Her Proper Scoundrel (10 page)

But now he had written her.

He was not done with her, then.

“What’s wrong, miss?”

Philip’s hoarse little voice broke through her whirling thoughts and she raised her gaze to him. He looked back at her with a solemn gaze. Her heart ached for him at his expression. How could one so young hold such a serious demeanor?

His expression prompted her as to where she was and why. Certainly tomorrow’s impending visit unsettled her. And certainly it all hinged on how well the boy played his part. For now she would turn her attention to the boys, and in particular Philip.

She would wait until she reached the sanctuary of her room to read the letter.

But it burned where she tucked it inside her spencer.

* * *

Disdain curled the lip of Lord Oliver Candel as he watched the Sharrington carriage disappear into the hubbub of Bristol’s streets. How crass of the man to remind him of the gaming debt and certainly not the action of one of the peerage to pick a public walkway in which to do so.

How had a man of Sharrington’s ilk even gained entry into Bristol’s finest gaming establishment? Fumed Candel. Furthermore, how presumptuous of the man to hand over his card as if he, Oliver Candel, would gladly open his doors to the scum.

He slammed his walking step into the ground.
Watch your step, Sharrington, or you shall rue the day you sought to challenge me.

* * *

As Christopher rode home to Midland House beside the coachman, the fresh air cleared his jumbled thoughts and allowed him to consider Lady Oakland’s visit tomorrow in a more relaxed frame of mind.

It really shouldn’t be too difficult to convince the woman Philip was his son. Tom, the younger boy could simply be kept elsewhere during the interview.

With a light heart, he jumped off the coach and paused to admire the tranquil façade of Midland House. An odd thought swam through his mind. Midland House deserved a proper mistress. Like Josceline. And children. Like Philip and Tom.

Nonsense.

He shook his head. Marriage wasn’t yet in his plans for he must first set himself up in the shipping business. No, he corrected himself. First he must convince Lady Oakland he had a son. By her good graces, his acceptance into polite society would ensure the success of his business.

The carriage door thudded open and two boyish shapes tumbled out.

“Philip? Tom? Mind you wait for me.” Josceline’s voice drifted from within.

“Yes, miss.” They chorused as one as if they had been practicing their manners but they jumped from one foot to the other while they waited, eyes wide as saucers as they inspected the surroundings. They began to wrestle, grunting and laughing and trying to topple each other over, a far cry from the sad sight of this morning.

Lud, how resilient and full of energy young boys could be. His newly found confidence about tomorrow waned. They had less than twenty four hours before Lady Oakland arrived and at this particular moment the two reminded him of nothing less than unschooled rambunctious puppies.

A few seconds later, a slender, ivory hand grasped the doorway and his eyes were drawn to a dainty foot reaching for the top step. Chagrin cascaded through him. In his apprehension about the impending visit, he had totally forgotten his manners.

“Allow me.” Christopher reached for Josceline’s hand, careful to drop it once she had reached the ground. He needed all his reason and he mustn’t let his attraction to her bamboozle him.

She turned limpid green eyes to him. “Mr. Sharrington, please have a footman take Philip and Tom to the stables,” she said calmly. “The boys and I have had a lovely visit and I promised them if they sat still during the ride home they could see the horses.”

“Splendid suggestion,” agreed a dumbfounded Christopher. Apparently Josceline was prepared to take charge. Confidence welled up again. They were two adults, he reminded himself, surely they were the equal of two orphaned boys.
 

They waited by the carriage until the footman came and took the youngsters.

“Bring them to the kitchen when they’ve had their fill,” ordered Christopher before turning to take Josceline’s elbow. They strolled across the drive towards the house.

“There is much to be done before tomorrow,” Josceline said. “Most important, however, is a good bath. Check them for lice, that sort of thing.” She slanted a glance at Christopher. “They’re both very eager to please. Although Tom is shy, I found Philip to be engaging and bright. I think he would do as your son.”

 
He nodded. “I had thought the same. Plus he is of the right age.”

They began to climb the steps to the front door. On cue, it swung open to reveal the tall, spare frame of Tedham, Christopher’s butler, who stepped back politely to let them pass.

In the entrance hall, Josceline paused. “I, er, have something to attend to in my chamber. Perhaps you could engage Mrs. Belton to take charge of the boys’ bath?”

Take charge of their bath? How absurd. That was nanny’s work. He opened his mouth to refuse but she raised a stern finger.

“I shall direct the rest, Mr. Sharrington. All I ask is for you to ensure the boys wash.”

Something in her voice stilled his protestations and he peered at her sharply. Trepidation lined her face and her hands trembled.

“What is it, Josceline?”

She shook her head, lips compressed. “I shan’t be long.”

He watched her climb the stairs, dragging her feet as if she was on her way to her execution.

Something had upset her as soon as she had entered the house. Something requiring her attention.

But what?

* * *

Josceline trudged up the stairs. Christopher was obviously curious over her sudden change in mood but he had accepted her request graciously. For that she was grateful.

In truth, she could no longer postpone reading her father’s letter even if it meant feeling remorse for putting the bath in Christopher’s hands.

Finally she reached her room. It was late afternoon and the curtains were drawn against the early spring chill, the fire already lit. She pulled up a chair beside the fireplace and pried open the seal on the envelope which she then tossed into the flames. She clutched the letter in her fingers, watching the envelope as it withered into black curls before being consumed by the fire.

Enough procrastination, the letter would not go away by not reading it. She unfolded it and tilted the page toward the flickering light:

“Daughter,

Lady Oakland informs me you are now in the employ of a Mr. Christopher Sharrington. Surely being mistress of your own home is more to your liking. Mr. Burrows is predisposed to overlook your indiscretions and still wishes to take you to wife.

I await your response.”

Respectfully,

Your father.

The letter was succinct. Her father was not one to mince words. How serious was he? Had he written the letter in a lucid moment or a drunken moment? She pressed trembling fingers to her temples.

As if the sham wasn’t enough, now she had the specter of her father to contend with.

* * *

By the time Christopher made his way to the kitchen, the boys had arrived. They sat on stools beside the massive fireplace watching the cook turn the spit on which hung a venison haunch. A corner of his mouth lifted - he could almost see the drool pooling in the corners of their mouths.

“Good evening, Mr. Sharrington.” Mrs. Belton scuttled into the room. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of the children in the kitchen yet her well schooled, plump face remained expressionless. Nevertheless, her eyes, full of questions, darted to his.

“Mrs. Belton, I place these two in your charge. They need a good scrub down and supper.”

Christopher turned to waggle his finger at the two. “Mrs. Belton will care for you.”

“Yes sir.” They nodded in unison although he felt a twinge of foreboding at the impish look in Philip’s. The eldest lad appeared to have settled in handsomely leading Christopher to wonder what high spirited behavior might ensue.

He turned back to the astonished housekeeper.

Wiping her hands on her apron, Mrs. Belton nodded her head. “As you wish, Mr. Sharrington. How kind of you to take in orphaned boys. Are they brothers?”

“Yes,” he answered curtly. Trust the staff to know more about his own life than he did. “Put them in the nursery for tonight.”

“The nursery? That will not do, Mr. Sharrington. The nursery is empty.”

Of course it sat empty. Refurbishing the nursery wasn’t high on his list of priorities. Actually, it wasn’t on his list of priorities at all because first he would need a wife. Come to think of it, a wife wasn’t on his list of priorities either. And not likely to be any time soon. He quashed those thoughts to attend to the problem at hand.

“Where would you suggest, Mrs. Belton?” he asked, lifting his palms skyward.

“Why, with me, of course. I’ll have one of the footmen set up a pallet on the floor beside me. That way, I can keep an eye on them if they need anything.” She clucked sympathetically. “Poor wee things, skinny as two sticks they are. They look as if they haven’t had a proper meal in days.”

His heart sank at her last pronouncement. Precisely. They looked underfed. If Mrs. Belton had spotted that within seconds of meeting them, wouldn’t Lady Oakland notice the same?

Be that as it may, he couldn’t change that now.

“Then give them a proper meal this evening, Mrs. Belton. Excuse me.” He knew he sounded abrupt but it was fast becoming apparent to him the boys were going to be more trouble than he had expected.

At the door, Christopher stopped to take a last look at Philip and Tom. A chuckle burst from him at the sight of two dubious faces watching the wash tub as it was pulled to a spot in front of the fire.

His chuckle turned to out and out laughter as the doubt on the faces turned to disgust when the boys realized the water being poured into the tub was meant for them. They eyed their escape before Mrs. Belton deftly nabbed them by the ears, one in each hand.

“Undress and get in,” she ordered.

A smile lingered on his lips at the sight of two squirming boys flinging off their clothing, all the while securely fastened by the ear in Mrs. Belton’s pudgy fingers. If nothing else, the two would be well clothed and clean tomorrow.

But he couldn’t dispel the foreboding tickling the hairs on the back of his neck.

* * *

The foreboding didn’t disappear once he found Josceline in the drawing room. She sat motionless, candle light flickering on her face, her mind a hundred miles away.

He crossed the room and dropped into the leather arm chair beside her. Odd how comfortable it felt, he in his leather chair, she in the carved oak chair just across the side table from him.

“Are you unwell?” Lud, the last thing he needed this evening was for Josceline to take a fit of the vapors or fall ill.

She started at his question and turned to him with vacant eyes. “Quite well, thank you.”

“The letter?” It was the only thing he could think of that could have upset her so. Strangely, whatever troubled her at this moment troubled him also. An odd feeling. As if she meant more to him than she really did.

“I already told you, it is nothing to trouble you -.”

“There you are mistaken, Josceline.” Concern unleashed his foolish tongue. He shouldn’t have called her by her given name, it showed a dreadful lack of manners.

“- but it is from my father, if you must know.”

At the mention of her father, the color returned to her face and the life back to her eyes.

“What of your father?”

She’d only mentioned him once before, something about an arranged marriage, if he recalled correctly. Relations between father and daughter must have soured.

She ignored his question and launched immediately into her thoughts about the impending deception.

“Tomorrow.” Her voice grew brisk. “Lady Oakland’s visit. Tom shall be kept with Mrs. Belton in the kitchen. Philip shall be introduced as Philip?” At his nod, she continued. “I see no harm in using his proper name. He is a bright lad and if we ask him I am sure he will remain silent when brought in. Only for a minute or two then he can be taken away. I shall instruct him tomorrow morning.” She stopped and looked at him as if trying to gauge his mood. “Mr. Sharrington?”

He cocked an eyebrow, silent encouragement for her to continue.

Her steady gaze matched his. “Have you thought about what to do with the boys afterward?”

The boys. He heaved a sigh and got to his feet to wander to the window. Night had fallen so naught could be seen of the garden outside. A pity, really, for perhaps if the sun shone he would have a cheerier outlook on the whole situation.

Foolishly, he had supposed they would disappear after the charade. Of course that wouldn’t happen. However, if the sham with Philip proved successful thereby avoiding disaster for Christopher and Josceline, then the least he could do was care for them until they were old enough to be on their own. “Not yet, however I shall approach Jefferson tomorrow morning about working them in the stables.”