She looked about sixteen, he thought, but perhaps she was older. He was not an expert in estimating the ages of unknown females.
'I'm one and twenty,' she began, in a more assured voice than he had been expecting. It was a pleasant voice, low and musical, with a faint inflection that to him sounded Scottish. Well, her name was a Scottish one. 'I have been teaching at a school in Kensington for the past four years. Until May, in fact.'
'Four years!' Sir Kenelm exclaimed. It didn't seem possible.
'Oh, yes,' she said calmly, delving into her reticule and pulled out a sheaf of papers. 'I initially went there as a pupil, but – well, I was already seventeen, older than most of the other girls there, and soon I was offered a post as a teacher. Here is a character from Miss Benson, who owned the school. She says my work was quite satisfactory.'
Seventeen seemed remarkably young to be offered a post as a teacher, Sir Kenelm thought. Perhaps it was just to teach the little ones. He did not, he admitted, know anything about how schools were organised.
'It is now November. What have you been doing meanwhile? Since May? And why did you leave this position?'
She closed her eyes briefly and then took a deep breath and spoke faster than before. He noticed her hands were tightly clenched and she had caught up a fold of the cloak. Instead of the steady gaze of before she looked down, and there was a delicate flush on her cheeks.
'My father was a Captain in the army, but he sold out after Toulouse in April. Napoleon was finished, and he saw no prospect of further promotion. When he came to London he was on his way to Aberdeen, where he had family. He required me to accompany him, but we have been a long time on the road.' She took a deep breath and looked down. 'I am afraid he was a gamester, and not a very successful one. He believed trying his luck in a new town would change it, so we travelled slowly, but he lost everything, and must have despaired. He shot himself a month ago, since when I have been looking for a position.'
Sir Kenelm blinked. What a terrible thing to have happened to one so young and defenceless. His gaze roamed over her shabby clothing, and he wondered whether she was destitute. Or, a cautious inner voice prompted him, could she be playing for his sympathy. He tried to stay impartial.
'What can you teach? I have twins, a boy and girl ten years old. Could you teach all they need?'
'I think so. I have not, it is true, taught a boy before, but I have taught girls up to the age of sixteen or seventeen. Composition, arithmetic, the use of the globes, water colour painting.'
'Accomplishments? The pianoforte?'
'Indeed yes. And singing.'
'The harp?'
She gave a deep sigh and shook her head.
'No, but I can play the guitar.'
It was said with an air of quiet desperation, but she took a deep breath and smiled. Quite a few ladies played a guitar, he knew. And though it was some time since he had graced London drawing rooms with his presence, he recalled, wincing, the agony he had occasionally endured when forced to listen to those females who draped themselves soulfully round a harp. Perhaps a guitar would actually be preferable.
'Embroidery?'
For the first time she smiled without it seeming false, strained, and showed small, white, even teeth. She glanced up at him, and there was a gleam of amusement in her eyes.
'I can do fancy embroidery,' she said, 'but most of my needlework has been the plain sort, mending and making my own clothes.'
If she had made the gown she wore, he suddenly realised, she was skilled at that, for although it was shabby it fitted her shapely figure to perfection. He had not really noticed her figure before, but now he allowed his gaze to look at what was visible.
'French and Italian?' he asked quickly, to drag his thoughts from contemplating her delectable shape, and thinking of Miss Busby's linguistic skills.
'A little French, probably enough for ten-year-olds, though I was never in the country. I did talk with some of the wounded prisoners, though.'
'Prisoners?' What did she mean?
'I was in the Peninsula with my father until I was seventeen. I can speak Portuguese tolerably fluently.'
What call would his twins ever have for Portuguese, he wondered. They were unlikely to travel to that war-torn country. They were unlikely to travel as far as Italy, either, but there were poets and others who wrote in the Italian tongue, and educated people of the ton were expected to read these. Not that he had ever found anything he wanted to read in Italian. But the thought of Italy reminded him.
'Can you teach my boy Latin? He will need it, the rudiments at least, when he goes to Eton.'
She sighed and shook her head. 'Latin is something than never came my way. But if he is not yet learning it, perhaps I could learn enough from some primer to keep ahead of him?'
He doubted it. He had never managed to learn a great deal from the primers he had come across.
'Don't you wish to go to your relatives in Aberdeen?'
She shook her head, and another ringlet fell out of the confining ribbon. She pushed it impatiently aside.
'Papa had not heard from them for many years, since he ran away to join the army more than twenty years ago, and as they were only a very old uncle and aunt I suspect they will have died by now, though he hoped they still lived. I think he had expectations,' she added thoughtfully. 'Besides, I cannot afford to travel so far, even on the stage.'
Then she must be in desperate need of earning money. But he could not permit that consideration to influence his decision. Miss Busby was better qualified.
'Have you written to them, to inform them of your father's death? Surely they would have paid your fare on the stage?'
'Yes, I wrote immediately. I have had no reply, but I did not expect any. Why should they care about me, even if they are still alive? They have never seen me. They may not even be aware of my existence, since Papa was a poor correspondent.'
'What about the school in Kensington? Would you not like to return there?'
'Not especially. I was content there, not ill-treated, but I prefer something different. And my place will have been filled. Plus I could not afford the fare. I must find a position here in Yorkshire.'
She was honest about her father and her own lack of resources. Was she hoping to enlist his sympathy? He was sympathetic. He could not imagine what it must feel like to be so destitute, and to have to face such a tragedy, but Miss Busby had far superior qualifications, and somehow he could not see this girl, little more than a child herself, controlling his lively twins and forcing them to learn more than Miss Tucker had contrived to teach them. He sighed. He hated to disappoint someone so young and lovely and defenceless.
'Yes, I see. Please will you wait in the outer office, Miss Frazer, while I consider.'
He sat down behind the desk and leaned his forehead on his hands. What could he do? Miss Busby was better qualified, but Miss Frazer needed the post more. He suspected she had very limited money, and perhaps the twins would prefer someone young and pretty to Miss Busby's stern demeanour, and strong discipline. But would Miss Busby accept the position if offered it? She had, he recalled, indicated she would expect him to provide a hostess, or, what she really meant, a chaperone, before she would accept the post. Would Miss Frazer so insist, or was she so desperate she would not make such a demand? She had not asked any questions about the household. Perhaps she had not thought it necessary. Was that because she was too innocent, even naive? Or she could have assumed he had a wife. Then a memory of Henry came to him, along with the solution, and he wondered whether he was mad. It did not seem so. He had to decide quickly, he could not afford to wait.
He smiled and called to the clerk.
'Please show in Miss Frazer, but ask Miss Busby to wait. Tell them I have a few more questions to ask.'
*
Joanna crossed her fingers as she went back into the office. The other woman waiting had been so much older, and had, she soon indicated, had several years' experience teaching in the house
s of gentlemen. She had qualifications Joanna herself lacked, as she had made clear. Surely Sir Kenelm would prefer her? Yet he had called her back. If she did not obtain this position her situation would be dire. She had just enough money left to pay her shot at the cheap boarding house where she had found a room after her father's death, after she had been forced to settle their account at the inn.
She had applied for so many positions, even working in shops or inns, but everyone in Leeds knew about her father's suicide, and no one wanted to employ her. She could have moved to Harrogate or York, and had determined to do so before she had seen the advertisement for this position, applied for it and, to her surprise, been asked to an interview. It had meant staying in Leeds for several more days, and her slender resources were almost gone. If she did not secure this post she would have to walk to Harrogate, which was nearer than York, and where she might be able to find a position as a companion to one of the many invalids who visited the town to drink the waters. The prospect frightened her, for it was bitterly cold and her clothes were thin. Sir Kenelm, no doubt, had not heard the story of her father's suicide, which was why she had told him before she could be accused of hiding the shame of it.
He was standing by the window, looking out over the street, and she had an opportunity of observing him. Previously she had been aware only of a tall, slim man whose riding coat fitted him closely, both it and his breeches showing strong muscles. Now she could see the elegant shape of his head, his hair closely cropped, a broad brow and square, determined chin. He would know what he wanted, she thought, and tolerate no nonsense. However, when he turned round he looked rather embarrassed.
He's going to tell me he doesn't mean to offer me the post, Joanna thought, and tried to quell the feeling of panic gripping her.
'P – please sit down, Miss Frazer. I have – that is, oh, confound it! I am finding this remarkably difficult. I wish to offer you a different position, and I very much hope you will accept.'
Wild thoughts raced through Joanna's mind as she took her former chair. What did he mean? Was he going to offer her a post as a housemaid, or a cook? Did he think her so desperate she would accept? Yes, she would. Or, and she blushed at the thought, did he mean to offer her a carte blanche? He had seemed to like her, from the way he had been looking at her while he asked her questions. Was she desperate enough for that? No, she would rather beg in the streets. But then, a small voice inside her said, your fate could be even worse.
'What?' she asked, her voice hoarse. 'What other position?'
He had seated himself behind the desk after ushering her to a seat, but now he got to his feet again and began to pace up and down the room. Then he turned towards her when he was as far away as the small room permitted.
'I need a wife,' he said bluntly.
'A wife?' Joanna's thoughts were in a whirl. Was the man crazy?
'A marriage of convenience, of course,' he said quickly. 'I would make no demands on you, you need not fear that. My – er – needs are, shall we say, satisfied by an accommodating lady here in Leeds.'
Joanna knew she was blushing. No one had ever talked about such things to her before, though of course she had been aware of them, from having lived with the army in Portugal. What an extraordinary conversation this was.
Sir Kenelm was not looking at her, and she suspected he too was flushed with embarrassment.
'I need a hostess. I find I cannot employ a governess for my children unless I have a female to chaperone them, a wife, or an elderly relative. And I am singularly ill-provided with elderly relatives. So it has to be a wife. Well, Miss Frazer, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?'
Was he mad? He didn't look it, and before he had asked sensible questions. She simply stared at him. Then her mind began to work. Surely, she thought, so handsome a man did not need to find a wife in this manner? He was tall, slim yet with muscular shoulders and thighs, showing to advantage in the riding dress he wore. He had good features, a strong nose and firm mouth, and a very determined chin.
'Why?' she managed. 'Why can you not find a wife? I mean, in the usual way? Why do you need to ask me, a stranger?'
He laughed, but it was not a happy sound. 'I need to tell you the truth, to be fair to you. My family have been trying to foist various damsels onto me since my wife died, when the twins were born ten years ago. But my first venture into marriage was, to put it bluntly, unfortunate. I vowed I would never again allow my feelings to rule my head.'
She was puzzled, but felt a stab of sympathy for him. He looked so incredibly sad. Perhaps he had loved his wife and the unfortunate aspect was her death while giving him children. She forced her mind back to what he was saying, his voice so low she had to strain to hear the words.
'Maria was excessively beautiful, and had been courted since her come out. She could have had an Earl, but she chose me. I am wealthy, and until I forced her to retire to Yorkshire she tried to spend as much of my fortune as she could. She was discontented, demanding my attention all the time. When I could not oblige, since I had estate matters to deal with, she sulked, and took lovers from amongst my staff. I had to dismiss two grooms and a footman.'
Joanna was appalled. She had heard of society ladies who took lovers, and many men, she had been told, could not be certain who had fathered their children, but how could a woman married to such an attractive man as Sir Kenelm endure the embraces of footmen and grooms? If she were married to him – she caught at her thoughts. Of course she could not accept this proposal. It was nonsensical. Sir Kenelm was continuing.
'I am tolerably certain her children are my own, since at the time of their getting we were staying at one of my other houses, one I had inherited in Northumberland. We were snowed in for more than a month, and there were no other men there apart from Firbank, my elderly butler, and Venner, my valet, both of whom have been with me for many years and would never have betrayed me. If you accept my offer I will ask Mr Littlewood to explain things to you, and he will suggest suitable financial arrangements, an allowance, a jointure, and so on. All I ask is that you become my hostess. You may order the house as you wish, and if you decide to take a lover I ask only that you are discreet. I could not, of course, recognise any children of such liaisons as my own, so you would need to go away while they were born, and they must be adopted, but I would ensure they went to suitable families.'
Joanna leapt to her feet. She was sorry for him, but this was intolerable.
'How can you be so cold-blooded? How can you expect me, or any woman, to agree to such an arrangement? It's – it's monstrous! Why, you only met me half an hour ago! You know nothing of my character, and I know nought of yours! I really think you are mad!'
She turned to leave the room, but his next words made her pause.
'Wait, before you dismiss the notion. Have you enough money to survive until you can apply for another position, Miss Frazer? What sort of life can you look forward to? Poverty, scraping a living in a menial job where your undoubted talents cannot be employed? You are not an innocent. You know what is likely to happen to a pretty girl who has to work in a tavern. I can offer you luxury, a respectable future, in exchange for very little except you preside over my household – and enable me to employ a most superior governess for my children!'
*
Chapter 2
Joanna was still furious. He had made it plain his only motive for the incredible suggestion was to enable him to acquire the services of the obnoxious, superior female sitting in the outer room. She was of far greater importance than herself. She stalked towards the door, almost tripping on her cloak which dragged on the floor. Sir Kenelm stepped in front of her and caught at her arm to save her from falling.
'I would come as their governess without the need of a chaperone,' she almost shouted at him, tearing her arm away from his hand. The momentary pause had given her time for reflection. She needed some way of earning money, and she would by far prefer to earn it honestly, doing something she knew she was quali
fied for, than accept his insulting proposal.
He almost laughed at her, and seeing him, looking so handsome, and now not so worried, caused her stomach to flip. How was it such a man, attractive and handsome, needed to find a bride in such a ridiculous manner? Surely there were many girls of much higher birth than hers who would be flattered to receive an offer from him? Why did he not want any of them?
A possible answer suddenly flashed into her mind. They, she reminded herself, would have fathers or guardians to look after them. So what was wrong with him? And why did he stipulate a marriage in name only? He had children, so could not be incapable of siring them. She bent her head to hide her blushes. Had he become incapable by some accident? She had heard from the soldiers that this might happen. Was he ashamed, or embarrassed? Was that the reason he could not ask any girl of good birth, with relatives, to become his wife in name only? She forced her attention back to what he was saying.
'That would certainly not do. I could perhaps employ a governess who was elderly and – not pretty – without having to have a chaperone as well, but if I chose one who was both young and beautiful, as you are, there would certainly be unpleasant gossip.'
Beautiful? Her? Joanna knew she was accounted quite pretty, but no one had ever before said she was beautiful. Then she hardened her heart against him. He was simply flattering her to make her more willing to accept his ridiculous, preposterous proposal.
'Don't you think I have endured enough gossip about my father here in Leeds? I don't care a rap for gossip.'
She was by now proof against it, despite the harm it had done her. It had been the gossip which prevented her from obtaining employment here. She would have been more successful in another town, but she had been forced to stay until all the enquiries were over, and the cost of her lodgings, cheap though they were, had eaten into her savings. While Captain Thomas, the man who had won everything from her father and who, she was sure, was neither entitled to his rank, and had cheated him, laughed and rode away in his new curricle and match greys.
The Chaperone Bride Page 2