‘An express should get through, your grace,’ Adler said. ‘The main roads are being cleared as we speak. Might take longer than usual, but it will get there.’
‘Good. I will write it in just a moment. And to answer your question, Conroy, I can’t dismiss that possibility. I take it from what Vince has told me that you would like to negotiate with me and have your timber taken to the Indies on our steamships.’
‘That was my intention.’ He gave a droll smile. ‘I hear there is a demand for it in that part of the world, and Irish oak is of course superior to any other.’ Everyone smiled. ‘At least it was when I thought I was in a position to remove it economically from my land. It seems to me that steamships are the future, to say nothing of cutting down journey times dramatically, and Vince tells me you have tariffs on the lucrative triangular route.’
‘I am sure we can work something out,’ Zach replied.
Max had made little contribution to the conversation up to that point, Zach noticed. But now they were onto potentially legal disputes he sat forward.
‘I will speak with Lady Marlowe today. If she will tell me who deals with her husband’s affairs and give me permission to contact them, perhaps there is something I can do to help her overcome Yaris. If I can ascertain that he’s deliberately attempted to gull her then it will certainly help your situation, Conroy.’
‘Much obliged, I’m sure,’ Conroy replied, inclining his head.
Faraday entered the room. ‘Your pardon, your grace, but you asked to be informed when Mr Devonshire came down. He is currently breaking his fast, and the ladies asked for trays to be sent up a little while past.’
‘Thank you, Faraday.’
‘They don’t waste much time,’ Amos said in a disgruntled tone as he stood. ‘I had best go up to the nursery. I asked Mrs Brooke not to approach the children until I’d had an opportunity to prepare them but I don’t imagine she will hold back. I’m sure Ariana can handle her, but I should be there too.’
‘Yes go,’ Zach said. ‘We will talk again later. In the meantime, Conroy, Vince and I will discuss his oak.’
*
Ariana woke early, her repose disturbed by recollections of the kiss that she had almost shared with Lord Amos. Well, there was no almost about it. He had kissed her, albeit far too briefly to satisfy Ariana now that she had finally admitted to the full extent of her feelings for her handsome employer, if only to herself. Even so, she adjured herself not to read too much into what had been a spontaneous gesture on his part. She was convinced that it hadn’t meant nearly as much to him as it had to her. He wouldn’t have overstepped the mark at all, she strongly suspected, if she hadn’t invaded his private territory and if he hadn’t been so discomposed by Mrs Brooke’s arrival.
Be that as it may, it had happened and it was her fault. Her cheeks warmed with mortification. She had tried, really tried, to keep him at arm’s length and ignore the attraction that had grown stronger by the day. She sighed. What was done was done, she decided as she threw back the covers, shivering as she ran across the room and pulled the curtains open. She was confronted by a wonderland of white that glistened back at her as the remnants of the blizzard blew itself out. She had never seen anything quite like it. Icicles clung to the outside of her window and frost wove patterns across the glass in an intricate, lacy spider’s web.
She wanted to press her nose against the glass but it was too cold even to touch. She scampered back across the room and lost no time in washing and dressing in her warmest gown. She chose the most flattering of her wool dresses, sensing that she would soon be at loggerheads with the children’s grandmother, determined that they would not be upset by her sudden appearance. Lord Amos didn’t like or trust the woman, and that was sufficient reason for Ariana to protect the children from her.
As for Lord Amos, she decided as she pinned up her hair, she would treat him as though nothing had happened between them. She didn’t want him to think that she had any sort of expectations, because she really did not. She simply felt an overwhelming need to protect him every bit as tenaciously as she intended to protect his children.
Thus resolved, she took a final glance in the mirror, having taken much more care over her appearance than would normally be the case before going off to attend to her duties. She was satisfied with the image that stared back at her. She looked respectable and quietly determined. She was curious to meet the lady who had given birth to Lord Amos’s beloved wife; a wife who had died and left a gaping hole in his heart.
The normal organised chaos in the nursery gave her no opportunity to dwell upon her own problems, and she soon found herself involved in a dispute between the children. They had energy to spare and the boys were especially boisterous, begging to be allowed to go outside. That would be as good a way as any of keeping Josh away from his grandmother, Ariana decided, but the girls were not so keen to experience the cold fresh air and the snow, preferring to play at tea parties with their rag dolls. The last thing she wanted was for them to be separated, since she couldn’t be in two places at once. Charlotte was the oldest, but also the most vulnerable in some respects because she had clear recollections of her mother, didn’t really understand what had happened to her and missed her the most as a consequence.
‘I think we should wait until this afternoon,’ she told Leo, the undisputed ringleader of the mini rebellion. ‘The snow should have stopped all together by then and we could all build a snowman.’
Leo, a natural born negotiator, paused as if to consider presenting an alternative proposition.
‘Besides,’ Ariana added, before he could formulate his thoughts, ‘wouldn’t it be better to complete your sums this morning, then you won’t have to worry about doing them later?’
Leo pondered upon that suggestion, tilting his head in a gesture that reminded her of the duchess before eventually agreeing.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘That would be satisfactory.’
Ariana suppressed a smile, as she was so often obliged to, when adult responses peppered the boys’ conversation. Leo and Josh both spent time alone with their fathers every day, learning what would be expected of them when they went away to school and were required to stand up for themselves. Public schools, even preparatory ones—especially those—could be brutal places where the weak would be identified and mercilessly picked on throughout their schooldays. The thought of either boy being bullied, or becoming bullies themselves, was abhorrent to her. Not that she could imagine either extreme happening—especially not to Leo, who oozed self-assurance but was never vindictive. He and Josh were more likely to stand up for those being victimised, and she was proud to think that she had played a small part in shaping their consciences in that regard.
‘Do you remember your grandmother Brooke?’ Ariana asked Charlotte in a quiet aside when the boys had finally settled down to the arithmetic that had been set for them.
‘Not really.’ Charlotte was an outgoing child of almost eight years. Ariana was familiar with all her mannerisms and knew when a particular subject affected her, adversely or otherwise. The mention of her maternal grandmother produced a shrug of indifference. ‘We hardly ever see her. I think she must have forgotten about us.’
‘And that worries you?’
Charlotte lifted a thin shoulder again and looked away.
‘Your grandmother and aunt are here now,’ Ariana told her and Josh, who had abandoned his sums and joined them, curious to know what they were discussing.
‘What do they want?’ Josh posed the question in a combative tone.
‘I expect they’ve come to see you.’
Both children looked disinterested and didn’t say anything. Ariana, thinking it better not to labour the point, sent Josh back to his sums and asked Charlotte if she would like to practise reading aloud.
An hour later, she heard footsteps on the stairs and knew that the children’s relatives had arrived. Lord Amos’s tread was faster and heavier; it wasn’t him. She leaned over Josh
’s work, pointing out a single error in his otherwise perfect answers and then ruffled his hair; telling him she was proud of him. The sums she had set for him had been advanced for his age, but he had always shown an aptitude for figures and the conversation about his grandmother had clearly not hindered his concentration.
‘Be sure to tell your papa when you see him today that you got them all right bar one. He will be pleased.’
‘I will.’ Josh nodded. ‘He always asks me how my studies have gone.’
The door opened and Ariana slowly turned to look at the woman whom Lord Amos so disliked.
‘How very orderly.’ A lady in late middle age with a coiffure that was too young for her and too elaborate for the time of day stood in the doorway beaming, her arms outstretched. Charlotte and Josh looked at her and didn’t move. Miranda didn’t even look up from the game that she was playing with the duke’s daughter. ‘Come for a hug, my darlings.’
‘Pay your respects to your grandmamma and aunt,’ Ariana said gently.
‘And who might you be?’ Mrs Brooke asked when the children still didn’t move.
The younger woman, the aunt presumably, sent Ariana a cursory look, pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders, yawned and looked bored.
‘I am the children’s governess,’ Ariana replied. ‘Ariana Sanchez-Gomez.’
‘You foreign people have such complicated names.’ Mrs Brooke made it sound like an accusation.
‘They are not complicated in my country.’
‘My point precisely.’
‘Why has Lord Amos employed a foreign person to care for his children, Mama?’ the aunt asked, speaking as though Ariana wasn’t there. Josh and Charlotte, as though sensing Ariana’s struggle to contain her rising temper, instinctively drew closer to her. Charlotte slipped her hand into Ariana’s. A sign of her insecurity or a mature sign of support that belied her tender years? Ariana couldn’t be sure, but she gave the child’s fingers a reassuring squeeze. Josh placed a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder, supporting his sister for once, and puffed out his thin chest.
‘That is a question that you will have to ask his lordship,’ Ariana said, aware that her eyes must be flashing, as they tended to when she grew angry.
Mrs Brooke, presumably sensing that the children had no intention of going to her and that Ariana had even less intention of forcing them to do so, came over to them instead and crouched down. Her smile looked strained as she reached out to touch Charlotte’s hair. ‘My, how you have grown. You look so much like your poor mama.’
A tremor passed through Charlotte’s body and Ariana instinctively held her hand a little tighter. The woman, this parody of a grandmother, was either totally thick-skinned or impervious to the atmosphere and the children’s feelings.
‘How would you like to come to London, the three of you, and spend some time with your grandmother? We could have such a lovely time there.’
‘No thank you,’ Josh said, in a tone of clipped politeness.
‘I shall speak with your father about it,’ Mrs Brooke replied, ignoring Josh’s negative response. ‘I am sure he won’t make any difficulties.’
‘What will I not make difficulties about?’
‘Papa!’
The children looked up, and all three of them—including Miranda, who had taken no part in the exchange with Mrs Brooke—ran to him with cries of pleasure, Charlotte leading the charge. Ariana had been so furious with Mrs Brooke’s lack of tact that she hadn’t heard Lord Amos’s arrival, even though she had been listening out for it. She wondered if things would be awkward between them after the almost kiss and held her breath, waiting to see how he reacted. When he winked at her over the children’s heads, she released the breath she was unaware she’d been holding.
Everything would be all right.
*
Amos swung Miranda into his arms and tugged at one of Charlotte’s curls. Josh sent him a mildly curious look, clearly wondering who these people were who seemed intent upon stealing them away from everything that was familiar to them.
‘Do you remember your grandmother and Aunt Amelia?’ he asked them all.
Miranda shook her head and buried her face in Amos’s shoulder, while Charlotte’s expression turned mulish and Josh appeared largely unaffected. He was an easy-going child who took pretty much everything in stride and didn’t want for confidence.
‘Good morning, Grandmamma. Aunt Amelia,’ he said in a very polite, grown up manner that caused Amos’s heart to lurch. He wanted him to mature and be self-assured in all environments.
But not yet.
‘There, now we are all comfortable,’ Mrs Brooke said, smiling at Josh but attempting to take Charlotte’s hand, presumably realising that she was the one to be won over. Charlotte was having none of it and tucked her hands beneath her opposite elbows. Part of Amos knew that he ought to chastise her for her lack of manners. Then he reminded himself that his daughter was not to blame. Amos had warned Mrs Brooke not to come up here without his first having had the opportunity to prepare the children, to explain her arrival and remind them who she was. He had also suspected that she wouldn’t listen. Hence his timely arrival to effect damage limitation.
Amos said nothing, but glanced at Amelia. She seemed largely disinterested and was clearly here under sufferance. He recalled a very pretty, if empty-headed and vain young woman determined to take the ton by storm. The reality of a marriage that had failed to live up to her expectations had taken its toll. She wore a disappointed air like a shroud, and had neglected her appearance.
She caught Amos watching her and perked up immediately, attempting to take an interest in her nephew and nieces. The children clearly did not share that desire. Dear God, surely she didn’t have her sights set on him! But it was very likely, he conceded. The possibility should have occurred to him, but he had been so concerned about Mrs Brooke that he hadn’t imagined her perfect daughter, the one who unlike Crista had never felt the sharp side of her mother’s tongue, would be on the prowl for a wealthy lover.
Amos groaned inwardly. He was well aware that Mrs Brooke—and presumably Devonshire too—were in sore need of both the connection to Amos’s family to boast about and Amos’s generosity to bail them out of dun territory. They had the connection, there was no denying that much, but Mrs Brooke knew better than to flaunt it. He had caught wind of her boasting about her daughter being married to a duke’s brother in the hope of gaining access to the best salons not long after he and Crista tied the knot. Correspondence had been exchanged, warnings given and heeded.
But it seemed that time or desperation had affected Mrs Brooke’s memory. Why she imagined Amos would be persuaded to generosity now was a mystery to him. If Crista was still alive and had pleaded her mother’s case, it would have been a different matter entirely. Amos would have done absolutely anything to please his wife. His dislike of her mother stemmed mostly from her neglect of Crista at a time when she had been most in need of her love and support. Were it not for Mrs Brooke’s greed and vaunting ambition, Brooke would not have been exploited by the scoundrels who had been responsible for his death. Crista would still have had her father, but Amos might not then have met Crista. If he could turn back time, would he prefer never to have known the deep, abiding love that he and Crista had shared if it meant she would still be alive now?
He didn’t know, but he suspected that Crista, from some of the reassurances she had tried to offer him in her final days, would have settled for eight years of marriage to him, even if she had known in advance that her life would be cut short. If the situation had been reversed, Amos would have made the same choice without a second thought.
‘Well, my dears,’ Mrs Brooke said in the condescending tone that adults unfamiliar with speaking to children tend to employ. ‘I expect this is all very new for you, seeing your dear Mama’s relatives again, but we shall be comfortable with one another soon enough.’
‘That’s unlikely,’ Amos said crisply. ‘The roads wi
ll be passable again by tomorrow.’
‘Well then, that gives us a whole day.’ Mrs Brooke’s smile showed early signs of strain, stretching the skin around her mouth taut but emphasising the wrinkles around her eyes. ‘What would you like to do, children?’
‘Back to your sums,’ Amos told Josh, who turned obediently to resume the routine that was so familiar to him. ‘Thank you, Ariana,’ he added, sending her a smile that was filled with warmth.
She returned his smile and took Miranda from his outstretched arms, Charlotte still clinging to her side.
‘Come along, Mrs Brooke. Let’s not disturb their routine.’
‘I am sorry if you look upon me as a disturbance,’ she said when they reached the ground floor and Amos led the way into the drawing room, aware that Frankie wouldn’t be in occupation of it at that time of the day. ‘I am not here to make difficulties.’
The door opened and Devonshire strolled into the room as though he owned it, stifling a yawn behind his hand.
‘Morning, Sheridan,’ he said. ‘Still snowing, I see.’
‘Hardly, and the roads will be clear by the morning.’
‘Did you see the little wretches?’ he asked, addressing the comment to his wife.
‘Briefly,’ Amelia replied, her face lighting up at the sight of her husband, who showed little returning interest. ‘They didn’t know who we were.’
Amos sighed. ‘I asked you not to go up to the nursery without me,’ he said, ‘but it seems you were unwilling to comply with that reasonable request, so you only have yourself to blame for their lack of recognition. They have been through a lot of upheaval since Crista’s death and they value their routine. Any disruption to it makes them anxious.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Mrs Brooke said, sending him what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic look. ‘It’s just that I was so keen…I have not seen my grandchildren for so long.’ She paused when Amos failed to make the response she clearly hoped for. ‘You cannot surely blame me for being a little precipitous. And if you do not mind my saying so, is it wise to have a foreign person charged with their care?’
On the Duke's Authority (Ducal Encounters series 4 Book 3) Page 10