The Geek Girl and the Scandalous Earl (10 page)

Mrs. K sighed and smoothed her drab brown skirt. “It is a long tale.”

Jamie cut her eyes at the housekeeper. “What am I going to say, I don’t have time because I’m supposed to meet up for a guild run before my international teleconference? Tell me.”

Mrs. K shook her head slightly but complied.

“He had recently inherited the earldom. He took a mistress not long after, a woman named Louisa Maucier. He was young then, not much more than a boy, really, and fancied himself in love with her.”

Jamie crossed her arms and made a face. “Sorry, but I really don’t understand the whole mistress thing.”

Mrs. K looked at her quizzically. “Do men in your time not have needs? Do they all marry before sating their fleshly desires?”

Jamie laughed. “Of course not, it’s just that sex isn’t, well, you’re supposed to care about the person you do it with, unless it’s a one-night stand or something. But even then you’re not obligated to stay with the person; it’s just part of some people’s dating life.” As the words left her mouth, she realized how hypocritical that sounded. In 2012, casual sex wasn’t that big a deal, and she was looking down her nose at Mike for having just that? She sighed. “Sorry. Forget I said that. So, he loved her?”

Mrs. K shook her head and picked at a loose thread on her cuff. “No, not at all. She was very beautiful and very worldly, and she fascinated him. He escorted her to the theatre, to the park, anywhere polite society allowed a gentleman to bring his light o’ love. She was affectionate toward him, but any fool could see that it was a matter of business between them. He was infatuated with her charms, but nothing more lasting than that.”

The knot of jealousy in her stomach that had started when Mrs. K said that he loved Louisa eased a little at that statement. She nodded to the housekeeper, hoping she’d continue.

“After they had been together for nigh on a year, another courtesan began attempting to attract his lordship’s attention. Collette Dubois. She was young, a raven-haired doxy with a vaunted opinion of her own charms. She tried to woo his lordship away from Louisa but was never successful until The Incident.”

Baron whuffed, snuggling under Jamie’s hand like he’d heard the capital letters too and they worried him. Jamie pulled the greyhound closer. “What incident?”

“The Incident,” Mrs. K corrected her pronunciation, “occurred one evening when his lordship escorted Louisa to a dinner party for gentlemen and their paramours. It wasn’t a proper dinner party, not in the best sense, as it was given by Sir Arthur Williams for his mistress, Marilyn Munroe.”

“Oh, I met her.” Mrs. K’s jaw dropped as Jamie continued. “The other day, when I went out with Baron. She was in a carriage with a skinny, rude man. They called me over.”

The housekeeper looked as if she’d eaten a handful of lemons, but she nodded. “Yes, that was Sir Arthur and his mistress. We have discussed the improprieties of that exchange already, and I trust…”

Jamie stopped her with a wave of her hand. “Yes, I know, it was a bad idea. I’m sorry. What happened?”

“Louisa and his lordship arrived at the party, which was by all accounts a rather raucous event. After his lordship procured a glass of wine for Louisa, she suddenly became violently ill. Her limbs shook, she trembled all over. Within an hour, she was dead.

“Mr. Lionel Waites, Collette Dubois’ then protector, accused his lordship of poisoning Louisa’s wine. His lordship denied it, of course. No one should have believed such a wild and baseless accusation, but gossips will talk. Some of the household staff departed after that. None that were worth keeping, of course, but it was quite a surprise when his lordship’s valet disappeared with hardly a word. He’s not found a suitable replacement and so Thornton has been dressing him for quite a while now, poor man.”

Jamie shook her head. Mike was kind of stuck-up, but he wasn’t a murderer. There was no way he’d poisoned Louisa. She hoped the valet was stuck scrubbing chamber pots after that.

“His lordship wasn’t blamed, but there was an inquiry about the affair. For several months he received a scant handful of invitations. He refused to accept the few his true friends delivered. He kept to the house, not going out into company, unwilling to bring more shame onto the earldom. Soon after he finally began accepting invitations again, Collette broke off her association with Mr. Waites, and began to dally outrageously with his lordship. Eventually, he took her as his mistress.”

Mrs. Knightsbridge lost all traces of her normal cheerful expression. She leaned closer as she said, “That Collette was pure poison. Her actions were, at times, most unsettling. It is as if she cares more for coin than a normal creature of her stamp. His lordship became suspicious of her within a month, but he kept the lease on her house for six months after. He didn’t want to cause another scandal, you see. He gave her
congé
a fortnight ago, when he decided to begin courting Miss Lyons in earnest. His lordship is almost forty now, and must think of begetting an heir, so this courtship was just the thing to end that damaging association.”

Bile rose in Jamie’s throat at the thought of Mike sleeping with that crazy woman, and then marrying that pasty little blond thing she’d seen with him in the carriage. He was supposed to marry blondie and knock her up to get an heir? He didn’t love her. He couldn’t, not the way Jamie had seen him looking at her as they danced. He’d marry and sleep with a woman only to get her pregnant? What a completely disgusting thought.

Jamie stared down at Baron’s back, hoping Mrs. K wouldn’t see the way her worries flitted across her face. “Why are you telling me all this?”

The warmth of Mrs. K’s voice penetrated the chill in Jamie’s heart.

“Because I know you love him.”

Jamie jerked her head up, staring at Mrs. Knightsbridge. She was smiling softly, like a mother would. Jamie’s mouth worked silently for a second, as her brain scrambled to catch up with the rest of her.

“Wait, what? I don’t love him!”

The soft smile turned into a knowing grin. Mrs. K leaned over and patted her hand reassuringly. “Of course not, Miss Jamie.”

“I can’t stand him! He’s stuck-up and snobbish and obnoxious, and way too handsome for his own good, and smart and funny and…oh my God.” Jamie clapped a palm over her open mouth.

Mrs. K nodded and rose to her feet. “I’ll leave you to get some more air, dearie. I believe you have some thinking to do.”

The gravel crunched under her feet as she rounded the corner of the path and disappeared in the direction of the house. Baron pulled away from Jamie and trotted after the housekeeper, leaving Jamie completely alone in the spring air of the garden.

She stared at a brilliant yellow clump of buttercups nestled against the base of the budding tree.
Love…Mike?
Could she really be falling in love with Mike? The thought was, well, not as appalling as she’d imagined it would be.

He infuriated her, and she him. She did everything wrong, and she made him crazy. But then, his eyes when they’d danced, the way he’d stopped her tears with his high-handed demand for a waltz. Was it true? Could she love him?

She stood and paced the length of the path in front of the bench.

If she was falling for Mike, so what? He didn’t love her, and there was no future for them. He had an earldom to take care of, and she…she had to get back where she belonged. She wasn’t cut out for this time and place. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life here.
Could
I?

Jamie tilted her head back and looked at the cloud-covered sky.
Mike, me, love, future, past, impossible.
The words tumbled in her head like jeans in a Maytag. She couldn’t make sense of all this stuff on her own. Puffing her cheeks out in frustration, she turned on her heel and headed into the house. Mrs. K thought, for some reason, that Jamie and Mike were destined. It was time for Jamie to face the fact that she was beginning to believe the housekeeper, as crazy as that was. Mrs. K had to have some kind of idea as to how she thought this could possibly work. Jamie needed to find her to get some shit figured out.

She wasn’t in the kitchen among the busily cooking and scrubbing maids. She wasn’t in the dining room polishing silver. She wasn’t in the sitting room arranging knickknacks. Jamie had decided to head upstairs to see if Mrs. K was on the upper floor when she heard Mike’s voice. It was coming from the room off the main hallway that had always been locked when she tried it. The door was slightly ajar, and she peeked through the crack.

Mike stood by a large desk made of dark wood. Ivory pages were scattered on the surface, and another man spoke in a concerned tone. Mike took a step toward the door, eyes locked on the other man, and Jamie ducked back out of sight.

“Nonsense, Amberson,” Mike said. The wood of the desk creaked then. He must have sat on it. “I assure you, the
ton’s
gossipmongers have had plenty of new scandals to focus on. Poor Louisa hasn’t been in the spotlight for over a year now.”

“My lord, it is simply a precaution. Sir Frederick Lyons has had his solicitor poking around, asking questions about your situation, both financial and personal. It would only be natural for Miss Maucier’s death to be examined. I am doing my best to protect your interests, but I would be remiss if I did not inform you of his activities.”

Mike snorted. “Sir Frederick has no concern for Miss Lyons’s safety. He is simply making sure that my pockets are as well lined as they are reputed to be. Since Miss Lyons’s match with Lord Kensington did not occur, he’s set his sights on me as the next available fish to gut, despite Sir William Knightley’s interest. Apparently, the young gentleman’s coffers are not so deep.”

The strange man’s voice was surprised. “Does that anger you, my lord?”

“No,” Mike said thoughtfully. “Despite her family’s grasping nature, Miss Lyons is of a meek and amiable disposition. She’ll do as my countess.”

Jamie’s stomach knotted painfully, and she swallowed hard to keep the nausea at bay. She pressed her body back against the doorframe hard, listening despite the urge to run.

“Is your mind made up then, my lord?”

“It is. I will propose next week, on Tuesday.”

Slamming her eyelids shut, she bit her lip hard. The bitter tang of blood stung her mouth.

“Very good. Shall I send your regrets for the Wentworth masked ball on Monday evening then?”

“No, not at all. Miss Lyons will be away in the country, so I will attend alone.”

George, the footman, chose that exact moment to round the corner from the kitchen into her part of the hallway. Jamie whirled around at his thudding footsteps, hand clasped to her racing heart.

“Oh, pardon me, Miss Marten.”

She didn’t answer him. She didn’t want Mike to hear her, to know she’d overheard his plans. She rushed past George and up the stairs. If she wasn’t careful, then she was going to do something really dumb and emotional. Like collapse on her bed and cry.

Apparently, her eyes didn’t realize that she was being careful, and the tears pricked as she flew down the portrait-lined hallway to the Lemon Room.

Jamie nearly took out Mrs. Knightsbridge when she shoved open the door to her bedroom. Ignoring the housekeeper and her armload of dresses, Jamie flung herself down on the neatly made bed and let the sobs wrack her body.

This
is
completely
idiotic
, Jamie told herself as the hot tears soaked her sleeve. She didn’t care if Mike proposed to some stupid, spineless woman with no boobs and insipid yellow hair. She didn’t care if he married her to have beautiful little Colin Firth–lookalike future earls. She didn’t care if he crushed her heart beneath the heel of his way-too-shiny boots by marrying someone with the combined IQ of a paramecium and bubblegum on a stick.
It
is
completely
fine
with
me
, Jamie thought as snot clogged her nose and her cheeks stung with hot, salty tears.

A gentle hand rubbed her back.

“Go away, Mrs. K,” she rasped into the bed covers.

“Miss Jamie, whatever is the matter?” Her soft voice lashed Jamie like a whip. She couldn’t take the sympathy; it would break her into a million pieces.

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Another wave of tears overtook her, and she sobbed hoarsely, not raising her head.

“I doubt that. Come now. Dry your tears. Tell Wi…me what’s the matter.”

Despite her misery, Jamie lifted her head and looked at the housekeeper through watery eyes.

She nodded and pulled a handkerchief from her apron pocket. Jamie took the offered square of linen and wiped her wet cheeks, sitting up on the bed.

“Whatever can cause such a strong woman to cry as though her heart would break?” Mrs. Knightsbridge’s warm hand rubbed her shoulder comfortingly.

“I’m not strong, Mrs. K. I’m not. I heard Mike tell some guy that he’s going to propose to Miss Lyons next week, and I don’t know why, but it makes me so miserable.” Jamie covered her face with the hanky, trying to stem the fresh flood of tears that threatened to overtake her again.

“Shh, dearie. Don’t fret. When did he say the proposal would occur?”

“Tuesday. But I can’t stop it, and I shouldn’t. I can’t live in this time, not happily. And if she’s really who he wants, then why should I get in the middle of it?”

Mrs. Knightsbridge’s gray eyes glinted with a knowing light. “Why are you so certain that Miss Lyons is who he really wants?”

Jamie refolded the hanky to find a dryer spot. “Why wouldn’t she be? She’s apparently meek and amiable, two words that no one in their right mind would ever say about me.”

“His lordship is a forceful man, a strong man. He needs a woman who will stand up with him, not a wilting flower to be crushed under his bootheel. He will never be happy with less. You, Jamie, you are the sort of woman that he needs.”

“Tell him that,” Jamie said darkly as she wiped her nose with the square. “He can’t stand the sight of me. You saw how he acted when you wanted him to dance with me.”

“He reacts badly because he fears his feelings for you. He does not understand. It is up to you to make him see the truth. You are his ideal woman.”

Jamie looked over at Mrs. Knightsbridge. Her round face shone with sincerity.

“Why do you care about him so much? Why go to all this trouble to make sure he’s with the right person?”

The housekeeper looked down into her lap. Jamie’s eyes followed. Mrs. K pulled back the cuff of her sleeve and traced a delicate scar across her wrist. She spoke without lifting her gaze.

“I know the pain of a bad marriage. Micah is like a son to me. I’ll not let him suffer as I have suffered.”

“Is that…” Jamie’s voice trailed off.

Mrs. K shook her head. “Let’s not speak of it. For now, we must plan.” She jerked the cuff down and rose to her feet with a determined smile.

“Plan what?” Jamie stood, watching Mrs. Knightsbridge pace. The evidence of the woman’s pain had shaken Jamie.

“How to convince his lordship that you are the perfect countess, of course. Now, you must listen carefully.”

“Wait. I can’t convince him of that. I’m pretty sure it’s not true. I’m not cut out for this time.”

Mrs. K smiled at her. “Jamie, whenever you are, wherever you are, you’ll always be perfect for Micah. Now, come. Indulge me.”

***

By the time they were done scheming, Mrs. Knightsbridge almost had Jamie convinced. Like it or not, Jamie cared about Mike. A lot. Maybe even bordering on that other L word that she was terrified to even think. Even if he didn’t end up with Jamie, she couldn’t let him marry that other woman just to get an heir. The thought was sickening. She had to convince him to marry for love, whether it was her—
gulp
—or someone else.

Mrs. Knightsbridge’s plan was deceptively simple. Jamie was to be as near to Mike as possible. Day in and day out. Talk to him, laugh with him, ask him to help her practice dancing, teach her to ride a horse, spend time with him. Give him a chance to see how compatible they were when they weren’t fighting about his arrogance or her ignorance of the time she was stuck in.

The housekeeper was convinced, by next week this time, Mike would be head over heels in love with Jamie and forget he ever thought to propose to Miss Lyons. Jamie wasn’t sold, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t let Mike marry blondie unless he loved her. He deserved to be happy. She didn’t know if she could ever live in this time happily, but she owed it to herself and Mike to figure out if there was something possible between them.

By the Wentworth masked ball Monday night, Jamie would have had every opportunity to let the man know how she felt about him and his loveless marriage idea. Mrs. K was going to work on a costume for Jamie to wear, and she’d promised to procure her an invitation to attend the ball. She’d meet Mike there, and if things hadn’t worked out between them, it would be their good-bye. Not that he would know that. Mrs. K promised to have Wilhelmina open the portal that Tuesday if Jamie failed. If she succeeded, well, then that was a whole other barrel of monkeys to be dealt with.

Mrs. Knightsbridge helped Jamie scrub her face, removing all traces of tears. After pinning up her hair, leaving a few curly tendrils dangling by her ears, Mrs. K walked with her downstairs.

“Now remember,” she said in a quiet voice, “stay with him. Be patient with him, and all will be well. He is headstrong, but you mustn’t let that vex you overly. He will see reason if you stand your ground.”

“Here goes nothing,” Jamie muttered as Mrs. K left her and she strode purposefully into his office.

He looked up at Jamie from his seat behind the large wooden desk. He was alone in the room now, no sign of Amberson. He paused, his hand still poised on the quill pen that hovered over a half-scribbled sheet of parchment.

Jamie swallowed hard, searching for strength to spend time with him without further compromising her heart. As a smile broke out across his face when he saw her, she felt herself sliding farther into the danger zone.

“Miss Marten.” He rose to his feet smoothly. “I trust you are well? You left our lesson rather quickly.”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She leaned on the bare corner of his desk. “Sorry about that. I had some thinking to do.”

He sat back down. “I see.” The nib of the pen scratched across the parchment as he resumed his letter.

She moved a little closer. “What are you doing?”

He glanced up at her quickly before dipping the nib in the inkwell. “Writing.”

She rolled her eyes. “No shit. What are you writing?”

“A letter. And must you continually use foul language? It is hardly becoming.”

Irritation boiled up within her, but she tamped it down hard as she remembered Mrs. K’s words.
Don’t let him vex me.
It was a damn sight harder than she realized.

“Sorry.”

That simple little word stopped all forward progress on Mike’s letter. He looked up at her wide-eyed. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said sorry. As in, I’m sorry for offending you.”

Jamie almost laughed aloud at the sight of his strong jaw dropping. She’d truly shocked him. Maybe this would be easier than she thought.

He sputtered as he tried to answer. “Well, I…it is…well, no harm done.” Turning back to his letter, he shook his head slightly, as if stunned.

“What are you doing when you’re done? Writing, I mean.”

“I have no pressing business.”

She ran her nail along the smooth edge of the desk. “Do you think, maybe, you could teach me how to ride? A horse, I mean.”

He laid his quill pen down flat on the desk. “Whyever would you want to learn to ride?”

She swallowed, her brain scrambling for an answer that wouldn’t sound like the complete lie it would probably be. “I had fun the other night, riding. I think I’d like to know how to do it. On my own, I mean. And besides, there are horses back in my time. It might come in handy.”