Lord Atherton's Ward

by Fenella Miller

  ‘Berate you? Why in the world should I wish to do so, I wonder?’ His voice was as dark as his complexion, but she thought she detected a flicker of an amusement in his eyes. Ignoring his opening gambit she busied herself finding a suitable chair and settling on it. This gave her valuable time to regain her composure.

  Raising her head she found, to her consternation, he was sitting astride a chair no more than an arm’s length from her, his head resting on his folded arms. So close she could smell an intriguing mix of leather and lemons. She felt herself colouring under his scrutiny and shifted uncomfortably on her seat. This would not do. She had not come down stairs to be treated like a naughty schoolgirl. She was a woman grown and he had no right… her thoughts faltered.

  ‘Well, Miss Ellison, where shall I begin?’

  Sarah presumed this was a rhetorical question so didn’t answer. She saw his eyes narrow in annoyance and knew she had made another blunder. ‘I think that I should begin, my lord, by apologising…’ Her words dried in her throat. Why was he staring at her in that particular way?

  ‘Yes? Pray, do continue. For what of the many misdemeanours you have committed, are you actually apologising?’

  He was toying with her, deliberately goading her and she didn’t like it one bit. She felt her temper rising and tried to push it down. Now was not the time for argument, but for reconciliation. She swallowed twice. ‘I wish to apologise for choosing to come to London and live in my own house, suitably chaperoned, and visit museums and listen to lectures rather than go and live with your family in Chelmsford.’

  This was not what she had intended to say, the words come out of their own volition and she saw his hands clench. He was no longer relaxed but tense. This was going to be a disaster, what could she do to smooth him down? Aunt Isabelle always said it helped to defuse an awkward situation if you change the subject.

  ‘My lord, should I pour you another cup of coffee, I believe you spilt….’

  His hands shot out he grasped her upper arms in a vice-like grip. For moment things hung in the balance, she thanked God that he had chosen to sit backwards on the chair. If he had been free to move she truly believed he would have lifted her from her seat and then…. what he would have done she had no idea. In all her life no one had ever offered her anything but affection and even when she had misbehaved she was never punished. As long as she apologised prettily the matter was immediately forgotten.

  ‘Release me this instant. You are hurting my arms.’ He opened his fingers and she scrambled to her feet. He moved the chair to one side and towered above her. Whatever she had been going to say she forgot. He was so large and so incredibly angry. She raised her hand and placed it on his chest intending to push him away.

  Her fingers were red hot; she felt as if she had placed her hand in the fire. She tried to snatch it back but too late, his hand was over hers, holding it clamped hard against his body.

  * * * *

  Perry heard light footsteps approaching the door and turned to face it waiting for the knock. When nothing happened after a minute or two he decided he must have been mistaken and relaxed again, picking up his discarded coffee cup and saucer.

  The door slammed open and his arm jerked sending coffee down on to his new britches. His glance flicked up and saw a look of such horror on the face of Miss Ellison that he swallowed his pithy retort. With admirable aplomb, he thought, he replaced his cup and saucer and bowed formally. His iron self-control was rewarded by an elegant curtsy which gave him ample time to admire his eldest ward.

  She indicated a chair and suggested they be seated if he was intending to berate her. He could see she was quivering like a leaf and he admired her courage. This was going to be an interesting encounter. Whilst she fussed about he selected a plain wooden chair and swung it round to straddle it. Folding his arms he rested his chin on his hands and waited.

  Her shock at finding him so close was evident by the way her cheeks suffused with pink. He was beginning to enjoy himself. He made his first verbal attack and waited for her reply. When none was forthcoming he felt a flash of anger and was surprised that she’d read his mood so easily. He saw her gather her wits and he was ready with his response.

  Nothing less than a grovelling apology and a promise to follow his instructions to the letter in future would satisfy him. Instead he got a clever riposte that left him feeling foolish. This would end now. No school room miss was going to treat him so cavalierly and leave the encounter unscathed. When she mentioned the coffee his control snapped, forgetting he was trapped by the back of his chair, took hold of her arms intending to pull her to her feet and shake some respect into her.

  ‘Release me this instant. You are hurting my arms.’

  Disgusted by his brutality he dropped his hands, kicking the chair aside. The girl was pale and he could see the glint of tears in her eyes. He felt ashamed. Then she raised her hand and placed it on his chest. He could feel the weight of her palm through his waistcoat and something extraordinary happened.

  It was as if lightning flickered between them. Before she could remove her hand he trapped in it against his heart. He inhaled her sweet scent, brushed his mouth across her shining hair and then sanity returned. Devil take it! What was he thinking of? He was behaving like a greenhorn, not a man of maturity and common sense. Gently he released her and stepped away.

  ‘Miss Ellison, it is I who must humbly beg your pardon. I have behaved like a brute. I have no excuse and can only offer my apologies once more.’

  ‘My lord, let us be done with these apologies. This has been a disastrous beginning. I shall go out and when I return we must pretend it is the first time we have met and put this behind us.’

  Her pulse was still erratic, her fingers tingled where they had been in contact with his waistcoat, she was surprised her voice had emerged at all. She didn’t dare raise her head and meet his gaze.

  ‘Miss Ellison, I am yours to command.’

  At this total fabrication her head shot up to meet his eyes. He was staring earnestly down at her, his hands clasped theatrically at his heart, his eyes brimming with laughter.

  Suddenly enjoying the badinage, she nodded like a school mistress. ‘In that case, sir, I demand that you order some fresh coffee and plum cake. I shall return presently.’

  She tossed her head and stalked out and could hear him chuckling behind her. She continued her march to the window seat at the end of the passageway and then collapsed, not sure if she was exhilarated or terrified by Lord Atherton.

  It took her several minutes to regain her equilibrium. When her breathing returned to normal she decided it was time to return to the drawing-room. Standing up she shook out her gown, checked her hair had not come out of its elaborate arrangement and was ready.

  This time the door was open and she glided in, her lips smiling, but her fingers clenched in the folds of her skirt. The room was empty. There was a fresh tray of coffee on the octagonal side table and several slices of Cook’s delicious cake, but Lord Atherton was absent.

  Mystified and strangely disappointed, she resumed her place by the table and poured herself a cup. She was munching happily when he strolled back in. Drat the man! She could hardly spit out her mouth full in order to greet him civilly so was obliged to continue chewing.

  He grinned at her discomfiture. ‘That cake sounds delicious. Shall I pour myself some coffee?’

  She nodded, wanting to spit the contents of her mouth on to his immaculate unmentionables. She knew now where he’d been to remove the coffee stain. She swallowed and was finally free to speak. ‘Please allow me to serve you, my lord. This is my home after all.’

  ‘A hit direct, my dear. However, I thought we were no longer at daggers drawn but here to converse in a calm and sociable fashion?’

  ‘Indeed we are, sir. May I say how delighted I am to make your acquaintance?’

  His lips twitched. ‘You may say it, but we both know to be untrue.’

  It was her turn to slop her coff
ee. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do. I shall have to change before…. ‘ Her voice faltered as she saw his eyebrows raise quizzically. What could have possessed her to mention something so indelicate as removing her gown? Mortified she couldn’t bring herself to look at him again.She felt a movement and the cup was taken from her shaking hand and she heard it being returned to the tray.

  ‘Look at me, my dear, I should not tease you. I wish to be your friend and I am making a mull of it.’

  The gentleness in his voice reassured her and she raised her head. It was as if a different gentleman sat before her. This man was no longer formidable, he was smiling and relaxed, his eyes kind. She felt an unfamiliar skip of her pulse and closed her eyes believing she was unwell.

  ‘Come, Miss Ellison, surely I am not such an ogre that you cannot bear to rest your eyes on me?’

  ‘No, I am feeling a little poorly. My sister has gone to bed with a sick headache, I am afraid that we both suffer in this way.’

  Instantly he was beside her, his face concerned. ‘It is my fault. We shall postpone this conversation until you are recovered.’ He strode to the bell strap and yanked it hard. ‘You must return to your apartment. Send word to me at this address when you are ready to receive me.’ He removed a card from his inside pocket and placed it beside her.

  Sarah didn’t wish to tell him she was fully recovered and was quite well enough to continue their conversation. Her supposed indisposition had given her back her independence; he was leaving it to her to decide when she wished to see him again. That suited her perfectly. Closing her eyes she sighed loudly.

  She heard him talking quietly to whoever had answered his summons and then she was alone. She didn’t need to check, for some reason she’d known instinctively when he left her. She felt the all-too-familiar throb behind her right eye. It served her right; dissembling was not something she was used to doing.

  Her abigail, Mary, bustled in. ‘Miss Ellison, have you got the headache as well?’

  ‘I’m afraid I have. You know how too much excitement often has this effect on me. Jane and I shall suffer together.’

  Fortunately Sarah was comfortable in bed before her megrim started in earnest. As she tossed and turned, she kept hearing his voice in her head and the fingers that had been in contact with his person tingled in a most disconcerting way. Her last thought as she fell asleep, aided by the soothing draught Mary had brought for her, was of a tall, dark man with grey eyes that could see into her very soul.

  * * * *

  Perry reclaimed his outer garments and strode out. As he stood at the head of the steps he realised he had neglected to send word to his groomto bring the carriage round. His wits were wandering and he knew the reason. After all these years he had finally met the woman he wished to marry. He felt young again, invigorated at the thought of courting the lively young woman who had apparently stolen his heart.

  He strolled round to the yard and hailed his groom who was frantically harnessing his matched bays. The man’s face paled and Perry realised he was expecting to be roared at for keeping his master waiting.

  ‘Miller, I apologise for not giving you due warning. Here, man, let me assist you, we’ll get them tacked up quicker together.’

  He couldn’t fail to see the astonishment on his groom’s face. Was he such an exacting employer? He smiled and this time Miller stopped dead to stare at him in disbelief. When he took the reins of his phaeton he was still grinning. Love obviously did extraordinary things to a man.

  He hoped that the adorable Miss Ellison did not take too long to contact him. Waiting for his summons is going to be like waiting in Purgatory.

  Chapter Four

  It was three days before Sarah had fully recovered from her megrim. As usual she requested that her staff bring up hot water so she could have a bath in front of the fire in the bed chamber she shared with Jane.

  As she relaxed in rose scented water she began to feel more herself. Her hair was secured on top of her head, she still didn’t feel sufficiently recovered to wash her hair. The screens arranged around the tub were keeping out the drafts and giving her the privacy she required. She heard the door open and assuming it was Jane called out.

  ‘I shall be down directly, I’m feeling much more the thing this morning.’

  ‘Shall I sit with you? Aunt Isabelle is anxious to talk to you about your meeting with Lord Atherton. It would seem he left the stables in excellent humour.’

  Sarah pushed herself upright eager to tell her sister she believed she had come out the winner in their first battle, but deciding she would leave her news until she could share it with her aunt as well.

  ‘Shall we rearrange our visit to see the menagerie for tomorrow? Perhaps Aunt Isabelle might accompany us this time.’

  Jane stood, staring down at her, strangely preoccupied, her brow creased. ‘Yes, that would be very acceptable. Excuse me, Sarah, I have forgotten an errand I must run. I shall return immediately.’

  Sarah heard her sister hurrying across the bedroom and then the door slammed shut. Whatever had upset her? Never mind, no doubt she would hear all about it later on. The water was becoming cool when she eventually stepped out into the warmed towels that Mary held out.

  ‘Have you put out my favourite morning gown? The one with rose pink ribbons threaded around the hem?’

  Her abigail nodded. ‘I have, and the matching slippers. I’ve also found your cashmere shawl, you need to keep yourself warm. You’ve been right poorly these past three days.’

  ‘Thankfully, I am quite well now, Mary.’

  She felt sure that the reason Jane was still closeted with her aunt must be her mysterious errand. Seeing Foster as she reached the entrance hall she stopped.

  ‘Could you have hot chocolate, and whatever Cook has baked this morning, sent to the small drawing-room for me, Foster?’

  ‘It has already been arranged, Miss Ellison. Lady Isabel requested refreshments ten minutes ago.’

  Good, they were obviously expecting her. She swayed, her coordination was still a little amiss, which was often the case after a bad attack. She steadied herself against the wall before pushing open the door. The conversation stopped abruptly on her appearance; two heads, one grey one brown turned to stare. What was all this about?

  Aunt Isabelle patted the seat next to her on the long silk covered sofa. ‘Come and sit down with me, my dear. We have much to talk about. I’m afraid I have completely revised my opinion about Atherton. In future I intend to support you totally in your wish to distance yourself from the man.’

  ‘Good heavens, Aunt Isabelle, a few days ago you were most insistent that we fell in with his plans; indeed, you told me so more than once before I was unwell.’

  ‘Things have changed, as well you know.’

  Sarah was at a loss . Things were different, but better not worse. ‘What has made you change your mind about Lord Atherton?’

  Jane interrupted, her voice shrill with indignation. ‘I saw the bruises on your arms, Sarah. They were made by him. The imprint of his fingers was clear.’

  Sarah had all but forgotten about the unpleasant start to her meeting. The interlude that followed, the excitement she had experienced at their exchange was what she remembered. Indeed, she knew she’d never been so invigorated in her life. She cordially disliked the man, that had not changed, but she was eagerly anticipating being able to pit her wits against him. He was a worthy adversary.

  ‘My dear, why don’t you tell us what had transpired between you? I would have had the brute thrown from the premises neck and crop, if I had been aware that he had assaulted you. I can assure you he will not be allowed in again.’

  ‘Aunt Isabelle, I think you’re making too much of this. Admittedly he should not have caused the bruising but we parted the best of friends. He is waiting for me to contact him. I had intended to do so this afternoon.’

  ‘You shall do no such thing, my dear. I am sending a note around to demand that he call here tomorrow morning.
It would be better if both of you are out when he comes. I intend to tell him in no uncertain terms what I think of a gentleman who behaves as he did.’

  Sarah swallowed nervously. However much in the wrong he was she didn’t think he would take kindly to being reprimanded by her aunt. She believed that, as her legal guardian, he had the same rights as a parent. ‘Surely, aunt Agatha, however much we may deplore the rough handling I received, he did apologise most humbly. And he has the law on his side, has he not?’

  Aunt Agatha snorted. ‘Are you suggesting that because the law says a husband may beat his wife, or a parent his child, that this is acceptable behaviour among civilised people?’

  Sarah flushed. ‘Of course I am not, Aunt Agatha. I’m just saying that it might be well to forget about it. I’m sure it will not happen again.’

  ‘No, indeed it shall not. For that man shall not have access to either of you whilst there is a breath in my body.’

  Nothing would persuade her aunt that Lord Atherton should be given a second chance. As far she was concerned, he was a heartless bully and for the first time in her life Sarah was obliged to follow another’s lead. She was tempted to write Atherton a note explaining that she had said nothing about the incident, but decided this would only confuse matters even more.

  It was with some trepidation that she returned with Jane mid-afternoon the following day from their jaunt to the Tower of London. Foster met them with a sober expression.

  ‘Lady Isabelle requires your company in the small drawing-room as soon as is convenient, Miss Ellison.’

  ‘Very well. Inform Lady Isabelle we shall be with her directly we have removed our outer garments.’

  Once in the privacy of their bedchamber Sarah expressed her disquiet. ‘Lord Atherton has every right to order us, he has control of the estates, and could stop our funds if he so wished. You must understand, Jane, he is not to my taste, but I am pragmatic. You did not see him when he was in a rage. He will not be thwarted and it will be the worse for us if we continue to rub him the wrong way.’