by Cheryl Holt
“What do you think?” Miss Wallace inquired.
“They’re pretty and polite.”
“Yes, very pretty and very polite.”
“I don’t mean to sound rude,” Abigail said, “but who is in charge of them? Or are they on their own?”
“They’re mostly on their own, and I haven’t tried to fix the situation.”
Abigail had a hundred questions, but couldn’t figure out how to pose them. By her surname of Wallace, Faith Wallace was clearly a family member. What was her role as a Wallace? What was her role with regard to the twins? Why was Mr. Wallace never present? Didn’t anyone actually care about the two little girls?
“You’re frowning,” Miss Wallace said, “and you’re bubbling with questions you’re too courteous to ask.”
Abigail chuckled. “I wasn’t aware you were a mind reader.”
“You want to scold me over their condition.”
“Not scold precisely, but…ah…” Abigail couldn’t end her sentence because of course she wanted to scold Miss Wallace.
“It’s all right. I probably should be scolded. I scold myself once in awhile.”
To Abigail’s amazement, Miss Wallace retrieved a tiny bag from a pocket in her skirt. She withdrew some tobacco, rolled it into a cheroot, and lit the tip. It was the most shocking behavior Abigail had ever witnessed in a female.
“Have I astonished you?” Miss Wallace asked.
“Yes.”
“The more time you spend around me, the more you’ll realize I’m not the person to provide guidance or supervision to them. Nor will I accept responsibility for them. I refuse to make any of this easier for Alex. He’s a slacker, and he needs to treat them better. I won’t lift any of his burdens.”
“I see,” Abigail mumbled, but she really didn’t.
“I’ll share a quick story about all of us,” Miss Wallace said. “It will explain what occurred. Your Mrs. Ford didn’t supply any information?”
“No. Other than to confide that Mr. Wallace could be a tad imperious, she didn’t offer much information at all.”
“I can’t believe she doesn’t know. Most people do.”
“Doesn’t know what?”
“First of all, Alexander is my half-brother. My mother was a housemaid over at the manor. His father doted on her.”
“While he was married?” The words were out before she could curb her tongue. “Or was he a widower?”
“He was definitely married so the passing decades have been awkward. Alex’s mother still hasn’t gotten over it or forgiven the debauched pair. They’re both deceased—if it’s any consolation. You won’t be running into either of them in the halls.”
“Well…good.”
“And as to the twins…” Miss Wallace puffed on her cheroot, studying Abigail through the smoke. “After you learn the truth, promise me you won’t leave in a snit. Alex will skin me alive if I chase you off, but if I don’t tell you the servants eventually will. I suppose you ought to hear it from me.”
“It can’t be that bad,” Abigail insisted.
“It’s pretty bad, and you look awfully straight-laced. I’m betting it’s quite a bit more scandal than you’ve ever previously encountered.”
“I’ll try to bear up,” Abigail facetiously said. “What is the scandal? Mr. Wallace doesn’t seem to like his daughters very much—or to be overly concerned about their welfare. Does it have to do with them?”
“Yes.” Without preamble, Miss Wallace announced, “Alex is divorced.”
“Divorced!”
“Yes.”
In Abigail’s entire life, she’d never met a divorced person. It simply wasn’t allowed by the courts or the Church, and any fool determined to force such an ending was considered irredeemably disgraced. They were pariahs, shunned, ostracized, and not welcome in society.
But she’d stumbled into the middle of that very situation. Had Mrs. Ford known? She must have. Abigail wanted to wring her neck.
“How long ago did it happen?” she asked.
“It’s been eight or nine years ago now.”
“Is that why he doesn’t like his daughters? Is it because of his failed marriage?”
“It’s not that he doesn’t like them. He just can’t figure out what his obligation should be to them, and no one else can figure it out either.”
“To his own children?” Abigail scowled. “Meaning what? You’ve confused me.”
“They’re not his children. He was away in the army, and his wife had an affair.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, oh,” Miss Wallace murmured. “Legally, they’re his, but not physically or morally or actually.”
Abigail gnawed on her cheek. She didn’t like to think of herself as being judgmental, but she’d never imagined such dodgy events. The Wallace house was a veritable den of iniquity. How could a single family generate so much depravity?
Her mind was awhirl, with scenes of catastrophe playing out. Her reputation had to be above reproach, but if people discovered she’d worked for Mr. Wallace, how would she ever find a job in the future?
The imbroglio was too hideous to abide, and she was already pondering how she could sneak up to her room, retrieve her belongings, and head for the village without being noticed.
“Why doesn’t he send the girls to their mother?” she asked. “Is the woman still living? Why not give them to her?”
“In the beginning, she had custody of them—until they were six—but she has numerous problems so they were imperiled by her recklessness. He took them away from her.”
“My goodness.”
“If you stay, you’ll meet her someday. You’ll learn what she’s like.” Miss Wallace chuckled, but miserably. “You haven’t screamed in dismay and run off.”
“Not yet anyway.”
“I might still drive you away.”
“How?”
“I haven’t gotten to the worst part.”
“There’s more?”
“You never heard any rumors? I thought the whole kingdom knew about it.”
“What is the rest? I can’t bear to be in the dark.”
“Alex fought a duel with the rogue who seduced his wife.”
“A duel?” Abigail wanly said. The scandals were piling up so high she couldn’t see the top.
“It was some young idiot who was besotted with her.”
“Did Mr. Wallace murder him?”
“No. It was a fairly decent wound though. The stupid oaf fled the country immediately after, but Alex was arrested and jailed, and after his trial he was banished for five years.”
“Banished from where? From England?”
“Yes, and he had to pay a huge fine. He was forced out of the army too which was the hardest aspect of it for him. The Wallace men have always been soldiers, and he assumed he’d be a soldier too. He’s bitter.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
Miss Wallace took a last puff on her cheroot, then dropped it on the stones and crushed it under the heel of her shoe. “So there you have it, Miss Barrington. I’ve revealed all of my family’s skeletons.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Will you abandon those two girls and race off like a frightened rabbit?”
“I have to reflect on all of this.”
“It’s why the other governesses all left so quickly. Once they listened to the servants gossiping, they packed their bags. How about you? I’d like to think you have more fortitude than those other old cows.”
“Do the twins know about their parents?” Abigail asked. “Do they know Mr. Wallace isn’t their father?”
“Yes, they know.”
“How long has he been back in England?”
“Almost three years.”
They were silent for a bit, Miss Wallace watching her, and Abigail felt as if she was taking a test and would very likely fail it.
“I should speak to Mr. Wallace,�
�� she ultimately said.
“It won’t do any good. He never has any pertinent comments. Any discussion with him will simply leave you more aggravated.”
She thought of how abrupt Mr. Wallace was, how vain and domineering. She snorted with disgust. “You’re probably correct.”
“It’s two little girls, Miss Barrington. It’s two girls who need some time and attention from an adult who cares about them. Don’t blame them because the grownups in their life are all fools.”
“I wouldn’t ever blame them,” Abigail insisted.
Just then, Mary popped up in the door. “Are you ready, Miss Barrington? We’ve brought our books down.”
“Yes, I’ll be right in,” Abigail replied.
Miss Wallace leaned in and whispered like a challenge, “If you’re not going to stay, don’t start any lessons with them. Don’t make them like you. Don’t let them become attached to you.”
“I don’t know what I intend, Miss Wallace.”
“If you choose to remain—and I hope you will—we’ll be living in close quarters so I’d be delighted if you’d call me Faith. But if you’re about to slink off, let’s stick to Miss Wallace. I don’t want to become attached to you either.”
“I’d be honored to refer to you by your Christian name, but I’m overwhelmed by the information you’ve shared. Even though you think it’s a bad idea, I still believe I should talk to Mr. Wallace.”
“You can try to talk to him, but now that you’re in charge of the twins he won’t slither back over here. You’ll have to visit the manor, but hide from Camilla—if you can.”
“Who is Camilla?”
“His mistress.”
“His mistress! She resides there with him? Openly and in sin?”
“Of course. In light of his history, it’s not as if he could get a reputable woman to keep him company.”
“I suppose not,” Abigail muttered.
“You should avoid her at all costs. You’re too pretty, and she won’t like you.”
With that, Miss Wallace stood and walked off, rapidly heading out into the woods to a destination Abigail could only guess at.
“Miss Barrington,” Mary called, “are you coming?”
Abigail hesitated, brooding, debating, then she stood too. “Yes, I’m coming. Show me how smart you are. I can’t wait to see.”
* * * *
Alex threw down his cards. He didn’t usually gamble because he refused to lose money at such a frivolous pursuit, but he was bored and he couldn’t bestir himself to find other amusement.
Though it surprised him, he was exhausted by his trek to Wallace Cottage, by his meeting with Miss Barrington. He should have been galloping down a country lane or target shooting in the forest, but he was feeling out of sorts and he hated to be alone when he was.
Typically, he had a never-ending party in progress so his home was always filled with guests. Camilla had compiled the current group, and they all seemed silly and slow-witted.
They were more interested in reading the books in his library or eating in the dining room. He was a man of action himself, and slothful men annoyed him. Camilla knew his preferences, and he’d have asked her why she’d assembled such an insipid crowd, but she was in the music room where she was playing the harpsichord while various people sang duets. He had no desire to interrupt that bland scene.
Briefly, he toyed with the notion of returning to the cottage to speak with Miss Barrington. He was so curious about her. What absurd statements might she make? What illogical behaviors might he witness? Women were such capricious creatures, and she was too, but for some reason her ridiculousness didn’t bother him.
He glanced up as his best friend, Price Pendergast, blustered in. He’d given up hope that Camilla might have invited someone he liked.
As was his custom, Price proceeded directly to the sideboard to pour himself a whiskey. Alex pushed back his chair and went over to pour his own glass. He’d had plenty, but it was a party. Why be sober?
“I didn’t realize you were coming,” he said.
“I hadn’t planned on it, but I changed my mind at the last minute.”
“Let me guess. Your father summoned you home.”
“Yes.”
“So you’re hiding.”
“Yes.”
“If he truly wants to locate you, this is the first place he’ll look.”
“If he sends a footman, you can claim I’m not here, can’t you?”
Price was a viscount and his father an earl, but he was wild and reckless and drove his father to distraction. Alex and Price were the same age of thirty and had gone to school together as boys so Alex was totally aware that Price had no traits to recommend him for a future role in the aristocracy as a peer of the realm.
He was lazy and negligent and dissolute, but he was financially careless too. That was the main difference between them. Alex knew how to manage his money and was too smart to squander it. But Price lived on an allowance paid by his father and until the man passed away, Price was at his mercy.
Lately, the old goat had been demanding Price wed or be cut off, and he had dangled a Russian princess as a possible betrothed. Supposedly, the girl was obscenely rich so Price wasn’t necessarily opposed to marrying her, but he didn’t trust his father to select his bride. So he was hiding—out of spite mostly. He enjoyed aggravating his father more than anything.
“How long can you stay?” Alex asked.
“Forever?”
“I couldn’t stand you that long.”
“A month?”
“We’ll see how much you irritate me.”
They sipped their drinks and watched the card players. Most everyone was acquainted with Price so there were good-natured hellos and jesting.
After a bit, Price said, “You finally hired a governess.”
“How did you discover that?”
“When I arrived, she was walking up the lane to the manor. I was on horseback rather than my carriage or I’d have offered her a ride the rest of the way.”
Alex suffered the oddest wave of gladness. “Miss Barrington is here?”
“By now? Yes, probably.”
“Then you’ll have to excuse me.”
“Why?”
“I should find out what she wants. She only just started. I hope she’s not quitting already.”
Price scoffed. “Faith must have told her all your secrets.”
“She better not have. I’ve lost entirely too many servants due to her loose tongue. She tells tales like a bard.”
“Miss Barrington is very beautiful,” Price said like a taunt.
“I hadn’t noticed,” Alex lied.
“Camilla must not have picked her.”
“She didn’t.”
“Don’t forget you have your father’s blood flowing in your veins. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Sod off, Price.”
“Has Camilla met her?”
“Sod off!” he stated more firmly.
Price laughed. “I’ll take that as a no. Please let me be a mouse in the corner when they’re introduced.”
Alex exited without replying. He recognized that Camilla was possessive and self-centered, but he didn’t comprehend why people felt free to comment on his relationship with her.
He pursued their affair for many reasons, chief among them being her decadent habits in the bedchamber. A man could never discount the benefit of having such a debauched partner, but he wouldn’t defend his choice—especially to a roué like Price Pendergast.
Alex had latched onto Camilla in Italy after he’d been kicked out of England as punishment for the duel. She’d been his only friend—at a time when he’d had no friends. So yes, she could be difficult, and she occasionally tried his patience, but she understood which battles were worth fighting.
He’d hired Miss Barrington, and Camilla couldn’t change that decision. If she didn’t like that fact,
she could return to London and remain there. He didn’t care much about any issue, and she realized it. She could accept Miss Barrington or she could split with him and move to town. He was content with either ending.
He hurried to the front entrance with much more enthusiasm than he should have exhibited, but he couldn’t tamp it down. After his exile had concluded, he’d surrounded himself with doxies and libertines. It had been a very long while since a pretty, innocent young lady had been in residence. The very idea left him practically giddy.
As he entered the foyer, he glanced around, expecting to see her waiting for him, but the butler approached instead.
“Master Alex,” he said, “I was just coming to find you.”
“Is the new governess here?” he asked. “Lord Pendergast mentioned she was out on the lane.”
“Yes, she arrived, but she wouldn’t tarry.”
“Why not?”
“I believe she was concerned about interrupting your party.”
“Where is she?”
“I suggested she stroll in the garden. I told her I would send you out to her.”
“If she ever visits again, bring her to me immediately. It doesn’t matter to me if she’s a Puritan or a prude. I shouldn’t have to run across the property searching for her.”
The man had worked for Alex for several years, and he wasn’t very adept at concealing his opinions. It was obvious he deemed Miss Barrington too respectable to witness any of Alex’s revelry.
“I couldn’t have ordered her in, sir. She was quite adamant.”
“The snotty minx,” Alex fumed. “A stiff wind could blow her over. Next time, drag her in if you have to. Don’t let her boss you.”
He stomped out and skirted the house. It was a very large building which required a lengthy hike to reach the gate that led into the garden.
If he’d been inclined to enjoy the scenery, he’d have paused to stare at his estate. There were rolling hills off to one side, orchards and meadows on the other. The ocean was nestled in the distance beyond the trees. He’d nearly lost it all after the duel, and he never took a single blade of grass for granted.
But he wasn’t inclined to dawdle. He was desperate to speak to Miss Barrington, and if she thought she was about to resign he would lock Faith in a closet and never release her.