The Artful Match

by Jennifer Delamere

  She took a long look at them both, and her expression indicated that her assessment was not good. The dust from the road and the stable yard had settled on their shoes and clothes.

  Amelia stared brazenly back at Lady Morestowe. Cara could almost feel the animosity between them. Henry had put the case mildly when he’d said the two did not get on well. There was an evident dislike between them that ran deep.

  “Good afternoon, your ladyship.” Cara curtsied but then immediately wished she hadn’t. It was probably the correct thing to do, but it made her feel like a servant again.

  Unfortunately, the countess received this signal clearly and addressed Cara accordingly. “Who are you? Where is Miss Leahy?”

  It was Amelia who answered. “Miss Leahy’s not here. Her mother is dying. This is Miss Bernay.”

  As she spoke, the girl placed her hand in Cara’s. It wasn’t clear whether Amelia was seeking protection or offering her support against Lady Morestowe’s onslaught. Either way, it warmed Cara’s heart.

  “Is this true about Miss Leahy?” the countess demanded.

  “Miss Leahy’s mother is ill, ma’am, and Miss Leahy has gone to stay with her until—well, we’re not sure when she’ll return.”

  “I should like to know why I wasn’t apprised of that situation. How did Lord Morestowe locate you? Through an agency? What’s your background?”

  “I am here as a guest, ma’am.”

  The countess looked affronted at the idea. “How can that be?”

  “Hen—his lordship invited me here. I am an acquaintance of Mr. Burke.”

  Amelia crinkled her nose and looked at Cara in surprise. It was probably a reaction to hearing her use formal designations for Henry and Langham after they’d spent the week talking so casually to one another. But Cara wanted to make the best possible impression with the countess.

  “An acquaintance of Mr. Burke? That sounds singular.”

  “I expect it does, ma’am.” Cara began to understand why this woman was not so warmly thought of by her family. She gave all evidence of being harsh and unyielding.

  “I shall go to Lord Morestowe and find out what this is about,” the countess informed them. Returning to her carriage, she added, “Mind you don’t get into any trouble.”

  Cara wasn’t sure whether that admonition was aimed at her or Amelia.

  As the carriage drove away, Cara was tempted to laugh. Lady Morestowe’s overreaction was so absurd as to be almost funny. Amelia was not at all amused. She stuck her tongue out at the retreating carriage.

  “You can’t tell me you’ve had that woman staying here as your guest. Don’t you understand that is courting scandal?”

  Henry sighed. His mother had come straight to the study to find him the moment she’d arrived. It was too bad she had seen Amelia and Cara on her way up the drive. Henry had hoped to break the news to her first. “I can’t imagine it’s really so bad as that.”

  “What family is she from? It certainly couldn’t be one with a good reputation if she is off gallivanting on her own.”

  “She isn’t from a family—that is, not in the sense you’re thinking of. She was raised in an orphanage in Bristol and recently moved to London. She’s someone Langham befriended. You know how he does.”

  She frowned. “I do.” Her tone conveyed her irritation at Langham’s tendency to go around befriending people. “Where, exactly, did they meet?”

  “At the Grosvenor Gallery.” That was not exactly the truth, but Henry decided it was close enough. He’d already written to tell her Langham had left the sanitarium and had been with him in London, although he had not gone into detail as to the particulars. “Miss Bernay is interested in pursuing a career as a painter, so Langham invited her to come here.”

  Perhaps it sounded like he was trying to shift blame to his brother, but that wasn’t the case. The ultimate decision to bring Cara here had rested with Henry.

  His mother was of the same mind. “And you agreed to this plan? Really, Henry, you ought to know better. The only way a young unmarried woman can stay in this house is if she is one of the servants. To stay as a guest, she must either be a relative of ours or accompanied by a family member. How can you expect to keep a good reputation if you forget basic rules of propriety?”

  “There is another reason I decided to bring Miss Bernay here.” Henry was careful to refer to Cara in this formal way when speaking with his mother. Heaven knew what palpitations she would suffer if she found out they’d been using each other’s Christian names. “She is helping us with Amelia until Miss Leahy returns. She has a knack for handling children. In fact, she’s worked wonders with Amelia in a very short amount of time.”

  “You might have informed me about Miss Leahy going away and leaving us in the lurch. I would have come back to oversee things.”

  “I thought we could manage for a few weeks. I didn’t think it right that you should have to cut short your holiday with Lord and Lady Stafford.”

  “Yes, well . . .” There was a pause as his mother considered something. “So we may say Miss Bernay is acting as a temporary governess. That makes things marginally more acceptable. You are paying her something for this, I suppose?” She sounded almost hopeful.

  “No, we are not paying her. She prefers not to be labeled as a governess, no matter how temporary.”

  His mother’s lips pursed. “Why not? If she’s from an orphanage, the job could only be a step up.”

  “It would appear her aspirations are higher.”

  Henry was referring to Cara’s interest in becoming an artist, but his mother’s shocked expression indicated she took his words another way. “You don’t think Langham is in love with her, do you? Or that she has designs on him? We cannot afford another of those problems. Aside from everything else, there will be the never-ending begging for money. Just like Amelia’s mother.”

  “I truly believe there’s no danger of that.” Henry didn’t point out that Langham might have had dalliances with any number of women over the years. He thought it best to concentrate on the current concern and not bring up new worries.

  “Then what does she get out of this?” Her eyes narrowed as she began to entertain a new suspicion. “She might very well set her cap for you, you know. That would be quite the plum indeed.”

  Henry was not about to allow his mother to go down that path. “I already pointed out that she has been helping us with Amelia. She wants to be an artist. I have engaged Mr. Perrine to come out twice a week to give them both lessons. I know you object to her being here. However, things are working well, and I do not intend to change them.”

  His mother fanned herself in exasperation. “No, Henry. Something must change. We have guests coming, and this will put us in a terribly awkward position.”

  “Guests? Who?”

  “Although I am still put out that you did not keep me informed about Miss Leahy, I will say it’s a good thing I went to that house party in Cowes. I was able to do some work on your behalf. For all of us, really. I made the acquaintance of Mr. Stanley Myers.”

  Henry shook his head. “Are you speaking of the millionaire from Pittsburgh? The steel magnate?”

  She gave a satisfied smile. “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “What’s he doing in England?”

  “What do all Americans do? They come here for business, of course. And perhaps to lap up a bit of history and culture. He told me he is interested in speaking to you about the copper mine. He said he trades in—oh, how did he put it? ‘Futures and commodities.’ That’s it.” She looked pleased with herself.

  This was unbelievably good news. Henry had just spent two days thinking morosely that his plans would be stalled into failure unless he could bring himself to apologize or make things up with Jacob. And yet here was a completely unforeseen and interesting possibility—and courtesy of his mother, no less.

  As trying as their relationship could be, there were times when she proved herself surprisingly adept in unexpected way
s. “Wouldn’t it be better to meet in London? Half the house is still under reconstruction.”

  “That’s a terrible idea. The city is too hot. We can receive them here with greater comfort, even with the limited space. Besides, I’ve already extended the invitation. They will be here in two days. Mrs. Myers is accompanying him. I explained about the fire and that we are just getting the house back to its previous grandeur. They are not the least bit concerned, and in any case, I’ve no doubt that our house far exceeds theirs, even in its present state.”

  Henry sighed. “Fine. We’ll do what we have to, I suppose.”

  “Speaking of which . . .” She gave him a pointed look. “You can see why this Miss Bernay should stay out of the way while the Myerses are here. We simply cannot risk our reputation or the embarrassment.”

  “Do you think the Americans are really as concerned about such things as we are?”

  “More so.” His mother gave a little laugh. “I think they do it to compensate for their feelings of inferiority to Europeans.”

  Henry ought to have known his mother would find a way to gain her own purposes on her own terms. The last thing he wanted was to humiliate Cara by asking her to live as a governess. She would not be able to participate in any events involving the guests, and she would have to eat dinner with Amelia or in the servants’ hall. “How long will they be staying?”

  “Two or three days only. They are on their way to France.”

  That was something, anyway. He could ask Cara to do it as a favor and frame it as a minor inconvenience. She was already aware of the financial issues at stake. Henry felt she was just kindhearted enough to agree to his request. One thing he would not do was make it a command. She deserved better than that.

  “Well?” his mother prodded.

  “I’ll discuss the matter with her tomorrow. However, tonight she dines with us. I insist upon it.” It wasn’t often that Henry invoked his status over her as lord of the manor. When he did, he fully expected his mother to acquiesce.

  She gave him a hard look followed by a crisp nod and left the room.

  Leaving Henry feeling that he had both won and lost at the same time.

  “The placement of the paintings on the main stairs is completely wrong. They will need to be taken down and rehung.”

  By Cara’s reckoning, this was the third pronouncement by the countess this evening. The first had been that she intended to visit the dower house tomorrow to “see what you’ve done to it.” She had said this in a way that conveyed she didn’t expect to like it.

  The second had been her insistence that she would be at Amelia’s next riding lesson. “If the child is going to ride, we must see that she learns correctly. Mr. Hart may be competent, but no man can ultimately be the best teacher, because he has no personal experience of riding sidesaddle.”

  Despite the discord between Lady Morestowe and Amelia, Cara thought the countess’s presence at the lessons could turn out to be a good thing. During dinner she’d learned that Lady Morestowe was an excellent horsewoman. If she shared her expertise, she would be spending enjoyable time with Amelia. Perhaps they could finally find common ground.

  As for the paintings in the front hall, Cara had known from her first night here that Henry expected his mother to object to his changes. Sure enough, he said, “They shall remain as they are. I set them that way for a reason.”

  Not having seen them before the change, Cara had no reference point. However, she thought Henry had done well. She’d found snippets of time to study the paintings every day. They were pleasing not only in their content but in the way they had been grouped. During her visit to the Grosvenor, Langham had explained that the gallery had acquired a good reputation for knowing how to hang paintings to their best advantage. There was apparently an “art” to that, too. Henry claimed to have no artistic talent or interest, but she thought he had a good eye, nonetheless.

  “Sometimes change can be good,” Henry added.

  “Hear, hear,” Langham interjected.

  He was drinking heavily tonight and was in the “happy” stages of his cups right now. It bothered Cara. She had begun to think he was putting such behavior behind him.

  “I will not argue with you about it now,” Lady Morestowe told Henry. She threw a glance in Cara’s direction as she spoke. “In any case, there isn’t time to make changes before the Myerses come.”

  “Myerses? Who are they?” Langham asked.

  “Mr. Myers is a steel magnate on his first visit from America,” Henry explained. “He’s interested in learning more about the investment opportunity of the copper mine.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Cara said. “I was sure something would turn up.” She had been praying about it ever since their conversation in the garden.

  “We are fortunate that I made his acquaintance at the home of Lord and Lady Stafford.”

  “Mr. Myers was at the Staffords’ house party? He’s newly arrived from America and already hobnobbing with the Prince of Wales?” Langham took another sip of wine. “But then, I shouldn’t be surprised. His Royal Highness loves Americans. They are so much less stuffy about things.” He followed this observation with a hiccup.

  Henry exchanged a glance with his mother. It seemed fraught with meaning. Maybe they were upset about Langham’s intemperance. Cara had not seen him this drunk since the night Henry had taken him out of the pub. It might also be the reason Henry looked less happy than she might have expected, given this good news about the wealthy American.

  Langham finished his wine and set the glass on the table. “Did you know they took ‘God Save the Queen’ and put their own words to it? Cheeky blackguards.”

  Sending her son a dark glare, Lady Morestowe rose from her chair. “It’s time for the ladies to retire to the drawing room.” She said this with such gravity that Cara decided it was pronouncement number four.

  Following her lead, Cara stood. So did the men, as Cara knew etiquette required. However, Langham began to sing, “‘Long live our noble Queen! God save the Queen!’”

  “All right, Langham, off we go.” Henry took his brother’s arm and began to pull him from the room.

  Langham made only a playful show of resisting, shouting, “But wait! I haven’t finished the song!”

  Cara remained in place, frozen in embarrassment. The countess also had not moved, but in her case, it was because she was rigid with anger. Even from the dining room, they could hear the brothers making their way up the stairs and Langham’s joyful taunt, “‘Cry—God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’”

  “I see he has not improved one bit since I saw him last,” Lady Morestowe said in disgust.

  “With all due respect, ma’am, he has done this very little during the past few weeks. I think—that is, I hope and pray—that this is only a minor setback. I’ve been encouraging him to think about his painting and to concentrate on doing things that will help him improve his art.”

  Cara spoke these words from the heart, intending to offer comfort. However, the countess only gave her a cold stare. “What is your purpose for being here, Miss Bernay?”

  “I was invited to come, your ladyship.”

  “It’s clear you finagled an invitation. My question is, why did you accept?”

  At that moment, Cara was tempted to wonder herself. She understood why Amelia was so ill-behaved in this woman’s presence. Two stubborn natures would be like fire meeting fire. Unsure how to answer, Cara stammered out a reply. “I am, er, most grateful for the opportunity to enjoy time in the countryside. And to receive art lessons. Also, I believe I am helping Amelia.”

  “That is all?” Lady Morestowe pressed.

  What else did she want? Cara felt her cheeks tinging pink, aware there were servants in the room observing this condescending inquisition. If the countess wished to humiliate her, she was doing a very good job.

  “I understand you are having some success at keeping control of Amelia. But I warn you right now that it is already too
late for Langham.”

  “How can you say such a thing? He’s your son!” Cara couldn’t help but come to his defense, even if Lady Morestowe was so formidable.

  The countess arched a brow. “You will do well to stick to your business, Miss Bernay, and not insert yourself into ours.”

  The fifth pronouncement of the evening came down as a rebuke, and Cara bristled at the unfairness of it.

  “If you will be so good as to excuse me, I have had a long travel day and will be retiring early.”

  “Yes, of course,” Cara murmured, although the Countess of Morestowe was not asking permission.

  CHAPTER

  27

  HENRY LEFT for his morning walk earlier than usual. He had a lot to sort out, and he could think better when he was away from the house. Not that he was likely to run into Langham or his mother; both preferred to remain in their private rooms until late morning. In addition, Langham would be sleeping off the effects of last night.

  He didn’t like that his mother had been so cavalier, treating Cara like a servant. He certainly didn’t like the idea that, for the next few days at least, he had to ask Cara to act like one. She had comported herself so well during dinner. He could see she’d been nervous, and yet, aside from picking up the wrong fork during the fish course, he had noticed no faux pas of the sort that would give his mother an excuse to look down on her.

  By the time he’d come back downstairs after he and Jensen had wrangled Langham to his room, both ladies had dispersed. “Her ladyship professed herself tired after a long day, and Miss Bernay said she quite understood.” That was the report from one of the footmen who’d been serving dinner. Henry could glean plenty from that statement, although the footman had been wise enough to say no more.

  Henry admired the way Cara had remained relentlessly cheerful. Her obvious joy at hearing about Myers and his upcoming visit was a perfect example. But that only made Henry feel guilty, because he knew what he had to ask of her. He would see little of Cara and Amelia while the Myerses were visiting. He would make it up to them by planning an excursion of some sort after the Myerses had gone. Perhaps a picnic by the creek. Amelia would like that. So would he, come to think of it. It would be his way of showing his appreciation for their sacrifice.