The Artful Match

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The Artful Match Page 12

by Jennifer Delamere


  “It doesn’t have to be intentional.”

  Georgiana’s words struck a chord deep in Cara’s heart. There was great truth in them. After all, Cara had never intended to harm anyone, and look what she’d almost done to Robbie. It was a good warning to heed. Was Langham bringing harm to himself, and perhaps to others as well, with his actions?

  Cara was so grateful for all he’d done for her. She hadn’t thought of him as needing any kind of help in return. But perhaps he needed help of a different kind. He had said her presence tonight would be good for all of them. What did he mean? She didn’t know, but she was more than willing to find out.

  CHAPTER

  12

  CARA STOOD STARING UP at Lord Morestowe’s four-story town home while Langham paid the cab driver.

  This is where an earl lives, she thought, feeling a touch of wonder. The stately edifice was similar to those rented by the Needenhams whenever they came to town. Tonight, however, Cara wasn’t going to take the narrow stairs down to the servants’ entrance. Tonight, she was going through the main door as a guest.

  She had nothing to wear that was truly suitable for visiting a member of the aristocracy, but she’d done her best to make herself as presentable as possible. Her best gown was secondhand, but she was wearing a new bonnet that she’d bought a week before the incident with Robbie. It might not be as fashionable as one from Paris, but Cara thought it was lovely. She wanted so much to make the right impression.

  “You look very pretty,” Langham told her, as though he had read her thoughts. “Henry will be charmed. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

  His words, along with the thrill she felt as he escorted her to the front door, erased her anxiety. She could already imagine a glittering table set with crystal glasses, bone china plates surrounded by polished silverware, and a bouquet of fresh flowers in the center. The Needenhams’ table had looked like that whenever they had dinner parties. An earl must dine like that every day. This time, Cara would not be sneaking a peek into the dining room before the guests arrived; she would be sitting at the table herself.

  A footman opened the door for them. As they walked into the brightly lit foyer, Cara took in the sight with delight. From the massive gilt-edged mirror to the painted china vase filled with flowers, everything spoke of gracious elegance.

  She had only a moment to enjoy it, however. Such a home ought to exude quiet dignity. Instead, the place was in an uproar. Somewhere, a child was shrieking with anger.

  “Oh, bother,” Langham murmured. “Amelia is in one of her moods again.”

  “Who’s Amelia?”

  “Henry’s, er, ward.”

  “Ward?” Cara repeated. This was something she’d never anticipated. The girl sounded very young. Why was she Henry’s ward?

  “A little monster, more like. She’s been at the seaside. Unfortunately, she returned yesterday.”

  Lord Morestowe appeared at the top of the stairs and glowered down at them. “What are you two doing here?”

  “I live here,” Langham reminded him, returning his hard look. “I’ve invited Cara for dinner. You might take a moment to be civil to her.”

  This reprimand seemed to cause Henry to recollect himself. His rigid stance softened. “I apologize, Miss Bernay, but this isn’t the best time for a visit.”

  Cara detected a glint of approval in his eyes as he took in her appearance. She was enjoying looking at him, too. At the moment he looked distracted and a little disheveled, but he was no less handsome. She smiled up at him. Now that she was here, Cara did not want to leave. Her mind whirled. Henry had a young ward. What else might she discover about him?

  From a room above them came the sound of something crashing against a wall.

  “What’s gotten into her this time?” Langham asked, sounding more put out than concerned by the child’s distress.

  “The governess had to leave town unexpectedly to visit her sick mother. Amelia isn’t happy about it, and as you can glean, her irritation at being stuck in London without her is increasing.” Henry’s hands tightened on the railing, his frustration evident. “I suggest you take Miss Bernay home immediately. It won’t be a pleasant evening.”

  “Perhaps I can help,” Cara offered. “I’ve had lots of experience with children. May I go to her?”

  She didn’t wait for an answer. This child was clearly upset, and whoever was in the room with her had no idea how to respond. Cara began taking the stairs. Lord Morestowe stayed where he was, frozen in surprise.

  When Cara reached him, she said, “Please allow me a few minutes with her.”

  “But you don’t know anything about her.”

  Cara continued past him. She knew her actions must appear impertinent, but surprisingly, the earl didn’t attempt to stop her.

  It wasn’t difficult to figure out where the girl was. Cara simply followed the noise. At the back of her mind, she knew she ought not to get involved, but how could she ignore a child in need? She opened the door to find a girl who looked to be seven or eight years old fighting against two maids, each of whom had a hold of one arm.

  “Please calm down, miss!” one of the maids was pleading.

  “You’ve no right to order me about!” Amelia declared imperiously as she struggled to break free. “Where is Miss Leahy? Where is my guardian?”

  Cara interrupted the proceedings. “His lordship has given me leave to handle this.” She eyed the two maids. “Please leave us.”

  The women stared at her, dumbfounded. When they realized Cara fully intended to take on this situation, the look of relief on their faces was unmistakable. They let go of the girl. Cara stood poised by the door, ready in case Amelia should decide to bolt. But she looked so surprised at her sudden freedom that she merely stood there, staring at Cara with her mouth agape.

  The maids slipped from the room. Keeping her eyes on Amelia, Cara closed the door behind them with an authoritative click.

  “Who are you?” the little girl demanded.

  “Miss Amelia, that is not the proper way to greet a newcomer,” Cara chided.

  “Why should I say ‘how do you do?’ if I don’t even know your name?” Amelia countered without a trace of apology.

  Cara had to admire her spirit. “Good point. My name is Miss Bernay. Didn’t your guardian tell you I was coming?”

  “No.” The girl’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her fist was still closed around a piece of broken vase, and she looked as though she were considering hurling it at Cara.

  Cara made a little tsking sound. “His lordship can be absent-minded at times, don’t you agree?”

  “What are you doing here? Where is Miss Leahy?”

  Clearly, this child was not going to be won over easily. It also seemed that Henry hadn’t told Amelia why the governess had gone. He might have had his reasons, but whether they were justified was another question. For her part, Cara thought it best to be honest. “Miss Leahy’s mother is not well, so Miss Leahy must go take care of her. Don’t you think that is a kind thing to do—to help someone who is ill?”

  Cara had found that asking a child questions was a good way to keep them engaged and less defensive. In Robbie’s case, it generally worked better than direct commands. Even if he didn’t respond verbally, in most instances Cara could tell from his expression that the questions had captured his attention enough to ponder them.

  Amelia didn’t answer. The look of consternation had not left her face, but her mouth moved, ever so subtly, her lips pressing together and then open again. She was unconsciously repeating the word mother.

  That told Cara the route to take. If Amelia was Henry’s ward, most likely she had no parents. She might be alone in the world, even though she had caretakers. This would surely inform her view of everything that happened to her. Cara understood the aching longing left in a child’s heart after the loss of parents. But she knew Amelia needed more than sympathy. She needed to be led out of the idea that self-pity was a good excuse for bad behavio
r.

  “I certainly would do the same as Miss Leahy if I had a mother,” Cara said.

  “Don’t you have a mother?”

  “No. She died when I was very young.” With a sigh, she added, “My father, too.” It always squeezed Cara’s heart to say or even imply that her father was dead. Even if the rest of the world told her it was so, she refused to accept the possibility. But she said it now for Amelia’s sake. “So it seems you and I are both orphans.”

  Unfortunately, this last remark turned out to be ill-advised. Upon hearing the word orphans, Amelia turned and flung the last piece of the vase against the fireplace with such force that some of the shards bounced off the bricks and landed at her feet.

  Cara recoiled at the sound of the porcelain shattering. She prayed it would not send Henry into the room, because now she was getting somewhere.

  Amelia turned back to glare defiantly at Cara, as though fully expecting to be reprimanded and ready to show that she didn’t care.

  Instead, Cara said calmly, “Yes, I have often felt that way myself. The world can be a cruel place. Even when those around us are trying to be kind.”

  Flustered by Cara’s mild response, Amelia stared at her, her eyes wide and her mouth open in astonishment. She quickly rallied, though. “Miss Leahy should not have left. She is my governess. She ought to think of me first. We were having a perfectly lovely time at the seaside, and she ruined it.”

  “And just what is so wonderful about the seaside?” Cara said it in an offhand way, implying that going to the seaside was the most uninteresting thing in the world.

  Amelia looked at her as though she were daft. “It’s the seaside! There are waves and sea gulls and shells and cherry ices and sea bathing—”

  “Can you not get cherry ices in London?”

  Amelia blinked, taken off guard.

  “You can see sea gulls down by the Thames, too, so I’ve heard, although I’ve not actually seen the Thames, so I don’t know for sure. Have you been there? Walked along the Thames, I mean?”

  Amelia’s forehead scrunched as she attempted to keep up. “Of course!”

  “What else can you eat in London? When the cook here makes your favorite dish, what is it? Because I have always loved Yorkshire pudding. I can’t get enough of it.”

  As Cara spoke, she took a seat in a nearby chair. She was just close enough to chat comfortably without raising Amelia’s defenses. She didn’t think the girl was going anywhere now. Her attention was entirely focused on Cara. Her eyebrows were drawn together, as though she couldn’t figure out who this strange woman was and why she was talking about outlandish things like never having seen the Thames.

  “Cherry tart is wonderful, too,” Cara went on. “Although cherry ices are better on really hot days. Shall we ask the cook to send out for some so we can enjoy them with our dinner tonight?”

  “Have another drink, Harry,” Langham said as he poured them each a fresh glass of port.

  Henry was so preoccupied that he didn’t even protest Langham’s use of the hated nickname. “What in the world do you suppose is going on up there?”

  It had been over two hours since Cara and Amelia had gone upstairs to the nursery. There they had rung the maid and requested a dinner of chicken pie and cherry ices. Henry couldn’t see how rewarding the child’s tantrum with her favorite foods could possibly improve her discipline. He had given his assent anyway, too astonished to resist. The cook had duly set about making the pie while a footman had been dispatched to Gunter’s confectionery in Berkeley Square to purchase the ices.

  Meanwhile, Henry and Langham had sat down to the dinner already prepared by the cook, although Henry had not eaten much. He’d been consumed with worry about his unruly ward and the woman he didn’t know enough to trust and yet was somehow doing so anyway. And what must she think of them? According to Langham, Cara had only learned of Amelia’s existence tonight. Yet Cara had taken up with the girl as easily as if they’d known each other for years. Henry couldn’t believe any of it.

  After dinner, they’d settled in the study to wait for Cara. The wait seemed interminable. Henry could only assume the peace and quiet in the house meant things were going well upstairs.

  The clock was striking half-past nine when the door to the study opened and Cara finally joined them. As Henry and Langham rose from their chairs, she said cheerily, “Did you have a nice dinner? I know Miss Amelia and I did.”

  She was smiling so brightly that Henry had the impression she’d brought in extra light with her. Was she some kind of angel? He squelched the ridiculous notion. She had simply shown a knack for dealing with misbehaving children. Things were fine now, but another tantrum could come at any time. Without Miss Leahy, he felt powerless to control the situation.

  “What is Amelia doing now?” he asked.

  “She’s asleep. Dinner made her sleepy, so I helped her into her nightgown and got her tucked into bed. She drifted off almost instantly.”

  “You are a miracle worker!” Langham exclaimed. He led her over to a chair. “Do sit down and allow me to bring you a glass of port.”

  She accepted the chair and received the wine with a surprised smile. She held the delicate glass carefully, as though worried she might break it.

  Henry took the seat next to hers. “What were you doing up there, besides eating?” He was still astounded by the events of the past few hours.

  Cara took a tiny sip of her port before carefully setting the glass on the table next to her chair. Her mouth moved a little, her lips turning in slightly. Henry thought she was taking a moment to savor the port. The movement seemed unconscious but was unaccountably beguiling.

  She gave a little smile of enjoyment before setting her attention back on Henry. “We were talking, mostly, although she also showed me her dolls and her toy boat. I told her she’s a lucky girl to have such fine playthings.”

  “I must thank you. I’m grateful you were able to calm her down, although I must say that in general, I do not approve of trying to mollify unruly children.” Henry wasn’t sure why he’d added that last part. Perhaps it was his mother’s warnings still ringing in his ears about how, by being too lenient on a child, one could raise a hellion.

  “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Henry,” Langham chided.

  “I know she acted badly,” Cara said. “I made it plain to her that such behavior is unbecoming in a young lady. But I could only do that after I’d gotten her to give me a willing ear. She would not have received the reproof otherwise.”

  “And how did you do that—get her willing ear, I mean?”

  “By listening to her first. A child throwing a tantrum usually does so because he or she believes they have a legitimate grievance, even if that is not the case. So I asked Amelia what was bothering her.”

  “And?” To Henry, this all sounded too simple.

  “She’s distressed about Miss Leahy’s departure. She has grown fond of her governess. She is not, it seems, so fond of the maids.”

  “She doesn’t like our mother, either,” Langham put in. “It’s a good thing she’s not here just now.”

  “Don’t be disrespectful,” Henry said, sending him a sharp look.

  Langham only shrugged.

  “I know how much Miss Leahy has come to mean to the girl,” Henry continued. “I knew there would be trouble after she left. But I couldn’t refuse her request to visit her dying mother.”

  “Miss Amelia didn’t know where her governess went or how long she’ll be away. I think that was a mistake, because she began to imagine all sorts of reasons—primarily that it was her own fault, or that she’d driven Miss Leahy away,” Cara explained.

  “Why on earth would she think that? I told her Miss Leahy would return.”

  “Perhaps it sounded too vague for her to believe. It’s easy for a child who has lost a parent or loved one to put the blame on themselves.”

  “Amelia was only four years old when she lost her mother.” Henry chose his words carefu
lly. He did not enjoy lying. Yet lost was accurate enough, even if the child’s mother was still alive. “I thought if I told her Miss Leahy’s mother was dying, it might raise Amelia’s sorrows all over again.”

  Cara’s eyes were warm with understanding, but she shook her head. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. At least, not in this situation.”

  Henry understood even less about children than he’d thought. “Thank you for calming her after my blunder.”

  Cara smiled, perhaps amused at Henry’s self-deprecation. “I didn’t know the whole story, so I promised I’d find out the details and tell Amelia all about it tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” Henry was surprised that Cara would take the liberty of deciding to see the child again.

  She looked at him with an abashed expression. “I might also have promised her—that is, it wasn’t a promise exactly . . . I did say I would have to ask you first.”

  Her wide blue eyes were so innocent and yet so appealing that Henry felt an odd knot in his throat. “Just what were you going to ask me?”

  “I said I might go out with her tomorrow. With your approval, of course,” she repeated.

  Henry was glad he was seated. This woman kept him strangely off-balance. “Where did you have in mind?”

  “Amelia would like to take a walk along the Embankment. She mentioned an obelisk near the park and how much she enjoys watching the boat traffic on the river. And there’s an organ grinder with a monkey who dances around to the music. It’s one of her favorite places to visit. But I expect you know that already.”

  Henry didn’t know that. At least, he would not have been able to answer the question if asked directly. He was aware of many of Amelia’s likes and dislikes—primarily because she was so vocal about them. But he hadn’t made an effort to catalog those details in his mind. His role as guardian was to ensure the girl was properly looked after by competent people. That was enough.

  “It’s not possible. I’ve too much work to do.”

  “Oh, you needn’t go,” Langham said dismissively. “Cara and I can take her.”

 

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