His Lordship's Chaperone (3 page)

Leave! Please leave before I run out of air!

Haverton had no choice. His lungs were about to
explode. He had to come up for air.

Lifting his head, he broke the surface of the water
trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He looked around—no
one. He was alone. The Marquess pushed up to a sitting position then stood. He
was not pleased with the way things had turned out. Not at all.

His once immaculate and well-crafted cravat was now
a drooping wet rag. Water drained from his sleeves and dripped from the hem of
his new Weston jacket. His breeches clung to him in the most uncomfortable
manner. This set of clothes would never be the same again.

Haverton pulled a long, slimy piece of pond growth
from his shoulder and tossed it back into the water. He wrung the tail of his
jacket.

The evening, at least for him, was at an end. It
was time to go home. He left a trail of water on his way to find his carriage
and reassured himself that tomorrow everything would change.

The Marquess of Haverton arrived at Waverly House
precisely ten minutes before the hour of nine. It was necessary to do so in
order to listen to one of his mother’s rare praises.

“It’s precisely nine o’clock and here you are.” She
opened her napkin and laid it upon her lap.

Haverton returned from the sideboard with his breakfast
plate and took the seat next to his mother. “If I remember correctly, Mother,
are you not the one who insists on arriving at the table on time or waiting
until the next meal?”

“Oh, you do remember your childhood, how sweet.”
The Duchess nodded to Mary to pour the coffee.

“You were a bit strict on that point—as well as
many others, if I recall correctly.” In truth the details of his childhood were
mainly a blur but he’d never admit such a thing to his parent.

“Discipline is the backbone of authority,” she
announced imperiously. “I had to raise a duke.”

“Hopefully that is in the distant future. I do not
look forward to taking that step.” He gestured to Mary to fill his coffee cup.

“And why is that, dear?” The Duchess straightened
the edges of the white linen napkin on her lap.

“The added responsibility, I suppose.” He brought
the cup to his lips and blew onto the coffee. “I wish father a very long and
healthy life.” For the most part Haverton enjoyed his life. After this
morning’s discussion he expected his life would take a turn for the better.

“How kind of you.” Her Grace stirred cream and
sugar in her coffee.

“Which brings me to why I’m here. I am in need of
your help.” Haverton came straight to the point. That he had also learned from
his mother.

The Duchess closed her eyes and pressed her palms
together in front of her. “My dear, dear boy. You’ve finally come to your
senses, haven’t you?”

“I would like to think so.” He took a bite of
sausage and imagined attending festivities without having to look around the
corner for a young lady who lay in wait to compromise him. He could enjoy the
party with his friends, amuse himself with mild flirtation with the ladies, and
even dance a set or two!

“You’re ready to wed and you’ve come to your
resourceful mother for a list of suitable brides.” She gestured in the air with
her fork.

“Ah … no, that’s not quite it.” Marriage? He wasn’t
thinking anything of the sort. “I was hoping to enlist my resourceful mother to
help me find a suitable chaperone.”

The Duchess exhaled in an exasperated manner, and
she replaced her fork on the table—rather loudly. “Of all the—I am most
displeased.”

Haverton glanced skyward and drew a slow breath.

“Isn’t it enough that you are the Rogue of the
Realm?”

“Mother, I think that may be a bit of an
exaggeration—” That was a ridiculous moniker.

“Do not interrupt me,” she shot back. “It is not
enough that I must put up with the gossip? And let me tell you I’ve already had
an earful since I’ve returned to Town.”

“But Mother … the gossip is only—”

“I do not know who you expect to disguise in a
blanket of propriety. It will not work, I tell you, and I refuse to be a part
of it. You will receive no help from this quarter.” She picked up her fork,
stabbed her slab of ham and dug into it with a knife.

“Mother, if you’d only listen—please. I am not the
grand seducer they may say I am. Quite the contrary—and I do not chase young
ladies. This is the exact type of outrage I wish to end.” Haverton exhaled.
This was all becoming very tiresome. “I plan on taking steps to prevent just
this sort of thing from happening.”

“Steps? What steps?” She looked up from her plate.

“The chaperone I am inquiring about is for me,” he
said with perfect calm.

“Do you mean to tell me …” The fork and knife in
the Duchess’ hands fell onto the plate with a clatter.

Haverton left his seat and rushed to her aid.

“The family … the disgrace …” Her eyes fluttered
shut, and she slid from her chair, landing gracefully on the floor.

He carried his mother to the small sofa next to the
window. “Mother? Mother?” He patted her hand to help revive her. “Come now,
Mother. Wake up.”

Mary came from the kitchen. Out of one of the
sideboard drawers, she pulled a vinaigrette bottle, uncorked it and waved it
under the Duchess’ nose.

Her Grace opened her eyes. “Get away!” She waved
her arms, forcing Mary back. “What has happened?”

Haverton dismissed the servant girl and helped his
mother sit upright. “I was telling you of my desire to employ a chaperone.”

The Duchess gasped. “Oh … I thought it was all a
bad dream.” She pressed her fingers to her temples and a pained expression
crossed her face.

“Do you not see that it is the answer to all my
problems?” Haverton had hoped he could bring her around to his way of thinking.

She lamented, “I had hoped that the madness of your
father’s Uncle Clarence would pass our family—”

“Mother, I am serious.”

She continued to stare at him. “So am I. You shall
be the laughingstock of London.”

“Then I shall be an unattached laughingstock. You
simply do not understand what I endure. I cannot continue being preyed upon any
longer. I am more than happy to provide a chaperone for the lady who insists on
keeping my company without her escort. It is the least I can do.”

“How magnanimous of you.” Her Grace stretched out
her arm and waited for her son to help her to her feet.

Haverton slid his arm around her waist and helped
her gain her balance. “I admit I am not thinking solely of the young lady.”

“That would be a first—you thinking of someone
other than yourself.” She once again settled into her chair.

“Would you wish me to become entangled in an
association not of my choosing?” He walked to his place but did not sit.
Haverton would not stand here and allow his mother to dictate when he should
marry or to whom. “You need not aid me in finding someone suitable, if that is
what you wish. I can utilize other sources to gain my ends.”

The Duchess remained momentarily silent. Haverton
wondered if she was listening to him at all.

“If that is what you wish, Mother. I thank you for
the breakfast. I’ll be on my way now.” He headed for the door.

“Just a moment.”

Haverton stopped and faced her.

“On second thought, I believe I shall make a few
inquiries on your behalf.”

“Excellent.” The Marquess strode to his mother and
kissed her on the cheek. It did not matter what he said to change her mind. All
he cared about was she had. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“After giving it some thought, perhaps this might
work out well for you.”

Haverton stepped forward, pleased by his mother’s
approval. “You can guarantee her excellent living conditions and a generous
salary. Her character must be above reproach. I want someone upstanding and
completely reliable. I want only the best.”

“Yes, dear,” the Duchess concurred. “For you, I
would only settle for the very best.”

The Talbots’ butler allowed Miss Catherine
Hayward’s visitor, the Duchess of Waverly, to enter the mansion through the
front door and led her to the front parlor.

“I have instructed Roxanne to watch Master Thomas
and Miss Chloe while you attend to your visitor.” Hopkins’ disapproval was
clear.

First of all, Catherine should not have visitors,
and Duchess or not, they should not be calling at the front door. However, one
did not expect a Duchess to call at the servants’ entrance.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hopkins.” Catherine rose out of the
chair and handed baby Chloe to Roxanne. “I had no idea she would ever call on
me here.”

With an agitated glare, he cleared his throat. “Her
Grace is waiting in the front parlor,” he said and left.

“Tommy, you be a good lad and mind Roxanne while
I’m gone. I’ll be back soon.” Catherine addressed the young boy stacking blocks
on the floor. She glanced down at her dress. There wasn’t time to change her
clothes without keeping the Duchess waiting. To keep her absence from the
nursery as short as possible, Catherine headed to the parlor straight away.

She had met Her Grace only one time, shortly after
her arrival in London. There was a polite note from the Duchess once a year,
inquiring as to Catherine’s health and her satisfaction with her position. The
last thing she had expected was a personal call from the lady herself.

On her way down the staircase, Catherine removed
her apron, straightened her dress, and smoothed her hair back to her bun. She
stopped just outside the parlor doors and slid her reading spectacles low on
the bridge of her nose. They always made her look older, more learned, or so
she thought anyway.

The Duchess of Waverly stood when Catherine entered
the room. “Miss Hayward, how delightful it is to see you again.”

Catherine curtsied. “
Your
Grace.”

“I suppose we must stick to protocol in these
matters.” The Duchess sat and gestured for Catherine to sit beside her.

“Would you care for tea?” Catherine inquired after
settling onto the sofa.

“No, thank you. I believe I will get straight to
the point of my visit.”

That would be nice.

The Duchess leaned the slightest bit forward. “I
have a new, and I believe very advantageous, position to offer you.”

“But I have been very happy here,
Your
Grace.” Catherine loved her position and she had grown
very fond of the four children in her care.

“Lord and Lady Talbot are very pleased with you.
But I must tell you this new position will result in double your present wages.”

“Double?” Catherine had no doubt her eyes had widened
and could only hope her jaw had not dropped open. “I can hardly believe—it’s
very generous.”

“Just as I told you. It is one, I should say, that
would be very difficult to decline.”

Catherine felt breathless. “What … what is this
position?”

“Chaperone.”

“Chaperone? A lady’s chaperone?” Catherine allowed
herself to imagine the circumstance for a moment. What a nice change that would
be. Gowns and parties instead of nappies and tantrums.

“Not precisely.” The Duchess chuckled. “You would
be chaperone to my eldest son the Marquess of Haverton.”

Catherine clapped her hand over her mouth but not
in time to stop a burst of laugher. “I’m sorry,
Your
Grace. A chaperone for a man?”

“I know it sounds peculiar but when you meet him
I’m sure you will understand. Haverton is a most extraordinary man.”

“I don’t know.” Catherine felt very reluctant to
leave her employers and the Talbot children. Except for the money, why should
she ever consider leaving?

“You shall have run of the house,” Her Grace
continued while Catherine remained silent. “You need only accompany the
Marquess in the evenings when he attends social gatherings. He really has no
need of you during the day—unless, on the off chance, he should attend an
afternoon fete or boating party.”

She watched Catherine for a reaction. “You should
have most of your days to yourself. You must admit,” she continued, “watching a
grown man for an evening and an occasional afternoon is much better than a
house full of children all day long.”

The Duchess knew exactly how to get her point
across.

“You make the offer sound most attractive.”

“I need not make it sound attractive, it is an
excellent opportunity. I should think it is one you cannot refuse.”

Her Grace was right. Catherine thought of the money
she sent to her mother and her three younger sisters. With an increase she
would be able to send much, much more. “How can I say no?”

“How very wonderful.” The Duchess stood.

“I would
like to wait until Lady Talbot can find a replacement for me.”

“You may rest assured I have someone in mind to
fill your position.” Her Grace straightened the strings of her reticule. “Now
that you will be installed at Moreland Manor, we shall have tea together as
often as we wish.”