Romancing the Countess

by Ashley March

  “Will?”

  “The bank clerk. Remember?”

  Ah, yes. The object of Miss Pettigrew’s affection. “Has your father hired another companion for you yet?” she asked, sending up a silent prayer.

  “No, not yet.” Miss Pettigrew slid her arm through Leah’s and tugged her along. “There are interviews today and tomorrow, but I hope he doesn’t find one he likes for a while. I’d rather stay in London with a chance to see Will than be sent to the countryside to begin the tour of house parties again.”

  Leah took a deep breath and crossed her fingers at her side. “I know your father was upset about the house party—”

  “Oh, yes. He was furious. Said I’d never catch a proper lord if I became associated with such scandal.”

  “But it was only a dress,” Leah protested, even though she knew better. It was much more than a dress. It had been a denouncement of polite society.

  “It was a scandalous dress. But it was very beautiful,” Miss Pettigrew said.

  Leah gave her a weak smile. “Thank you.” She paused, then added, “I don’t suppose he would ever consider me for the position of companion?”

  Miss Pettigrew stopped and turned, clasping Leah’s free hand. “Oh, Mrs. George, that would be wonderful!” Then she frowned, letting go. “But no, I’m afraid he would never hire you. In fact, he’d probably throw a tirade just at the sight of you, and you’d have to stand there for half an hour as he ranted about impressionable young ladies—even though we’re practically the same age.”

  “I see.” Leah glanced down as her foot sank into something soft and warm. She sighed. Of course. A pile of manure.

  “But I do know someone who might be interested in having you as a companion,” Miss Pettigrew offered a moment later.

  How easily her hopes were raised. Even with muck on her shoe. “Oh?”

  “Yes. She’s a widow also, so she’s less likely to be as stringent. Her name is Mrs. Campbell. I’ve known her since I was a little girl. She’s one of my mother’s closest friends. Her husband owned a few of the textile mills in Birmingham.”

  “And you believe she needs a companion?”

  “Oh, not to instruct her or chaperone her, of course. Only to keep her from becoming too lonely.”

  “Would you mind introducing us, then?”

  Miss Pettigrew squeezed her arm. “Mrs. George, it would be my pleasure.”

  The Hartwell butler escorted Sebastian up the stairs and to the drawing room. From the rumors abounding about Leah, Sebastian knew that Viscount Rennell had required her to leave Linley Park and had disassociated himself from her completely, forcing her to move in with her family.

  Mrs. Hartwell and Leah’s sister were already sitting in the drawing room when he entered.

  “The Earl of Wriothesly,” the butler announced, and both Hartwell ladies rose to their feet with curtsies.

  Sebastian’s gaze roamed the room but didn’t find Leah. Striding forward, he bowed over her mother’s hand, then her sister’s. “Mrs. Hartwell. Miss Beatrice.”

  “What a pleasure it is to have you visit us, Lord Wriothesly,” Mrs. Hartwell said, smiling. It was the same polite smile he’d seen Leah use when she was nervous or lying. Nothing at all like the wide, uninhibited smile he’d become accustomed to.

  “I’m glad to see you again,” Sebastian said, following her gesture to sit down. He and the Hartwells had never had much interaction, even though they moved in the same social circles. If not for Ian’s affiliation with them through Leah, he probably wouldn’t have known them out of the other hundreds of distant relations to the aristocracy.

  At that moment, a maid entered with a tea service. Sebastian watched and waited patiently as Mrs. Hartwell poured the tea. “I don’t believe I’ve had the chance to tell you, my lord, but you have our deepest sympathies for the loss of your wife.”

  Sebastian inclined his head. “Thank you,” he said, then added, “Neither,” when she motioned to the pots of cream and sugar.

  Mrs. Hartwell nodded toward Leah’s sister, who sat pretty and quiet on the sofa beside her. “This past Season was dear Beatrice’s first. Were you aware, my lord, that she’s already had two offers of marriage?”

  “Indeed, I was not,” Sebastian answered, his hand beginning to tap against his thigh. He stilled it. “As you know, I was at the Linley Park country house party.”

  Mrs. Hartwell’s lips thinned. “I must apologize for my elder daughter’s behavior, my lord. Grief seems to have changed her more than I would like.”

  “I was wondering if Mrs. George will be joining us. I’d like to speak to her, to make certain she’s all right. As you know, Ian was one of my closest friends. Although her behavior has certainly seemed strange, I feel a duty to see—”

  Mrs. Hartwell’s teacup clattered against her saucer. “I fear my daughter is no longer in residence, my lord.”

  Sebastian paused, staring. If she was no longer being granted Rennell’s hospitality, and she wasn’t staying with her family . . . “Would you mind telling me where she’s gone?”

  Mrs. Hartwell bent her head and poured another two spoons of sugar into her tea. Even though she stirred it vigorously, the surplus of white grains swirled at the top of the liquid. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

  Sebastian frowned. “If you would, Mrs. Hartwell, she—” He thought of the letters. “She has something which I believe belongs to me.”

  Mrs. Hartwell’s head snapped upward. “Do not tell me Leah stole from you.”

  “No, not at all. She has something which was in Ian’s possession, something which she once offered to give me and I refused. Besides making sure she’s all right, I’d like to take it now.”

  Mrs. Hartwell lifted the teacup to her lips and sipped, her eyes lowered. “I’m afraid, my lord,” she said, looking up to meet his gaze, “it’s not a matter of refusing your request. I do not know where my daughter has gone.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No. As you know, she’s been acting quite oddly of late. She didn’t see fit to tell me her destination when she left.”

  Sebastian narrowed his eyes. There was something in the way she said it that made him believe Leah’s mother had a part in her disappearance. “I see,” he said. Setting down his cup, he rose to his feet and bowed. “I do apologize for leaving so soon, but I must go now.”

  Both Mrs. Hartwell and Miss Beatrice stood. “We would love to have you stay for dinner,” Leah’s mother said. “And afterward, Beatrice could play a tune for you. She truly is quite lovely on the pianoforte.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t stay.” With a brisk nod, he turned and quit the drawing room. He descended the stairs and was heading toward the front door when he heard a pattering of footsteps behind him.

  “Lord Wriothesly!”

  He halted and turned to find Leah’s sister hurrying toward him. She came to a stop three feet away, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. “Leah is in London,” she half whispered, sending a glance over her shoulder. “She ran away after Mother threatened to make her marry the village butcher.”

  “In London,” Sebastian interrupted. “Who is she staying with? A friend? A cousin? Where is she?”

  Miss Beatrice shook her head. “She’s working.”

  “Working?” Of course. She had no support from her family or otherwise; she was a social outcast.

  Her sister leaned forward. “She’s a companion to Mrs. Campbell. She walks her dog, a little spaniel named Minnie, and . . .”

  “How do you know this? Is she corresponding with you?” Sebastian motioned toward the nearby footman. He put on his hat and overcoat.

  “Yes. Mother knows, but she won’t admit that her daughter must work. Sometimes it seems she’d rather assume she’s dead, actually. No, I didn’t mean that—”

  “She lied to me.”

  Miss Beatrice began to nod, then stopped, blushing. “I’m sure Mother would never purposefully deceive you, my lord.”

  “Mrs.
Campbell, you said?”

  She hesitated. “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Miss Beatrice. Good day to you.”

  “Good day, my lord.”

  Leah loved her days off. Not that she was entirely free on Sundays. She was still required to attend church with Mrs. Campbell in the morning, and she still had to take Minnie for a walk in the morning when the spaniel had to “do her duty,” as Mrs. Campbell called it, and then again in the evening before the sun set.

  It had been odd at first going out with no footman or maid to accompany her, but the walks with Minnie soon became Leah’s favorite part of the day. When she was alone except for the dog, it was the greatest amount of independence she had. But now the morning walk was done, the church service ended an hour ago, and Mrs. Campbell consulted to see if she required anything else of her for the afternoon.

  Humming to herself, Leah changed from her nicer black church dress to one that was easier to walk about in. She sighed, thinking how lovely it would be to go for a ride in the park. Most of the leaves had fallen to the ground and there was a brisk chill to the air, but the sun was out and shining, providing enough warmth to make it a beautiful autumn day. Although she and Mrs. Campbell got along quite well, there was a fine line between them as mistress and companion. Though she might look longingly toward the mews, Leah imagined it would be a while before she asked if she could borrow one of the horses.

  Instead, today she planned to go shopping, something it felt like she hadn’t done in ages. She’d been paid her first wages, and she was itching to join the great mass of people who descended upon the shops on Sunday afternoons.

  “Leah? Are you ready?” Christine, Mrs. Campbell’s lady’s maid, knocked and opened the door. Most of the female servants had to share small, cramped bedchambers, but Leah, Christine, and Mrs. Beesley all had their own rooms—although those were also small and cramped.

  Shoving a pin into her black bonnet to keep it in place, Leah pulled her veil over her face and turned. “I feel like buying something ridiculously frivolous today.”

  Christine, who came from a middle-class family in Yorkshire, gave her a disbelieving look. “Something frivolous? You?”

  “And not black.”

  “It best be for your undergarments, then, or Mrs. Campbell will have a fit.”

  “Yes, I know.” Even though Mrs. Campbell had called Leah a friend once Miss Pettigrew introduced them, she’d made it clear that she’d heard the rumors of Leah’s behavior and expected her to behave with all propriety as her companion. Though she’d been born of the lower class, Mrs. Campbell acted like the women of the aristocracy. She kept Leah at a distance and never engaged her in conversations beyond the subject of Minnie. They never spoke of their previous lives, their dead husbands, or of widowhood. If not for Christine, Leah would have been lonelier than she’d been when Ian was alive.

  “Perhaps a new handkerchief,” Leah said. She couldn’t afford a new chemise.

  Shutting the door behind her, she walked beside Christine as they went down the servants’ stairs. The only time she used the front portion of the house was in the company of Mrs. Campbell.

  “I mean to buy the scarf today,” Christine said as they walked through the kitchen.

  “The blue one with the lace edging you showed me last time?”

  Christine nodded and held the back door open for her. They walked along the side of the house, toward the public path at the front.

  Leah gave Christine a sly look. “There’s also the hat. I’m sure Robert would appreciate it when you go walking later.”

  Christine blushed at the mention of the first footman. “He’s only a friend. As I’ve told you before. A hundred times.”

  They began to walk along the street, away from the house. A carriage passed by. “And that’s why you’re blushing, of course.”

  Christine humphed and looked away pointedly. “If I blush, it’s only because you enjoy teasing me so.”

  They heard the coachman of the carriage call the horses to halt behind them. Leah glanced over her shoulder, though she couldn’t make out the crest on the side. “Overton again?” she asked.

  Christine shook her head. “No, Mrs. Thompson finished with him. Trahern, most likely.”

  Leah arched a brow and turned around. “Trahern? I thought she despised him.”

  “Maybe so, but he’s quite easy on the eye. And there’s no need to talk when they’re in bed.”

  “Christine Farrell. How deceitful that innocent appearance is.”

  Christine laughed quietly. “Hush, now. I’ve tried very hard to—”

  “Leah?” A man’s voice called her name. “Mrs. George?”

  A voice that had become as familiar as Ian’s once was. A voice that, in truth, she never thought to hear again. Leah paused midstep, her gaze pinned on the street ahead.

  Christine wasn’t as discreet. She looked behind again. “Leah,” she whispered. “It’s the man from the carriage. Not Trahern. He’s looking at you.”

  “Yes, I know,” she answered, uncertain whether she wanted to turn around. “Lord Wriothesly.”

  “You know him, then?”

  “He—he was friends with my husband.”

  “Oh. Well, he’s coming this way.”

  Leah swallowed. Indeed, she could hear his footsteps, so sure and steady, purposeful. Only she had no idea why he would seek her out, not after he’d said he would never acknowledge her again.

  “Good day,” he said.

  Christine swung around to face him, bending in a low curtsy. “My lord.”

  “And good day to you, Mrs. George. I’m not mistaken, am I? It is you?”

  Leah slowly turned toward him, lifting her chin and her pride along with it. She didn’t bother to curtsy. “What do you want?”

  Christine smothered a gasp.

  Leah didn’t know what she expected Sebastian to do; she wanted to make him angry, or see him put on a show of arrogance at the public slight. Anything to keep him from witnessing the vulnerability that had suddenly surfaced upon hearing his voice, the pleasure that nearly stole her breath at seeing him again.

  Oh, but how she wanted to drown in his gaze, to bury herself against him as his green eyes roved over her face. He was handsome, terribly so, taller than she remembered and very well-dressed. The fine fit of his gray trousers and jacket, the silken cloth of his navy waistcoat, all served to remind her of the present differences in their stations. He was still a lord, an earl, but she was no longer a lady.

  Leah glanced away. Surely he wouldn’t be able to see that she’d once been weak. That once she’d walked Minnie to the park across from his London town house and stood watching it for what seemed like hours. Knowing he wouldn’t be there, but wishing he was all the same.

  “Mrs. George.”

  She couldn’t help but look at him. She wanted him to treat her coldly, to give her a greater reason than the ones she’d created to dismiss him from her memory. But he had to be contrary. Instead of frowning or glaring at her, he smiled.

  “I’d like to speak to you for a moment.” With a courteous nod at Christine, he added, “Privately.”

  Leah crossed her arms. “You may speak now. But please make it short. We were headed for the shops.”

  He inclined his head, his mouth still curved at the ends. “As you wish.” Then he stepped forward, took one of her hands, looked into her eyes, and said, “Mrs. George, would you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Chapter 16

  Meet me on Thursday afternoon at 2 o’clock, near the watches.

  Leah jerked her hand out of his grip. “Christine, would you mind—”

  “Not at all. I will see you before Mrs. Campbell’s dinner.” The lady’s maid turned and began to walk in the direction of the shops by herself. Very slowly, Leah noticed. No doubt she hoped to eavesdrop.

  Leah stared up at Sebastian, searching his expression for some hint of what he was thinking. His green eyes returned her stare, undau
nted, humorless. He’d asked her to marry him, and he’d meant it. “I don’t understand. You want to marry me?”

  “Shall we take a walk in the park together?” he asked, gesturing across the street.

  Numbed and bewildered, she nodded her head and allowed him to escort her to the park, where they began walking along the path. “I don’t want to marry you,” she said, her voice low, her heart secretly pounding.

  “Yes, I’m not surprised,” he answered, sounding remarkably cheerful, as if her response didn’t deter him for a moment. “However, something has happened which necessitates my request.”

  She looked at him. He walked easily along the path, his frame relaxed, his eyes focused on the trees ahead. Only the firmness of his jaw betrayed any anxiety on his part. “Are you aware that, since your actions at the country house party, rumors have been circulating that you and I are having an affair?”

  Heat trailed into her cheeks as she remembered his kiss in the garden, and she turned her head away. “Yes.”

  “And are you also aware that, more recently, rumors of Ian and Angela’s affair have surfaced?”

  Leah stumbled, and Sebastian reached over, his grip warm on her upper arm as he steadied her. “No, my lord, I didn’t realize . . .”

  “I warned you, didn’t I?” he asked quietly, his hand slow to remove itself from her person.

  Leah lifted her chin. “There is a possibility the rumors would have begun regardless of anything I did.”

  “Yes, you’re correct. It is possible. But unlikely.”

  “If you please, my lord, I’m not in the mood to be scolded. Tell me why you asked to marry me so I can refuse and we may go our separate ways once again.”

  “I believe the best chance we have of silencing the rumors about Ian and Angela is to redirect the gossipmongers back in our direction. Allow them to believe that we are lovers, and confirm that belief by marrying. If all goes well, they will stop speculating about Ian and Angela and focus all of their attention on us, until eventually we will be rid of those rumors as well.”