Steam & Sorcery (12 page)

“As is this.” With a quirk of her upper lip, Dorothy handed over the envelope she’d been toying with.

“What…?” Caroline tore open the letter to reveal an elegant, hand-written invitation to a “small family dinner” tonight at the home of one Gideon MacKay. The invitation was signed by Evelyn, Lady MacKay.

“Gideon’s mother,” Dorothy confirmed. “Apparently she’s acting as his hostess this evening. Well, dear, are you willing to go with Merrick and myself? I do hope you’ll consider it.”

“But—I’m not a guest here, Miss Dorothy. Just the governess—a servant to put it plainly. Surely this is unacceptable—unless he’s invited Mr. Berry and the children as well?”

“No. Only you. I assure you, though, there’s nothing openly scandalous about it. A governess may certainly move in social circles with her employers, especially as this is just a small event among close family friends. In another year or so, I’d expect Wink and Tom to be included as well, but having you already established will help ease their way.”

Should she go? She didn’t want to appear to take Mr. MacKay’s flirtation too seriously, but really, it would be such a treat to be welcomed as a guest somewhere for a change.

“And we really
must
do something about your wardrobe. I have decided that I’m tired of your hideous frocks. As a bonus for dealing with Edwin’s disdain, I’m taking you shopping for some suitable garments.” Dorothy narrowed her eyes. “And don’t even think of denying me. You know perfectly well you’ve chosen things to make yourself as unappealing as possible. I hope you realize by now that your subterfuge isn’t necessary here.”

“It isn’t subterfuge—not really. I just choose not to draw attention to myself.”

Dorothy snorted. “That’s why you wear spectacles, when you can see perfectly well without them? Please.”

A reluctant smile twitched at Caroline lips. “Very well, perhaps a tiny bit of protective coloring. The spectacles, I’m told, make me look older—also more serious and intellectual. Positive qualities in a teacher, I believe.”

“And utterly unnecessary in this household. Now run up, get your bonnet and tell Sally to take the children on their walk. We’re off to the dressmaker.”

Truly this must be the oddest employment in the history of governessing.
Carrying her bouquet up to her bedroom, and Wink’s as well, Caroline went to fetch her hat.

An hour later she sat, shell-shocked as Dorothy haggled with the dressmaker over the color and design of a riding habit.

“But I don’t ride,” Caroline pointed out. She was so tired of being poked, prodded and pinned that she wanted to scream. “And I’m hardly likely to ever need an opera cloak either, I might point out.” She’d understood her benefactor—she really couldn’t think of Dorothy as her employer anymore—wanting to buy her one pretty gown for dinner. Perhaps something nice from a second-hand store, or the better end of ready-made. But no. Dorothy had dragged Caroline to her own modiste, who fortunately had several costumes made up for a customer who’d apparently ordered a whole new wardrobe then inconveniently turned up pregnant. Thus, Caroline now found herself the owner of walking dresses, day dresses, evening gowns and underpinnings so lacy and sheer she could barely see the point of wearing them. The one thing that hadn’t been included was a riding habit, and Dorothy insisted she needed that too.

“If the girls have riding lessons—which they’ll need, then you’ll want to join them.” Dorothy didn’t leave any room for argument. “And an opera cloak is an utter necessity if I decided you should accompany me to the theatre—or even to a soiree. Humor me, Caro. The only child I ever raised was Merrick, and shopping for a young man is nowhere near as entertaining. I’m enjoying myself, so stop complaining and help decide which dress you’ll wear this evening to the MacKays’ dinner party. I think the sapphire velvet, don’t you? Or would you prefer the bronze taffeta?”

Caroline looked at the two evening gowns, which each required minimal modification—a tuck at the waist and an inch or so off the hem. Neither operation would take much time at all on the newest automated alteration machine. Caroline stayed far from the device as she chose between the two gowns. “The blue.” Not that the bronze wasn’t prettier, but the blue velvet showed far less skin, which was still a considerable bit more than Caroline was comfortable with. “And the paisley shawl to go with it, perhaps?” Lord knew she’d freeze to death without something to cover her shoulders.

“Excellent choice.” Dorothy beamed, lifting up the soft wool, patterned in ruby, gold and sapphire. “Now, we must go. You still need a hat, gloves and slippers to match.”

“Of course.” Caroline managed to keep her groan internal. Once they were on the sidewalk outside, though, she muttered, “I feel like one of Nell’s dolls.”

Dorothy simply laughed.

Merrick paced at the bottom of the stairs waiting for Dorothy and Miss Bristol. Why on Earth had Gideon gone and invited Merrick’s governess to a dinner party? While Gideon didn’t have enough innate power to be a Knight like his father or older brother, he should have still possessed enough to be immune to her unwitting faery enchantment. That meant his interest in Miss Bristol was genuine, at least. Before the night was over, Merrick would know if it was honorable as well. The woman was under his protection, after all.

Dorothy came down the steps first, in one of her usual severe, dark-toned gowns, but still managing to look elegant. Her grin, though, was as light-hearted and impish as Merrick had seen it in years.

“What are you up to, aunt?” He knew her too well. When she smiled like that, there was certainly mischief involved. “And what’s keeping Caro—Miss Bristol?” When had he begun to think of her by her given name? Most inappropriate.

“She’s saying good-night to the children. She’ll be along in a moment.”

Sure enough, just a minute or so later, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs. Merrick couldn’t take his eyes off her. Where had his demure wren of a governess gone? Her dull plumage had been transformed into that of a peacock, in a bright blue velvet gown that exposed far too much of her lush upper curves, nipped in tightly at the waist, then belled out into fashionably flounced skirts. A simple strand of pearls graced her throat and tiny pearl studs dotted her earlobes. A brilliantly patterned paisley shawl draped over one arm, and a blue velvet ribbon was woven through her simply styled hair. Dorothy had even convinced her to leave her spectacles behind, so her emerald eyes gleamed brightly. In short, she’d become a beauty. Merrick was going to have to beat off the other males with his walking stick, especially Gideon.

Damn it to hell.

“Are you absolutely sure the high heels are required, Miss Dorothy? I’m liable to fall to my death coming down the stairs.”

“Nonsense.” Dorothy gripped Merrick’s arm when he would have run up to assist the younger woman. “You’re as nimble as one of the children. Now just hold the banister lightly and sweep down with all the grace you normally try to conceal.”

Caroline—yes, hell, he couldn’t really think of her as Miss Bristol anymore—rolled her eyes and gave a wry chuckle. “Well, if I kill myself, it will be your own fault when you have to interview new governess candidates.” Slowly, with her head held high, she lifted her skirts with one hand, gripped the railing with the other and began her descent.

He offered his arm as she reached the bottom of the stairs, hoping she didn’t notice his body’s physical reaction to hers. As always, there was that momentary jolt of electricity when they touched, even through her glove and his sleeve. “You look lovely, Miss Bristol. Shall we go?”

“Thank you, Sir Merrick, but the credit goes to your aunt. I assured her none of this was necessary. While I must thank you both, I am sorry she insisted on spending good money to outfit me.”

He laughed. “My aunt answers only to herself, and her finances are her own.” Though he intended to pay her back for Caroline’s wardrobe. The woman worked for him, not Dorothy, and Merrick was sick of seeing her flit about the house in her hideous clothes. “She merely lives with me because this house is too big for just one of us to rattle around in alone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dorothy said, taking Merrick’s other arm and tugging them all toward the door. “It gave me pleasure to take Caro shopping, so I did. End of story. Now, who should we expect at tonight’s festivities? We can fill Caro in along the way.”

Caro. Yes, the nickname suited her—young, pretty, bright—somehow it conjured all those characteristics. As the carriage rolled along toward Gideon’s new house, Merrick pondered the transformation, not entirely pleased about it. It had been better, safer, when only he’d seen the beauty under the dowdy garments. Now he couldn’t even pretend to find her unattractive. The men would be buzzing around her like flies, even though she was technically in service. Although—perhaps there was something he could do…

His mouth was moving before his brain even knew he was speaking. “Aunt, given Edwin’s discovery, and the unusual situation with my wards, I think we should tell everyone that Miss Bristol is a friend of the family. Perhaps her mother was a school friend of yours, or of my mother’s.”

“Excellent idea, Merrick.” Dorothy nodded her approval. “She’s chosen to make her own way, rather than live on charity, but really, she’s a welcome guest in our home, and would be, with or without the children. When she heard of our need, of course she came immediately to be of assistance, since neither you nor I have any experience with children.”

“Which puts her much more squarely under my protection.” Merrick didn’t miss the way Caroline’s eyes widened at his statement. She opened her mouth, probably to argue, but he held up his hand and looked into her eyes. “And with that, you had better call us Merrick and Dorothy, while you shall be Caro. Is that acceptable?”

“I honestly don’t understand any of this.” She looked up at him. “Why this subterfuge? Why can’t I simply be the governess?”

Dorothy replied before Merrick could form the words. “For one thing, with a young, eligible master of the household, many people will think the worst if you’re simply working for him. As
my
protégé, though, you’re in a much more respectable position, idiotic though that is. Also, it will allow me to take you out in society much more than I could otherwise—a prospect I find pleasant. As I said, I never had a daughter. Finally, there’s your, shall we say, mixed heritage. Among most people, that issue would never arise. Among the families of the Order, though, it will be obvious, and several of them are in Town at the moment. I’d rather they believe you’re the daughter of an old friend than assume you’ve been planted among us as some kind of spy.”

Merrick winced. A spy among the Order was exactly what he’d been warned to watch for, but he knew it wasn’t Caro.

He kept her hand on his arm as they strolled into Gideon’s new house, met at the door by his butler, whom Merrick recognized as the elder MacKay’s former head footman. After handing over their coats and hats, Merrick continued to keep a grip on Caroline while they were led to a fairly spacious drawing room and greeted by Evelyn and Sir William MacKay.

Gideon gravitated to Caro’s side like a magnet. While Merrick chatted with his former mentor, Gideon somehow spirited Caro off to introduce her around the room.

“She’s lovely,” Merrick overheard Lady MacKay telling Dorothy. “You’re lucky to have someone who could step right in and help with the children.”

“Absolutely,” Dorothy agreed. “Though I’d already offered her the chance just to come keep me company for the Season, but she’s got pride, and insists on making her own way.”

Bless Dorothy. She could lie without a blink.

“What a dear. And Gideon certainly seems taken. I think I shall have to get to know your Miss Bristol sooner rather than later.”

“Come to tea, soon. We’ve an excellent pair of nursery maids now, so I’m able to pry Caroline away from the children on occasion. The girl really should have a family of her own. She’s marvelous with them.”

Merrick listened to the women with half an ear while appearing to focus all his attention on Sir William’s discussion of steam-powered crop harvesters and their implications on lost income to the crofters—a subject Merrick would have normally bitten into with enthusiasm. Instead, he saw Gideon lay his hand on the back of Caro’s waist and felt the strangest urge to rush over and remove it at the wrist.

It was liable to be a very long evening.

The small, family dinner proved to be a feast for a mere thirty people, including, incredibly, the Duke and Duchess of Trowbridge, who greeted Caroline without a hint of condescension as a member of the Hadrian household. Caroline once again felt like Cinderella at the ball, but somehow it wasn’t as pleasant as she’d expected to have the attention of the prince. Gideon, as he’d insisted she call him, was kind and handsome and courteous. He was also quite brilliant and didn’t seem to mind that Caroline had a brain of her own. His conversation was varied and lively, his attentions flattering without encroaching. So why did her eyes keep straying to Sir Merrick and his partner, some redheaded Scottish debutante who giggled more than she spoke?

After dinner there was dancing, to tunes provided by an automaton quartet. Caroline kept to the far side of the room when Gideon tried to whirl her closer to show off the musical machines. It was a relief when Sir William claimed her for the next dance and seemed content to stay on the far side of the room. She instinctively liked Gideon’s parents and gathered that Sir William had been something of a mentor to Merrick after his father’s death.

Sir William handed her off to a pleasant young man named Liam McCullough, who was apparently a constable despite being the son of an Irish nobleman. After Mr. McCullough, Caroline danced with the Honorable Mr. Francis Gavin, a middle-aged man with wandering hands, who was apparently some sort of clerk in Merrick’s mysterious Order. Eventually, Mr. Gavin handed her off to Merrick for the next set, which of course, had to be a waltz.