Elizabeth Mansfield (6 page)

"Please. I'm sure it's more precious to you than to me."

Jane could not disagree. It
was
precious to her. She took it in her hands and stared down at it, moved almost to tears to be holding again a book that brought back so many happy memories. His lordship, libertine though he was, had made a very generous gesture. "This is most kind of you, my lord," she murmured in a choked voice. "I do thank you... again."

His lordship had stepped away and, with head cocked and a speculative look in his eyes, was studying her from top to toe. "It seems, ma'am, that my mother was not far off in describing you. Unusual, she said. I think that a young woman who reads Malory and who is a genius at numbers is decidedly unusual."

"Your mother exaggerates, my lord. I have a facility for reckoning, that is all."

"Have you, indeed? Evidently Mama is convinced that your 'facility' is enough to straighten out the muddle of my finances."

"I don't believe the task will require a genius."

"You think it will be easy, then?"

"Yes, I do. I've already observed one small extravagance that can easily be corrected."

"Already? May I ask what it is?"

"Of course, my lord. I saw your valet this morning, with at least six neckcloths on his arm. I understand that a modish Corinthian is required to make a to-do of folding his neckcloths, but half a dozen every morning does seem to me to be excessive."

He raised an eyebrow in a manner she found almost forbidding. "What a paltry beginning!" he said coldly. "If I made myself more adept at folding, and cut the number down to two, it would save not so much as a groat."

She refused to let herself be cowed. "I don't claim the saving would be great, my lord, but it would be more than a groat. If six neckcloths are relaundered daily, they soon need replacement, do they not? I suspect your haberdasher charges five shillings for a linen neckcloth—"

"More likely ten," the Viscount admitted.

"Ten! Shocking! Then, assuming you replace neckcloths at the rate of a dozen a year—and by your expression I suspect the number is much greater-—if you cut back by two-thirds, you will have saved four pounds."

"Four pounds per annum," he mocked. "A great sum indeed."

"Surely you've heard your mother say, 'Little, and often, fills the purse.' "

"At my time of life I do not need to be guided by clichés from my mother. Nor do I wish to concern myself with petty economies."

She lowered her head. "As you wish, my lord."

"None of this is as I wish, but I must accept it. How shall we begin, Miss Douglas? Do you wish to count my underdrawers?"

She ignored his sarcasm. "Perhaps the first thing is to find me a quiet place in which to work."

"How about right here? This room is not much used."

"I didn't think it was," she murmured dryly.

He heard the implied aspersion, and the forbidding eyebrow rose again. Jane braced herself for a tongue-lashing, but after a moment of silence he evidently decided to ignore the slur. "Will that writing table do for your purposes?" he inquired.

"Of course. Though it is much too fine."

"Then that's settled. What next?"

"I think the next problem is for you to establish my place in the household. The servants refuse to believe I'm part of the staff, though I don't understand why. My appearance and dress are surely no better than theirs."

"I understand it. It's your carriage."

"My carriage?"

"Your carriage, your manner, your entire demeanor." A flicker of amusement shone in his eyes. "Don't you realize, ma'am, that you walk as if you were the Queen of all the Russias?"

She stiffened in offense. "Don't be ridiculous."

That made him guffaw. "There, you see? Not one of my staff would dare to tell me not to be ridiculous."

Her cheeks grew hot. "I beg your pardon, my lord. Your mother permits me great liberties in my manner of speech. I'm afraid I'm quite spoilt. But to return to the matter at hand, I think you should instruct your butler to inform the staff that I shall be among them for a month."

His lordship looked puzzled. "Do you live with the servants at Kettering?"

"No, my lord. I live with my own family nearby. I believe I am what is called a 'live-out.' "

"Mmm." His lordship stroked his chin. "But you're not really a servant, are you? When Mr. Fairleigh visits, I don't put him in the servants' quarters. Mama called you my 'man of business,' a position quite like Mr. Fairleigh's. Therefore, I don't see why you can't stay where you are."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "In the Rose Bedroom?"

"Yes. It's only for a month, after all."

"But surely you must wish that room for your... um... guests."

He showed not a glimmer of understanding her hint. He merely shrugged. "We have plenty of rooms."

"Nonetheless, that room is not appropriate for a 'man of business' who is not a man," she persisted. "It would not be... seemly."

"Seemly?" He peered at her for a moment, and then raised that forbidding eyebrow. "Ah, I see. You are suggesting that the room is too near the master's bedroom, are you not?" His voice was suddenly colder. Icy, in fact. 'That the proximity might tempt the master to pay a
late-night visit?"

She would not permit herself to be intimidated by his tone. She put up her chin. "Such things have been known to occur."

"They have," he snapped, "but not in this house! I am not the sort to take advantage of persons in my employ."

She fixed him with a level look. "I have yet no way of ascertaining
what
sort you are, my lord."

Her retort caught him by surprise. He gave a little hiccough of amusement but immediately afterward took offense. How dared this creature question his character! "You, ma'am," he said, "have much too saucy a tongue. I begin to think I agreed to my mother's plan too soon."

She did not answer. He strode over to the window and back again, trying to calm his temper. He had not the slightest notion of how to handle this outspoken female. He glanced over at her, his brow knit. She stood just where he'd left her, calmly waiting, apparently untroubled by the altercation. Perplexed, he took a deep breath. "Very well, ma'am, I shall give you the point," he muttered.

"The point?"

"I will let you win this round. We shall leave the matter of your accommodations to my mother. Does that suit you?"

"Yes, my lord. She will know what is appropriate."

"Good. Then I suggest we postpone further discussion until she is with us." With that, he nodded brusquely and went to the door.

"My lord?" Her voice sounded, to her own ears, a bit desperate.

He turned. "Yes?"

"There is one thing I must ask you to do for me." He looked at her suspiciously. "Can't it wait?"

"I'd be most grateful if you could deal with it now."
 

"Something important?"
 

"It is to me."

He sighed in annoyance but surrendered. "Very well then, what is it?"

She gave him a pleading look. "Can you
please
arrange for me to get some breakfast?"

SIX

Lady Martha did not emerge from her bedroom until half-past ten, by which time Jane had long since finished a sumptuous breakfast (which she'd eaten in lonely splendor in the morning room), and Luke (who never ate before midmorning) had returned from his daily canter through St. James Park. He was making his way upstairs to change out of his riding habit when Parks informed him that his mother was at this very moment breakfasting alone. Changing his direction, he strode into the morning room. "I must speak to you, Mama," he said, waving Parks out of the room.

"You might say good morning first," his mother reprimanded.

"Very well, then, good morning," he obliged, and he helped himself to a hearty serving of York ham and eggs before seating himself opposite her.

"Thank you. I suppose it is too much to expect you to be properly dressed at the table."

"Much too much," he retorted.

She sighed. "Incorrigible, as always." Nevertheless, she serenely poured herself a cup of tea. "Well, go on. What is it you want to say to me?"

Luke sat back in his seat and fixed his eyes on her. "Your idea is preposterous," he announced bluntly.

"What idea?" Raising her brow innocently, Lady Martha returned his look.

"The idea of my employing your blasted bluestocking as my business adviser. The position is completely inappropriate for such a woman."

"Bluestocking? What on earth do you mean by that appellation? That she's too bookish?"

"
Prudish
is closer to my meaning. The girl is a prig."

Lady Martha glared at him. "What nonsense! My Jane hasn't a prudish bone in her body."

"You are in no position to know that," her son declared.

"And you are?"

"As a man, it is easier for me to judge that sort of thing."

Lady Martha put down her cup, her expression puzzled. "I don't see why you say that. Unless—" She peered at her son suspiciously. "Good God, Luke, don't tell me you attempted an indecent assault on the girl!"

"Mama!" He slammed down his fork. "What do you take me for?"

"I take you for the libertine that you are."

He drew himself up and glowered. "If you believe, my dear, that I would
ever
take advantage of a female in my employ, you know me as little as your bluestocking does!"

"Oh, pooh! Come down from your high ropes, you lunkhead! I
am
your mother, after all, and quite fond of you."

"Hummph! You've a fine way of showing it. Calling me a libertine, indeed. Very motherly, I must say."

"Being motherly doesn't necessarily mean being blind to your faults. But we were speaking of Jane. If you found the girl to be a bluestocking,
something
must have occurred between you—"

"Something for which
I'm
to blame, is that it?" he demanded sarcastically.

"Something that made her react in a manner you interpreted as priggish."

"She reacted priggishly to my suggestion that she remain housed in the Rose Bedroom."

This surprised her ladyship. "Really? Why on earth should she—?"

"You may well ask. It seems she feared the proximity to my rooms made her vulnerable to any lustful midnight wanderings in which I might indulge." As he rose to fill his cup from the carafe of coffee on the buffet, he muttered
sotto voce,
"The damnable chit flatters herself."

His mother, deep in thought, did not hear him. "She is not completely misguided," she remarked. "The Rose Bedroom is not a fitting place to house a member of the staff."

"Oh?" His brow wrinkled in a troubled frown. "Was I wrong to offer it? I only thought she shouldn't be asked to room with the servants. She seems a little high in the instep for that."

"She is not at all high in the instep. I don't know how you've received so completely erroneous an impression. But as for housing her, we can install her in your old governess's room. That will do nicely, I think."

"
I
think," Luke countered, "that we should forget your plan altogether. Why don't we simply send Miss Jane Douglas back to Cheshire? I can quite easily find myself a man to handle for me what your Jane does for you at Kettering Hall."

"You
won't
find such a man. I tell you, Luke, my Jane is quite extraordinary."

"She has a talent for reckoning, I know. She told me that herself. But I'm certain that many a man can be found with an equal talent."

Lady Martha shook her head. "You're quite wrong. But I shan't bandy words with you, Luke. I've made up my mind, and I will
not
change the terms of our agreement. Either you agree to all of it, or it is void."

Luke frowned in frustration. He could not let his fortune—so close to coming under his control—out of his hands again. How could his mother permit a mere servant girl to become the sticking point in this matter? "Please, Mama," he urged, "don't be inflexible in this matter. It's not only the matter of her prudery. She is insolent and stubborn and very quick to make judgments that are detrimental to me. Can't you see that this girl and I will never get along?"

"No, I don't see that at all. You hardly know her. It seems to me that you're the one who's quick to make detrimental judgments."

"Dash it, Mama, how can we come to such an impasse over a mere—?"

The sound of the door opening stopped his tongue and caused both their heads to turn. Jane Douglas stood in the doorway.

Lady Martha, alarmed that the girl might have overheard some of their conversation, flushed. "Jane, my dear," she said awkwardly, attempting to smile, "do come in."

"Oh!" Jane, noticing his lordship for the first time, froze in the doorway. "I thought you were alone, ma'am." She glanced quickly at him and then dropped her eyes. "I wanted to speak to you, but it can wait." And she took a step backward over the threshold.

"No need to wait," Luke snapped, striding to the door. "I was just leaving." He brushed by her, adding, "It seems I've been wasting my time here anyway. You win, Mama." And he shut the door sharply behind him.

Jane looked after him in surprise. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I hope I did not interrupt something important."

"No, not at all." Her ladyship, relieved that Jane showed no sign of having heard anything and that her son had accepted her ultimatum, now was able to smile up at the younger woman with real sincerity. "Do take something from the buffet, my dear, and join me at the table."

"No, thank you, ma'am," Jane said, standing her ground. "I've already breakfasted. I've only come to say that I made a serious mistake in agreeing to take this temporary post, and I wish you will permit me to leave London and return to Cheshire at once."

Her ladyship winced.
Not you, too!
she cried to herself. Then she took a strong sip of her tea. "You have a good reason, I suppose?"

"Yes, I do. I've discovered that I can do nothing to assist your son with his finances. Or with anything else, for that matter."