Persuasion (9 page)

“I hardly have a staff of maids to do so for me,” she said tartly. But her heart was racing wildly. Why on earth was Grenville calling?

“That is unacceptable,” he said flatly, looking past her at the great room. “Nothing has changed, I see, except that you have let your staff go.”

A decade ago, there had been a maid to clean the house. She was rigid. “I prefer not to discuss the matter of whether or not I have any help in my home.”

He gave her a dark look. “May I come in? My intention is not to make you uncomfortable.”

“You are doing just that,” she said tersely.

Slowly, he smiled. “Perhaps it is my presence, not the topic of conversation, that is so disturbing?”

She bit her lip. He was correct. She hated being caught in such dishabille, as if a mere domestic, and her heart was pounding wildly in response to his powerful presence. “Had I known you meant to call, I would have prepared tea,” she said tartly.

He smiled, and the smile lightened his eyes. “I would love to have tea with you.” She was dismayed, as she had nothing to offer him as an additional refreshment. He added, “But as that would require you to light a fire and boil water, steep the bags, set a tray and deprive me, in general, of your company for some time, I will decline the offer.”

Her relief was immediate. He knew, she thought. He was being kind.

His gaze searched hers, half of a smile remaining.

Ten years ago, he had also been kind. He had brought her too many gifts to count when calling or shopping. When she had worried about Momma, he had listened. When she had complained about Julianne, who was wont to shirk her duties, he had advised her. When she had been angry with Lucas, for his stance against them, he had been calm and sensible. Mostly, though, she had been grateful that he had always pretended that he did not notice the vast difference of economy and class which existed between them.

“I am being rude. I do not mind making tea,” she said slowly. What was he doing there?

“I had tea before I left the house. However, I will sit with you if you wish to take some.”

She shook her head, relieved all over again. “Please. Come in.”

He smiled briefly at her and walked into the great hall. “Is Lucas here?” he asked.

“Lucas left for town, immediately after the funeral.”

He seemed to accept that. He laid his hand on the piano. “This is new.”

“The dowager Countess of Bedford bought it for Julianne.”

“That was nice of her.”

Would they go around and around like this, being excessively polite with one another? Amelia asked, very carefully, “So is this simply a neighborly social call?”

“No, it is not.” He faced her, seeming chagrined. “I wish to apologize a second time.”

She started. “For your behavior yesterday?”

“Yes. I was a boor, once again. But I can claim, in self-defense, that I was feeling rather poorly.”

She smiled. “You do realize that I also owe you an apology?”

And he smiled. “I will not accept it.”

“Why ever not?” she cried.

“Because I needed to be set down. You were right. My behavior had been entirely selfish and self-serving.”

Amelia was in disbelief.

“You are gaping,” he said mildly.

And his tone was so pleasant that her heart slammed. Desire, running just beneath the surface, crested. I still love him, she thought, and in that instant, she was horrified. Shocked by such a treacherous thought, Amelia turned away. She was not in love with Grenville. It was impossible.

“Amelia? Have I upset you?”

His tone continued to be mild and pleasant. She whirled and forced a smile. “Of course not. How are the children faring?”

She saw his expression close, but he said, calmly, “The boys seem to be doing a bit better. When we return to London, I am going to purchase a Connemara pony for John. I am fond of the breed,” he added. “William wishes to enter his first fencing tourney. He has been fencing for some time. I am also buying him his own yacht.”

When was he returning to London? And why was she so utterly dismayed? “I am sure they will be thrilled with such gifts.” She hesitated.

“You disapprove.”

“Spoiling them won’t bring back their mother.”

“No, it will not.” His gaze met hers and held it.

She did not blame him for wanting to shower the boys with gifts. But what about his daughter? “Have you named her yet?”

“No.” His tone was hard. He turned his back on her and paced slowly. He paused before the pair of crimson chairs. “I thought the mine was doing well, and iron is very profitable ore.”

He was changing the subject. But his daughter needed a name—and a father! She was shocked. “You know how successfully Lucas manages the estate. I believe the mine and quarry are doing very well. But these are difficult times. It would be foolish to spend our income, especially with prices so inflated by the war.”

He faced her. “The house needs maintenance, Amelia, whether we are at war or not.”

He was right, but that was not the subject she wished to digress upon. “Simon, I remain concerned about your children.”

He walked back over to her, and took the duster from her. Their hands brushed and she shivered. He did not seem to notice the minimal contact, and she watched in some despair as he laid the duster in a corner by one window. “I will never be accustomed to seeing you houseclean.”

“Someone must do it.”

His gaze moved over her features, far too slowly. He said, casually, “I would like to make you an offer, Amelia—a proposition, so to speak—but I do not want you to be insulted.”

She stared in surprise—she had not expected such a declaration. An oddly enigmatic expression was on Grenville’s face, and she could not discern his thoughts or feelings. What could he possibly suggest?

And suddenly she had the wild notion that he meant to ask her to be his mistress.

A dozen heated images flashed through her mind.

Would she dare accept such a proposal?

“I need a housekeeper,” he said, slowly.

“I beg your pardon?” she said, barely able to speak.

“I am in rather desperate need of a housekeeper. I am constantly in the north, where I have some very large, successful estates, and I intend to keep my sons in London—town is best for them. They hardly need to travel as frequently as I do. Elizabeth actually managed the household. She was very involved in both boys’ daily activities. I need someone to manage the household as she did, and supervise their daily care.”

Amelia was reeling. He wanted to hire her as his housekeeper.

And she had assumed he wanted her in his bed!

“I need someone I can trust, Amelia.”

She managed to meet his dark, steady gaze. She felt as if he had just stabbed her in the heart. My God, she was almost insulted.

Yet she should not be insulted to be asked to be a highly placed, well-paid housekeeper. She was an impoverished gentlewoman. The position was low, but not entirely beneath her. She certainly needed the income.

But she was insulted. Terribly so!

“Are you going to refuse me?” he asked, very carefully.

She felt her cheeks flame. “I can hardly accept such an offer.”

“I meant it when I said I do not mean to insult you.”

She folded her arms. “I have my own home—my own family—to manage!”

“I have heard that Lucas is removing you and your mother to town, and that you are closing up this house. Of course, I have room for your mother in my Mayfair home.”

All she could think of was Simon, taking her into his arms. “I do not think I can accept,” she said.

“Amelia, I need your help,” he said swiftly. “My boys need someone like you in their life. Even that child—she has no one. And if it eases your mind, I travel frequently to my various estates, so we will hardly be in residence together—or, at least not often.” His stare was intense.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that even I am in some doubt as to my trustworthiness. We both know how I have behaved around you. Is that why you are hesitating? I hold you in the highest regard—I always have.”

And she wanted to cry, “You left without a word.” Shocked at the sudden return of that old heartbreak, she stared.

“You and your mother will lack for naught. You will be in town—and you will have every opportunity to visit your sister and brother. I do not expect you to behave as the usual housekeeper. We will plan a schedule, one that suits your every need,” he said firmly. “I am not going to be denied.”

And Amelia knew he was not going to let her refuse. And she also realized exactly what his offer meant—a lucrative position in London, where she would not have to worry about the war, or enemy soldiers, or spies or assassins. She would not have to worry about a French invasion. There would be no worry about putting the next meal on the table. Her only worry would be just how to care for his children.

But there was far more to worry about than that. How would she manage her own confusion in regards to the past that they shared? And what about the attraction that simmered between them?

But Momma would be safe. And the boys needed her. His daughter needed her!

“I see you are, finally, intrigued.” A hard light filled his eyes.

“Yes, I am intrigued. Your children—all three of them—have intrigued me from the moment we met.”

His smile vanished. “I am aware of that.”

“She is your daughter, Grenville. Why haven’t you named her? You have seen her, haven’t you? How can you not have fallen absolutely in love with her?”

He looked mutely at her, folding his arms across his chest. He finally said, “I do not love her and I do not care what she is named.”

“You do not love her!”

He inhaled. “You will learn the truth sooner or later. She is not mine.”

Amelia cried out. The gossip was true? She prayed not! “Surely that is not true—surely you do not believe such a thing!”

“The bastard is not mine.”

She was stricken with dismay. “You cannot be certain,” she began.

And he gave her a dark look. “Oh, I am certain! She cannot be mine, Amelia. It is impossible.”

And Amelia began to understand.

With an expression of revulsion, he said, “I haven’t been in Elizabeth’s bed since John was conceived.”

Amelia could barely believe what he was telling her. He hadn’t had relations with his wife in years! She could not look away from his dark, blazing regard.

“Well?” he demanded.

She whispered, “I’ll do it.”

And his smile was hard and satisfied.

CHAPTER SIX

“O
H
,
ARE
WE
FINALLY
stopping for the evening?” Mrs. Murdock cried hopefully.

Amelia held the baby in her arms, helping her to nurse from a teat. She was seated beside her mother, facing the governess and Garrett in the smaller of the three passenger vehicles they were taking to town. Grenville and his sons were in the coach just ahead of them. Signor Barelli, Lloyd and the cook were in another carriage. Their belongings followed in two wagons.

They had been traveling since shortly after sunrise, and it was almost dark now. It had taken Grenville three days to prepare his household for the journey to London; in that time, Amelia had stayed as far from St. Just Hall as possible. From the moment she had agreed to become his housekeeper, she had been filled with confusion and uncertainty.

Only a very foolish woman would think that taking this position was a good idea. The past remained a divisive issue looming between them. Even if he retreated into formality and never acknowledged their history again, could she do the same thing?

Momma, however, was thrilled to be undertaking the adventure. She had been quite lucid for the past few days. Amelia had explained the situation to her—Momma chose to believe that they would be the Earl of St. Just’s guests for the season. “He must be courting you, Amelia, to extend such an invitation!” she had cried.

Amelia had decided not to answer.

Now, she held the baby close and strained to glance out of her window. A cheerful inn with white stucco walls was ahead, smoke coming from both red chimneys. They had reached the outskirts of Bodmin, and the oak trees were huge and green, with ivy creeping over the inn’s whitewashed walls. Roses spilled over the wood fence in the courtyard; sheep milled about an adjacent field, crisscrossed with stone walls. The setting sun stained the sky with its mauve fingers. It was so picturesque, but Amelia was not charmed.

In another moment, she and Grenville would be face-to-face. There was no denying that the prospect affected her greatly. Her position as his housekeeper felt awkward and unnatural.

She had not seen him since he had called on her at Greystone Manor, except briefly that morning. In the past three days, he had sent her lists and a note which apprised her of their intended departure date. There had been no word about her new role as housekeeper, when she had expected to have several conversations about her employment. She supposed they would sit down in his library upon reaching London, to hash out the details then.

He had sent their coach to the manor to pick her, Momma and Garrett up at dawn that morning. They had met with St. Just and the rest of his entourage on the highway outside of Penzance. He had alighted from his coach, but his greeting had been polite and perfunctory. Then he had vanished back into his coach and the convoy had set off for London. Amelia had been shaken by the encounter.

Had she expected more? She sighed. Formality would be the best recourse for them both, even if it somehow bothered her. But she was his housekeeper now.

She smiled at Mrs. Murdock. “It has been a very long, very tiring day. I imagine everyone is ready for a hot meal and bed.” She refrained from rubbing her hip, which ached. She wondered what would happen now. Would he take the boys and vanish into the inn and their rooms? That would probably be for the best, too.

“My back cannot withstand the constant jarring,” Mrs. Murdock complained, shifting in her seat. “I cannot wait to go to sleep. But we are fortunate that Lucille is such a good traveler.”

Amelia smiled at the baby. They had dared to name her. She had so desperately needed a name—they couldn’t keep referring to her as the child or the baby—and apparently Lady Grenville had liked Lucille. “She is a wonderful companion.” She clasped her tiny, downy head. “At this rate, we will probably be in London late tomorrow, unless we lose a wheel or some such thing,” Amelia said. Traveling from Land’s End to London in two days was practically unthinkable, especially for such a convoy. It felt as if Grenville was in a rush to get to town, but she could not imagine why.

She saw the door of Grenville’s huge black coach opening. Her heart slammed. He stepped out, his great coat swinging about his narrow hips and long legs, his handsome face set in an impassive expression.

A pang went through her. Her body dared to tighten. He was a magnificent, attractive man. Would it always be this way? she wondered miserably. Would she always look at him and have this yearning? But what, precisely, did she yearn for?

She was afraid to answer her own question; she knew she must leave it alone!

But she was so drawn to him. Even following his huge coach with their smaller carriage, she was acutely aware that he was just a few horse lengths ahead of them. A part of her anticipated their next encounter, no matter how she tried to be oblivious to the fact that it would most definitely occur, and soon. If she counted the minutes—the seconds—to their every exchange, how would she manage as his housekeeper? And to think that she had thought, even if for a moment, that he wanted her to be his mistress!

How laughable that was!

Maybe, if she remained as formal as possible, if she did her best to forget the past—and his behavior in his rooms after the funeral—she would be able to successfully adopt the role of housekeeper. Maybe her yearning would fade away and die. She must focus on the reasons she had accepted the position. His sons needed her and she already loved both boys. And this poor child—Lady Grenville’s bastard—needed her! She loved the baby, too. Who wouldn’t love such an adorable infant?

But he hadn’t slept with his wife in years.

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment. What did that mean, exactly? If only he hadn’t told her such a thing.

She looked down at the infant, who had finished nursing and was yawning widely. She smiled a little. It meant that his marriage had been as troubled, as strained and loveless as the governess had described.

Her heart lurched. When they had been in the midst of their mad flirtation, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands to himself. If she knew one thing, it was that Simon Grenville was a very passionate and virile man.

After the funeral, he had tried to seduce her. What should she make of that equation, Amelia wondered. He had avoided his wife—but he had tried to kiss her.

That did not mean he had kept a torch burning for her, she told herself with as much conviction as she could muster. To even consider such a notion was dangerous! Surely she didn’t want him to want her still? How awkward that would be.

If he desired her that way, he would not have asked her to become his housekeeper. He would have seduced her or asked her to become his mistress.

“Would you hand off the child to the governess and help Signor Barelli settle the boys?”

She stiffened at the sound of Grenville’s soft, commanding voice and met his gaze through her carriage window. He opened her door, unsmiling. She vaguely heard a footman crying out in dismay as he did so.

Biting her lip, aware that her heart was racing, Amelia handed the baby to Mrs. Murdock. He was being so very formal and distant now. What she had to do was navigate her way through this difficult new beginning; she was his housekeeper, not the woman he was courting, and certainly not his mistress.

But Grenville took her hand without her offering it. Aware of his grasp, Amelia stepped down. He released her and gestured toward the front door of the inn, where William and John were racing about as if playing tag, the two of them shouting happily. Two small, yapping dogs had appeared and were chasing the boys. A heavyset man in a coat and breeches stepped out, smiling jovially. Amelia assumed him to be the innkeeper.

The sight of the boys relieved her. She was thrilled that they were in such good spirits.

And Grenville seemed pleased, too, for he watched his sons, and he smiled. Her heart turned over, hard.

Then he faced her, the smile gone. “I hope you are not the worse for wear. I apologize for the day being overly long.”

Amelia suddenly wished he would shed the facade of employer. “I am young and fit.” She smiled. “I hardly mind traveling for twelve hours straight, but Mrs. Murdock has indicated that her back is bothering her.”

“We did stop to change horses,” he said, turning to look at the boys again.

“Yes, we did. But I am a bit concerned about her, Grenville.” She knew she sounded tart, but surely he had some concern for the middle-aged governess, too.

He faced her abruptly. “I do not care about the governess. I am asking you how you are.” His gaze held hers. “I do not wish to put you out, Amelia.”

She did not expect him to resort to the pretense of addressing her as Miss Greystone, that would be absurd, but he was not acting like her employer now. And she was relieved, when she should not be. “I am fine.” She smiled ruefully. “But I admit to being tired. And hungry.” They had brought lunch baskets with them, but she was ravenous now.

“Tomorrow will be as long a day,” he said tersely. “Can you manage?”

She wondered if there was some urgency on his part. “Of course I can manage.”

“And your mother?” He glanced past her.

Garrett had helped Momma out, and they were coming toward them. Amelia faced Grenville. “Momma is thrilled to be returning to town. She spent half of the trip sleeping.”

He nodded. “Then I am relieved.” He touched her elbow and she started. He dropped his hand and gestured at the inn. Her heart racing, Amelia preceded him.

“How have the boys fared today?” she asked.

“They traveled well.” He hesitated and she met his gaze determinedly. He said, “It has been enjoyable for me, traveling with them.” The moment he spoke, his expression closed. She had the feeling he regretted sharing his feelings with her.

She wanted to ask why he had so rarely been in residence with his family. She wanted to ask if he had despised his wife so greatly that he had chosen to stay away from the children because of her. “I imagine they have been as pleased to spend this time with you,” she said softly, aware that no housekeeper would ever make such a remark.

At first, she thought he would not answer. Then he said carefully, “Yes, they have regaled me with stories of their exploits over the past year.”

She halted, touching his coat sleeve. His gaze widened, shooting to hers. But she could not remain in her new role now. “Lady Grenville’s death was a tragedy. But you deserve the opportunity to be a father to your sons. Maybe some good will come from her death. Maybe it will strengthen your relationship.”

His face hardened. “They need their mother, Amelia.”

“Of course they do.” She hesitated. “I know I am only your housekeeper, but I will do my best to help them overcome their loss.”

It was a moment before he spoke. “I know you will. That is why I asked you to take this position.” He paused. “Am I being too hard on everyone, rushing back to London this way?”

She was so surprised by the tentative nature of his tone, and the doubt he was evincing. “Unless there is an emergency, it would be far more pleasant for everyone to go halfway tomorrow, and make the journey in three days.”

He inhaled rather raggedly.

There was an emergency, she thought, in surprise. “Simon—Grenville—if you need to get back to town, maybe you should go on ahead.”

“No.” He was flat. “Tomorrow you will travel with us. Leave the child with Mrs. Murdock, your mother with the Scot. They can take two more days to travel, but we will be in London by midnight.”

She did not understand. But she had seen a frightening light in his eyes, and she also thought she had seen the shadow of fear flit through his gaze. What was going on? Why couldn’t he go on alone, if he was in such a rush? “The boys could travel with me and my group,” she began carefully.

“No!” The single word was an explosion. “My sons remain with me—you will join us tomorrow. It is for the best.”

He started toward the inn without her. Something was very wrong, but she had no idea what could be frightening him, if fear was what she was witnessing.

Suddenly he halted, and turned back to her. He smiled grimly at her. “I apologize for the outburst.”

“It’s all right.”

“No, it’s not. I am trying very hard to be thoughtful and polite. I am trying to behave as an employer might. However, we were friends once, and I do not think your position can change that. As importantly, I value your wisdom and advice.”

Her heart soared. She did not mind his reference to their past, not when he had made it in such a respectful manner. But she kept to the matter at hand. “Then, if you can, you might explain to me what is actually happening, so I could truly advise you.”

His stare became blank. “Nothing is happening. My sons have lost their mother. They must remain with me. And I have pressing business matters to attend to in town.” He shrugged.

She did not know if she should believe him, but why would he lie about his children? And what he had just said made sense. There was really no way to fault the explanation.

But she did not like the look that she had seen in his eyes. Nor had she mistaken the tension within him.

“Papa!” John came running up. “I am hungry!”

Amelia smiled at him and tousled his hair. Then she glanced up at Grenville. She was thrilled their old friendship might return, despite her position as housekeeper.

“I am also starved,” he said, smiling at his son. “Could you politely ask Mr. Hayes to have supper trays sent up to our rooms?”

John nodded and ran off.

“I imagine they will be asleep within moments of lying down, never mind that they seem so filled with energy now.” Grenville’s smile faded.

He was worried, Amelia realized. And she was afraid he was worried about more than his sons surviving the ordeal of their mother’s death. “Yes, I imagine so.”

They had reached the front doors of the inn. The innkeeper came down the steps, beaming. “Good day, my lord. I have been expecting you. Your rooms are ready.” He glanced at Amelia and she knew he couldn’t decide if she was a servant, a relative or the earl’s guest.