My Favorite Bride (14 page)

“They're boring,” Henrietta said.

“I'll tell the seamstresses to stop at once, for my daughter is bored.”

“No! No, I pretend I'm a princess who's going to my own ball, and I don't think about it.” Henrietta pouted. “Except when they stick me with a needle.”

All the girls groaned and agreed.

“I look forward to seeing all of you in them. Now I shall go plan the party, and you children shall learn mathematics.” He stroked Emmeline's cheek, then Agnes's, and almost before he thought, Samantha's.

Samantha jerked her head back. “Colonel Gregory, I am not one of your children.”

Her motion, her reprimand, aggravated him. “Nor have I mistaken you for one.” He allowed a bit of the heat he felt to seep into his gaze, and willed her to remember as he remembered.

Color sprang to her cheeks, but she pressed those soft lips into a firm line and stared back, a woman would not be coerced except with the sweetest weapons.

“I give you good day. Miss Prendregast. Children.” With one last, piercing stare, he left for the veranda.

Not one of his children? He would say not!

Chapter Fourteen

As William expected, Teresa sat enthroned beneath an awning. As she had promised, she'd made the veranda the center of party preparations. She had lists spread out on the table before her, with sketches and charts. She had a bell at hand she used to summon the servants, who came and went, receiving instructions and reporting they had carried them out; and a vase of carnations, white, pink, and red, nodded gaily in the breeze. Teresa, William had discovered, would have been a great general.

She
would
be a good wife for him.

“William, at last!” With a welcoming smile, she held out her hands to him.

He kissed them gallantly.

She withdrew at once and picked up her pen.

Clearly, he was nothing but a passing distraction.

Dipping the nib into the ink, she wrote a few words and announced, “I have decided. We'll put up tents on the lawn between the house and the lake, and weather permitting, we'll serve luncheon there all three days.” She looked fresh and dewy in her yellow morning dress and wide-brimmed hat, her lips softly tinted and her eyes sharp.

“A tent on the lawn.” That was the stupidest idea he'd ever heard. “Why, when we have a perfectly good dining room?”

She frowned at him with dainty ferocity. “You can't expect us to eat every meal there. That would be tedious. No, outdoors will provide the variety we require, and besides, it's fashionable to picnic.”

“Then picnic we must.” William had been out late last night, in the saddle, riding the roads in search of traitors. He hadn't the patience to cajole Teresa out of her wild ideas, but neither could he snap with impatience as he wished. She was, after all, doing him a huge favor. “I want to impress my guests.” He wanted to impress Lord and Lady Featherstonebaugh.

“Of course you do, darling. This is your first foray in public for far too long.” She patted his hand, lavished a smile on him, and went back to her lists. “The first day, we'll have a revitalizing repast laid out so as they arrive, they can refresh themselves from their journeys. We'll have chairs set up, of course, but only a few so they're forced to mingle. That night, we'll have an informal gathering. We'll have a card room, of course, and games, with music. The ladies can perform—”

“Don't forget the children.”

“No. How could I forget them?” She visibly infused her smile with enthusiasm. “At that time, the children who are guests can smile politely. Then perhaps dancing, if people wish, and dinner at midnight.”

It sounded much the same as any other house party, except for the tents, but he wasn't fool enough to say that. “Very unique.”

“Thank you. The second day we'll set up tables and chairs and have a meal. I hope the weather's warm.”

“If you command it so, I'm sure it will be.” Not even God dared thwart Teresa in the matter of entertaining.

“Thank you! What a lovely thought.” She scarcely paid him heed. “We'll serve jellied salmon, cheeses, cold venison pie, and ices . . . I'm so glad you have an ice house, darling.”

“Very fortuitous in these circumstances. Don't forget my children will wish to entertain.”

“Oh, dear.”

She didn't sound as enthused as he might like. She hadn't yet learned their names with any success, and she seemed inept at making conversation with any of the girls. Did Teresa not like children? For that would pose a great setback in his plans to wed her.

She consulted her schedule. “I don't have time for them then. Rather . . . let's work that in late that afternoon, right before the tea. Then we'll send the guests up to change. That night we'll have the ball.”

He thought perhaps he was supposed to express enthusiasm. Instead he scarcely restrained a sigh. Having fun was an ungodly amount of work, and his men would be patrolling the roads without him.

“I've ordered the orchestra already,” Teresa said. “They'll be coming in from York.”

He hoped Queen Victoria appreciated his efforts to keep her realm safe, for this was costing him a fortune.

Teresa must have read his mind, for she said, “Now, darling, you've got that
economy
expression on your face. Remember, you haven't given a party for three years, so you must consider this one will make up for the rest.”

“Yes, and ever after each party will have to be bigger.”

Plucking a carnation from the vase, she broke off the stem and threaded it into his lapel. She laid her hand flat on his chest, and looked into his eyes. “Most men don't realize that.”

She touched him. She gazed at him. She spoke to him in her melodious voice. And he experienced not one smidgin of the excitement he enjoyed with a single word from Samantha. Samantha, with her snappy repartee and her tart observations . . . and her sweet mouth and long, slender body. “Right,” he said gruffly, although he didn't quite remember what he agreed to.

“Don't worry about the ball. It will be grand and wonderful.”

“I'm not worried about the ball.” He was
worried that Lord and Lady Featherstonebaugh wouldn't come into the snare laid for them.

“That's the way!” She patted his lapel once, firmly. “We'll have a midnight supper. The last day . . . another repast in the tents, I think, or maybe on the veranda, and then they'll be on their way.”

She was done. At last. “That sounds marvelous. I look forward to seeing it come to fruition.” Although he didn't look forward to more parties, and more discussions like this one . . . if he made her his wife, as he was resolved to do. “Make sure there are lots of places for private conversation, where these men can relax and talk about business or pleasure.”

“Yes. Yes, of course. But there won't be much pleasure with this gathering. William, there are more men than there are women.” She tapped her long nails on the table in a sharp, rapid rhythm. “Many more men than women.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.” But only men were officials in the Home Office and in the military. Only men would attract important spies like Lord and Lady Featherstonebaugh. And frequently career soldiers were not married. “I don't know that many women. I've invited all of the neighbors with daughters.”

“Which is why it would have been better if you'd waited until I got here to make out your guest list.” Teresa made a visible effort to shake off her irritation. “But the damage is done. The few single ladies will be very pleased with the marked attentions.”

It was odd. Teresa appeared to love his home, his lands, and be fond of himself. Yet she seemed out of place at Silvermere. She glittered like a diamond, showing different facets every way she turned, but he didn't know which ones were real. He had to wonder—what secrets did she hide that she so carefully concealed herself?

And why, he wondered, did he even care? All of the reasons for deeming her a suitable mate still applied. She was of his own class, she was gracious, a good hostess, dressed well, and could present his daughters into society. He was wasting his time trying to comprehend a woman. No man ever could. Yet that was the problem. Since he'd met Samantha, sometimes it seemed he did understand her. And the two of them had nothing in common.

He had to stop thinking such madness. He signaled the footman, then asked Teresa, “Have you had breakfast?”

“Yes, but you can order if you wish.” She glanced at him piercingly. “Although I never knew you to be a slugabed. Were you out again last night?”

She'd given him permission to carouse, so he supposed there was no harm in admitting, “I left around eleven.”

“Not until eleven, eh?” Picking up her pen, she dipped it in the ink, dipped it again, then threw it down. It landed with a splat on one of her lists, but she paid it no heed. “William! I must speak!”

He finished ordering his breakfast from the footman, then said, “Of course, my dear. What is it?”

Straightening her narrow shoulders, she said, “I know how much military people value confidentiality, and I feel speaking will violate that, but this concerns your children.”

She had his full attention. “What is it?”

“Last night, late, I was wakeful. I heard voices in the corridor. I stepped out and I saw your Miss Prendregast—
talking
to a
man
.”

He had spent years in the military, negotiating with distrustful natives, dealing with arrogant, ignorant officers. He'd learned to hide his thoughts, and never had he needed the skill as much as now. Talking? Had she seen Samantha talking to a man? To him? Or had she seen Samantha kissing a man? Him?

But if Teresa had seen them kissing, she would say so. There would no advantage to her in avoiding the issue.

And he would not repeat the experience, regardless of how pleasurable it had been. He respected Miss Prendregast. She might be stubborn, opinionated, and outspoken, but she was dedicated to his children. She deserved an award for being so outspoken last night, and he couldn't believe how shortsighted he'd been. “I was that man. Agnes was ill, and she'd gone to Miss Prendregast. I was angry and we had words.” And more, but even if Teresa knew that, she wouldn't judge him. She had assured him of that.

“My goodness! You mean Miss Prendregast does not even have the evenings to herself?”

Teresa surprised him. He thought she would flay Miss Prendregast for immorality. Instead, she
thought about Miss Prendregast's inconvenience. “My rules are that the children are to go to bed at nine and stay in bed.”

“Obviously, Miss Prendregast has charmed them so much they feel free to intrude on her free time.”

“Yes.” He couldn't argue with that.

“Poor Miss Prendregast!” Teresa shook her head and sighed. “Anytime one of the children want her, they'll go to her bedchamber in the house. Aren't you afraid you'll lose her? She says she's from the Distinguished Academy of Governesses. Those ladies are much in demand. She doesn't need to remain in a place where she gets so little solitude.”

He frowned. Teresa had a point, a good one. He didn't want Samantha to become dissatisfied and possibly leave . . . only because, of course, a suitable governess was a prize above all others. “Unfortunately, Miss Prendregast is so convivial I fear she'll welcome the children no matter what I say.”

“She has such pretty manners, and is so well-spoken. She is a lovely woman. Lovely. Absolutely charming.” Teresa tapped her cheek as she thought. “Perhaps a better plan would be to house her in one of the cottages where she could have time to herself.”

He retorted without thinking. “No.”

“Why not?”

Because he wanted Samantha under his own roof.

Clasping both of his hands in hers, Teresa looked into his eyes. “I know it's more convenient for you if Miss Prendregast is nearby in case one of the children takes ill, but darling, you must be fair to the
poor girl. She's already so thin, if she loses sleep I fear for her health.”

Alarmed, he asked, “Do you think she's ill?”

“No, I'm sure she's . . . well, she seems sturdy enough when she marches the children off to practice their singing. And as you said, she eats an
incredible
amount.” Teresa pressed her fingers to her stomach. “One might almost worry she has a tapeworm. So no, don't trouble yourself about her health. Think about her well-being, and I know you'll make the right decision.”

He hated to admit it, but Teresa was right, and this visceral reaction of his was wrong. All wrong.

In addition, this would get Samantha away from him at night, and much as he hated to admit it, while in his bed, he did think of her. That was wrong, for he was courting Teresa. Samantha distracted him, and while he had confidence he could overcome this ridiculous attraction to his governess, it would be easier if he saw her as little as possible. After all, he'd heard of a lord who, only last year, had gone half mad and married his housekeeper, but William could never lose his head over a woman. Especially not a woman who was most likely unable to fit into his society. “Thank you, Teresa. Miss Prendregast will move tomorrow.”