Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] (10 page)

“My apologies.” Elena meant it, really she did, but she did not believe that Mia’s thoughts were that pure.

“Now tell me, Elena, what instrument does he play?”

“The duke?”

“Yes, the duke.”

The long-suffering patience in Mia’s voice made Elena smile. “He plays no instrument that I know of. I do not think he is musical. Or that may be my pride talking. He left before I finished singing.”

“He did not!” Outrage filled her face. “How could he. The man must have the feelings of a goat.”

“Thank you, Mia, but not everyone hears the same way. Maybe he loves the sound of rain, the sounds of nature, and has no need for man-made music.”

“Are you sure that you’re not in love with him?”

“Not for a minute. Like all men of power he protects himself so that no one will take advantage of him.” She was thinking out loud, explaining it to herself as much as to Mia. “He does have sensibilities he tries to conceal. I saw those when we met.”

It would be entirely too much work to try to pierce that protection. And for her to have an affair of the heart, both hearts would have to be involved.

“I will ask Lord William about him, Elena. Lord William knows everyone.”

“Do not discuss it with him.” She almost dropped her brush and spoke with such sharpness that Mia stared at her.

“Why not?”

“For reasons I cannot begin to explain.” She went back to the bedside and took her ward’s hands. “Please, dearest, tell me you will be my confidante and not betray my secrets.”

“Oh, yes, yes I will, Elena. You can trust me to keep all
your secrets.” She was wide-eyed at the request, as though being raised to the level of confidante was a rite of passage as meaningful as a first ball.

“Grazie, carissima.”
Elena kissed her on the cheek and released her hands, hoping she had not asked too much. “Now let me tell you about the other men.”

Mia’s wide eyes almost popped out of her head until Elena could no longer keep her expression solemn.

“You are not serious!” Mia threw a bolster from the bed in her general direction. “You are trying to distract me so that I will forgive you for not taking me with you to dinner. I would have loved to see Edward’s violin again.”

“And William.”

Mia blushed prettily. Elena picked up the bolster and put it back on the bed, wondering if the girl was developing a
tendre
for him.

“Elena, I want to go to parties and enjoy myself.”

“In a few weeks when the Season starts, Mia.” So this was not about William at all. “I hope waiting for your first ball is the worst frustration you ever face.”

Mia folded her arms across her chest and turned her head.

“Listen to me. You will need time to buy clothes. By the time your gowns are ready my place in society will be more secure. I think vouchers to Almack’s is too much to hope for, but there will be more balls and fetes than you can count.”

“I do not want to wait. I want it now.”

“Yes, I know.” This would go on until dawn if she did not put a stop to it. Fatigue made Mia’s behavior more irritating than amusing this evening. “Mia, I know that
cajoling, wheedling tone always worked with Edward. But I want you to think a minute, has it ever worked with me?”

“No.” Mia turned to face her again, her mouth set in an unattractive pout. “You are mean, Elena.”

“You are my ward. I am as responsible for you as a parent would be.”

“Yes, yes, I know.” The girl pulled the pins from her own hair, a ridiculous upsweep, much too old for her, that Elena had chosen to ignore.

“Mia, will you unlace my stays?” Elena slid the robe down her shoulder so the girl could reach the laces.

Mia complied and as she was unlacing the ribbons asked, “When are you going to find a maid?”

“Soon, but it is so difficult to find servants who do not mind us speaking Italian.”

Mia was silent a moment. “Why not hire Tina to be your maid and find a new housekeeper?”

“Do you think she would prefer that?” Elena looked over her shoulder at Mia.

“Yes,” Mia said, as the stays fell free. “Yes, Elena, I am sure of it.”

Mia spoke with such conviction Elena wondered if Tina and Mia had already discussed it.

“It may not be as important a position as housekeeper but it is a much more personal connection to you.”

Picking up her clothes, Elena folded them and left them on the closest chair. “All right, I’ll ask Tina, but you must promise me that she will not consider it an insult.”

“I am sure of it.”

Mia’s certainty convinced Elena that the subject had
been thoroughly discussed. And decided. “Tomorrow. I will talk with her about it tomorrow.”

Elena settled herself in bed and quieted her mind. As she fell asleep an image of the duke popped into her head.

Would he call again? Probably not. Definitely not. Unless he had spoken seriously when he told her to let him know if she wanted a lover. How did one do that? Send him a letter?
Dear Duke, please come to my bed at your earliest convenience
. She smiled into the dark at her foolishness as she thought about his blue eyes. But not startlingly so. A blue that hinted at secrets that he was not ready to share.

What must his married life have been like? Had the duke and Rowena shared any of their thoughts, as she and Edward had? If they had, now that she was gone, with whom did he share his heart?

I
THINK SHE
wanted to slap me.” The duke sat in the chair closest to the fire.

Magda gave a soft “woof.” Meryon could not tell if that meant approval or censure. He took a sip of the wine Blix had left for him. Perfect valet that he was, Blix would show up in precisely five minutes to see if Meryon “would prefer to retire or have some more wine.”

Meryon leaned his head on the back of the chair, his memory sharp with the image of Elena’s golden brown eyes, the way she used her hands to emphasize her words.

She so totally embodied what he loved best about the women of Italy: their temper, yes, but also their warmth, their passion.

As she had said of her husband, she wore her heart for all to see. She needed someone to give her an outlet for all
that passion. He drank the last of his wine and laughed at his self-indulgent generosity.

Magda slid off the chair and ran from the room. A sign that his valet Blix was nearby. His dog and his valet detested each other. And Meryon had no intention of dismissing either of them. Blix excelled at all a valet’s most valued skills and Magda listened and never argued.

When Blix did not walk over to the table, pick up the bottle of wine, and offer him more, Meryon looked up.

“Your Grace, I beg your pardon. Your brother-in-law, Mr. Garrett, arrived an hour ago. He is in the library and asked to see you before you retired.”

Meryon tried not to race out of the room like a child whose best friend has just arrived. He stopped short, confused, when he found that Garrett was not alone. A boy was with him, on the floor wrestling playfully with Magda.

Both boy and dog sprang apart when he came in. The boy stood and smoothed his hair and shirt, clean but close to a rag.

Magda raced over to Meryon, alive with energy, something he had never seen before. He opened the door and Magda ran into the hall.

“Take her,” he said to one of the footmen, and closed the door before the footman answered.

“It’s not her fault. I made her play with me!”

“Yes, and the footman will take her out to the park to run off her energy.”

“You will not beat her for leaving hair everywhere.” The boy made it a statement and Meryon recognized the worry buried under the command.

“No. Though I will see that she spends more time in the park. I never realized she had that much energy.”

The boy nodded as if that was an acceptable arrangement, as if he were in charge.

Alan Wilson was about Rexton’s size, but far more world-weary than his son. Wilson stood without fidgeting, caution replacing confidence. He looked from one man to the other without moving his head. Meryon saw no trust in those eyes, but no fear either.

“Now let us go back to the beginning.” Meryon sat at his desk, leaning back in the chair.

“Good evening, Meryon,” Garrett began. “When I arrived, this young man was at the door, trying to convince the night porter that you had invited him to call. Why would he lie, I asked myself, and have kept him company for the last hour while we waited for you.”

“Are you the man I met the other night?” the boy asked.

“Yes.” Meryon could not control the suspicion in his voice, surprised the boy did not recognize him.

“I would know your carriage, but all you nobs look the same to me. Well-fed and drunk.”

“That is true, more often than not.” Garrett laughed as he spoke. “Though tonight the duke is neither.”

“And if I had been in my cups the other night, I would hardly remember you now, Mr. Wilson.”

Alan Wilson shrugged and looked about. As he watched the boy’s eyes move from one object to another, Meryon wondered if he was considering what he would steal.

“My coach is in the mews if you would like to visit it.”

“I came to see what you wanted.”

“Midnight is an odd time to call for an interview.”

“You’re still awake, aren’t you?”

The boy did not understand the concept of impressing an employer. He acted as though he did not really want work. “I said I would offer you a position.”

Alan Wilson laughed in a way that was not funny at all. “What position did you want me in? I’d have to know before I agree.”

“Employment in my household,” Meryon said in freezing tones. “A place where you could make more than you earn on the street, without threat to your safety. I told you to bring your mother with you. I have no ulterior motives.”

For the first time the boy looked confused.

“Ulterior motive?” Garrett chuckled. “Meryon, speak in words that Mr. Wilson can understand.” Garrett turned to the boy. “The duke means that his only wish is to offer work that will take you off the streets.”

The boy made a sound of disbelief. “Why would you do that if you didn’t want something more?”

“Because I have a son near your age and cannot imagine him on his own.” Meryon had more reasons than that but he left it there.

“Aye, sir,” Alan Wilson said. “He would be dead in a day.”

“Do you trust no one?” Garrett asked.

“Yes, sir, my ma. Who is home waiting for me to bring something more than a story and will beat me if I don’t.”

“Come back tomorrow, after noon, and bring your mother this time. If you do, then I will find you a position
in the stable.” Meryon handed him a coin. Wilson took the coin, bit it to test its weight. After he put it in his pocket he shrugged.

“Not tomorrow. I have a job for the day.”

“Then the day after,” Meryon said as he wondered what kind of game they were playing.

“Yes, sir. And my mother can’t come here. She has to take care of my brother and the baby.”

Or she does not exist
. Meryon looked at Garrett and he knew they had the same thought.

“I have time the day after tomorrow, after breakfast,” Garrett said. “Shall I pay a call on Mrs. Wilson on Thursday and see if she is willing to allow her son to work here?”

“Excellent idea.” Meryon wanted to know what the boy’s living conditions were like. If there was a father here or away. Garrett’s general observations always proved useful.

“Mr. Wilson, tell your mother that the Reverend Mr. Garrett will call on her sometime after noon on Thursday. Come here yourself to show him the way.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy agreed and then gave his attention to Garrett. “You’re a reverend?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t look like one. My ma will know for sure if you’re lying.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wilson. I will bring proof and only tell the truth. Will that be sufficient?”

“I don’t know about that, but it should be enough.”

“What do I look like?” Garrett asked with interest.

“Like a soldier from the war.”

“Which I am.” Garrett bowed to the boy. “But as your father will tell you, the war is over. I have found another calling. What does he look like?” Garrett asked, gesturing to the duke.

“Like a really rich man who can have anything he wants.”

“Almost, but not quite, true.” Garrett brushed some imaginary lint from his coat.

“Almost being the significant word.” An image of the woman in the darkened room came to mind. Elena Verano before he knew how difficult she could be.

With a nod from Meryon, Garrett showed Mr. Wilson to the door and came back into the room laughing. “You have an intriguing circle of friends, Lynford.”

“It seems so, but after this evening I am wondering if Mr. Wilson might prefer to steal as much as he could, rather than work for me.”

“I, too, saw those eyes taking in everything in the room.”

“Still, the boy intrigues me. I wish I knew why.”

When Garrett gave him the direct look that they all called the “vicar’s challenge,” he went on.

“You’re right. I do know. He reminds me of Rexton and the accident of birth.” He called the picture of his golden-haired son to mind. “That and young Kepless. I have a plan. Pour us some brandy and I will tell you about it.”