The Widowed Countess (8 page)

Dorothea seemed to consider Clarinda’s words for several moments before her face suddenly brightened. “Oh, well now you two
are
getting somewhere,” she announced happily before she disappeared from the doorway, the retreating swish of her skirts suggesting she was on her way to the breakfast parlor.

Wondering if anyone would notice, Clarinda toyed with the idea of adding a dollop of brandy to her chocolate before she sighed and ate her breakfast alone, sans brandy. Penning a note to Adele, she mentioned she would be taking a walk in the park at eleven and wondered if Adele might want to join her. She almost tacked on the words, ‘Save me,’ along with a drawing of her neck-deep in water made up of the name ’Daniel’, but thought better of it. It would be eleven o’clock before she’d have the note ready for the footman. The footman hurried off with her note, leaving Clarinda to finish her second helping of coddled eggs and toast.

Chapter 9

Parlor Talk

Daniel stood in the parlor doorway, not quite sure if he should step over the threshold. Clarinda sat facing the fire, her profile suggesting she was deep in thought and hadn’t noticed his presence. He was surprised, then, when she took a deep breath and stood. Turning to face him, she afforded him a deep curtsy.“My lord. Forgive me for not properly welcoming you to Norwick House,” she said in what sounded like a truly repentant voice, her eyes downcast.

Unsure of how to respond, Daniel bowed and entered the room, stopping just in front of Clarinda so he could reach for her hand and lift it to his lips. Brushing them over the backs of her fingers, Daniel continued to hold onto her hand as he regarded her. “Thank you, my lady. I am ... sorry for your loss.”

Raising her eyes to meet his, Clarinda realized he meant the sentiment. “And I am sorry for yours, my lord,” she answered formally.
God, he looks just like David!

Daniel nodded, his eyes closing briefly.

“Did you have a good trip from Sussex?” she asked then, wondering if now would be a good time to tell him the news of the baby she expected in five months, three weeks and one day.

Daniel shrugged, glancing toward one of the chairs. “As good as could be expected, I suppose,” he murmured. “May we sit?” he asked, one brow furrowing as if he thought she might deny him the hospitality.

Clarinda’s eyes widened. “Oh, of course,” she replied with a nod. “Please,” she motioned toward the chair David would normally take. Daniel eyed it with a frown and instead took an adjacent chair after Clarinda took her place on the settee. She was careful to sit up straight as possible, as if she was preparing for a verbal battle.

“As mistress of this house, I suspect you are best equipped to tell me what I need to know,” he stated, not waiting for her to comment on the weather or the funeral scheduled for the following day. “We should start with the staff. As a result of my brother’s untimely passing, has anyone resigned their post or given notice they intend to leave their employment?”

Clarinda stared at Daniel in surprise. “No,” she replied with a shake of her head, wondering why he would think they would. Most of the household staff had been with the house since before David moved in, and those who were newer servants all seemed satisfied with their posts.

Daniel blinked at her response. “Oh,” he responded, his quizzical expression suggesting he thought the entire staff would have given their notice. “And those who work in the stables? In the carriage house?”

“No,” Clarinda answered carefully.

Frowning, Daniel leaned forward and clasped his hand together, his elbows supported on his knees. “And the house? Any ... overlooked maintenance? Leaky roof? Drafty windows?”

“No,” Clarinda shook her head, joining her own hands together on her lap. Then, thinking she should make some comment other than ‘no,’ she added, “The kitchen was recently remodeled and now has a newer stove. And we acquired an ice box.” She was rather glad for this last addition since it allowed her to serve her guests cold lemonade instead of the lukewarm lemon water that reminded her of the dreck they served at Almack’s.

“Oh,” Daniel answered with a nod that seemed to suggest he was impressed. “And the gardens?”

Clarinda smiled then. “Mr. Foster does a wonderful job keeping the grounds trimmed and the gardens looking neat and tidy,” she offered with a nod. Of all the staff at Norwick House, she liked Mr. Foster the best because he did such a good job in the only position that was the most evident to anyone who drove up to Norwick House and parked in the semi-circular drive in front. As for the gardens in the back, she frequently walked through them with her visiting friends when the weather permitted.

“I take it he can grow roses,” Daniel stated, a slight smile finally touching his lips.

Clarinda nearly sucked in a breath at the sight of his changed expression. It was the first hint he’d shown of not being angry. Her face changed to a slight frown, though, when she realized what he had said. “We actually don’t have any roses in the gardens, nor out front,” she murmured, a look of puzzlement crossing her face.

“No roses?” Daniel repeated, his brows furrowing as if she’d said there was no brandy in the library.

Thinking of brandy, Clarinda remembered she hadn’t rung for tea. Nor had she offered Daniel anything stronger. “Would you like a glass of brandy, my lord?”

Daniel blinked. “It’s not even ten o’clock in the morning, my lady.”

Clarinda regarded him for a moment, wondering as to the significance of his statement. She was quite sure David imbibed anytime of the day or night. “Tea, then?” she suggested, reaching over to shake the silver bell that she’d left on the edge of the settee the morning when David had swept her into the dip and kissed her senseless. She almost imagined Daniel doing the same and had to shake her head to rid herself of the almost-formed picture in her mind.

“Fine,” Daniel responded with a wave of his hand. “No pink roses?” he asked then, apparently not willing to give up the conversation about the gardens.

Clarinda turned to him from having nodded at Rosie, who had appeared in the doorway as if she had been camped out in the hallway. “No pink roses, my lord,” she affirmed, “Although the maid’s name is Rosie,” she added as she waved a hand toward the doorway. She wondered if she needed to direct Mr. Foster to plant a huge rose garden before the day was done. There was certainly room in the back, near the edge of the parkland that bordered the property line.

Daniel stared at her for a very long time. “I thought ... I thought they were your favorite flower,” he stammered, a muscle in his jaw working overtime.

Clarinda leaned her head to one side and regarded her brother-in-law for a very long time. “They are,” she acknowledged with a nod, wondering how Daniel knew such a thing. Had David mentioned it to him? She could hardly imagine the brothers discussing her love of pink roses. “How ... how did you know?” she asked quietly, deciding she wanted to know.

His lips thinning to a straight line, David ducked his head a bit. “Your friends did,” he replied quietly. “They told me. The day before I took you to Kensington Gardens and asked for your hand in marriage.”

There
.

Despite what had happened the last time he mentioned his proposal, the words were out again. He wondered if the volcano that was Clarinda Ann Brotherton Fitzwilliam’s anger would suddenly erupt and leave him awash in molten lava.

Clarinda held her breath, remembering where this conversation had taken them the last time they’d had it two years ago. “I wasn’t aware my friends had shared that information with
you
,” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.

Porter appeared in the doorway, clearing his throat to make his presence known. “Yes, Porter?” Clarinda and Daniel replied in unison.

“My lady, a floral delivery for you. Where shall I put the bouquets?” the butler asked as his eyes shifted nervously to his right.

Clarinda realized almost immediately that since David’s death notice had appeared in
The Times
, flowers would start arriving. Gladioli, no doubt, most from the hot houses just outside of London. “You can put them here on the table,” she offered, waving to the tea table in front of the settee. She noticed one of Daniel’s eyebrows arch up, but he said nothing.

Meanwhile, Porter gave his mistress an uncertain look. “My lady, all of these bouquets are ... far
larger
than that small table will allow, I should think,” he replied uncertainly.

“Oh?” Clarinda answered, coming to her feet. Caught by surprise at his sister-in-law’s quick rise, Daniel moved to stand and instead stayed seated, heaving a sigh. Clarinda made her way to the doorway and peeked around the corner. Several liveried delivery men stood in the vestibule and hallway, all burdened with large bouquets of pink flowers. “Oh!” she said, her hands coming up to clasp together in front of her waist.

There were at least seven very large vases of roses – pink roses – being hefted by the gloved servants. The scent of them filled the hallway, intoxicating her instantly. “Oh!” She stole a glance back at Daniel, but his attention was elsewhere, one leg crossed over the other and bobbing up and down.
This cannot be a coincidence
, Clarinda thought as she turned back to consider the huge rose garden that had suddenly appeared in her hall. “Um. One on that table over there,” she pointed toward the round table near the base of the stairs, “One in my bedchamber, one in here on the card table, one in the dining room, one in the breakfast room, one in the dowager countess’ bedchamber and one in the library,” she counted off as she pointed at each footman in turn. “Was there, perhaps, a card?” she asked in a whisper, leaning toward Porter as she made the query.

“If there is one, we haven’t yet found it, my lady,” the butler replied in an equally quiet voice.

Clarinda realized that looking for a pasteboard card in this mass of roses would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. “If you do find one, be sure to bring it to me straightaway,” Clarinda said, more of a suggestion than an order.
Damn thing was probably pink to match the flowers
, she thought as she stole another glance in Daniel’s direction.

“Very good, my lady,” Porter replied as he saw to the disbursement of the floral bounty.

Clarinda watched as the roses paraded past, one of them moving into the parlor, its carrier completely hidden by the display. The last time roses had been delivered to Norwick House, they had been red roses, roses ordered by her husband in honor of her birthday. And every birthday for the past four years, she remembered. Always red. Never pink.

She turned to re-enter the parlor at the same time Rosie appeared with the tea tray. “Thank you, Rosie,” she said as she returned to the settee. Spreading her black kerseymere skirt, she seated herself and regarded Daniel with a raised eyebrow, daring him to deny his involvement in the floral delivery.

Daniel returned her gaze and finally gave her a shrug. “I despise gladioli,” he stated with a frown.

“That’s hardly grounds to buy out every hot house within a fifty mile radius of their entire stock of pink roses,” Clarinda chided him with a mischievous grin.

“It was only three greenhouses, and they were all in Chiswick,” he countered stubbornly. A slight flush had colored his face, making Clarinda wonder when he had managed to order so many roses. At least Chiswick was on the way from Sussex, given the road he would have traveled to get to Norwick House.

“Where did you stay last night?” Clarinda asked quietly, realizing he had to have arrived in London sometime the day before.

Daniel seemed surprised by the question, but shrugged. “I have an apartment in Bruton Street,” he stated in a manner that suggested every bachelor had such a thing.

Leaning over to pour tea, Clarinda wondered why he would have waited until this morning to move into Norwick House. “You were welcome to stay here,” she countered, handing him a cup and saucer. He seemed for a moment to be lost in thought. “This is your home now, after all,” she added, wondering if now would be a good time to tell him about the baby. She poured a cup for herself and stirred in a several spoonfuls of sugar.

Daniel took a deep breath, glad to hear her make the offer and amused at the amount of sugar she was adding to her tea.
She’s nervous
, he realized,
but ever the gracious hostess
. He would never have asked if he could move into Norwick House, even if it was now his right to take up residence in the beautiful home David had made into the family’s London seat. “Thank you,” he said with a nod. “I do hope you are planning on remaining in residence, my lady,” he added, his eyes downcast as he made the statement.

Clarinda relaxed a bit and settled against the hard back of the settee. As she took a sip of her overly sweetened tea, she realized she hadn’t given much thought to where she would live. There had been too many other details to consider. “I had hoped to be able to stay,” she answered carefully. “I will take another bedchamber, of course,” she added, remembering that it was his right to take David’s bedchamber. The room and hers shared a closet and dressing room; it wouldn’t suit to live in adjoining chambers.

“You shall do no such thing, my lady,” Daniel replied with a shake of his head.

Stunned at his insistent tone, Clarinda blinked at his statement. “But, won’t you want that bedchamber for your future wife?” she asked in surprise, leaning forward to place her cup and saucer on the tea table.

Daniel lowered his eyes and did not give his reply for some time. Clarinda waited patiently, wondering what he was about to say. “Yes,” he finally acknowledged. “But I expect it will be some time before I can convince the lady to be my wife,” he stated carefully. “Probably a year or more.”

“Oh?” Clarinda replied, instantly wondering who he had in mind for the position as his countess.
I’m a dowager countess now
, she suddenly realized, the thought so appalling she actually shuddered.

No wonder Dorothea didn’t wear black.

“Are you cold?” Daniel wondered, leaning forward again, his look of concern surprising Clarinda.

“No, I ... I just thought of my new title, and I find I don’t particularly like it,” she murmured, her brows furrowing so the little wrinkle between them appeared again.

Daniel angled his head, a look of consternation on his face. “Dowager Countess, you mean?” he offered, wishing he could lean over and poke the little wrinkle into submission.
God, she’s beautiful
. She was more beautiful now than that day he’d asked for her hand in Kensington Gardens. There would be no dowager countess title for her if he could help it.

Clarinda shuddered again, giving him a quelling look at his slightly amused expression. “Yes. I hadn’t expected to be such a thing for many years to come.”

Daniel regarded the love of his life for a very long time. “My lady ...”

“You should call me ’Clarinda’,” she interrupted suddenly. “Or ’Clare’. We’re family. It hardly seems proper for you to call me anything else.”

Daniel could think of many monikers he would like to call her, some not appropriate for anywhere but the marriage bed. “Clare,” he amended, “I have every intention ...”

“I am with child,” Clarinda blurted suddenly, surprised at herself that she would simply announce it out loud like that. But the time seemed right, and she was afraid she would lose her nerve if she didn’t say something right then.

“I am well aware of your condition,” Daniel replied, his lower lip suddenly trembling.

Clarinda regarded him in surprise, the little furrow between her brows reappearing. “You are?” She remembered Daniel’s mother and immediately thought the woman must have said something. “I told her
I
would tell you,” she said, her indignant tone clearly evoking her sense of outrage.

Holding up his hand as if it alone could stave off a volcanic eruption, Daniel said, “Mother didn’t tell me,” with a small shake of his head. He swallowed, just then realizing that he would have to tell her how he knew. “David did.”

Clarinda’s jaw slackened, stunned that her husband would have sent word to his brother when they hadn’t told anyone else. She hadn’t even told her best friends! Well, she’d told
one
. “When did he do that?” was all she could get out.

His eyes suddenly darting to one side, Daniel straightened in his chair. He couldn’t exactly tell her he’d learned of her pregnancy from David that
morning
. What would she think if he told her that David had visited him in his old bedchamber? Had repeatedly poked him, reminiscent of the way he did when they were young boys? And then proceeded to brag about the fact that he’d managed to get his wife with child, nay
with twins
, apparently for the third time?

Daniel had furrowed his brows at this bit of news, remembering what had happened the other two times.
Good, God! Poor Clare
, he remembered suddenly, his response at the time so visceral he nearly left his apartment and headed for Norwick House that very moment. But David must have realized that was his immediate plan, for his twin brother shook his head quickly. “Not necessary,” he’d said. “Happened a long time ago. But the third time is the charm,” he’d said proudly, his grin doubling when he’d whispered the word, “Twins,” and given Daniel another two pokes to emphasize his accomplishment.