Beguiling the Baron

by Keysian, Elizabeth

  “I’m not known for my jokes, Galatea.” He rolled her name around on his tongue as if tasting it and finding it sweet. His eyes held hers and the air between them crackled like summer lightning.

  Tia’s mind went blank. Damn the man for undermining her certainties and prejudice. He was a bad-tempered boor. She hated him, and the last thing she needed was to fall under his spell. She shook his hand away.

  “No sir, it would be most improper. What do I know of styling a gentleman’s hair? I’d make you into a scarecrow or a . . . a Frankenstein monster and you wouldn’t thank me for it. I must go now and check on Polly. Will you come back with me and apologize?”

  He edged away and opened the door for her. His voice sounded hollow as he replied, “You’re quite right. I’ll order Polly a new doll and some fabric to sew clothes for it. Will that make her happy?”

  Tia paused on the threshold and gave him a helpless look. Did he genuinely not know what Polly needed? Could he not even make a pretense at affection for his daughter? Even the briefest of hugs from her papa would do wonders for the girl, as would a ride on those broad shoulders.

  Or even just a smile.

  “Lord Ansford,” she returned stiffly, “a doll would distract her, but it’s a cowardly solution. Come and talk to her, calm her, soothe her. Be a father to her, sir. It’s all I ask.”

  With that, she hurried away from him and clattered down the stairs into the cloisters. Choosing the archway as the quickest path to freedom and the air she so much needed, she headed into the sunshine and reveled in its warmth while she willed her heart to a more comfortable beat.

  Her eye was drawn to the folly in the distance, the tall, dark edifice that embodied Lord Ansford’s stubbornness and his pride.

  She lifted her chin. One day she would breach its walls and discover its secrets, at which point she would finally have power over its owner.

  Enough to begin the process of exorcising the spirit that haunted him.

  Chapter 13

  Sir Kennet Douglas bent over Tia’s hand before ushering her into his spacious drawing room, the behavior of a true gentleman.

  So, this is what it’s like to be treated like a lady.

  Tia tried to remember the last time she and Mama had been welcomed with such polite cordiality. For certain, not since before Papa’s death.

  She felt like a princess in her new evening gown of cream silk, a finer garment than anything she’d ever had before, thanks to Lord Ansford’s generosity. She’d even borrowed a set of the late baroness’s pearls, also a sign of his beneficence.

  Perhaps it was his way of apologizing for embarrassing his new relations by not accompanying them to this dinner party. He hadn’t given them a valid excuse to offer Sir Kennet and Lady Douglas, so Tia had to fabricate a tale about his fears he, like his steward, might have the quinsy.

  How often was she going to have to lie, to cover Ansford’s selfish thoughtlessness?

  Further introductions were made to Mr. Peel and his wife, and next to Mr. Brooks and his good lady. These gentlemen, as Tia was to discover, were the Members of Parliament for Chippenham and she soon found herself conversing with the former about Lord Ansford.

  She should have expected it since gossip loved a recluse. Especially one who might have contributed to his wife’s death.

  Mr. Brooks, however, was fastidious in his efforts not to mention any slanderous tittle-tattle. “He was a bit of a radical in his day. A young hothead, even. He made a fair few enemies when he opposed the Corn Laws, enemies amongst his own kind.”

  “Well, I think it good he championed the poor,” Mrs. Brooks interjected from her side of the dining table. “If that mob had carried out their threats to attack Parliament, he would have been one of the few politicians to be spared.”

  A younger gentleman, by the name of Mr. Londis, claimed to have been in the capital during the riots and proceeded to tell some hair-raising stories about what he’d seen, until silenced by the arrival of dessert.

  The subject of Ansford was broached again later when the company was seated in the music room. Mr. Brooks, who seemed to have taken Tia under his wing, commented, “Ansford was halfway to being hailed as a popular hero. Had he not crumbled when his wife died, who knows what he might have become?”

  Tia pondered the question. The Ansford she knew had nothing of the savior about him. “I don’t think being a hero of the populace is a good way to progress a political career, is it? Not after what happened in France last century.”

  “I agree.” This from Mr. Londis, who had taken up position beside the sofa while Lady Douglas settled herself at the pianoforte. “Almost anyone who appears to support the poor folk is liable to be called a Jacobin. And if you have anything to say to the distress caused in manufacturing towns by the introduction of new machinery, you are labeled a Luddite. It doesn’t do to champion the lesser man.”

  But someone had to. Was that why Ansford had rescued herself and Mama from the poorhouse? Because he understood the suffering to be found there? Perhaps he was still capable of being altruistic about matters of great importance but could no longer bring himself to care about small issues closer to home.

  Mama gave a light laugh. “Listen to us, joining in a discussion on political opinions. That I even consider myself entitled to have an opinion is due to Lord Ansford. So many different newspapers and journals are delivered to his door. I declare I’d have no idea at all what a Jacobin or a Luddite might be, had I not read the papers when he was finished with them.”

  Another good point in our benefactor’s favor, I suppose. The man is well-read.

  Mr. Londis leaned down and coughed politely. “Now, we don’t want to bore you ladies with our conversation, do we, Brooks? The time for entertainment has come upon us. Do you play, Miss Wyndham?”

  Yes, she had once played, a little. But the pianoforte at Foxleaze was out of bounds. “I fear my skills are rather rusty, sir,” she replied, with what she hoped was a gracious expression.

  “Oh, no one’s a critic here. Lady Douglas plays quite abominably,” he whispered, “and no one minds at all. Surely, you must play something. Allow me to bring you a sheaf of tunes once her ladyship has finished her piece.”

  As everyone fell silent to listen to Lady Douglas’s genuinely awful but enthusiastic performance, Tia’s thoughts strayed again to Ansford. He seemed well thought of here, so whence came the vicious rumors about his wife’s death? His political opponents? Perhaps wealthy landowners who didn’t much care for his opposition to the Corn Laws? Rich industrialists, who objected to his comments about the riots? Or, more likely, the wives of such men?

  The idea of Ansford being a political firebrand fascinated her. She could well believe it, as she’d seen passion burst out from behind his cold, indifferent exterior. But the passion had only taken the form of anger so far. What would it be like if transmuted into something more positive?

  Love, for instance.

  She opened her fan and wafted it rapidly in front of her burning face. From where had that thought come?

  Aware of Mr. Londis’s eyes on her, she glanced up. With a charming smile, he asked, sotto voce, “Might I have one of the windows opened for you?”

  She returned his smile but shook her head. As she composed herself to listen politely to the music, she couldn’t help but think Mr. Londis, or his friend, the shy Mr. Leigh, were exactly the sort of gentlemen with whom she should be spending more time. These were the sort of men she should be pursuing with a view to marriage.

  Her perplexing protector must be excised from her mind. She was here to enjoy herself. Ansford, that dismal scourge of everything enjoyable, could just sink into his mire of melancholy, for all she cared.

  So long as he didn’t suck his daughter down with him.

  Chapter 14

  After t
he excitements of the previous day, Tia was late down to breakfast, but despite being tired, she was in an ebullient mood.

  So was Mama. “What a pleasant evening. I can’t remember the last time we enjoyed such good company and excellent food. I don’t mean to decry Ansford’s hospitality of course—his table is of the finest, but I find his company somewhat . . . lowering.”

  Tia nodded her agreement. When Ansford entered a room, his presence made the air hang heavy, and it became hard to breathe. But he was improving.

  Slightly.

  By giving her a piece of his mind the other day, he’d also given her a window into his soul. And he’d made a halting apology to Mama for exploding at them in the morning room. He was a long way from being reformed, however.

  “Sir Kennet Douglas is quite charming, is he not?” Mama continued.

  “A true gentleman, although he couldn’t hide his disappointment at Ansford’s absence.” Tia helped herself to another muffin. “I have to say, I’m glad Ansford didn’t come. He’d have cast a dark shadow across everything.”

  Mama tutted and waved her napkin. “Hush, you never know where he might be lurking. You wouldn’t want him to overhear that kind of remark.”

  Actually, I would. It might do him good.

  Before she could respond, a scrabbling noise erupted from the floor. Mama pushed her chair back in alarm and Tia peered beneath the table, in time to see a short furry tail disappear behind her mother’s skirts.

  “Oh.” She sat upright again. “It’s Polly’s kitten. Not a rat, at least.”

  “A kitten at the breakfast table? How shocking. Wherever has that come from?”

  “Don’t worry. You remember last week when Ansford shouted at us and upset Polly?”

  Mama nodded.

  “While I remonstrated with the baron, you took Polly to the barn to see the farm cat’s litter to cheer her up. Well, the sly little vixen must have put a kitten in her pocket when your back was turned. I discovered it later in the schoolroom trying to put its paw in the inkwell, but I hadn’t the heart to punish Polly. She needs something to love, and if her papa won’t allow her to love him—”

  “Good morning Mrs. Wyndham, Miss Wyndham.”

  Tia’s teacup shook in her hand, her body heavy as lead. Had Ansford overheard her?

  She self-consciously muttered a reply and tried not to stare as he took a place at the table. Aldergate appeared immediately to take his order of spiced ham, coddled eggs with field mushrooms, and his ‘special tea.’ A copy of The Morning Post appeared as if by magic at Ansford’s elbow, along with a small Wedgwood teapot. He peered inside, gave the tea a swirl, and set it down again.

  His unexpected presence at the breakfast table killed all conversation. Tia struggled to continue with her breakfast and behave as if nothing truly momentous had occurred.

  Ansford, joining them for breakfast? Being sociable?

  Unheard of.

  “How was dinner at the Douglas mansion?” he inquired.

  Mama shot Tia an astonished glance. “Why, it was most pleasant. We were warmly welcomed and introduced to several people, including Mr. Peel, Mr. Brooks and his wife, and Mr. Leigh. Lady Douglas entertained us on the pianoforte. We had a delicious white soup, didn’t we, Tia? And the pork was superlative.”

  Mama coughed and looked self-conscious. Tia understood how hard it was to talk to Ansford when he offered no response.

  His meal was served to him. He nodded his thanks, then turned his startling blue gaze on Tia. She swallowed hard and lowered her eyes.

  “Miss Wyndham, I trust you enjoyed yourself as well?”

  “I did, my lord. Thank you.” She wanted to add, so would you have, if you could have bestirred yourself to come, but she knew exactly how he’d react.

  She waited for him to pick up his newspaper and retreat behind it as usual. He didn’t. “And what did you think of the members of Parliament for Chippenham, Peel and Brooks? Were they pleasant gentlemen?”

  He was asking her opinion? “Very committed to their posts, I would say.” Was he genuinely interested? “And yes, pleasant enough.”

  “And what sort of age would you estimate them to be?”

  Great heaven, he did know how to hold a conversation, after all. But why had he chosen today of all days? And why all the questions about the gentlemen? He wasn’t . . . he couldn’t possibly be jealous, could he?

  Hesitantly she replied, “Rather younger than yourself, sir. I think they have only recently begun to realize their ambitions. Mr. Leigh and Mr. Londis were also most knowledgeable and pleasant.”

  “Hmm.”

  Tia shot another glance at Mama and was amused to see her eyebrows disappear up into her flounced cap. She was clearly equally astonished by the change in Ansford.

  The baron regarded the contents of his teapot again before he picked up the strainer and poured out a pale yellow-green liquid. Tia watched the progress of the cup to his mouth and saw a flicker of distaste as he swallowed the contents down.

  “What kind of tea are you drinking, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  When Ansford’s eyes met hers, her stomach tightened.

  “St. John’s Wort,” he replied softly. “Someone recommended it to me.” He raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, challenging her, and she had to resist the urge to fan herself rapidly with her napkin.

  Odious man. She would never be comfortable in his presence, never. Very well, if he wished to make her feel awkward, she would do the same to him.

  She tangled a curl of hair around her finger. “Sir, I was thinking it would be good for Polly to have some diversion. I understand there is to be a fair at Chippenham at the end of July and I would like to take her.”

  Ansford’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. He lowered it slowly and placed it deliberately back on his plate. “A fair? Certainly not.”

  “But it would be a good incentive to her to study. It’s impressive how hard a child will work if promised a treat at the end of it.”

  “Doubtless you understand more of children than I do, having taught them in the poorhouse,” was the lackluster response, “but I must remind you we’re a family in mourning.”

  “I know. But I thought perhaps—”

  “You’re mistaken. It’s a pity, for I hoped we had come to an understanding after our, um, discussion the other day.”

  Tia was aware of her mother sitting up straighter, fascinated by this exchange. She’d told Mama nothing of her altercation with Ansford, not wanting her to know how close she’d come to making an enemy of their benefactor.

  She lowered her voice and averted her eyes. “We have, sir. But would you at least give the idea your consideration? The event is nearly a month away.”

  “Good God, what’s digging needles into my leg?” Ansford jumped up in alarm as a small, dark object propelled itself from his lap to the ham on his plate. With impressive speed, he seized the silver cover from the sideboard and clamped it down on top of Polly’s kitten, which mewed its resentment.

  “What,” he inquired in icy tones, “is this?”

  Seeing his furious face but also aware of the sounds of feline eating coming from beneath the cover, hysteria threatened. “I fear it is Polly’s kitten,” she gasped.

  An aristocratic eyebrow arched upward. “Indeed? Aldergate!”

  At the footman’s almost immediate appearance, Tia’s amusement was doused by a wash of fear. What did the furious aristocrat plan to do with Polly’s pet?

  Ansford handed both plate and cover to the bemused servant. “There is a live animal beneath here. Deal with it, if you please.”

  Tia watched in horror as the hapless creature was whisked out of the breakfast room. She turned anxiously to Ansford, who was glowering at the unwelcome interruption to his breakfa
st.

  She couldn’t bear it. “You won’t kill it? Please, my lord, don’t. It has given Polly such pleasure.”

  The look he turned on her froze her to the marrow. With the briefest of nods, he turned his back on both her and Mama and stalked out of the room.

  A lofty silence descended. Eventually, Mama exclaimed, “Well, I never!”

  “I thought he was improving. But I was wrong—the baron’s as hardhearted and rude as ever.” Tia’s temper rose.

  Mama shot her a worried look. “What do you think he’ll do?”

  “I’d like to say he’ll eventually see the humor in the situation, but I fear Ansford would choke and suffocate if he attempted to laugh, he’s so unused to it. He’ll probably have the kitten drowned.”

  “Oh no, you don’t think so? Polly will be devastated.”

  Of course, she would. Tia would be, too. “I don’t believe Lord Ansford understands about tender feelings.” She heaved a heartfelt sigh. “His own died with his wife.”

  “I hope you’re mistaken, but he seemed excessively angry with us. Do you think he’s a bit peculiar in the head?”

  “That wouldn’t surprise me at all. Now, I’d best hurry up and see how many French verbs I can get Polly to conjugate before she learns of her kitten’s demise. When that news reaches her, we’ll have to abandon the curriculum for at least a week.”

  Unless, of course, she was brave enough to tackle Lord Ansford. Again.

  But in his present mood, how could she do so without risking the fate of all those she cared about?

  Chapter 15

  Hal absently stroked the kitten, curled asleep on his lap. It reminded him of Polly as a baby—once the tiny girl had decided to sleep, nothing short of an earthquake would awaken her.