An Earl Like No Other (13 page)

“That young woman must be a dairymaid; she carries a milk pail,” Kate said. She was torn between admiring their ingenuity and being grateful she had been spared such scrutiny in her own quest for employment.

Cassie and Ned were fascinated by a man with a monkey on a leash that danced as its owner played a concertina. They moved on to a larger gathering of people around a small, curtained stage. It was a Punch-and-Judy puppet show that brought forth laughter and giggles from all ages.

After a while, Robert said, “Clemson and I are going to check out the horse races. Maybe place a bet.”

“All right,” Kenrick responded. “Squire Dennison's black is said to be the odds-on favorite. And Mortimer has a chestnut he is proud of.”

“No Kenrick cattle in the running, though,” Robert said with regret. “Too bad.”

“Not for several years, I'm told,” his brother said. “But one day . . .”

When Clemson and Robert had taken their leave, Kate felt a twinge of nostalgia as she and her employer and their children wandered along. Almost like a family, she mused, but quickly quelled that thought.

They paused to watch a juggler perform before a sizable group.

“We can't see,” Ned said. “Come on, Cass.” He grabbed Cassie's hand and pushed through the group to stand in the front with a number of other children, leaving Kate and Lord Kenrick on the fringes.

Kate glanced up at him. “It appears we have been deserted, my lord.”

“So we have been. Left quite alone in a sea of people.” He gazed into her eyes and smiled. Something almost tangible passed between them, as intimate as a kiss.

The moment was abruptly shattered by a female voice.

“Oh, Lord Kenrick, how wonderful to see you!”

Kate turned to see Charlotte Mortimer accompanied by her parents and Miss Cranstan. Kate dipped a brief curtsy to the group and was promptly ignored as Miss Mortimer and her father greeted Lord Kenrick effusively with a barrage of small talk about what a fine day it was. The other two women gazed about them, refusing to make eye contact with Kate.

Having exhausted the profound topic of the weather, Charlotte Mortimer looked from Lord Kenrick to Kate and smiled, her expression displaying nothing of warmth or cheer. “La, my lord. I see you do take seriously the unspoken rule that this holiday be ‘classless.' Such gracious condescension, my lord—but what a blessing it comes only once a year, could you not agree?”

Kate would have liked to give the woman a proper set down, but held her housekeeper tongue.

“Oh, I don't know,” Kenrick said. “It seems to me that respect and conviviality among people—not to mention good manners—can only be positive factors at any time.”

“I quite agree,” Miss Mortimer said, just as though she had not really registered his comment. She glanced pointedly at Kate. “But, in general, society functions best if we all stick to our own kind.”

Sir Eldridge looked from his daughter to Lord Kenrick and back. He wore a slight frown. “Come, Charlotte, I do not want to miss the race.”

“Yes, Father.” She tapped Lord Kenrick playfully on the arm. “I shall save a dance for you tonight, my lord. Or two, perhaps.” She leaned closer so her breast touched his arm briefly and lowered her still very audible voice. “But only two. After all, we do not want to rush things, do we?” Her glance at Kate held a trace of triumph—or challenge.

Lord Kenrick was prevented from responding as Ned and Cassie rejoined their parents. Kenrick bowed toward the Mortimers, who took their cue and left.

“Papa! Did you see the juggler? Wasn't he wonderful?” Cassie said.

“I want to learn to juggle things,” Ned said.

“Me too!”

“You must start with only three items,” Kate cautioned, welcoming the shift in atmosphere as Ned and Cassie replaced the Mortimer party.

“Soft ones—not plates and knives,” Lord Kenrick added. Did he too welcome the change?

“I shall make you some small cloth balls,” Kate said.

“For me too?” Cassie begged.

“Of course.”

During the rest of the day, neither Kate nor Lord Kenrick brought up the topic of the chance meeting with the Mortimers—if, indeed, it was a chance meeting, Kate thought.

 

When they had all returned to the Hall and turned the children over to the maid who would see to their care, members of the Kenrick household changed into evening attire. Jeremy, his brother, and their guest, along with Aunt Elinor, waited in the drawing room for Mrs. Arthur.

“Now, remember,” Lady Elinor said, “I am there for the music and a bit of gossip. You sit me down in a likely spot and my friends will find me.”

“Absolutely not!” Robert scoffed. “I claim at least one dance with you.”

Lady Elinor laughed. “I would not want to make all the young ladies jealous.”

When his housekeeper entered the room, she quite took Jeremy's breath away. She wore the customary mobcap—Jeremy often thought of it as armor of a sort—but instead of a gray dress such as she usually wore, she had on a lavender gown—silk, Jeremy guessed—with lace of a darker shade at elbow-length sleeves and a low neckline that revealed a hint of cleavage. She wore white gloves.

“I say! Lady Arthur!” Robert blurted. “You look splendid!”

She turned abruptly and frowned at him. “Thank you, Captain Chilton, but please—we really mustn't continue that joke.”

“Oh. Yes. I forgot. Old habits, you know.”

“You do look very fine, Mrs. Arthur,” Captain Clemson said with a bow.

“I concur. Fully,” Jeremy said. “Except for that infernal mobcap. You certainly may dispense with it for the evening.”

“I—I am not so sure. Would that not be going too far? Lady Elinor?”

“It's Midsummer,” Lady Elinor said. “Our little world goes mad only one day of the year. And Kenrick
is
the lord of the manor. Best do as he wishes.”

Mrs. Arthur reluctantly removed her badge of office and laid it on a nearby table. Jeremy drew in another breath. Her dark blond hair was arranged in a thick, shiny braid from the crown of her head to the nape of her neck. Streaks of lighter blond also caught the light and soft curls that shaped her face.

“Much better,” Jeremy said, holding her gaze momentarily. He wondered what all that hair would look like strewn about on a pillow, then mentally kicked himself.

She turned to the other two men, who were dressed in their regimental uniforms. “I must say, Captain Chilton and Captain Clemson, you bring back memories for me.”

“Like the prince's ball in Lisbon, eh?” Robert said. “You were surely the belle of that ball.”

A look of fear flashed in her eyes. Jeremy might have missed it had he not been staring at her. She looked away and waved her hands dismissively. “Another time, another place.”

Storing away this observation to examine later, Jeremy decided to rescue her. “Shall we go?”

 

As was to be expected, the arrival of Lord Kenrick's party at the ball caused quite a stir. Two soldiers in their resplendent uniforms caused flurries among many female hearts. Jeremy was aware that he himself cut a respectable figure in the stark black and white of formal evening wear, but it was Mrs. Arthur who raised several eyebrows, and he was determined that she not be subjected to undue notice or criticism. To this end, he made sure that he escorted his aunt into the assembly room and Mrs. Arthur appeared on Robert's arm. He admitted to himself a twinge of envy of his brother at this arrangement. She then sat on the sidelines near Lady Elinor.

The Chilton brothers and their guest commanded so much attention that they were scarcely allowed to sit out a single dance. Jeremy noted that Mrs. Arthur twirled about the floor nearly as much as he and the two captains. Telling himself he had no right to such feelings, he quelled what he readily recognized as sheer jealousy at seeing her on the arms of others.

He dutifully danced with Charlotte Mortimer, who was flirtatious and polite—and determined in her goal of snagging him for a second dance, which he knew would cause tongues to wag as nothing else could. They chatted of inconsequential matters until the movements of the dance caused them to intersect with Mrs. Arthur and Robert, her partner of the moment.

“Your housekeeper is making a spectacle of herself, my lord,” Miss Mortimer said.

“I see nothing untoward in her behavior,” he said.

“All those different partners. And that gown she is wearing is sadly out of date, but it was certainly not purchased on a housekeeper's wages!” Miss Mortimer said. “Unless, of course—”

Jeremy interrupted before she could go wherever she was headed with this thought. “Household staff are often given items of clothing by their employers, are they not? The garment Miss Cranstan is wearing is remarkably like one you wore last autumn.” He stopped short of commenting on the number of partners she herself had had.

“I am flattered that you remembered a gown I wore. That is a very good sign, my lord.” She gave him a coy smile.

Jeremy was glad when the dance ended and he could return her to the care of her parents, who stood talking with Squire Dennison and his wife and daughter. Robert and Clemson joined the group and Jeremy introduced them to the others. Miss Mortimer continued to stand close to Jeremy, her hand lightly—possessively—on his arm. He thought he saw a subtle communication pass between Mortimer and his daughter, then Mortimer excused himself and walked toward the musicians. The group continued ballroom chitchat, with a good deal of fluttering of eyelashes from the young women and smiling goodwill all around.

During a lull in the conversation, Robert bowed slightly to the squire's daughter. “Miss Dennison, I wonder if you would favor me with the next dance?”

She laughed and said, “Of course. But, good heavens, Robert, I'm still Delia—the same girl you rescued from that apple tree!”

“Um. Not exactly the same,” he said appreciatively. “Dilly Delia managed quite a transformation while I was off fighting for king and country.”

She blushed prettily, but said with another laugh, “Ran away to play soldier, you mean.”

Jeremy turned to Clemson. “I say, Clemson, if you are free for the next dance, Miss Mortimer is a marvelous partner.”

Clemson accepted the suggestion and bowed to her. “Miss Mortimer?”

She gave Jeremy an oblique glance and emitted a brittle tinkle of a laugh, but her eyes were a hard stare. “La! Can you fathom this? The man is trying to get rid of me,” she said to the group in a forced teasing tone. “Well, so be it, Captain.”

“Kenrick's loss is my gain,” the captain said gallantly, extending his arm.

“Quite so,” she said in a tight little voice and exchanged a look of chagrin with her father as he rejoined the group.

Having watched Mrs. Arthur take the floor with both Robert and Clemson as well as the footman, Thomas, and even his coachman, Jeremy approached her himself and bowed. Only when they stood on the dance floor and heard the music did he realize his error. It was a waltz.

While it was true that the waltz had made it even to the backcountry of Yorkshire, it was also true that many country folk considered it quite scandalous. If she had drawn censure before, this dance might fan the tongues even more. “A waltz,” he said. “Are you up for this?”

“Oh, yes. The German regiment brought it to the Peninsula early on.”

“That isn't exactly what I meant,” he said. “Too late now.” He took her hand in his and put his other hand at her waist as she rested her other hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes momentarily. My God! This was so right. So absolutely right.

“What did you mean?” she asked.

“The waltz has yet to gain universal approval,” he said, regaining his inner composure, but still keenly aware of the woman in his arms.

“Yes. I know. Silly, is it not?”

He laughed and deliberately pulled her closer in a swirl of the dance. “Mrs. Arthur,” he said, feigning surprise, “I do believe there is a bit of the rebel in you.”

She smiled. “Perhaps. My father would certainly have agreed with that assessment.”

“Really? There must be a story behind that comment. Would you care to share it?”

Although she did not falter in the least, he sensed a sudden stillness in her. She answered seriously. “Perhaps I will—someday.”

“I shall hold you to that.” He kept his tone light and changed the subject, but stored away yet another clue in the ongoing mystery of the elegant housekeeper.

For Jeremy that dance was the high point of the evening and he was sure Mrs. Arthur had enjoyed it too, but the evening was to present a spoiler of sorts—another encounter with a Mortimer. This time it was the father, whom Jeremy had come to view as his nemesis. Jeremy was at the refreshment table to fetch a glass of punch for his aunt when Sir Eldridge accosted him.

“A word, Lord Kenrick.” It was more of an order than a polite request.

“Certainly, sir.” The two stepped to the sidelines.

Mortimer cleared his throat. “That scene—you waltzing with your housekeeper—well, it was not in the best of taste, now was it? Neither my daughter nor I should like to see a repeat of such behavior.”

“I beg your pardon.” Jeremy riveted a steely glare on the man.

Mortimer averted his gaze. “What I meant to say, Kenrick, is this: Your fobbing her off on your friend and then waltzing—waltzing!—with that Arthur woman hurt Charlotte's feelings. I do not like to see my little girl unhappy.” The last sentence ended on a note of threat.

For a moment, Jeremy was speechless.

Mortimer went on in a slightly more conciliatory tone. “Now, I'm sure you intended no harm, but, son, you just don't seem to realize that English women are not like those you knew in the colonies. Our ladies are more fragile, more delicate.”

Jeremy did not want to make a scene, especially one that might end with Mrs. Arthur's name being bandied about. Finally, he found his voice. His jaw clenched, he spoke in a quiet, distinct tone that could not be heard even ten feet away, but that would be unmistakable to his immediate listener.