The Baron and the Bluestocking (7 page)

She could not help it. With this offer, the heavy responsibility she had felt for her sisters’ welfare lifted from her shoulders, and tears brimmed and flowed. At the sight, his grace came to her side and put a hand on her arm. “Do you not understand? It will always be the duty of those who have the most to help those with the least. I did not earn my wealth. It is mine by birth. It blesses me so that I have the means of blessing others. The situation does not mean you are weak.”

Hélène wept now in earnest, divested of her pride, if it were that. Deep inside she also divested herself of all the fear she had carried that something might happen to her. That she would be unable to provide even the meager funds she had to support her sisters. That they would be cast upon an uncaring world.

“Thank you, your grace. And bless you for your generosity.”

He smiled at her. Once she had provided him with her sisters’ direction, he took his leave.

It was only after he had gone that she realized the duke never would have come if Lord Shrewsbury had not been concerned about her and what Samuel had revealed about her situation. As things had transpired in the end, she had to admit—though it pained her—that she was grateful to him. And rather surprised at the depth of his concern.

*~*~*

After seeing the orphans settled for the night, Hélène took the carriage back to Blakeley House and, as she wanted time alone to think, wrapped herself in a shawl and went to sit outside in the garden.

Is it my duty to my sisters to marry Blakeley? I could still teach. If he is elected to Parliament, I could help him with his speeches and platform. I could have an influence there. And my sisters could live with us indefinitely. They would not have to go out as governesses unless they desired it. Even if Samuel were to die young, I would undoubtedly have a significant inheritance to continue to care for them.

Of course, she would not even be considering the matter, if she did not think she could count on Samuel to treat her as an equal. He would prize her ideas, her intelligence, her talents. Yes, it would be a very good marriage. Samuel would give her security, but she would have something to give, as well. Inspiration and counsel. He would be able to count on her to further his career in every way.

There in the dark, she closed her eyes and inhaled the savory scents of Mrs. Blakeley’s herb garden. She would have her own home. A mansion such as this. A piano. A library. And no worries about money.

Then into her mind sailed a vision of Baron Shrewsbury, and the spark he had ignited inside her burned again, spreading warmth in her breast. She had never felt such a thing before. For a moment, the vision of Samuel and the life they would share fled. Hélène allowed herself to imagine those powerful arms around her, pulling her into an embrace, his lips on hers, kissing her with an extension of the passion that had ignited their conversation. For moments, she dwelt in an imagined future that had nothing to do with money or mansions, but with all that she imagined of love.

What a silly widgeon you are! The man does not even like you! Marriage with him is quite out of the question.

She concentrated once again on Samuel and the life they would lead, almost succeeding in putting the baron firmly out of her mind. Hélène rose and went in. Yes, a marriage to Samuel would be prudent for many reasons, not the least of which was the possibility to forward her political agenda. Marrying for love was not an option she had.

*~*~*

Hélène’s sisters were very excited to discuss the Duke’s visit when she called upon them the next day.

“Only think, Ellie,” said Jacquie. “He took us straight to a Mrs. Pierce, a dear friend of Mrs. Blakeley whose daughters have all married. She is that happy to have us with her.”

“What is Mrs. Pierce like?” Hélène asked doubtfully.

“Very unpretentious,” said Monique. “Her husband is in business with Mr. Blakeley, however, and she has a very comfortable home. She does not come out of the top drawer, socially, of course, but she is very kind.”

Anne-Marie added, “Jacquie is to have her own room. Monique and I will share. And our room is perfectly lovely! The walls are lilac striped with little bunches of flowers and a matching counterpane.”

Hélène could not believe how their circumstances were to change. Hoping that Mrs. Pierce
was
kind, and not simply putting on an act for the Duke, she said, “And when are you to move in there?”

“This very day! Two footmen are coming for us at any moment. We are to have our tea there!” Anne-Marie said.

“Well, I hope that you may not be idle,” Hélène said, half-heartedly. What was the need for them to continue to prepare themselves for servitude if she were to marry Samuel?

Jacqueline assured her, “We should be frightfully bored if we discontinued our studies. But the duke is giving us some pin money, so we shall commence straightaway to fashion some new gowns!”

“That is good, then,” Hélène said. “I am exceedingly happy for you.” She gathered them to her all at once and gave in to a profound sense of relief. “Oh, my dears, what a wonderful change in your fortunes is this!”

{ 7 }

SHREWSBURY NEXT MET Lady Virginia at a Venetian breakfast held in the garden of Shearings, the Ruisdell town residence. She was a pretty picture, carrying her lime green parasol to match the lime green and ivory striped muslin she wore. The day was fine with blue skies and a touch of autumn crispness in the air. The duchess’s garden was noted for its roses, which were flaunting their last display of the year.

Keeping Frank’s words in mind, Shewsbury resolutely banished all his expectations and vowed to accept Lady Virginia for herself, not comparing her to a list of virtues he found necessary. Sitting with her among the roses, he asked, “What particular things do you find enjoyable, Lady Virginia?”

“You will laugh at me!” She twirled her parasol.

“Do not tell me that Lady Susannah has managed to convert you to the joys of cataloguing her beetle collection!”

“I beg your pardon? Lady whom?”

“Have you not made the acquaintance of our favorite eccentric? She was present at my mother’s at home.”

“Oh! The lady with the ringlets and the tortoise? You mean to tell me she studies beetles?” Her large eyes grew even larger.

“Yes. She is quite an expert within the Royal Society.” Shrewsbury could not be certain, but it seemed to him that the lady was putting on an air of coyness.

“Well, my hobby seems quite tame, in comparison.” She laughed. “I enjoy sketching.”

“What do you like to sketch?” They were sitting on a bench and he stretched his legs in front of him, wishing he could smoke a cigar.

“Growing up in Dorset, I have quite a fondness for landscapes. Here in London, I have had to content myself with gardens.”

“Do you long for the sea then?”

“Some days. Do you ever long for the country, my lord? Where is your estate situated?”

“It is a very antiquated property in the North. I do not visit it often, preferring town.”

“You employ an estate manager, then?”

“I do. I visit a couple of times a year, but he represents my interests well. My father died many years ago. Mr. Grimsley was his steward.” Which reminded him that he owed old Grim a letter.

“There is some very wild beauty in the North, I have heard,” Lady Virginia commented.

Shrewsbury shrugged. “My estate is very windy and cold. The Yorkshire Dales. I do not think my property very ideal for a sketch artist.” He decided to change the subject. “How did you learn?”

“I have a friend who had an excellent tutor. He was very fond of the views from our estate, Moorings. I used to follow him about. He taught me.” She gave her parasol another twirl, smiling at him.

“Shall we stroll?” he asked. She consented and he helped her to her feet.

“Moorings,” he repeated. “Are your views very wonderful then?”

“Yes. It is on the Dorset coast. My great-grandfather was a sea captain. The king bestowed the barony on him and he established our estate with his prize money.”

“I am guessing the house has a nautical flavor.”

“Of course. It is paneled in teak wood and even has a figurehead on a bow that extends over the back garden. He was terribly disappointed that none of his sons went to sea.”

They walked for a few moments in silence while he cast about in his mind for another subject.

“I already know you like opera. Do you sing or play an instrument?”

“My goodness, are you interviewing me for a position, my lord? What a quiz!”

They had come upon the rose arbor, which was surprisingly unoccupied, and seated themselves under the climbing pink roses.

“Forgive me. I am merely trying to know you better.”

“A person’s character is more important than her talents, however.”

“And how shall I go about learning your character?”

She gave him a sweet smile. “Observation. For instance, I am starting to read your character, my lord.”

Oh, I think not, my little pigeon. I think not.

“What is it you think you see?”

“For one thing, you do not like opera, but you pretend that you do, because it is expected of gentlemen in our class.”

He chuckled. “I am afraid that you are wrong there. I like opera very much. However, I do not like soprano-only arias. They strike me as shrill. I prefer male voices or duets.”

“Oh. Why did you come to my concert, then?” A spent rose petal drifted into her lap. Picking it up, she stroked it between her fingers. They were quite ordinary fingers with ruthlessly cut fingernails.

“Because you expected me to. I did not wish to be rude.”

“That falls into my next category. You have a very strict conscience.”

He pondered on that for a moment. “Because I am a Whig? Is that what you are basing your assessment on?”

“Not really. I was thinking more about your orphanage project.”

“That is not to salve my conscience. That is rather to do some good in the world. Those girls were being horribly mistreated. I did not conceive of the orphanage because I felt guilty. I did it because any human being with an ounce of sensitivity seeing the circumstances of those girls would be moved to help them if he had the means.”

“You are wrong. Most human beings are selfish and take care not to notice. Or if they do, they would say it was God’s will that they exist in such a state.”

“And you? What do you think?” For once, he was genuinely interested in her answer.

“The poor are always with us. I think they will be, no matter how many programs or charities we set up. For instance, there are masses more orphan girls in the East End.”

He frowned. “So one should do nothing rather than too little? Is that what you are saying?”

She looked down and began shredding the rose petal. “The poor are a problem I believe is too massive to undertake with any hope of permanent change. You are an idealist.” She looked up at him and smiled a sweet smile. “But I like you the better for it.”

He furrowed his brow, still not exactly certain where she stood in matters that were of utmost importance to him. “One thing that has made a tremendous difference in the lives of the poor is the Duchess of Ruisdell’s soup kitchen for wounded soldiers in the East End. Have you heard of that?”

“No. But I am only recently come to London. It sounds a worthy endeavor, I must say.”

“It has been very successful. A group of men, among them the duchess’s husband, have also been successful in finding jobs for the men.”

She switched her gaze from his face to the laughing couples trying to find their way through a boxwood maze. “You have a funny way of courting me. Women are interested in romance, your lordship, not soup kitchens.”

He laughed at himself. “It is you who were making out my character. You do not think I believe in romance, then?”

“Probably the idea of romance. No doubt you have a safe, unrequited love somewhere.”

Had someone told her about Sophie?

She shifted her eyes back to him, her tiny mouth showing a practiced pout. “If it were dark, and we were the only two people here in the arbor, do you think you might kiss me?”

At the moment, she looked very tempting, indeed, with her rosebud lips and her large hazel eyes focused on his. How would he know if he was attracted to her if he didn’t kiss her?

He hadn’t had to kiss Sophie. But Sophie seemed the exception to every rule in his life.

“I should be sorely tempted. Would you allow it?”

“I think I would.”

As their gazes locked, he wondered if he were allowing himself to be surprised by love. He was certainly trying. But as yet, Lady Virginia had not stirred a heartbeat.

*~*~*

Waking the following morning after a dream where he had listened to Sophie playing a gypsy tune, he threw back his bedclothes in frustration. A round with Gentleman Jackson would put him right.

Arriving at the boxing saloon, he stripped to the waist, donned boxing gloves, and sparred with his instructor a good nine rounds. Winded, but feeling surprisingly alive, he sluiced his head and torso with buckets of water. Ruisdell was preparing to box next.

“I was going to send a note around, Shrewsbury,” the duke said. “I received a communication from Lady Clarice this morning. She has been to visit the orphans and was most impressed with the job Miss Whitcombe is doing. She has brought her to London with her to give a preliminary report to the patrons.”

Christian felt an unwelcome bump as his heart bounded in his chest. “When?”

“It will be tonight. Following dinner. You will be free to go out afterward to attend your evening engagements. Can you be there?”

“Oh, yes. I can manage it. Dinner, you say?”

“Yes, we dine at half eight o’clock.”

Christian went to Brook’s for luncheon, completely forgetting he was promised to his mother and Lady Virginia that day. When he remembered, he wrote her a quick note, begging her forgiveness.

In the afternoon, he played billiards with the Marquis of Somerset when he was meant to have joined Halifax at Tattersall’s to advise him on purchasing a brood mare for his new stud operation. This necessitated another note.