Evelyn Richardson (9 page)

“It is just that she has never been away from home and it has not been a year since she lost her father.” Even to Lucian’s ears this sounded like the merest excuse.

“I see. Well, we shall do our very best to make her feel at home, then—not that we do not try to do so for everyone.” Catherine remained unconvinced of the need for this extra solicitude on the marquess’s part. There had been something—undue emphasis in his voice, just the hint of self-consciousness in his expression, a certain look in his eye—that led her to believe that Lucian had reasons of his own, entirely unconnected to Arabella, for remaining in Bath. Did he not trust her to care for his niece? If he did not, then why had he chosen Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy for Genteel Young Ladies as the place to educate Lady Arabella out of the hundreds of others, some of which claimed to offer all the advantages and more than her establishment did?

“Ah, then perhaps I had better tell you the time that is best to visit us is after morning lessons. We encourage exercise and fresh air after a morning spent in the schoolroom, so at noon you can expect your niece to be free to see you. And now if you will excuse me, I have some things I must attend to.”

In the face of such a clear dismissal, there was nothing he could do but bow and leave. However, he paused when he reached the doorway. “I trust that if the academy encourages fresh air and exercise for its students after a busy morning, then the same goes for its headmistress, who must be even more in need of such diversion. And if she instructs by example, then surely she can be enticed into a short drive in the country with me.”

“What? I mean, there is certainly no need… That is to say, it is most gracious of you to offer, but I am sure that your niece would prefer to be alone with you since she is so recently arrived at the academy.”

“Oh, I was not intending for her to accompany us. It is you I wish to induce to join me. It strikes me that a headmistress who takes her duty as seriously as you obviously do, and far more seriously than my niece will ever take her lessons—or anything else in her life, for that matter—is in much greater need of a break from her tasks than any of her pupils.”

And without giving Catherine a moment to recover from her confusion, much less frame a reply, Lucian flashed her an impish grin and closed the door behind him, leaving her, he hoped, prey to a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, the same sort of conflicting emotions that were playing havoc with his own well-ordered existence.

Not since he had met Catherine the first time had he been so unsure of a woman, so uncertain as to what was going on under that coolly professional exterior of hers. And not since he had met her the first time had he been so determined to find out. Surely there was more there than the rigorously responsible headmistress? Surely that passion, that quick appreciation for the ridiculous in all things, that lively curiosity, that urge to learn everything, had not vanished entirely in the sober owner of Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy? And surely if such a vital creature still existed under that somber exterior, the Marquess of Charlmont was just the man to discover it. He would start that discovery tomorrow.

In the meantime, it had been a long day spent in the company of a determined young lady who had done her best to adopt a suspiciously false demureness, so suspicious that her uncle had found himself constantly on the alert for the appearance of a young gentleman at every crossroad and every hostelry they passed. After hours of such enforced watchfulness, Lucian was most definitely in need of the excellent refreshment and all the comforts to be found at the White Hart.

Chapter Ten

Unfortunately for Catherine, she did not have the distraction of the taproom of the White Hart. After tidying up her desk for the evening, she checked with the footman to see that Arabella’s things had been delivered to the chamber she was to share with Olivia. Then, having assured herself that the two girls were engaged in a lively discussion of where the very best gloves, bonnets, ribbons, and all the other necessities of life were to be found, as well as the competing merits of Bath’s numerous circulating libraries, she went in search of Margaret Denholme in the hope that her conversation during the journey home could be counted on to obliterate all thoughts of the Marquess of Charlmont from her mind.

When Catherine had said goodbye to Lucian after his first visit to the academy, she had chided herself for allowing her relief at his return to his own life to be tempered by just a hint of regret that he would have no reason to return to Bath once he had selected a school for his niece. Now that he had, she was equally as disturbed by his presence as she once had been by the prospect of his absence. What was wrong with her? And why did the thought of riding alone with him in a carriage the next day plunge her into such a state of agitation?

Margaret’s presence in the carriage on the way home did offer diversion of a kind, for she was still fretting over Lord Granville’s veiled threats to her father’s living. “You know Papa as well as I do; he would never consent to being bullied, even if his principles were not being challenged, but they are. And he is too proud to ask any of his more powerful and influential friends and acquaintances for assistance.”

“Have no fear,” Catherine reassured her. “We are fortunate in one thing, and that is that ‘Ugolino’ is an even greater coward than he is a bully. And the two things he fears most are his wife and the loss of his reputation. After our little, er, discussion with him at the vicarage, I wrote a note to the Countess of Morehampton, who immediately assured me that she will sing your father’s praises so loudly everywhere that Granville will not dare say a word against him and will very likely begin complimenting himself on being the benefactor of a man who is held in the highest regard by all the best families in the county. The countess assures me that he acts the veriest toady in her presence so I feel certain that she will succeed in cowing him into submission.”

Margaret shook her head in admiration at this strategy. “I must say, you can be very clever when you wish to. One might even go so far as to call you devious.”

“I have had to be. That man has done his best to destroy all the good that Granville and I worked so hard to accomplish, whether it was fencing in the common land that we had given over for the villagers’ use or letting loyal servants go after years of faithful service to the family. Why, just this morning, Lucy begged me to take on another poor unfortunate who was summarily dismissed. I have told Mary that she can stay at the dower house for a while until I can find something for her, but I have no place for her in my household. The poor girl was so desperate at being let go without the least warning and so grateful to me for helping her that she promised to put her hand to anything.”

Catherine was thus distracted until they reached the vicarage, and for the rest of the evening she managed to occupy herself with domestic issues great and small, but the next morning she could not prevent herself from waking to the thought that this was the day for her drive with Lucian.

Once again, in an effort to remind herself that she was no longer an impressionable girl but a grown woman with responsibilities, she donned a carriage dress of impressive respectability and selected a modest crape-trimmed bonnet. She even went so far as to hide her hair under a lawn cornette edged in black.

As she took a final glance in the looking glass before heading down to the carriage, she told herself she was pleased that her somewhat restless night had left her paler than usual with faint smudges of fatigue under her eyes. It only made her look that much older and more responsible, to look in fact what she was—a woman whose life was dedicated to serious pursuits, a woman who was far too busy to indulge in something as frivolous as a drive simply for the pleasure of it.

But all morning long she could not help glancing at the clock on the mantel and watching the hands creep inexorably toward noon. It was an exceedingly fine spring day, and it had been an age since she had enjoyed a leisurely drive in an open carriage. Even the garden below her window looked inviting as a gentle breeze stirred the leaves on the trees and the occasional butterfly flitted by.

She was still gazing out the window when the butler announced, “The Marquess of Charlmont to see you, my lady.”

Catherine jumped guiltily as she turned to see Lucian in the doorway. She was lost now. There was no way she would be able to convince him that she was far too busy to join him in a drive, not when he had caught her staring wistfully out the window.

“I am delighted to see that you are longing to be out of doors on such a beautiful day.” Frowning slightly he strode over to the desk and looked searchingly at her. “And I would venture to say, judging by your looks, that you spend far too much time in your office and far too little indulging in your own fresh air and exercise, however much you may advocate it for your pupils.” He took her arm, raised her to her feet, and propelled her gently toward the door.

“What makes you…” Catherine just managed to snatch up her bonnet from the peg as she passed through the door. “I mean, why do you say that?”

“Because, Madam Headmistress, you look sadly pulled. Now,”—he paused for a moment, took the bonnet from her hands, set it carefully on her head, and tied the bow with an expertise that betrayed years of practice in such things—“you are to forget about everything—the accounts that need balancing, bills crying out to be paid, provisions to be stocked, letters to be written—and let someone else see to the disposal of your life for the moment. In an hour or so you may reassert that commendable organization and control that distinguishes whatever you do, but for the time being, you are in my care, and”—he held up an admonitory hand before she could open her mouth to protest—“not another word until we are in the carriage.”

He smiled down at her reassuringly as he led her downstairs and out the door, handed her into the curricle, and took the reins. But instead of heading through town toward Sydney Gardens, he turned the horses away from the city to the hills that encircled it. “Unless you have changed a great deal in the past few years, I thought you would prefer the more natural vistas of the country and a chance to spring the horses to a tame roll through the crowded and cultivated paths of the public gardens.”

How well he understood her, even after all this time. “Oh, infinitely, though there would be far more talk if I were to be seen driving with you in Sydney Gardens.”

“Talk?” He looked at her curiously. There had been no mistaking the bitterness in her voice. “Talk? About the headmistress of a genteel educational establishment?”

“According to ‘Ugolino’, I am constantly courting ruinous gossip with my scandalous behavior.”

“Ugolino?”

“My husband’s heir, the new Lord Granville, though I never call him that if I can help it. He does not deserve the title of Lord Granville. His real name is Hugo, but I call him “Ugolino,” after the villain in Dante’s Inferno and a far more fitting appellation in my opinion. It is he, not I, who is the blot on the family escutcheon.”

“Scandalous behavior? You? What have you done, revealed your ankles to all and sundry in Milsom Street?”

Catherine sighed. “No, nothing like that. I simply exist and that is apparently insult enough to the family name, though until ‘Ugolino’ appeared, I had thought I was upholding the honorable traditions that Granville worked so hard to establish over the years, traditions like charity, responsibility to the tenants, stewardship of the land, and…”

She stopped so abruptly that Lucian turned to look at her as she fixed her eyes fiercely on the scene unfolding before her, but her rapid breathing and determined blinking betrayed her.

He slowed his team to a walk and laid one hand over hers. “My poor girl. You seem to have had rather a bad time of it.”

She was totally unprepared for his ready sympathy, but then, that had always been the most disarming thing about him. He had always possessed a singular appreciation for whatever was bothering her.

“Well, to be fair to him, it is as much ‘Ugolino’s’ wife as it is he. She is a frivolous creature totally devoted to carrying on her own fashionable existence and he is so grateful to be married to such an exquisite beauty that he will do anything to see that she gets what she wants. It is quite clear to me that ‘Ugolino’ lives under that cat’s paw.”

“He does, does he?”

“Yes, he does. Lady Granville, like so many beauties, is clearly accustomed to having her way where men are concerned.”

“She is, is she?”

“
I
think so. Undoubtedly, she is constantly surrounded by countless men in London who are all pathetically eager to do her bidding.”

“Now, how would you arrive at a conclusion like that? Surely you do not listen to idle gossip.”

“Certainly not.” Catherine sniffed haughtily.

“I am glad to hear it.” Lucian heaved a tiny sigh of relief.

“But I know the type. She is used to getting what she wants. And what she wants is to become one of the leading lights of the
ton
, which encompasses the stifling of what she considers to be disreputable behavior in her husband’s relatives, such as educating young women, for example. For ‘Ugolino’s’ part, he is mostly excessively greedy and he has made sure that he has secured for himself not only the entire profit from the estate, but all my canal shares. My father naively gave them as part of my marriage settlement without setting them up in trust for me, since he knew my husband was a gentleman who could be counted upon to see to it that I benefited from them. It was only the death of Great-aunt Belinda, who unexpectedly left me her entire estate, that allowed me to establish the academy. But we have talked enough of me. Tell me more about Arabella…and her family.”

There was silence for some minutes as Lucian appeared to be lost in thought. “Oh, ah, Arabella. Yes. She is an only child whose liveliness has been allowed to go unchecked by a rather weak-willed mother. Her father’s death has left her without any restraining influence in her life.”