The Scoundrel's Daughter

by Anne Gracie

  She chuckled.

  “The difficulty is in finding suitable kittens in London. It seems very few kittens are allowed to grow to a size ready to be given away—most people, unless they want one for themselves, drown them at birth.”

  “Oh dear. How very sad for the mother cats—and the kittens, of course,” she added. Thaddeus had never allowed her any kind of pet. It suddenly occurred to her that she could have a cat or a dog now—in fact she could fill the house with pets if she wanted.

  It was odd how these random reflections kept popping into her mind. She supposed after eighteen years of having the law laid down to her—and in a way the eighteen years before that had been just as strict, though Papa’s law had been slightly more benevolent—she was only just getting used to her freedom.

  She suddenly became aware that he was looking at her with a quizzical expression. “What?” she said.

  “You went away, somewhere else. Somewhere not very pleasant, I suspect.” His voice held no criticism or accusation, just a quiet observation.

  She felt herself blushing. “Sorry, I was just . . . just thinking about cats and keeping pets. I’ve never had one.”

  “Never? Don’t you like animals.”

  “Oh, I always wanted one—a dog rather than a cat, but I would have been happy with either.”

  “Then why did you never get one?”

  “My father didn’t approve of unnecessary animals—which was his definition of a pet—and my husband didn’t like them, either. Cats made him sneeze.”

  “They make me sneeze, too.”

  “And yet you’re going to get one?” she said in surprise.

  His mouth twisted with wry humor. “Of course. Can you imagine my little ‘Yougotacat?’ Debo being happy without one? What are a few sneezes compared with the happiness of my daughter?”

  Alice swallowed, touched by his complete willingness to endure discomfort for the sake of his child’s pleasure. For a moment, she couldn’t say anything.

  He gazed back at her, his eyes darkening. His eyes dropped to her mouth, then he leaned forward, his expression suddenly intense. “Lady Charlton,” he began.

  At that moment the clock in the hall chimed the half hour. Alice jumped, suddenly tense, though why she had no idea. “Speaking of your daughters,” she said hastily, “we’d better go and see what they’re up to. My cook has been preparing a feast to delight a little girl’s heart, and I’d hate us to be late.”

  With a rueful look, he rose and held out a hand to help her up. She took it without thinking, though of course she could rise perfectly well unaided.

  Neither of them wore gloves, and as they touched, skin to skin, a shiver ran through her: it wasn’t at all unpleasant. Quite the contrary. She released his hand and brushed her skirt down self-consciously.

  “Through here.” She led the way to the back gate and the garden.

  Lord Tarrant paused at the gate, his gaze taking in the wide expanse of greenery, the winding pathways, bright flower beds and mature trees. “Good lord, I had no idea there was such a large garden behind all these houses. There is no indication of it from the street, though now, I come to think of it, you can see a few treetops. It’s your own private park, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, the garden is the reason my maternal grandmother bought the house. She was a countrywoman at heart, but my grandfather was much involved in politics and had to live in London for a good part of the year. This was their compromise.

  “I share it with the other house owners.” She gestured to the houses that enclosed the garden square. “Several are owned by the Earl of Salcott, who lives in that large house on the corner. The old earl recently died, so I suppose his son will be taking over. Otherwise few people seem to use the garden except as a backdrop. Lucy comes out here most mornings and says she rarely sees anyone other than the occasional gardener.”

  “It’s a beautiful retreat. You’re very lucky.”

  “Believe me, I am very aware of it, and very grateful to Grandmama for leaving me the house in her will. Now, shall we seek out your daughters and Lucy?”

  “Yes, of course.” He presented his arm, and after a brief hesitation, Alice placed her hand on it. It was warm and strong, and she tried not to be aware of it.

  They walked the various pathways, looking for the children, but there was no sign of them. “They can’t wander off,” Alice assured him. “The garden is very secure, and the only exits are through the private houses that enclose the garden. And Lucy is with them.”

  He smiled down at her. “I’m not worried. I’m enjoying our time together.”

  They rounded a corner and saw a small figure standing alone beneath a large, spreading plane tree, staring up apparently talking to the tree. “That’s Lina.” Lord Tarrant picked up his pace. “What’s she doing on her own?”

  They hurried up to her. “Lina, what’s the matter?” he said. The little girl turned, her face distraught. “I’m s-s-sorry, Papa,” she said. “I t-t-tried.” She burst into tears.

  Without hesitation her father scooped her up into his arms. Lina clung to him, sobbing and trying to explain in jerky, incoherent phrases. Murmuring soothing reassurances, he held her, smoothing back her hair and rubbing her back while the little girl sobbed herself out.

  The sobs slowed, but remnants kept coming in jerky bursts. Lord Tarrant pulled out a handkerchief and dried her face. “Now, do you think you can tell me what has upset you so?”

  “I t-tried to s-stop them . . . but D-Debo . . . the cat . . .” She clung to his neck like a little limpet. “P-p-lease don’t send us awaaaay, Papa. We’re not hy-hydons. Truly we’re not.”

  “Hydens?” Alice wondered. She glanced up into the tree and saw three faces looking worriedly down. Four faces, actually—Lucy’s, Judy’s and little Deborah’s, and in her arms, a furry-faced ginger cat.

  Over the shoulder of his sobbing daughter, Lord Tarrant glanced at Alice, sending her a silent message of apology. She directed her glance upward, and he followed her gaze, closed his eyes briefly and nodded in understanding.

  “Hush now, Lina,” he murmured, his voice deep and reassuring. “Of course I’m not going to send you away. I’ve just got you back.”

  “P-p-promise?” Lina choked. “Even if we’re h-hydens?”

  “Even if you’re hoydens, I promise.” Lord Tarrant dried the fresh burst of tears. “Now stop crying and listen to me, Lina.” He took her chin in his hand and made her look at him.

  She inhaled a jagged breath and eyed him with wide, tear-drenched eyes, her mouth trembling.

  In a clear, firm voice, audible to the listeners in the trees, he said, “Selina Louise Tarrant, I hereby promise you that I will never send you or your sisters away, no matter what you’ve done. Do you understand me?”

  The little girl nodded.

  “Good. Now, I suppose all this upset is because your sisters—and Miss Bamber—climbed this tree.”

  Lina nodded. “It’s very unladylike. Only the veriest hydens climb trees—hydens are very bad girls. And before, when Grandmama caught us . . .”

  “I know, you were sent away to school,” her father said. Alice’s brows shot up. Lord Tarrant nodded in grim acknowledgement. “But that’s never going to happen again.”

  He looked up at the other three girls in the tree. “Let me guess, that cat was up the tree.”

  Debo nodded and clutched the cat tighter. “He was lonely.”

  “More like trying to escape my little monster,” Lord Tarrant murmured to Alice. “And you others followed?”

  “It’s my fault, Lord Tarrant,” Lucy called down. “I encouraged the girls to climb the tree. I often sit up here to read. It’s very peaceful. I didn’t realize it was forbidden. I’m sorry. Please don’t blame the girls.”

  “It’s very unladylike,” Lina repeated, parrotlike. “Isn’t it, La
dy Charlton?”

  Lord Tarrant turned to Alice, his eyes glinting with humor. “Well, is it, Lady Charlton?” Alice looked from him to the tear-stained child in his arms.

  “Some people might think so, but I think it’s perfectly acceptable for young ladies to climb trees, especially in the privacy of their own garden,” she said firmly.

  “Or a friend’s garden,” Lord Tarrant prompted.

  “Or a friend’s garden,” she agreed.

  “And it’s not hydenish?” Lina breathed.

  “It’s not in the least hoydenish,” Alice said. “In fact, when I was your age, I spent many happy hours sitting in the apple tree at home. Of course, if I’d thrown apples at anyone, that would have been hoydenish. Naturally, I didn’t do any such thing.”

  Lina nodded solemnly. “No, because you’re a lady—Lady Charlton.”

  Alice regarded her thoughtfully. “No, Lina, the ‘Lady’ in my name is just a title, like Miss or Mrs. Any girl, no matter what her background, can become a lady—it’s all in how you behave and how you treat others. Of course, a lady should consider the feelings of others, but otherwise she can do whatever she wants, as long as it doesn’t hurt anybody else.”

  Lina regarded her with wide, solemn eyes, absorbing that. Alice glanced up at the girls in the tree and saw that Lucy had also received the message. Good.

  “And is it only young girls who can climb trees, Lady Charlton?” Lord Tarrant asked smoothly, his eyes dancing. It was a dare, plain and simple.

  Alice had no desire whatsoever to climb a tree. It had been years since she’d even tried, and even as a young girl, she didn’t often do it. One could tear one’s clothes for a start, and new clothes weren’t easily come by at the vicarage.

  On the other hand, there was this tall, handsome devil with a look in his eyes that made her itch to take up his unspoken challenge. And a tear-stained little girl looking to her for reassurance, with an expression that almost broke Alice’s heart.

  All her life, Alice had strived to please others and do what she was told was “the right thing.” And where had it gotten her? Endlessly trying to please others, and finding it a thankless task. Did she really want to set this earnest little girl on the same path?

  She made up her mind. “Turn your back,” she told Lord Tarrant.

  He promptly did a military-style about-face that made Lina, still in his arms, giggle. The little girl squirmed around and watched Alice over his shoulder.

  Luckily the tree was an old one, and unlike most of the plane trees in London’s streets and parks, it had never been pruned or pollarded. The trunk was broad and lumpy with handholds and branches sticking out. The larger branches began about three feet off the ground.

  Alice carefully gathered the skirts of her dress, thanking the impulse that had caused her to wear an old dress she didn’t particularly care for. She rolled the skirt and petticoat up and tucked them into the waist of her drawers.

  She eyed the tree cautiously. It was going to be a bit of a scramble. Four pairs of eyes—five if you counted the cat—watched her eagerly. Why had she ever agreed to do this mad thing?

  “Need a hand?” a tall devil with his back to her murmured.

  “Not in the least.” She took a deep breath and started with a jump, to reach the first branch she judged strong enough to support her. It was so thick, it was hard to hold on to. As she stretched up, she heard a ripping sound. A cool breeze under her arm told her she’d ripped a seam in her spencer. Too bad. She wasn’t going to stop now. It was an old spencer, and seams could be resewn.

  Scrabbling with her feet to gain purchase on the lumpiest part of the trunk, she tried to swing her leg up to hook it over the first big branch. Once, twice . . . she almost managed it, then suddenly a large warm hand placed itself on her bottom and shoved—Alice squeaked with indignation—and there she was, sitting on the branch.

  She glared down at him, her cheeks on fire, and not just from the effort of climbing. Her whole body was hot and flustered. Even her bottom was blushing—she could feel it. “You, you—”

  “Helped, yes, I know.” He was grinning. “It’s not against the rules, is it?”

  It was very much against the rules of gentlemanly behavior—watching her climb in her drawers when she’d told him to turn his back. As for putting his hand on her bottom! Her almost-naked bottom! She could still feel the warm imprint of it on her skin.

  She so wanted to ring a peal over his head, but she couldn’t do it in front of his daughters—and he knew it, the rogue.

  “Can you go on from there by yourself?” he asked with a solicitude that didn’t fool her for a moment. His eyes gave him away every time. He was enjoying this.

  She stood and scrambled up to the next branch, pulling and heaving. Riiip! The second sleeve of her spencer went. Ladies’ clothing was not designed for energetic activities like climbing trees. Or even raising their arms.

  The girls above called encouragement and advice, and slowly Alice climbed until, panting but triumphant, she finally seated herself on a broad, thick branch well above Lord Tarrant’s head. He looked up, grinning. She wished she had an apple to throw at him. But by her own account that would be hoydenish.

  It might be fun to be a hoyden. All her life she’d been so well behaved. How dull. But it was another of those possibilities that now stretched temptingly before her.

  She looked across and found Lucy and Judy grinning at her. Debo’s whole attention was on the rather martyred-looking ginger cat clutched firmly in her arms.

  Down below, Lord Tarrant was lifting Lina up to the first branch. “Go on now, Lina, up to Lady Charlton with you.”

  The little girl scrambled up the tree far quicker and with less effort than Alice had. She plonked herself down on Alice’s branch and smiled shyly up at her. “We’re two ladies in a tree,” Lina said excitedly.

  Alice shook her head. “No.” She indicated the others above them. “We’re five ladies in a tree.”

  “Anacat,” said Debo.

  “And a cat,” Alice agreed.

  “Actually,” said a deep voice very close below her, “we’re five ladies, a cat and a gentleman in a tree.” He pulled himself effortlessly onto the same broad branch and, over his daughter’s head, grinned at Alice like the veriest urchin. “How long since you climbed a tree, Lady Charlton?”

  “Years.” She eyed his long legs, enclosed and protected by supple buckskin breeches. “Ladies’ clothing is not conducive to tree climbing.”

  He glanced at the ripped seams of her sleeves. She was immediately aware of his gaze. “So I see. Perhaps I should get breeches made for the girls.”

  Between them, Lina gasped. “Girls can wear breeches?”

  “Only in private,” Alice said hastily. “And when there are no gentlemen around.”

  Lina turned and looked accusingly at her father.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “Fathers are not gentlemen.”

  Alice spluttered. “Very true.”

  His eyes darkened. His smile was full of dark promise. “And you can take that as fair warning.”

  Alice swallowed. “Time to go inside now,” she announced to the occupants of the tree. “Mrs. Tweed has a lovely afternoon tea ready for us. I trust you are all hungry.”

  His gray eyes dropped to her mouth and stayed there. “Ravenous.”

  One by one, they all scrambled down from the tree. Alice insisting on going first so that she didn’t have to endure Lord Tarrant standing below her, looking up. Or helping her down.

  He helped his daughters down, swinging them by the hands for the last little distance. Debo was the most difficult: she didn’t want to let go of her feline captive.

  “Pass it to me,” he told her. “I’ll keep it safe.”

  She hesitated, and her hold must have loosened, for with a wriggle, a yowl and a leap
, the cat was away, bounding down the tree and vanishing into the shrubbery. With a wail, Debo tried to grab it and would have fallen had her father not managed to grab her in time.

  “Thassmycaaaaat!” she wailed.

  “It’s not your cat,” he told her and brought her down far enough to hand her down to Alice, waiting on the ground. “Hang on to her,” he told Alice, “or she’ll disappear after that wretched animal.”

  “S’not a wretched animal,” Debo grumbled.

  “No,” Alice agreed as she set her on her feet. “He’s a very handsome cat. But he does belong to somebody else. They’d be very sad if you took him away. You wouldn’t want to make them sad, would you?”

  Debo shrugged. Anonymous cat owners moved her not at all.

  “Your father will get you a kitten very soon, I’m sure,” Alice said, as he came slithering down the tree.

  Debo gave him a cynical look. “S’what he said back at Miss Coates’s. But still, I got no cat.”

  He brushed twigs off his coat. “I’m doing my best, Debo.”

  The little girl sniffed.

  “Come along, there’s a lovely tea waiting for us inside,” Alice said. “Wash your hands in the scullery first.”

  As they walked back toward the house, Alice felt a small, cold hand slip into hers. She looked down and smiled. Lina was walking along beside her, giving a happy little skip from time to time.

  * * *

  * * *

  Mrs. Tweed had outdone herself. There were dainty triangular sandwiches with their crusts cut off—cucumber, egg and watercress, ham, and chicken. There were little sausage rolls, hot from the oven, the pastry golden, crisp and flaky. In the center of the table sat a large, luscious sponge cake oozing with cream and jam. There were tiny individual number cakes, each one just large enough for a small girl to hold in her hand. There were wafer-thin almond biscuits—crisp, nutty and sweetly bland—and to finish, a dish of fruits, including fat, sugar-encrusted purple grapes that crunched deliciously as they bit into them.