.

  “Would never have recognized you as Richard’s sister,” he continued. “Would not have dreamed of giving offense.”

  “At least to a lady.”

  Katherine was too angry to accept his apology graciously.

  The chill she was becoming accustomed to in Lord Dracott’s eyes was turned full force on her.

  “I am not in the habit of forcing my attentions on housemaids, if that is what you are implying. By Jove, what happened to the days when a gentleman could make his apologies and have them accepted with a pretty smile?”

  And what had happened to the days when she could control her temper and act in her own best interests? Katherine castigated herself silently.

  “I do apologize, my lord,” she said stiffly, praying he would take his leave.

  Lord Dracott ran a hand over the back of his neck.

  “I had thought to make a fresh start with you, Miss Brampton, but maybe a standoff is the best we can do. You might as well let me take you the rest of the way into the village. Would not want the story to get around that I leave ladies to struggle along in my dust.”

  “If you do not mind, I prefer to walk the rest of the way, my lord.”

  Katherine could hear the petulance in her voice.

  “As a matter of fact, I do mind,” was Lord Dracott’s response, as he gripped her arm and steered her toward the dogcart.

  “The last thing I want to do is to make us the object of unwarranted speculation, my lord,” Katherine said through clenched teeth.

  “All folks need do is listen to us talk for a second or two to disabuse them of any unwarranted speculations, Miss Brampton.”

  The journey into the village was marked by silence.

  Katherine’s relief on arriving at St. John Chrysostom’s was destroyed by seeing Aunt Brampton emerge from the church. What sin had Katherine committed to be required to face Aunt Brampton on two consecutive days? Katherine presented Lord Dracott, watching the other lady’s expression change from suspicion to ingratiating friendliness.

  “Lord Dracott.” Aunt Brampton sank a deep curtsey. “How relieved we all are to have you returned from the wars, safe and sound.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Brampton.”

  Lord Dracott gave a brisk nod in the way of a bow and glanced pointedly at the dogcart, registering his longing to be on his way. Aunt Brampton followed his gaze, but instead of taking his broad hint and bidding him good day, she pursed her lips in disapproval.

  “Really, my lord, you must think of your station. Do you not agree, Katherine, my dear? That dogcart is much too common for his lordship to be seen driving about the parish. If you have need of something new in the way of conveyance, my lord, I know that Sir Clive would be happy to give you a few pointers. He stays up-to-the-minute on all the fashions.”

  Aunt Brampton beamed.

  “That would be very kind of Sir Clive.”

  Katherine wondered if Aunt Brampton detected the frost in Lord Dracott’s voice.

  “But from what I could see at first glance,” the baron continued, “the carriage house at the Hall is overflowing with conveyances of all descriptions.”

  He smiled politely, but there was no warmth in his eyes.

  “Actually,” he continued, “I would ordinarily ride my horse, but my friend here was so eager to come along, I couldn’t disappoint her.”

  He bent and scratched the adoring Trinket’s ears.

  Aunt Brampton drew back her skirts to avoid the possibility of grayish-red dog hairs spoiling her royal-blue silk gown. But if Lord Dracott had hoped that interjecting Trinket into the conversation would end his trial, he was mistaken.

  “I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Dracott at the Dower House yesterday, my lord. Such a bright child. I would advise you to engage a governess for her as soon as possible.”

  “Governesses are all right in their way, I suppose. But I hate to tie Lizzie down. I figure next year is soon enough for lessons.”

  Katherine saw the quickly hidden flash of horror cross Aunt Brampton’s face. Katherine was certain Lord Dracott had seen it, too. She had noticed that same bland smile on his face just this morning when he knew he had made Katherine uncomfortable.

  Lord Dracott glanced again in the direction of the dogcart, but Aunt Brampton was too quick to permit him to make his farewells.

  “I imagine you have stopped by the church to visit the chapel where your dear wife and son are buried. You will notice that I have just placed posies on their tombs.”

  Katherine looked up in horror at Lord D
racott’s grim face.

  “I stopped by the church to deliver Miss Brampton for her task of arranging altar flowers,” he said in freezing tones. “I am on my way to the vicarage to call on Mr. Wharton. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  He turned, and with Trinket by his side, departed; a stunned and angry Aunt Brampton staring openmouthed after him.

  “Well! Did you hear that? Never in my life have I heard such callous disregard for the tragically deceased!”

  “On the contrary, Aunt Brampton,” Katherine remonstrated.

  She wanted to weep. Why she should feel so protective of a gentleman who had used her any way but gently, she did not understand. But she could not bear for this officious woman to go about the parish casting aspersions on the quality of Lord Henry Dracott’s mourning for the wife and child he had lost.

  “Can you not see, ma’am, that his pain is still so fresh, he cannot expose it to curious eyes?”

  Aunt Brampton did not wish to be mollified.

  “The least he could do is visit the chapel. Lord Cecil Dracott went to great effort and expense to have it built, and Lord Henry Dracott refused to so much as enter the church to see it. Clearly, the man is without the sensitivities one looks for in a gentleman.”

  Aunt Brampton left with a sharp order for her maid—who had been chatting with the sexton—to come along.

  Katherine was about to enter the cool, silent church when she was startled by Sally’s whisper.

  “Thought she’d never leave!”

  Sally emerged from the shadows of the church porch where she had obviously been listening attentively to Lord Dracott and Mrs. Brampton’s conversation.

  “Sally! I vow you startled me half out of my wits. You know better than to eavesdrop! And what about wanting to see your brother, Jimmy, at the King’s Arms?”

  “Sorry, Miss Brampton. It was the best excuse I could think of on such short notice. Had to make myself scarce, din’t I? His lordship wanted private words with you, din’t he? But I had to consider first if I wanted him to see you again in that old dress. Wouldn’t have been too bad without that dreary shawl hiding your best assets, though. I was truly tempted to say I was perishing cold and needed it.”