My Fair Gentleman

by Nancy Campbell Allen

  The jaw tightened visibly again, and Lord Stansworth leaned forward, ever so slightly. “My mother and sister are exceptionally well mannered, and I’ll not have them treated like street trash.”

  “As if I would do so!” Ivy’s temper flared and she muscled it back into submission. “My lord, you do not know me in the slightest, but I must have your trust in these matters. I am kind, and I intend for these transitions to be smooth and seamless for your family. I understand they are undergoing a huge amount of upheaval, and although I would certainly consider the changes in their circumstances to be an improvement, variance from a routine can be difficult.”

  Ivy paused and regarded the man sitting opposite her, cold and defensive, with hostility roiling just beneath the surface. To her surprise, she felt a stab of pity. “I want very much for your loved ones to succeed. It’s true, you’ve been at sea all these long years, but you must know how cruel Society can be,” she said, her voice soft.

  “I am thinking of sending them to live at the country estate,” the earl admitted gruffly. He stared into the flames of the fire. “I will not have them mocked.”

  Ivy sighed. He truly didn’t understand the impact his new status would have on his family. “Do you consider your mother and sister to be of the intelligent sort?”

  He looked back at her with a scowl. “Of course I do.”

  “Then you must allow them the opportunity to succeed in this environment. And your sister is young yet and deserves a season or two of her own. I should think you would want her to make a good match.”

  “I’ll not force her to marry some old codger against her will.”

  “But you’ll force her to rusticate in the country with no chance of ever finding a suitable husband?”

  “Honestly, Miss Carlisle, do you truly believe a gentleman of good character will forgive my sister’s past as a lady’s maid?”

  “I do admit, the situation is . . . unusual. However, she stands a better chance at finding a husband here, during the Season, than in the countryside. And hypocritical though it be, her new status as the sister of an earl will do wonders toward erasing anything she may have experienced in the past.”

  “She is an innocent,” he snapped.

  Ivy nodded. “Of course.”

  He closed his eyes briefly and turned his attention back to the hearth.

  “We can make this work, my lord. If you take a strong lead, it will lend confidence to your family.” Ivy tipped her head to the side with a little smile and tried to catch his eye.

  Finally meeting her gaze, the earl nodded once. “I will do this for them. But you should know I intend to explore every possibility of breaking the stipulation that I not return to the sea. I’ll show my face in parliament for matters I cannot avoid and see that my mother and Sophia are comfortably settled here. But I’ll not remain for the rest of my days living the life of a gentleman of leisure, doing nothing.”

  “You are most singular, my lord. I do not know any men who would not jump at this opportunity to live a ‘life of leisure.’ But whatever legalities you are able to finesse in the future will be your business. Our task now is to ready you to seem as though you want to spend your time ‘doing nothing.’”

  “And you are determined to review this list of yours with me today?”

  Ivy nodded. “The sooner, the better.”

  The earl made no move to rise from his chair but rather studied her face through a slight narrowing of the eyes. “What does this little,” he twirled his finger in the air, “arrangement benefit you?”

  Ivy thought of Nana with a rueful smile. “My grandmother is most persuasive. And as she and your grandmother were dear friends, I find it an honor to help ease your entrance into Society.” Well, perhaps that was stretching the truth a bit. The man was large—commanding—and she found herself flustered more than she’d been . . . ever. To couch her current efforts as an “honor” was, at best, a white lie. What was she doing, really? Ivy wasn’t certain she understood the whole of it herself.

  His eyes seemed to take in every detail as they roamed her face in what she assumed was a quick assessment. He would likely have been a very competent sea captain, had the old earl let him be.

  “Tell me, Miss Carlisle,” he finally said. “You seem to be all that is good and proper. Excellent bloodlines, no doubt, and land in the family for generations, I would wager. A titled father. Why is it that you are not married yet yourself?”

  Ivy tried not to gape at his direct approach. Pinching her lips together, she considered her words very carefully. “There have been . . . circumstances . . . beyond my control. I was to have come out already, but regrettably, it will have to wait.” He could dig all he would like—she was not about to air family business to a stranger. Especially the horrifying kind of business that had the Carlisles trying to hold their heads high despite Caroline’s indiscretions.

  “Got yourself caught kissing someone behind the gazebo, perhaps?” His look was smug, taunting, and she wanted to slap it right off his face.

  “Certainly not! And I do not appreciate the insinuation, sir.”

  He spread his hands wide in a show of innocence. “I insinuate nothing. I merely find myself confused at the fact that someone so clearly suited to wedded bliss seems to have been passed over and disregarded.”

  Ivy felt her nostrils flare. “I have not been passed over. I told you, my Season is yet to come, and I’ve no doubt I will make a very agreeable match.”

  “Agreeable to whom? Your family? Parents?”

  “All.”

  “But not necessarily yourself.”

  “You’ve been at sea, my lord, and obviously in more ways than one, but surely you realize that love matches are simply an anomaly. They do not happen among the aristocracy, and I do not waste my time imagining otherwise.”

  “I knew a member of the aristocracy who married for love.” The earl’s face was calm enough, but he gave away an inner agitation with the subtle lines that tightened around his mouth.

  “And it didn’t end well, did it?” she murmured. Ivy felt another unwelcome stab of pity for the man. And as unwelcome as it was for her, she knew that pity would be doubly unwelcome for him.

  “I suppose I’ve done little more than prove your point.”

  “I do wish you could prove me wrong. But I’m afraid you will not.” Ivy smiled but felt sad. She was a product of an arranged marriage herself, and she had always known there was very little love lost between her mother and father. Perhaps when she had been a young girl she might have dreamed of marrying her one true, perfect love, but those days were long gone. As much as she wished it otherwise, she knew well enough that the circles in which she moved did not much worry about marital sentiment. As long as both parties were agreeable and practical, a pleasant enough life could be expected.

  Seeking to change the topic of conversation, she opened the elegant pocket watch she’d received on her sixteenth birthday from Nana. “But look at the time,” she said to the big, sprawling man lounging in the chair opposite her. “We have much to cover today, and I would suggest you go up to your chambers and change into something suitable for a quick jaunt around the park. We can discuss your scheduling while we ride.”

  Again that flat expression before he rolled his eyes ever so slightly and shook his head. Bracing his hands on the arms of his chair, he had just begun shoving himself upright when she held up a hand.

  “One moment, my lord.”

  He paused, half raised. “Yes?”

  “The way you . . . move.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What fault could you possibly find with the way I move?”

  “It’s rather lumbering, almost as one would imagine an elephant, or perhaps a great ape. Gentlemen of the ton move with grace, elegance.”

  Still poised halfway out of the chair, he opened his mouth, then pressed his lips together. He continued to stare at her, and she wondered if he would remain suspended above the seat for an eternity. One th
ing was certain—the delicate arms of the Queen Anne chair wouldn’t bear it for long.

  He bared his teeth at her then in what she assumed he intended to be a smile, and finally stood fully upright. Hands on his hips, he towered over her chair, and she swallowed once, wondering if perhaps she ought to have thought of different animals to use as examples. He didn’t seem to have appreciated the comparison.

  When he didn’t appear inclined to say anything, or perhaps conversation simply eluded him for the moment, Ivy lifted the watch she still held in her hand. Maintaining eye contact with him, she pointed at the watch with one finger.

  He shook his head once and left. Ivy decided against calling him back into the room to remind him he really should make a pleasant exit with a light bow and a few polite words before quitting the presence of a lady.

  Chapter 6

  A ride through the park can be quite the most

  pleasant part of the day. Always wave cheerfully to

  acquaintances and put on an air of happiness.

  Mistress Manners’ Tips for Every-day Etiquette

  The fact that he was riding through Hyde Park in a chauffeured carriage didn’t concern Jack so much until he noted several other men who drove their own, smaller carriages. The vehicles were sleek and quick, and he suddenly felt very ridiculous. It was not an emotion he enjoyed. Adding to his sense of frustration was the woman seated next to him, pretty and polished and intending to make a gentleman out of him. And entirely against his will.

  “The next time I take a jaunt through this park, I will drive one of these infernal things myself.”

  Ivy looked at him, her face reflecting her surprise. “Well certainly, you can learn how. Not every gentleman desires such a thing. Many are content with the prestige of merely owning at least two carriages. I’m sure you noticed your four that are currently parked in the mews. And that is just the town home. I suspect the estates in the country will boast more.”

  Jack frowned, uncomfortable. “I have not earned any of this.”

  Ivy watched him quietly for a moment, and he wondered what she was thinking. “You are an odd one, my lord,” she finally said and turned her attention back to the path that wound its way through the park. “I do not believe I’ve ever encountered a gentleman who wishes he had earned his wealth. The more helpless the person, the higher his status. If one has the resources to employ an army of servants to do every little thing for the master and lady, he is considered quite well-off indeed.” She smiled then, and he could have sworn he saw the slightest twitch of her lips that suggested she found what she said to be folly.

  “And what is your opinion on the matter?”

  She hesitated. “It hardly signifies what I believe, now, does it? Mine is not to question why.”

  Jack felt a stab of disappointment. The little lady was conscious of propriety to a fault and would likely never criticize the Society that had produced her. She probably curtseyed in her sleep. “You don’t find the mentality of the elite rather ridiculous, Miss Carlisle? A man who cannot be bothered to tie his own cravat or don a suit coat by himself would be laughed off the deck of the Flying Gull.”

  “Be that as it may, traditions are deeply rooted, and I don’t foresee them changing anytime soon.”

  “I’m going to drive my own phaeton,” Jack muttered, but he kept the rest of his opinions to himself.

  Ivy cast a quick glance in his direction, and he thought he detected a slight shrug. “Of course, my lord.”

  Jack closed his eyes. “I’ve told you, I do not wish to be addressed in that manner.”

  Ivy snapped closed the fan she’d been gently waving, despite the fact that it wasn’t a warm morning. “Is it not the custom, sir, for a sailor of higher rank to be addressed by subordinates with a title indicating that lofty sailor’s position and setting him apart from the lesser seamen?”

  “We are not aboard a ship,” he ground out. They rode along in silence for several moments, and Jack observed the people who were taking a turn about the park. Many rode in some sort of conveyance, some walked arm-in-arm. There was much laughter in the air, and cheeks were flushed with excitement. Did people truly have nothing better to do with their time?

  “There are some items, some scenarios we must study. I would assume this afternoon is as good as any? And I thought we might stop by and visit your mother and sister. I sent around a calling card this morning and received word back that they would be delighted to have us join them for luncheon.”

  His mother and Sophia—the two variables in the whole mad scheme that had him worried sick. He knew if they were rebuffed or treated at all badly, his temper would rise to the fore and he would likely ruin everything his grandfather had foisted upon them. For him, it was a nightmare, of course, but for Mary and Sophia—they had practically been lifted out of the gutters and set up in a veritable palace.

  He nodded once at Ivy and turned his attention back to the park that rolled by cozily as they traveled the path. He hardly knew the young woman who sat beside him, only that she followed rules and regulations religiously. She might have made a fine sailor, in fact, and the thought had him smiling to himself. The lighter emotion faded quickly as he envisioned Lady Ivy Carlisle shaming his family into submission so that they might present a perfect front for the ridiculous lot that lived in London.

  “Miss Carlisle, I would like you to understand very clearly that Sophia and my mother are to be treated with dignity and respect. The fact that they have not had your privileges does not mean they have no worth.”

  The young woman’s brow creased in a frown as she regarded him for some time. “May I tell you again, my lord, that I am the last one in all of England to ever humiliate anyone. I plan to equip your family with the skills necessary to arm themselves against those who might.”

  “So we have an understanding.”

  “We do,” she said, the slightest hint of bite to her tone. “Not that it was necessary to address again.”

  “I don’t know you, lady. I have been forced into this ridiculous charade completely against my will and seek only after the welfare of my loved ones. You may be a perfectly wonderful person, but my first concern is for them.”

  “I should hope that it would be, my lord, and before you snap at me again, you may as well accustom yourself to being addressed as your title befits.”

  “You can address me as ‘Jack.’”

  “No, I most certainly cannot.” Ivy flicked her fan open again and shook her head, focusing her attention on the path before them.

  He studied the simple beauty of her profile—the long lashes that framed green eyes, the soft skin, the gently defined jawline that was now quite firmly set. “I am an earl, yes?”

  She focused her gaze on him again. “Yes.” The tone was wary, as though she knew the question had a catch to it. She was indeed a bright girl.

  “Therefore, I command you address me as ‘Jack.’”

  She flushed. “It is not nearly so simple! In fact, it . . . it . . . it’s unseemly!”

  Jack sighed. Ivy was clearly genuinely distressed. “We shall make a compromise, then. When we are in the company of others, you may address me as Your Majesty, for all I care. But when we are alone, you will use my given name.”

  There was a sparkle in her eyes then, and her lips twitched. “Your given name is not ‘Jack.’”

  Drat. He had become a victim of his own trap. “Please, dear lady, do not call me ‘John.’ Nobody in my life has ever called me by that name. Not even my own mother.”

  “And I see yet another flaw in your demand,” she said. “We will never be alone.”

  He couldn’t help but grin. “We are alone now.”

  “We are not alone! We are in a park full of people.”

  “None of whom are paying attention to a word we say. Not even him.” He gestured forward to the driver who sat in front of them, maneuvering the horses. “And you are to be my tutor, my mentor in the art of decent behavior, yes? That will re
quire a certain amount of time, as you yourself have voiced on more than one occasion. So you must call me ‘Jack,’ or I will tell your grandmother that I will never again allow you entrance into my home.”

  To her credit, Ivy didn’t stammer or beg that he reconsider. Instead, she shot him a flat look that spoke volumes. “You will not do such a thing, and you well know it.”

  “How little you know me, Miss Carlisle.”

  She sniffed. “I know enough. And you, sir, I know that you ought to be addressing me as ‘Lady Ivy’ rather than ‘Miss Carlisle.’”

  He smiled and held her gaze with his own until she turned away and looked forward again, her papers clutched firmly in her gloved hands. Good—he had distracted her from that infernal List of Torturous Activities for the New Earl of Stansworth.

  She really was a pretty young woman. Perhaps the time spent with her might prove diverting after all. He supposed he should be grateful that his spiteful old grandfather hadn’t insisted Jack take lessons from some staid valet. A man could certainly do worse than spend his time in the company of a beautiful woman. And when it was finished, he would buy himself a new merchant vessel and leave London and her ridiculous Society far behind.

  Chapter 7

  A lady’s home is her sanctuary. It is a haven

  for herself and her loved ones.

  Mistress Manners’ Tips for Every-day Etiquette

  Ivy stood next to the earl at the door of his mother’s new home. It was situated in a quiet corner of a lovely square; flowers in abundance were placed near the gate and the stairs, and the home itself was stately and neat as a pin. It was the very image of domestic bliss, beautifully suited for the mother of a new earl, and Ivy wondered how the inhabitants fared. It caught her by surprise that she felt a modicum of apprehension at meeting Mrs. Elliot and her daughter.