Joe’s eyes danced with merriment as he presented all the Sprigg children, Bart, and Hazel.
Lady Sayle graciously shook hands with the adults. “But you have a different name,” she observed to Hazel. “Are you a step-sister or some other relation?”
“Just a family friend,” Hazel said uncomfortably.
“Something we wanted to talk to you about,” Joe murmured.
“Really? Well, let’s all go upstairs,” Lady Sayle said comfortably, “and you can tell me all about it, while Mrs. C. arranges chambers for everyone. Oh, and tea, Mrs. Corner!”
They all trooped up the grand, curving staircase, the children murmuring with awe. Hazel knew how they felt. She might have spent some time in Kensington Palace with the princess, but her own home was much more modest than this. It would be easy to be overcome by the splendor of high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and soft carpets underfoot. And indeed, these surroundings did serve to remind her of the huge gap between Sir Joseph Sayle’s position and her own.
Lady Sayle led them into a rather pretty room, clearly meant for social gatherings, and graciously waved them to an array of chairs and sofas elegantly scattered throughout.
“Now,” she said, beaming around them all with the same curiosity Hazel had frequently seen in Joe’s eyes. “Tell me how you come to know each other!”
“The Spriggs’ sister was once my governess,” Hazel said, determined to get everything out into the open. “We kept up the friendship even after I left the schoolroom, and I was happy to know her family. She recently married a clergyman and is now away upon her wedding trip—which I didn’t know when I set out to visit her.”
“We were meant to be with my aunt and uncle while Amelia was away,” Irene added, clearly encouraged by Lady Sayle’s amiable interest. “But Bart quarreled with them, and so we came to the vicarage instead. We meant to hide, but when Miss Hazel and Sir Joe appeared…”
“That’s what I’m missing!” Lady Sayle exclaimed. “Forgive me for interrupting, my dear—but how are you connected to this adventure, Joe?”
Joe rested his hip on a vacant chair-arm. “I encountered Miss Hazel missing the stagecoach.”
“Actually, you caused me to miss the stagecoach,” Hazel pointed out.
“Well, that is probably a good thing,” Lady Sayle said, frowning. “I can’t think you should be traveling on the public coach if you can possibly avoid it. Mind you, traveling alone with Joe is probably not a good idea either!”
“Rest assured, she would not have done so,” Joe murmured, “had there been any other choice available. Miss Hazel was temporarily embarrassed by the departure of the Princess of Wales.”
“Indeed?” Lady Sayle said in thoroughly intrigued accents.
“I was a woman of the bedchamber,” Hazel murmured.
“And through some miscommunication,” Joe explained, “she hadn’t realized the princess was already gone. Her usual protectors were not available, so understandably, she turned to her old governess for help. I was merely there at the right time.”
Lady Sayle’s gaze, like Joe’s, gave little away, and for a moment, it remained steadily on Hazel. “How fortunate! And now you have all come to Brightoaks.”
“Bart—Mr. Sprigg here—has business in Sussex,” Joe murmured while Bart blushed and smiled. “Which is another story. But it made sense to bring him here, and the children could not really stay alone in a house with no servants, not even with Miss Hazel, so here we are.”
“And I’m very delighted to see you all,” Lady Sayle assured them.
“There is more,” Hazel said, just a little too loudly. She swallowed under Lady Sayle’s expectant gaze. “I don’t wish to take advantage of your ladyship’s kindness under false pretenses. Hazel is not my surname but my Christian name. I am Hazel Curwen.”
Lady Sayle continued to gaze at her expectantly. Obviously, the name meant nothing to her.
But a sudden little scream from the door drew all eyes. A beautiful young woman stormed into the room, glaring at Joe.
“How could you, Joe? How could you?”
“How could I what?” he asked, bewildered.
“How could you bring that woman here for Emma’s first ball? You must see you have ruined everything! Not least, Emma herself!”
Chapter Twelve
The blood drained rapidly from Hazel’s face, leaving her dizzy. But somehow, she stumbled to her feet.
“I’m sorry,” she got out. “I did not mean… I’ll go at once.”
But she had not taken more than a step before Joe jumped up and caught her hand. “No, you won’t,” he said frostily. “I don’t know where my sister has refined her manners or acquired the idea that she has any control over whom I do and do not invite to my house. To revert to old-fashioned civility for a moment—Hazel, this is the elder of my sisters, Lady Standish. Roberta, allow me to present Mr. Sprigg and siblings, and Miss Curwen, who has really been through enough without your ridiculous histrionics.”
“And that would be the end of the old-fashioned civility,” Emma remarked, bounding into the room behind her sister. “If I were you, Roberta, I’d take a powder, for we’re all in trouble when Joe plays the civility card.”
Joe tried to scowl. “You, Emma, are a minx.”
“And the card is clearly withdrawn,” Emma commented. “What is Miss Hazel’s secret?”
“It is hardly a secret!” Lady Standish exploded.
“No, it’s a vile calumny,” Joe retorted, “perpetrated by the kind of scandal sheet I very much doubt Standish subscribes to. And may I point out there are children present?”
Lady Standish, who had clearly not noticed the fact, flushed slightly. “All the more reason to—”
“Don’t,” Joe said softly. “Just don’t.”
For the first time, a flash of fright crossed Lady Standish’s face.
“Close the door, Roberta, and sit down,” Lady Sayle commanded. “Or do we need to send the children away before all is revealed?”
“No, we don’t,” Joe said to the children’s evident relief. “What happened was—”
“I believe I may speak for myself, Joe,” Hazel interrupted.
“Joe,” Lady Standish muttered in outrage, no doubt, at this overfamiliar use of his Christian name.
She had a point, too, though Hazel chose to ignore it. Joe merely bowed, handed her back into her chair, and sat down beside her.
Hazel spoke as quietly and matter-of-factly as she could. “Unaware that Her Highness had already left for Worthing, I arrived at her residence to begin my normal spell of duty. There was a somewhat…scandalous party going on in the house, and since we could not find the princess or even any servants—I presumed they were hiding—I took refuge with other ladies who had been summoned in error. Foolishly, perhaps, we presumed the princess was in her chamber, so we felt we could not flee. We merely locked ourselves into the room next to Her Highness’s and stayed there all night. In the morning, we discovered the princess had never been there and fled the house in fear for our reputations. Rightly, as it turned out,”
There was a short silence, then Lady Standish said venomously, “I suppose you were there.”
Joe, playing idly with an enamel snuff box on the table beside him, flipped the lid closed with a snap. “On the contrary, I was at another orgy altogether.”
“Joe!” Lady Sayle scolded, shooting a warning glance at the children.
“The point is,” Hazel said hastily, “I, and the other ladies with me, are entirely innocent of any wrongdoing. But I quite understand how it looks, and in this world, appearance is paramount. I am very grateful to Sir Joseph for his kindness, and to you, Lady Sayle, for receiving us, but I am aware my presence is…disadvantageous to a young girl coming out. I shall be quite comfortable at the local inn.”
“No, you won’t,” Joe said. “Trust me. The mattresses have been there since the days of King Charles—the First—and I wouldn’t be surprised if that wasn’t the
last time they changed the sheets. I have an alternative solution that may please everyone. We simply continue to call Miss Curwen Miss Hazel and imply she is governess to the Sprigg family. Then no one is upset.”
Lady Standish, clearly not convinced, frowned in Hazel’s direction. “Yes, but I still don’t understand why she has to stay here at all.”
“Because she has nowhere else to go, Roberta!” Lady Sayle snapped.
“And because she is a friend,” Joe added.
His words almost undid Hazel. Tears she refused to shed made her throat ache. She swallowed convulsively.
“I would not—I should not—have brought such discord to your house. I beg your pardon. For tonight, I gladly accept your generous hospitality, and in the morning, I will leave for Scotland.”
“Miss Hazel, no!” Edward exclaimed.
“Please don’t do that,” Louise said earnestly, while the other children gazed at her with accusation and panic in their faces. Hazel looked away.
“This can be decided tomorrow,” Lady Sayle said firmly. “For now, know that I would not be comfortable letting you go alone on such a journey. Roberta has developed excessive concern for the proprieties surrounding her sister, no doubt because Emma is constantly getting into scrapes! But the best thing is clearly for you to be here while Joe sorts out the mess.”
Lady Standish raised her head again. “What is there to sort out? The scandal has already broken.”
“You are right,” Hazel had to agree. “We cannot change—”
“Tell me, Mama,” Joe interrupted, “is Lord Barden on your guest list?”
Hazel’s gaze whipped up, flying between Joe and his mother.
“Barden?” Lady Sayle repeated in surprise. “Well, yes. He is still a single man, though not particularly eligible as a husband. Not that we are truly looking for a husband for Emma at this stage. The ball is merely to get her used to society before she comes out properly in London next spring.”
“What does Barden have to say to anything?” Lady Standish asked curiously.
“Nothing,” Joe said. “I suspect he has already said quite enough. Now, will you consider staying, Hazel?”
Hazel met his gaze. He must have seen the surge of anger and determination in her eyes, for he smiled.
“That’s my girl,” he murmured.
*
Dressed for dinner, Joe sat in his bedchamber, trimming his nails while he let the atmosphere of home enfold him. However great the changes in the world or in his own life, Brightoaks always endured, his foundation, his rock, his root to reality. It would, he recognized, have been mean of him to avoid Emma’s first ball just because he found such affairs insipid, just because, due to the rarity of his visits, he would have preferred to be here with his own choice of guests.
No one, least of all himself, expected that choice to include a parcel of children, a besotted youth, and a beautiful damsel in distress who wanted nothing to do with him. It was, he conceded, a novelty. He had always been an eligible husband, used to being courted by matchmaking mamas and their demure, yet often wily, daughters. On top of which, he had always moved in sophisticated circles. He was aware of his attraction to women able to follow their own desires. Indeed, he had enjoyed several liaisons over the years with charming, intelligent women whom he still counted as friends. And yet, none of them had ever moved him as Hazel did.
Perhaps it was the challenge that intensified everything. Not that he had ever truly considered trying to make her his mistress—given her birth and her upbringing, to say nothing of her current circumstances, that would have been quite unforgivable and entirely dishonorable. But he flattered himself that he intrigued her almost as much as she interested him, that he had won her friendship and trust, that he could arouse her passions and melt her bones with mere kisses.
Well, not mere. There was nothing mere in kissing Hazel, and God help him, he wanted more. But arousing desire was not enough. Not for Hazel. His wealth, his position in life, the charm he knew he possessed, none of that even tempted her to accept his courtship.
It would be a shame if the only woman to escape him was the lightning bolt he had awaited so long.
A scratching sound at the door dragged him from his thoughts, and he threw the scissors onto the table. “Come in.”
Emma stuck her head around the door and grinned. “Don’t you look smart.”
“I’m sure the coat is last year’s.” He regarded his sister as she tripped across the room. “You, however, don’t look remotely like the scrubby little tomboy I last saw running around the place.”
“I haven’t been a scrubby little tomboy for years,” she said with dignity. “Well, at least one year. But tell me about your scandalous lady!”
Joe stood up. “She is an innocent young lady in trouble. I’d be grateful if you made her feel welcome here.”
“I already plan to make her my best friend, if only to escape Roberta’s constant nagging.”
“What’s eating her? She isn’t normally so cross and unkind.”
Emma wrinkled her nose. “Standish, probably! No idea why you let her marry such a Friday-faced prig.”
“She wanted to,” Joe said mildly.
“Well, now, I think she wants you to marry Standish’s cousin, Lady Theresa.”
“Theresa Thorne?” Joe said, amused. “That wouldn’t fly, even if I wished it. She thoroughly disapproves of me.”
“Oh, no, she only disapproves of your philandering.”
Joe blinked. “My what? Emma, if you want to come out, never refer to anyone’s philandering. I’m only surprised Lady Theresa did!”
“I don’t suppose she did, not in so many words,” Emma said. “But according to Roberta, she has a tendre for you. Ladies often do for bad gentlemen, I’m told.”
“I am not a bad gentleman,” Joe said firmly. “I am just not a particularly good one. But it might be a kindness if you dropped the word in Roberta’s ear that I do not need a matchmaker. Nor do I have any intention of offering for Theresa Thorne.”
“I think she probably worked that out herself the moment she saw you with Hazel Curwen,” Emma said. “Why do you think she’s so keen to be rid of the girl?”
Joe scowled at his sister and then relented and laughed. There was no point in trying to keep secrets from family.
*
Since there was only family for dinner that night, the Sprigg children were permitted to dine informally with the adults, though in the future, Joe said, they would be relegated to the nursery with Lady Standish’s much younger offspring.
It made for a much merrier meal, Hazel suspected, for Joe encouraged their natural effervescence, and they never stepped beyond the line of good behavior. Hazel found most of her conversation monopolized by Joe’s sister, Emma, who asked a lot of questions, but quite without offense. She had something of Joe’s charm and simmering energy, though to Hazel, she hadn’t quite learned how to control it.
It was Joe who helpfully brought up the subject of Agatha’s family.
“The Renleighs? Oh, yes,” his mother said. “We met them in London. Stunning daughter. I believe they have been staying with the Wellbournes, and they will all journey here together tomorrow. Why, are they friends of yours?”
“No, I don’t believe I have ever met them. Bart knows them.”
“They were neighbors of my aunt and uncle,” Bart said.
He sounded almost dazed, because in his wildest dreams, he could never have imagined his ladylove would be staying under the same roof. Hazel hoped he would not do anything foolish. But, for the youth who had taken to highway robbery merely to buy a ticket on the stagecoach, she did not hold out a great deal of hope. However, she looked forward to meeting Agatha for herself before she offered any advice.
Not that anyone ever listened to advice. Everyone insisted on making their own mistakes.
After dinner, the gentlemen were left to their wine, and the children sent to bed. Hazel would have gone up to say goodnight
to the younger ones, but Irene assured her there was no need, and she should stay and enjoy the company.
Hazel rather wished that was possible. She already liked Emma. And Lady Sayle’s combination of good-natured vagueness with unexpected spurts of perception certainly intrigued her. But Roberta, Lady Standish, and her husband clearly did not like Hazel’s presence in the house. Their distrust might have been understandable, but it was so obvious to Hazel that she would have chosen to leave Brightoaks altogether. Except the prospect of questioning Lord Barden had now been dangled in front of her.
“How did you find your place with the Princess of Wales?” Lady Sayle asked curiously. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Then Her Highness was agreeable?”
“She is a very kind, honest lady, who remained always outwardly cheerful through all her sorrows.”
Lady Standish looked speculative, as if she was about to argue the causes of the princess’s sorrows, which were legion, complicated, and not entirely proper for unmarried ladies to know about, let alone discuss.
“As a family,” Roberta said at last, “we have always had more to do with the Prince Regent than with his wife. Politics, I suppose. She may behave badly at times, but we can agree she has had much to endure.”
It wasn’t exactly an overture of friendship, but at least it was an attempt not to quarrel. Accepting it gratefully, Hazel smiled and turned the conversation. “I hear you have two young sons. They must keep you very busy.”
Roberta’s eyes brightened at once. “Indeed, they are quite a handful!” she assured Hazel and launched into a proud, motherly tale that Hazel was glad to smile over.
Fortunately, perhaps, the men did not linger over their brandy. When they joined the ladies in the drawing room, Emma was making restless sounds on the pianoforte keys. She turned as the men entered, saying blithely, “Oh, Joe, I forgot to tell you! We ran into a friend of yours in Great Finglebury! A foreign gentleman, in fact.”
Joe halted for a fraction of an instant. Then he carried on. “In Great Finglebury? What on earth was a foreign gentleman doing in such an out-of-the-way spot? Are you sure he was a gentleman and not a seaman?”
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