Conduct Unbecoming of a Gentleman (4 page)

Rhonda leaned against the closed nursery door and drew her lips together in a tight line. Hatred for Laurel,
the little up-start
, scraped Rhonda’s nerves raw. She stomped down the hall and with each step her rage grew. Under her breath, she cursed Robert and Laurel with him. Laurel had rolled those big eyes at him and he’d been trapped.

“What an utter fool,” Rhonda fumed. After a quick dash home, her brother married, leaving a pregnant wife behind before he rejoined Wellington’s troops in the Peninsula. She resented his wife and his going off to war. Her nostrils flared with renewed hatred for Laurel and her precious son.

When Robert had finally returned, wounded in body and broken in spirit, Rhonda no longer recognized her handsome, strong brother. Moisture gathered in her eyes, but she refused to allow a single tear to fall.

Rhonda flung into her room and slammed the door behind her. Before he’d married, Robert had left everything to her in his Will. She still controlled all of the funds and property not entailed, but if his Last Will and Testament were ever found, she’d lose everything to Robert’s sniveling little wife. With the sweep of her arm, she knocked her looking glass and silver-backed brush set to the floor. Her loss of control relieved a little of her pent up anger. Come what may, she vowed to find and destroy that Will.

A light tap intruded on Rhonda’s thoughts and she opened the door a crack. “It’s you.”

Rhonda stepped back as Edmond entered and asked, “Did you search everything?”

He shrugged. “Certainly but I found nothing. Not even her wet clothes.”

“Her trunk?” Rhonda questioned with raised brows.

“Her trunk wasn’t there.” Edmond laughed. “That room is hardly large enough to hold such an item.”

“The Will must be found.” She gritted her teeth. “I followed Laurel here because I imagined she had it with her.” Rhonda began to pace.

“Don’t get in a taking. Some servant must have shoved her trunk into the attic. I’ll search there later tonight.”

“If it isn’t in the attic, I’ll return to Landings in a few days and continue the search.” She opened the door and swept the hall with a glance. “The way is clear. Let me know what you find.”

He nodded and ducked out the door.

“After I destroy that Will, I’ll see precious Laurel ruined,” she whispered.

Chapter 4

A careless servant had lit several candles in Adron’s library but failed to draw the drapes. He grimaced, too tired to care. With a frown, he swished the hangings closed against the night and sank into his chair. Rubbing his hand down his face, he leaned his head against the back and linked his fingers over his middle. Silence had settled over the house and he drew a deep breath of relief, allowing his voice to sigh out into empty space. “This has been a hell of a day.”

Over and over, vivid flashes of the coach rolling onto its side haunted him. He could picture the widow and his ward tumbling about inside.
Would this nightmarish day never end?
Although the coachman had assured Adron the accident wasn’t his fault, his stomach roiled with guilt. His fury and careless behavior placed the blame squarely on his shoulders. He examined his emotional involvement in his dealings with the widow. Her determination to remain with her son had won his grudging respect and he smothered a curse. He didn’t want to admire her. For his peace of mind, the sooner she gave up and departed the better for all concerned.

His lips tightened and he vowed to his cousin’s memory that he would protect Jamie, even from his own mother. One corner of his mouth curved up in a self-mocking smile. Because he was attracted to her, his method of dealing with her would, out of necessity, be harsh. He brushed his fingers through his hair and thought,
Too hell with this,
and stood to his feet. It was time to abandon his broodings and seek his bed.

Grabbing one candle with which to light his way, he blew out the others and took the steps two at a time. Compelled, he nudged the nursery door open and stared at the sight before him; Laurel slumped in the rocker next to the crib with her hand on her son’s back. Both mother and child were sound asleep. Disconcerted, he edged back as quietly as he had come. A frown pleated his brows. This scene failed to coincide with his image of a disinterested mother.

“Impossible,” he whispered but all the same, he hardened his heart against the tender picture she presented. He clenched his teeth and hurried away.

Laurel woke with a start. All seemed well with Jamie so she climbed the stairs, finally crawling into her sagging bed, but try as she would, sleep eluded her. Questions plagued her. Why had her room been searched and why had Rhonda really been in the nursery? Drat Lord Gladrey for placing her on the floor above her son. Being next door to him would have proved more convenient to check on him during the night. Unease nagged at her until she eased out of bed. She must know that Jamie slept, that he continued to breathe and that his heart was still beating. Laurel crept back into the nursery.

Morning light peeked into the nursery waking Laurel and she quickly rubbed a crick from her neck. She glanced around. All appeared quiet and peaceful. She took advantage of the moment to return to her room and dress for the day.

Mid-morning, she plopped onto the floor, grabbed a ball to roll to Jamie and sighed with pleasure. All of her immediate chores were complete and now was her opportunity to play with her son. Watching him laugh and to kiss his face was a treat to her. She never tired of being with him.

The nursery door opened and Lord Gladrey stepped into the room. As her glance met his, a sizzling arch of awareness seemed to draw her to him, not in anger or disdain, but with pure physical attraction.

“Morning,” he said with a smile. He squatted down beside Jamie, but his gaze remained on her.

Mesmerized by his continued stare she lowered her lids to break the contact. “Good morning.”

Jamie giggled, calling attention to himself and his eyes rounded with a stare. Kicking his feet with excitement, he rolled the ball. Lord Gladrey’s expression gentled as he returned the ball. With his face softened in tenderness, Laurel was surprised by his display of a soft, caring side. Wearing his dark hair tied at his neck exposed his high cheekbones and strong jaw—a truly masculine face. She’d been so caught up in her battle with him she’d somehow failed to fully appreciate the ruggedly handsome face behind the ruthless expression he wore. The harshness had faded, replaced by a genuine interest in her child.

Jamie seemed to love the attention and bounded up to toddle away, all the while giggling with delight. Lord Gladrey gave chase and tossed the child into the air before catching him to his chest.

The raw strength in his body contrasted with his tender expression and the smile in his eyes. Her pulse quickened with feminine appreciation and against her will, she was enchanted with the way he treated Jamie. Anyone with this sort of tenderness for her child couldn’t be as unfeeling as he appeared and suddenly her strong stance against Lord Gladrey softened. His actions touched her down deep where her defenses were weakest. He’d managed to slip under her guard, leaving her helpless to protect herself from his appeal.

Laurel cautioned herself not to fall for this gentle side of him. So far, no such consideration had been shown to her. If he ever showered her with even a little tenderness and a small amount of the care he showed Jamie, she would be helpless to resist. Rolling her lips inward, she tightened her jaw and mentally chastised herself for falling victim to such a powerful physical attraction. She blinked and turned away.

Although Jamie loved the attention, Laurel was anxious for Lord Gladrey to leave. Much to her consternation, he stayed for a good twenty minutes playing and talking to Jamie. Each kindness, even his kiss on Jamie’s cheek before he sat him back on the floor, flooded her with warmth. His gaze occasionally collided with hers sparking tension that engulfed her. When she realized she was falling a little beneath his spell, she tried to block his warm appeal from her mind. All the charm he could muster wouldn’t make up for the harsh treatment she’d received. He’d said all was done with the best of intentions with Jamie in mind. Laurel could appreciate that sentiment, however, softening even more toward him would be a mistake.
Beware!

Adron needed his own backside kicked. Visiting the nursery to become acquainted with his ward had been an act of folly. Indeed, he owed Robert’s memory every sacrifice, but the price that might be required had him gritting his teeth.

Watching her play with Jamie with such enjoyment was something new in his experience. No lady of his acquaintance ever lifted a hand in the day-to-day care of children and here she was calmly doing so as if it were a normal part of her day. Instead of diminishing her appeal as he’d hoped, her charm had grown. He ran his fingers through his hair. Seeking her out in the nursery with his ward must be curtailed else he might stumble into her web.

He headed down the hall wishing Ingrid and her children would arrive today. Laurel’s burdens would triple, but he was determined not to allow visions of her, worn down and over-burdened to sway him from his purpose. She would finally be forced to admit defeat and lay aside her play-acting. Any fair-minded person would have a few qualms about his contemplated actions but he brushed the thought aside. She deserved whatever he dished out in punishment for her act of betrayal that drove Robert to his death. “I won’t back down.”

Laurel considered the added burden the new day would bring. She loved children but three extra to feed, bath and entertain would certainly be a challenge. No matter, she would prevail.

The next day Lord Gladrey ushered Ingrid and her children, two daughters, seven-year-old Laine, four-year-old Nichol and her son, three-year-old Freddy into the nursery.

“Ingrid, this is Lady Laurel Laningham, Robert’s widow. She’s acting as nanny to the children.” His expression of doubt mocked her. “Until she tires of the game and decides to marry again.”

Ingrid nudged her brother. “What a one you are,” she scolded, grinning at Laurel. “Most ladies wouldn’t dream of such a thing. I’m grateful that you are willing to care for the children. Our nanny is gravely ill and the children miss her dreadfully. I simply cannot be expected to cope.”

Laurel hoped she had disguised her dismay. Although she was willing to assume this extra burden to remain close to her son, the complication of children longing for their nurse multiplied the hazards of the situation three-fold. Her glance swung to Lord Gladrey. Apprehension mixed with doubt was stamped on his expression, but finally disdain hardened his features.

Settling all of her charges down to draw pictures while keeping her gaze trained on the floor deprived him of the satisfaction of gloating over his victory. He hesitated at the door. “Don’t forget dinner is served promptly at eight o’clock.”

She nodded grateful she could become acquainted with the children without Adron’s harsh scrutiny. Aghast, she chided herself for thinking of him as Adron instead of Lord Gladrey. When had that happened? It seemed to have invaded her thoughts unawares and unwelcome. Such a notion could lead to disaster.

Contemplating her next move to get acquainted with her charges, she nearly jumped when Heloise stepped into the nursery and smiled at the children. Heloise settled into a soft chair directly across from the table where the older children were still drawing while the younger ones played on the floor with some rolling toys.

“You seem to have a way with this lot at any rate.”

“I do try.” Laurel gazed at Heloise and waited. “May I help you with something?”

“You may. I don’t suppose you’ve had time to send for your things.” Heloise sighed. “You can’t be comfortable wearing my gowns.”

“I’m most appreciative but no, I haven’t had an opportunity to send for my things.” Laurel smiled to take the sting out of her voice. She didn’t want Heloise to think she was complaining—she was, but she didn’t want to admit that flaw even to herself.

“You’ll need your wardrobe.” Heloise emphasized her point with a wave of her hand. “We might be in the wilds of Chatham but we still entertain. How will you ever find another husband without proper clothing?”

“I’m afraid you would consider my wardrobe paltry for entertaining. Besides, I don’t intend to marry again.”

“Nonsense,” Heloise exclaimed with a shocked expression. “That would be a sin against nature as young and lovely as you are. And exactly why don’t you have a large wardrobe? You were married to a wealthy man, my sister’s grandchild in point of fact. A more generous man I have yet to meet.”

“He was generous. I don’t mean to say he wasn’t. It’s just that we married so quickly and he reported for duty almost at once. There was little time to enlarge my wardrobe and certainly no time for parties.” She bowed her head and twisted her hands together. “And after he was wounded . . . well there was no need.”

“That simply won’t do. We must remedy your lack of a proper wardrobe at once.” Heloise rose from her seat and called to a servant. “Have Martha report to me in the nursery, at once.”

Heloise settled back into her chair. “Martha is an excellent seamstress and her offerings will do for the present. When we remove to London, of course, you will need to replace your entire wardrobe.”

“But I shan’t be going to London or purchasing new clothing.”

“Of course you will. Your widow’s jointure should certainly be large enough to furnish all that is required and then some. Besides I dare say, Adron will insist.”

“I have no idea about a widow’s jointure. Robert prepared his last Will and Testament before we married and naturally a widow’s jointure wasn’t mentioned.”

“How unsatisfactory.” Heloise snorted and her mouth turned down.

“Everything that is entailed will naturally belong to Jamie,” Laurel said. “I’m certain Lord Gladrey has that well in hand.”

Heloise’s voice thinned along with her lips. “Yes, I’m sure as well.”

Guarding her expression from Heloise’s shrewd gaze, Laurel excused her husband’s actions. “Robert named Rhonda as beneficiary and because I was only seventeen, he left Rhonda in charge.”

A ghost of a sympathetic smile tightened Heloise’s features. “How awkward for you. I’m sure she holds tightly to the purse strings as well.”

Laurel longed to pour out her sense of ill usage to Heloise but prudence won. “I must see to the children.”

“Nonsense. Becky can do that while I have Martha measure you.”

“But,” Laurel objected, worried Adron wouldn’t approve of such actions.

Heloise reminded Laurel of a whirlwind in full force and she was unstinting with the use of her power. “No. I won’t listen to a word you say. As soon as Martha arrives and Becky takes the children, we will adjourn to my chamber.”

“I refuse to leave the nursery. I will allow your Martha to take my measurement, but I insist we remain in the adjoining room.”

“Very well. Here’s Martha now.” She motioned the woman inside and issued instructions while removing to the connecting chamber.

Laurel stood, overwhelmed with the fast pace in which she was disrobed, measured, stuck with pins, and forced to try on several gowns that might do.

Heloise nodded. “That blue silk gown is lovely on you my dear, simply lovely. Its years too young for me and it cost the earth.” She swept her fingers over her skillfully arranged white locks. “I was thinking of giving it to Melissa. Still your need is greater."

Laurel tugged the last of the garments over her head, leaving nothing but her thin chemise to guard her modesty. Grateful the probing and poking was over, she reached for her gown, but before she could retrieve it, Adron stood in the threshold, his expression grim.

His angry stare sliced into her. Laurel winced. She had handed her duty over to Becky without much objection and guilt for neglecting her responsibilities added to her discomfort at being nearly naked before him. She hated the vulnerable position in which she found herself and she wanted to scream at him to get out. Instead she snatched up her gown and held it in front of her.

“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“Adron, now is not the time,” Heloise scolded her grandson and turned to her servant. “Martha that will be all and have those gowns ready as soon as possible.”

Not another word was uttered until Martha nervously gathered her bits and bobs to depart, quietly shutting the door behind her.