Barbara was taken aback by this gentle, yet earnest speech. She searched for a counter argument, but she could think of none. She sighed.
“I suppose you’re right. I’m sorry.”
Her father smiled warmly, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “I don’t want you to feel sorry. I only want you to be happy.”
Chapter 7
The following day, Barbara cut short her visit to the orphanage, only staying to check in on Jane again and play with the other children for an hour or so. She hurried home afterwards; her mind busy mulling over ideas for her charity ball. She wanted to get back to her parlor and begin getting things organized.
As soon as she got home, she brought the card table into her parlor and spread out papers upon it. The closest thing to a ball she had ever organized on her own was a child’s birthday party at the orphanage, and she knew she was in over her head.
She would begin as she usually did. With lists. Dipping her quill in a pot of ink, she began to write out the names of the wealthiest people she knew. At first, it was difficult trying to come up with a respectably large list of people, but as time went on and her list got longer, she felt her boldness grow. The list branched out from close family friends and aunts and uncles to include friends of friends, distant acquaintances, and people she’d met once but looked like they had money to spare.
When the list covered a whole sheet of paper, she pushed back from the table and stood up, popping her quill into the pot of ink and dashing out of the room toward the kitchens.
“Joseph,” she called as she entered the kitchen. The thickly-build cook whirled around, shock written into his expression to find her downstairs. “Can I confer with you for a moment? Are you busy?”
“Never too busy for you,” he said, wiping his large hands on his apron. He’d been pounding a large mound of bread dough on the counter and was covered in a fine dusting of flour.
“I’m going to hold a ball here in the coming weeks. I’m not sure when yet,” she said. “As many people will be invited as possible, as the purpose of the ball is to raise funds for the orphanage. We’ll have to do food and drinks, of course, but I’m not sure how to plan for that.”
Joseph’s round face broke into a wide smile. “A marvelous idea. If you like, you may leave off worrying about refreshments to me. I can come up with some ideas and bring them to you to look over.”
Barbara reached for a cookie that was cooling on a counter nearby, smiling coyly at Joseph as she took a bite. Her eyes widened at the surprising tartness of the lemon flavoring.
“What are these?” she asked, lifting the cookie up.
“Ah, an experiment.”
“They’re a revelation! We must have them at the ball.”
Joseph laughed. “As you wish. I’m pleased that you like them. They’re not too sour?”
Barbara shook her head and took another hearty bite. “Not at all. They’re bright and lively. We are lucky to have you, Joseph. Please have those ideas ready by tomorrow afternoon, if possible.”
Joseph nodded and smiled again when Barbara snatched another of the lemon cookies as she left. Just as she was beyond the door, however, she whirled back around and stuck her head back in the kitchen.
“Actually, do you happen to know where Miss Winters is right now?” She asked.
Joseph paused his kneading of the dough he’d returned to. “This time of morning, she should be in the laundry, I believe.”
She thanked him and took off in the direction of the room adjacent to the kitchen where the linens were washed and kept. When she came in, Miss Winters, the housekeeper, was reaching over a large steaming tub of water, stirring it with a great wooden staff. She looked for all the world like a sorceress at her cauldron, with her hair falling into her eyes and sticking to her forehead in the steam that rose around her face. Her potion was merely the day’s washing though, sheets and pillow cases swirling around in the hot water.
“Miss Winters?” she called.
The housekeeper jumped several inches into the air, yelping quietly.
“Lady Barbara!” she exclaimed before regaining control of her reaction and quickly smoothing the wisps of hair off her brow and wiping her damp hands on her apron. “How can I help you?”
“I wonder if you could leave these things for a few minutes and walk with me to the dining hall?” Barbara asked. She was finding some joy in startling the servants with her unannounced presence in their part of the house, feeling somewhat like a mischievous child again.
“Why, of course.” Miss Winters said, hopping down off of the stool she was perched upon and following Barbara back upstairs. As they walked, Barbara explained her plans.
“So, you see, I need your help to understand what must be done to get the hall ready for such an event,” she said as she pushed open the double doors that led to the large, underutilized room. There was a long dining table on one side of the room near the large fireplace. That was where Barbara and her father usually had their dinners, but the table was dwarfed by the side of the hall, most of which was empty.
“It will be nice to use this room to its full potential again, won’t it?” she said idly, her eyes wandering up to the high ceilings. She could remember the elaborate Christmas parties her mother used to hold in this room. Since her passing four years ago, there had been no parties anymore. This would be the first. Barbara’s throat constricted at the thought.
“Oh yes,” Miss Winters replied. “We shall have to give the whole place a thorough scrubbing and shine. We’ll bring in more candelabras, of course, to get the space lit up nicely. Chairs to line the walls for people to sit between dances. A place for the musicians…” The woman’s voice trailed off and Barbara could tell that she was continuing her list of things to do in her mind. She was filled with gratitude for the enthusiasm of her staff, who, it seemed, would be able to fill in the gaps of her spotty knowledge about planning parties.
“Wonderful. I’m not sure yet what the date will be, but I think it best to begin preparations soon, anyway. When I know more, you will be one of the first to know,” Barbara said.
Miss Winters curtsied politely and left just as Barbara’s father came into the room, making a bee-line for the table where, it seems, he had left his newspaper that morning.
“Oh dear, what are you up to?” he asked suspiciously as Miss Winters hurried back to the laundry.
Barbara realized that, in her excitement, she had forgotten to mention to her father that she was holding a ball.
“Oh. Um. Well.” She sidled up to the Duke. “You remember that you said you’d support me in whatever I came up with to raise funds for the orphanage, right?”
He laughed. “Oh no.”
“Well I was thinking that a charity ball would be the perfect thing. Everyone will come and try to out-do each other in generosity, don’t you think?”
He rolled the newspaper absently in his hands. “Yes, I suppose you’re right there. Though you know that people may talk about…well, at your age, one would think that any balls you’d be attending would be in the hopes of finding a prospective husband, not raising money.”
Barbara sighed.
“I only mean, it would probably help to keep the gossips at bay if you endeavored to actually dance at this ball, too. Perhaps you should invite Lord Brookham.”
“The gossips? Father, have you heard talk about me that I am unaware of?”
He shook his head. “Not precisely. But you are getting to the age where people might start to raise eyebrows and wonder why you have not yet settled down with a gentleman.”
Barbara chewed her lip, glancing around at the big empty room. Imagining herself dancing with Lord Brookham did not inspire any romantic butterflies in her stomach.
“You seem quite eager to get rid of me, Papa,” she said with a charming smile that she hoped would disperse the worried frown that so often marred her father’s kindly face these days. “Do you not enjoy our days together?”
; He chuckled softly, taking her elbow as he led her out to the gardens to walk with him.
“Not having you in the house will be a terrible loss to me, Barbara. Your companionship has been my comfort as the years have passed me by. But I can’t selfishly keep you to myself. I won’t be around forever, you know, and I’d like to know that all of my children are well established and taken care of before I go.”
The afternoon was growing late and their shadows were elongated as they passed through the flower beds. Fat, fluffy bumblebees buzzed heavily from flower to flower.
“Don’t be silly, Papa. You’ve many years yet. You’re in fine health. And anyway, I would be all right here. I’ve Rosie to help me, and the other servants. I’ve my work to keep me busy and active. My siblings and cousins to visit. Not having a husband need not be a death sentence. I have a full life already.”
Her father patted the back of her hand as they walked sedately along the path. “I know, darling. I just need to know that you will be provided for. Does it trouble you for me to worry?”
“I’m not troubled. I just don’t want to make the wrong choice. I have been thinking about what you said before. About getting to know people and not being too quick to judge them. You were right about that, and I am ashamed of how quickly I decided that I did not like Lord Brookham. I will invite him to the ball, and I’ll try again to like him.” She forced herself to say it, her spirits sinking a bit at the thought of an evening of forced proximity with the gentleman. But if it would comfort her father to see her making an effort, then she would make the sacrifice.
“Wonderful. He really is a fine gentleman. I think that if you give him a chance to recover from his regrettably ill-informed opinions on women’s writing that you may come to like him.”
Barbara laughed. “I was so shocked when he said those things! How did he expect me to take it? Was I meant to giggle and agree about how silly and useless women are? Honestly!”
“He saw his mistake as soon as he made it,” her father said, grinning. “You were sitting next to him so you might not have seen, but from my vantage point I could see the realization as it dawned on his face.”
“I saw you trying not to laugh,” she said. After a few steps, she sighed. “Well, I suppose there can be something endearing about a well-intentioned fool, so long as he is malleable.”
“Promise me that you will actually dance with him if you invite him,” her father implored.
“Not just leave him standing around like a wallflower?” she laughed.
“It would destroy him. Really, you must dance, at least.”
“I promise to dance with Lord Brookham, Father. So long as you promise to help me with the guest list. I’ve never done this sort of thing before, and you did say that you would be supportive.”
The Duke agreed to help her gather the most important people for the party, and they walked slowly back to the house to get ready for dinner.
With the preparations at least begun, Barbara was feeling rather less nervous and even a bit excited about the whole idea. It would be fun to have such a large gathering at her own home, even if she did have to dance with Lord Brookham.
Chapter 8
Jeffrey preferred the gardens at twilight. As dark shadows stretched over the lawns and flower beds, he felt that he could step out into them and become the darkness itself. It was the only time he felt comfortable, truly comfortable, stepping outside. He knew that he was not being watched or stared at. And even if he was, in that fading light, he could pass as a normal man.
He walked quietly past the night-blooming jasmine, the heady scent filling his head. His hands were folded behind his back as he tipped his head back to watch the stars appear in the darkening sky. Clouds fluttered across the face of the waning moon, and he closed his eyes for a moment.
He found a favored bench, hidden in an enclave made of evergreen hedges, and sat down. From the inner pocket of his waistcoat he retrieved the note that he’d carried around with him since the previous morning. It was an invitation to a ball at the home of the Duke of Delistown. It had been many years since he’d last seen the Duke, and even then he’d only known him in passing. It seemed odd that Jeffrey should have received such an invitation, but when he read that it was a charity ball, it made sense.
Jeffrey was well-off. He’d been born so, as an earl, but had increased his fortune even more since becoming a Captain of the Royal Navy. His money was second only to his looks in terms of his reputation.
He let his finger trace the sharp edge of the invitation card. He normally had no qualms about refusing invitations to social events, and over the years they had mostly stopped coming to him. He was a ghastly eyesore, and no amount of money in the bank could erase his disfigurement from the minds of high society when he was in the room. That he had gotten this invitation at all was enough to give him pause, but the fact that it was in an attempt to raise funds for an orphanage made him hesitate even further.
Upon opening the note he had sent a footman to the Duke with a note of his own, asking if it was possible to simply send him a donation without attending the ball. He’d received word back that his presence was specifically requested. The reply had been somewhat irritating to Jeffrey, who knew from experience that the old gentleman was attempting to be kind to him by including him in the social life of the area.
It would be kinder to let me alone…
Still, it had been a long time since he had been off his own estate. He was becoming a recluse, and the thought of wasting away in this house, in these overgrown gardens, filled him with a sense of creeping dread.
With a sudden surge of determination, he rose to his feet again.
I’ll go.
What was the worst that could happen? People could stare? Ladies could snicker behind their fans? Gentlemen would greet him without meeting his eyes, and turn away quickly? He’d been dealing with such reactions to his face since he was seventeen. It couldn’t hurt him much anymore. If he could not be loved for his looks, he would endeavor to be loved for his generosity. He would give more to the orphanage than anyone else.
He marched back into the house and quickly dashed off a note to the Duke saying that he would attend after all. He handed it to the footman before he could think better of it, and spend the rest of the night fretting about his decision.
As he laid in bed that night, thinking of what he had agreed to, his hubris began to wear off and he wondered if he would be missed if he simply didn’t show up on the night of the ball.
It was several weeks until that night, and in the interim he attempted not to think about it. He threw himself into his work, locking himself in his study and writing letters twice as long as was usual for him, just to keep himself busy.
The day of the ball dawned brightly, with not a cloud in the sky to obscure the enthusiastic sun. He had half wished for rain, thinking that the obscurity of foggy light would carry over into the ballroom and make it easier for him to sink into the background. But, of course, one of England’s rare days of full sun would choose this day to appear.
He was irritable all day, snapping at the servants and grumbling under his breath as he went about his business. His valet, a patient man of five-and-sixty stood silently just inside Jeffrey’s field of vision as the hour drew near.
Jeffrey grunted. “Yes Mister Gibbs, I see you. I suppose it’s time to dress, then.”
“Yes, My Lord” Gibbs said, bowing. “The carriage has already been readied and awaits you.”
Jeffrey sighed to cover the sudden increase of his heart rate.
This is ridiculous. You’ve faced pirates on the high seas, you’ve crossed swords with men intent on killing you. And you’re scared of a ball?
He rolled his shoulders back and followed Gibbs to his own room where he dressed for the ball. His typical all black ensemble was changed out for the Captain’s uniform that he rarely wore anymore since confining himself more and more to the house. Memories flooded him as he slid his arms into
the crisp navy blue sleeves and the gold buttons were done up.
Catching himself in the mirror, he could almost forget the unfortunate look of his skin, and see only the shape of his body in the fine uniform. He could have been an attractive man.
“There you are, Captain,” Mister Gibbs said, finishing the tie of his cravat.
“Thank you, Mister Gibbs. You may go to bed whenever you like. I won’t need you tonight.”
“Thank you, My Lord.” Gibbs said, with a perfunctory bow before leaving the room.
A Seductive Lady For The Scarred Earl (Steamy Regency Romance) Page 5