While Jeremy served, the major asked about her ride with Mr. Stamfield, her new clothes, and if she’d heard from her brother recently, or if the headmaster had replied to the bank draft. He spoke of the news of the day and the latest books, which he promised to find for her in his library. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about horses for an elderly gentleman who appeared anything but an outdoors man. Simone should not have been surprised, recalling the quality of the gelding she’d ridden.
He complimented her gown and her new hair style. He cared, she felt, almost in an avuncular way. He looked like someone’s eccentric relation, too, a bit messy, shaggy, and old-fashioned.
As soon as the young footman left, leaving the several courses on the table for them to serve themselves, Simone said she had come to a decision.
“Later, my dear, later. Let us not ruin Mrs. Judd’s excellent meal with such weighty matters.”
She could not eat much, not with the difficult conversation looming ahead, but the major seemed unaffected. He also appeared a bit different now that she had time to notice, while he ate. Simone could have sworn his moustache had gone up at the ends when they first met. Now the ends went down like Mr. Harris’s, whose lips were always in a downward scowl anyway. The major had also limped more at Mrs. Burton’s, she thought, but perhaps the climb to the madam’s sitting room had been tiring. Or the weather that day had made him ache. Grandfather’s fingers used to swell before a rainstorm. This evening was dry and clear, for a change.
The major still leaned on his cane as they walked toward the drawing room after dinner. He’d gladly forgo his solitary smoke for her company, he told her.
She started to tell him of her decision but he held up one hand. “I may do without my cigarillo for the pleasure of your presence, my dear, but I do enjoy my port after dinner, especially after a trying day. Helps an old man’s digestion, also, you see.”
She saw he was not ready to speak yet. He told her to order tea for herself, which would have meant another delay. She chose to taste the port instead, breaking yet another law of ladylike decorum. The rule book had flown out the window days ago, and no one would know anyway, except the two of them and Miss White.
The cat wound herself around the major’s feet, then leaped into his lap, ignoring Simone altogether. Strangely enough, the big cat had hissed at Mr. Stamfield, arched her back at the delivery men, and ignored Jeremy altogether, yet she adored both the major and his assistant.
Simone was waiting for Major Harrison to notice the difference in his pet, how well-groomed she was, and lighter in weight, but he did not say anything, just sank back in his chair and sighed with contentment, one hand stroking the now smooth white fur, the other holding the glass.
Simone did not like her efforts being ignored, her speech put off, or the taste of the port. She walked to the door where Jeremy was waiting, to ask for a tea tray after all.
The cart was wheeled in, the tea was poured, and still the major sipped and sighed. The cat purred. Finally, almost reluctantly, the major set his glass aside.
“Now, my dear, we can have our discussion.”
“Thank you.” She tried to keep the “at last” under her breath. A man was entitled to relax in his own home, she supposed, although she felt as taut as a bow string. “I have come to a decision. I—”
He interrupted her. “I beg your pardon, but so have I. So I will save you the awkwardness of refusing my offer. I withdraw it.”
“I am going.”
“Yes, so you told Mr. Harris, quite forcefully, too. I understand your scruples and I admire you for them. Never fear I am angry, my dear. Recall, I was the one who suggested you take this time to decide on such drastic action, wasn’t I?”
“You do not understand. I am going with you to Lord Gorham’s party in Richmond.”
In his usual slow, deliberative way, he waited before replying, then asked, “With all that the trip entails?”
Simone could feel the color rising in her cheeks, but she looked straight at him, cursing the dratted spectacles that hid his eyes and most of his expression. “Yes, I wish to be your…companion.”
“No, you do not.” He grimaced, then asked for a cup of tea, with extra sugar.
She prepared the cup and got up to hand it to him. “You cannot know that.”
“Oh, I know.” He took a deep swallow of the sweet tea, almost burning his tongue. “In addition, you told Mr. Harris.”
“I changed my mind.”
“So did I.” He took another mouthful of tea.
“What about that nonsense you spoke of: the danger, how you required an escort, a new face, an educated woman? Furthermore, you have already spent a fortune on my clothes and my brother.”
He brushed that aside, as only a wealthy man could. “Money is not as important as your self-esteem.”
“It is if you are starving. Charity makes a bitter breakfast.”
He chose to misinterpret her words. “Has Mrs. Judd not been feeding you well?” He slowly looked her over from head to toe, his scrutiny pausing at her hips and her bust, outlined by the thin fabric of the ecru silk gown she wore.
Simone quickly went back to her chair across from his, away from his examination. It was all she could do not to hold her hand above the gown’s bodice, where the fabric did not extend far enough for her taste. Madame Journet had made the décolletage to a gentleman’s taste, she said, not a governess’s. Once she was seated Simone told the major, “Mrs. Judd is an excellent housekeeper and cook, as you must know. She would never permit a guest in your home to go hungry, whether she approves of that guest or not.” The housekeeper did not approve of Simone, but that was not the major’s concern. Or Mrs. Judd’s, Simone considered.
Harrison nodded. “So you have not gone hungry. And your brother’s education is secure. As is his welfare.” He pulled some papers out of his pocket. “Rexford has agreed to stand as guardian, in case of emergency only. The clothes are yours to keep. So you do not have to commit a transgression you might regret for the rest of your life.”
“No, sir, I disagree. I will regret
not
going more. You have been kind and more than generous, but I intend to win Lord Gorham’s contest.”
“Blast! I knew I should not have let Daniel near you. Buffle-headed and cow-handed, both, the jackass. No one else would have mentioned it.”
“I disagree again. You should have told me. Mr. Harris could have. Mr. Stamfield was kind enough to do so.”
“Greedy, more likely. Did he also explain that the contest will be rigged so that Gorham’s mistress wins?”
“Oh. No, he did not mention that. I suppose the points can be miscounted or awarded unfairly so she wins the thousand pounds, but she cannot win each event, as I understand it. A clay pigeon does not play favorites, for one.”
“She used to be an opera singer.”
“Very well, I concede to her at voice, but I intend to take the horsemanship prize, and make a good showing at the archery contest. Madame Journet’s wardrobe is beyond anything I have ever seen, if clothing is judged. I am also proficient at the pianoforte. Mr. Stamfield was not certain what else would be judged.”
“Bedroom skills.”
“Oh. Oh, dear. And you would not lie, would you?”
“I told you, I cannot. Despite Gorham’s probable anger, I was not going to put up the entry fee, if you did accompany me.”
“You can afford it.”
“Yes, but I thought to save you from that decadence by not placing your name in the running.”
“You saved the Judds and Miss White, but I am no stray. I want the opportunity to rescue myself.”
“You want to win the purse, or whatever part of it you can. You do not wish to become my mistress. Isn’t that the truth?”
“You must know it is. It was always about the money.”
“Good, because I have decided that I do not want you for my lover.” He added more sugar to his tea and gulped it down.
She gasped, not at the amount of sugar he’d just swallowed, but at the insult. This old man with his shabby beard, stooped posture, and peculiar notions did not want her? Who was he to be so particular? Then she remembered his many kindnesses. “You found another companion?”
“No, I found my own conscience. I cannot lead a woman down the primrose path. Do you know what is at the other end? You can see them on the street corners outside Drury Lane. Or coughing to death like my own mother. Lord Gorham seeks to be rid of his long-term mistress, as men often do. By holding the contest, getting each gentleman to put in his stake, he can send her off with a handsome pension without reaching into his own pocket, while enjoying the spectacle. Not many kept women retire half so well, nor last so long with one lover. I know a few courtesans do wed their protectors, but the number of them is very small. Most find themselves with child, with the pox, with a handful of baubles as their entire fortune, after being passed from gentleman to gentleman. I will not send a young lady down that road.”
Simone was near tears. Everything he said was true. But a governess’s lot was no better unless she was fortunate in her workplace. Nor had Simone forgotten that her virtue was no safer where she’d been honorably employed. She could have ended pregnant, diseased, or in jail without even a trinket to sell for a lawyer’s fees. Whereas if she won Lord Gorham’s disgraceful competition…
“I have another proposition.”
She leaned forward. “Yes?”
“I propose to hire you as an actress.”
She sat back, the bubble of hope deflated. “I am no actress.”
“For one hundred pounds.”
“I can learn. What role shall I play?”
“Why, my mistress, of course. I told you some of my reasons for going to Gorham’s. They are still true, no matter what you believe. Plans are afoot, so I have to attend the house party, which means I need a beautiful woman with me.”
“But what is the difference? I will be just as ruined whether I pretend to be your mistress or if I actually am.”
“Not in your heart, and not in my mind. Only your good name will suffer, which is easy enough to fix by changing it. You already look different from the Miss Ryland anyone knows or might encounter in the future. After the house party, you can return to being that woman of impeccable reputation, richer by a hundred pounds.”
“And whatever else I can win.”
He smiled. She saw a flash of white, not an old man’s brown-stained teeth. “And whatever else you can win. I shall back you. Afterward, you’ll have far more choices, your own choices, apart from the money.”
“What if I choose to become Lord Gorham’s next paramour?”
“Then I might have to kill him.”
He spoke so grimly, Simone almost believed him. Then she laughed. “I can see I must take acting lessons from you, sir.”
“There’s more than pretending. We shall have to share a bedroom. I see no getting around that. The servants would talk otherwise. Sally will come along as your lady’s maid, and she would never betray us but—”
“But she is a delightful rattlepate,” Simone concluded for him. “She might let something slip.”
“Exactly. So she has to think our arrangement is as it should be.”
“Country houses usually have large beds. We can manage. After my cot at Mrs. Olmstead’s house, I suppose I could sleep on the floor if need be. Do you snore?”
“No one has complained about that yet,” he said with another smile. “We have more important matters to discuss, however. As I told you, there is more to this gathering than a foolish romp. I need you to listen, to tell me anything suspicious you hear from the women. Sally and Jeremy will do the same in the servants’ hall.”
“And Harold, your driver, can be on the alert in the stables.”
“Um, of course. No one pays much attention to the staff. They might learn something helpful. As for you, I see no reason for anyone to know that you speak French or Spanish. You might hear other conversations that way, spoken in private.”
Simone did not actually believe in the major’s fustian nonsense, but if he was willing to take her to Richmond, she was willing to act as his mistress and his spy. Gracious, she’d act as his valet if that’s what it took. Heaven knew he needed one. “What is it I should be listening for?”
“Plans to overthrow the government.”
If Daniel had not said what a knowing man the major was, how he worked for the army and terrified lower ranking soldiers, she would never believe her new partner was in his right mind. “That is impossible.”
“It is all too possible. Not everyone approves of our royal family, riddled with madness, extravagance and debauchery as it is. An assassination here, a bribe there, a judgment of mental incompetence, all can accomplish as much in the right hands as incriminating letters in the wrong ones.”
“But why?”
“Because not everyone who will be at Gorham’s believes in the aristocracy. He has invited men of title, but other men of wealth and ambition. They want more power, more say in the governing of the country. Some might prefer a republic, like in America, to a monarchy. Some are known to wish a stronger role for the Commons. A few are suspected of wanting to bring Napoleon back from exile. I shall explain more once we are on our way to Richmond.”
“You do not trust me now?”
“I am trusting you with my life. But too many things can go wrong, and you are better, safer, not knowing everything yet. Do you trust me?”
She hesitated a moment before answering yes.
He licked the tea off his ragged moustache. “You are not sure.”
“Stop guessing at my mind.”
“No, I only recognize the truth.”
“Bosh. You cannot know what I am thinking. I could tell you my mother’s name was Ermentrude—”
“Marielle. Your mother was called Marielle, and her mother was kin to the Comte du Chantrevieu. You bear her name, Simone.”
“How did you…? No, I do not wish to know. Yes, I trust that you will keep your promises and that you speak the truth.”
“That is enough for now, so let us proceed. What do you wish to call yourself? It should be something that you will answer to with ease, perhaps something close to your real name, in case you make a mistake.”
“Do you mean how Harrison and Harris are so similar?”