The Highborn Housekeeper Page 11

  Gabriel frowned. ‘But if he was as good a man as you say, surely he would have provided you with a character, a reference, if you had asked him.’

  ‘I am sure he would, but having made up my mind to go I had to do it quickly. If I had seen him again, if he had begged me to stay, I would not have had the strength to deny him.’ He saw her hand go up and guessed she was dashing away a tear. ‘I never saw him again.’

  ‘He did not deserve you!’ Gabriel ground out the words, unfamiliar emotions knotting painfully in his chest. Sympathy, envy? He said quietly, ‘And you loved him.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  The words were soft, little more than a breath, but they sliced into him as painfully as any knife. But why that should be, he did not know. He was fond of Nancy, he enjoyed her company, and if he had helped her to forget her lover then he was glad of it, but neither of them wanted or expected more than this short interlude together.

  Did they? Did he?

  No, no, no! There was no denying Nancy was beautiful and their lovemaking was exquisite, but he had no intention of becoming a tenant for life with any woman. He had seen too many of his friends go down that route, moonstruck at first and swearing undying love, but eventually both parties went looking for pleasures outside the marriage bed. Even his own parents now lived their own lives and had done ever since they had concluded the business of producing enough sons to ensure the family line. They still lived together, and he thought they were fond of one another, in their own fashion, but while his father’s latest mistress enjoyed the luxury of a house in town, his mother’s cicisbeos were constant guests at whichever of their houses they happened to be occupying. He had long ago decided he was not such a hypocrite as to tie himself to any one woman, to promise to love, honour and obey until death parted them and then forget the vows when he tired of her.

  He glanced at Nancy. Her head was bowed, her shoulders drooping. Fury blazed within him against the man who had caused her to feel so dejected. It was quickly followed by frustration that he could do so little to put it right and a sudden irrational anger with Nancy herself for allowing it to happen.

  ‘I have had a great deal of experience of this sort of thing,’ he said lightly, ignoring the instinct that warned him to keep quiet. ‘The trick is not to lose one’s heart.’

  ‘That is easier said than done.’

  He heard her sigh again and he said, ‘I am very sorry if he hurt you.’

  He watched her straighten, then she twisted back towards him, smiling.

  ‘That is all in the past. I am much happier as I am, looking after myself. I value my independence, Gabriel, I wanted you to know that. To know that you do not need to worry about me, when all this is over.’

  Still smiling, she rolled on top of him and kissed him. Her body was like cold silk against his skin, but she used her mouth and tongue to such effect that he was instantly aroused. Their lovemaking was heady and passionate, and afterwards she nestled close to Gabriel, who pulled the covers about them and held her in his arms.

  Why had she told him that story now? He remembered how fiercely she had made love to him. As if it was the last time they would lie together. She was saying goodbye. Well, that was not unexpected. They had to part at some point. He should be pleased to know she wanted nothing more from him. No commitment, no obligation.

  But he discovered that the idea did not please him. It did not please him at all.

  Chapter Nine

  Tuxford was bustling when Nancy and Hester arrived to meet the coach that John Thoresby had hired to carry them through the snowy landscape to Masserton Court.

  They had spent days with Gabriel and John Thoresby, planning how Nancy should make her entrance. In the end they had agreed she should continue to masquerade as Mrs Hopwood. After all, she already had her story prepared for that role and the Earl would find widowhood a far more acceptable fate for his daughter than being a serving woman, however respectable. She had filled a single trunk with some of the gowns and the jewels she had worn in London and brought them with her. To her mind they were garish and ostentatious, but they were well made and clearly expensive, and that would give her a certain standing when she returned to the family fold.

  By the time the carriage bowled along the drive to Masserton Court, Nancy was feeling slightly sick with nerves. She twisted the heavy gold wedding ring round and round beneath the thin kid glove, until Hester reached across and put a hand over both of hers.

  ‘Whist now, Miss Nancy, you stop that. You will fret yourself into a fever.’

  Nancy drew in a long, steadying breath. ‘I know, Hester, but it was one thing to masquerade in London among strangers, quite another to do so in my father’s house.’ She added, with the ghost of a smile, ‘Thank you for agreeing to come with me.’

  ‘As if I would leave you to face this alone.’ The older woman gave her fingers a final squeeze and sat back in her corner. ‘Take comfort now, ma’am. We have played these parts before, so we know what we are about.’

  ‘I pray you are right,’ murmured Nancy, turning to the window in time to catch the first sight of her old home.

  * * *

  Masserton Court was a large, sprawling house built at the beginning of the last century in the Baroque style favoured by Vanbrugh and Hawksmoor. Two symmetrical wings curved around to form a courtyard on the north front, where the main entrance was flanked by Corinthian pilasters. A sweeping drive meandered through landscaped parklands and all too soon the carriage was pulling up by the shallow steps that led to the double doors. Nancy waited for the hired lackey to open the door and she stepped out, head high, with all the confidence she could muster. When Hester had alighted Nancy led the way up the steps to where the elderly butler was waiting by the now-open door. There was a puzzled frown upon his face, but it changed to dawning recognition as Nancy came up to him. She greeted him cheerfully.

  ‘Good day to you, Mickling. Yes, it is I. Pray have my dresser shown to our rooms.’ She pulled off her gloves and regarded him, her brows raised in feigned surprise. ‘You look surprised. Surely you had my letter?’

  ‘Lady Ann! No, my lady, that is, I—’

  ‘My father is here, is he not?’ John Thoresby’s enquiries had already ascertained the fact, but she had a role to play and she was determined to do it well.

  ‘He is, my lady. His lordship is presently in the yellow saloon.’

  ‘Very well.’ Nancy turned to her companion. ‘I pray you wait here with the luggage, Hester. Mickling had best go ahead and announce me to my father. If my letter has gone astray, this might come as something of a shock.’

  The pregnant glance Hester laid upon her almost made Nancy burst out laughing, despite her nerves. She turned away and followed the butler to the yellow saloon.

  The marble hall was even colder than Nancy remembered. As she went further into the house the memories reared up. Not happy images of childhood—those were confined to the kitchens and servants’ quarters—but the dark, lonely times spent in the oppressive splendour of the main house. Once she had left the schoolroom, Nancy had found living above stairs as confining as the tight lacing that her mama had insisted would produce the sort of figure a man required in a wife.

  A respectable female had been hired to accompany her everywhere. She was no longer allowed to slip away to the nether regions of the house and she was forbidden to climb trees or ride astride and bareback through the park. There were to be no more torn gowns or grazed knees, no more red, chapped hands. She was old enough to be wed and her father thought it might be possible to marry her off well. She was at last considered to be of some value to her parents.

  * * *

  After the chill of the great hall and statue-filled passages that led to the family apartments, the warmth of the yellow saloon was very welcome. Nancy’s steps faltered as she followed the butler through the door, taking in the all-too-familiar sur
roundings, the faded grandeur of the wall hangings, the smoke blackened paintings and worn furniture. Her heart seemed to swell and block her breathing when she saw the stout figure of her father in a plum-coloured frock coat, sitting close to the fire. He was dozing in his chair, an open book in his hand.

  Twelve years ago he had held her future—her very life—in his hands. She had never been frightened of him, despite the beatings and punishments meted out to the wayward child she had been, but she had always known he was unscrupulous enough to force her to bend to his will if she remained within his orbit. Now, with a greater knowledge of the world and how cruel it could be, uncertainty tremored through her. What had she done, putting herself back in the lion’s den?

  Mickling announced her in sonorous accents and the Earl gave a start. He got to his feet, pushing himself out of the chair with some difficulty. The years had not been kind to him, Nancy decided. He had always been a big man, but he had put on a great deal of weight since she had last seen him. His iron-grey hair was fashionably short and curled about his face, which was more lined than she remembered, the cheeks and nose reddened by excessive indulgence.

  With a jolt she realised he was an old man and she was obliged to quell a sudden spurt of sympathy. He had always been a bully and a petty tyrant and she had no reason to think that had changed. It behoved her to be cautious. She returned his stare with a faint smile.

  ‘Good day to you, Father.’

  ‘Fore Gad!’ The book dropped from his hand. ‘It is you.’

  ‘It is indeed.’ She walked forward, aware of a momentary alarm when she heard Mickling withdraw and close the door upon them. ‘I wrote to apprise you of my coming, but it appears you have not received my letter,’ she said with apparent calm.

  His face darkened. ‘You have a nerve, coming back here after all this time.’

  ‘Not the most effusive greeting,’ she murmured, ‘but I suppose I should expect nothing else.’

  ‘You deserve nothing else! By Gad, it must be all of ten years.’

  ‘Twelve,’ she corrected him.

  ‘And now you come crawling back.’

  Her head went up.

  ‘Hardly that.’ She spread her hands and glanced down at the stylish bronze-velvet travelling dress with its elaborate frogging. She considered it ostentatious, but there was no question that it positively shrieked affluence. ‘I am not throwing myself upon your charity, if that is your fear. I have means enough to support myself.’

  That was true enough, she thought wryly. No need to tell him she could only do so by earning her living as a cook.

  ‘Then what do you want?’

  It was as much as she could do to stand her ground. There was no affection in her father’s look, only suspicion, distrust and something more. Dislike. He had not forgiven her for upsetting his plans to marry her off.

  Old feelings of rebellion and bitterness resurfaced and the force of them rocked her. If the hired post-chaise had not driven away, she would have been tempted to turn around and leave immediately. But she had a role to play and, if Gabriel was telling the truth, this was far more important than her masquerade in London. That had been to secure the happiness of one young woman. Now she needed to prove her father was not a traitor, or at least to prevent him further undermining the security of the country. A daunting task.

  ‘What do I want?’ she spoke lightly, stretching her lips into a smile. ‘To return to the bosom of my family, naturally.’

  He looked sceptical, but not totally disbelieving. His lip curled.

  ‘Twelve years is a long time—how low did you have to sink to survive?’

  ‘Not as low as you would have had me go!’ she flashed back. ‘I was very fortunate. I met John Hopwood, a rich tradesman. A good man,’ she added, ‘nothing like the fiend to whom you were willing to sell me.’

  ‘Packington was prepared to make a good settlement. Better than you had any right to expect.’

  ‘He was a depraved libertine with a taste for cruel practices. It would have been no better than rape!’

  His face darkened angrily, but before he could reply they were interrupted. A soft, female voice spoke from the doorway.

  ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, my lord. I did not realise you had a visitor.’

  The speaker, a willowy, sylph-like figure in a sheath of figured cream muslin, entered the room and glided across to the Earl, the skirts of her gown swaying around her hips. Her only ornament was a gold chain, from which hung a pendant that drew attention to the creamy breasts swelling up from the low-cut bodice. Her beautiful face was delicately boned and framed by a head of glorious golden curls piled high. Nancy thought the woman was not much older than herself, but as she came nearer she could see the network of fine lines that fanned out at the edges of the cerulean-blue eyes and deepened to creases around her mouth as the sculpted lips stretched into a faint, questioning smile that she directed towards the Earl.

  He said, ‘Ah, Susan, my dear. Come in.’ The lady stepped up and slipped a proprietorial hand on to his sleeve. ‘Let me present to you my daughter Ann.’ There was more than a hint of smug triumph in the gaze he fixed upon Nancy. ‘This is Lady Craster, my future wife.’

  Wife! Nancy tried to keep her face impassive, but it was an effort. Lady Craster’s smile grew and she uttered a soft laugh.

  ‘You look shocked, Lady Ann, but you can be no more surprised than I. Until this minute I was not aware of your existence.’

  ‘And I would not have mentioned it,’ barked the Earl, ‘had she not arrived on my doorstep without so much as a by your leave.’

  ‘It appears my letter never arrived,’ Nancy said smoothly, ‘but I came hard upon it, never thinking I would be turned away.’

  ‘More fool you!’

  Nancy ignored the Earl’s bad-tempered growl and addressed Lady Craster. ‘Pray accept my felicitations, ma’am.’

  She sketched a curtsy, silently damning Gabriel to hell and back. He must have known of this and deliberately kept it from her. She knew why, of course. She could almost hear his deep, mellifluous voice explaining that if she had known her father’s fiancée was in residence, then her reaction to the news might have lacked conviction.

  ‘Shall we all sit down?’ Lady Craster had taken charge and was even now inviting Nancy to make herself comfortable in a chair. She guided the Earl to a sofa and sat down beside him. Then she folded her hands in her lap and fixed her blue eyes upon Nancy.

  ‘Now, I am all astonishment at the news that my dear Hugh has another daughter.’

  ‘I don’t.’ The Earl’s denial was brutal. ‘This woman forfeited any claim upon me when she left this house.’ He scowled. ‘I suspect her sister has kept up some sort of correspondence, but I have forbidden her name to be mentioned in my presence.’

  ‘I quite understand that,’ murmured Lady Craster in soothing accents. ‘But, my dear sir, should we not at least enquire what has brought her back?’

  ‘I am now a widow,’ Nancy explained. ‘I thought, Father, you might welcome my company and wish me to run your house for you. Mary told me Mama was gone, but I did not know you were planning to remarry.’

  ‘Even if I was not about to take a wife, I would not wish you back again, you damned, ungrateful creature! You can leave this house immediately.’

  ‘And how am I supposed to do that? My hired chaise has departed.’

  ‘You may walk. In fact, you can spend the night in a ditch for aught I care!’

  ‘Now, now, my dear Hugh, let us not be too hasty.’ Lady Craster put a calming hand upon his sleeve. ‘How would it look if it became known that your errant daughter had come back and you had turned her away? Think of the scandal.’

  ‘Scandal be damned,’ he retorted. ‘She has done pretty well for herself until now, by the looks of it, so let her continue to do so!’

  ‘Hush now, my lord.
’ Lady Craster broke in, turning her lovely smile upon the Earl. ‘I will not allow you to let your temper run away with you. Lady Ann has come here to heal the rift and it would be very uncharitable to turn her away without a hearing.’ She pouted. ‘And your neighbours would be sure to say it was my doing. And then there is the ball.’ She looked across at Nancy. ‘Your father is giving a ball in my honour. It is all arranged for next week, when the moon will be almost full to light the way home for our guests.’

  ‘And what has all this to do with Ann?’ barked the Earl.

  ‘My dear Hugh, think how well it would look to have your estranged daughter back with us.’

  ‘I don’t care a fig how it would look!’ he declared, adding irascibly, ‘And we are in uproar because you are in the process of decorating every bedchamber.’

  ‘Oh, my love, you know that is not true! The Chinese room is quite ready and one or two of the others could be made comfortable in a trice.’ She raised melting blue eyes to his face. ‘Surely allowing her to remain here for a few days, or even a few weeks, would not be so bad?’

  It took a little more cajoling upon Lady Craster’s part before the Earl agreed and allowed his daughter’s trunk to be taken upstairs to the Chinese bedroom.

  * * *

  Nancy herself went up shortly after and found Hester arranging her gowns in the linen press. She waited only until she was sure they were alone before throwing herself into a chair and giving a long sigh of relief.

  ‘Well, thank heavens that is over!’

  ‘Bad, was it?’ Hester gave her a grim smile. ‘I take it your father did not welcome you with open arms.’

  ‘He was more inclined to throw me out on my ear! Thankfully his inamorata took my part and persuaded him to let me stay, at least for a few days.’

  ‘That would be the thin-as-a-broom female who crossed the hall as I came up the stairs,’ stated Hester, her nose wrinkling in distaste. ‘Swanning around as if she owned the place.’