Amy Lake (6 page)

“Yes,” he said. “I wish for an heir. For several children, in fact. But I would not trouble you beyond that. Your brother tells me that you prefer the country to London?”

“Yes,” Claire whispered.

“Wrensmoor Park would be your home, and our children’s. It will be convenient for me to spend a large part of the year in the city.”

Convenient, thought Claire. I will be
convenient
for him.  Still, Jody would be taken care of. And she supposed it was no worse than what she had expected when she first set out for London.

He is very handsome.

“I will marry you, Lord Tremayne,” said Claire de Lancie.

?

Chapter Four

The earl was up before seven the next morning, and he composed a note to Lady Pamela while having his breakfast. Although Pam did not wake quite as early as he did, her sources for
ton
gossip were superb whatever the hour, and it wouldn’t be long before she learned of his coming marriage to Miss de Lancie. He wanted her to hear it from him.

Were all mistresses so accommodating?  Not once in the last several days had Lady Pamela spoken a word of reproach to him, even though they both realized that their association, as it had once existed, would be coming to this quick and unanticipated end. Perhaps he should feel insulted that she was taking it all in such good humor. But Edward had always known that Pamela Sinclair was not in the common way, and in fact, the word
mistress
hardly applied. She had been his lover, of course, but she was also a lively and entertaining companion, a beautiful woman on his arm–and a friend.

Lady Pamela had never allowed herself to be used by any man. Their relationship had been as much on her terms as it was on his.

* * * *

He took another helping of sugar-cured bacon and wondered idly if Claire de Lancie was one of those ladies who generally slept until midday. Not that it would matter, of course, since they would be so rarely in the same household. He began to speculate how long he would stay in the country with his new bride before returning to London. Claire was still young, but he could see no reason to delay starting a nursery. How long, he wondered,  would it take before–

He was pursuing this interesting line of thought when Jodrel de Lancie bounced in.

“Oh!  I say, sir–I’m sorry, I won’t disturb you. Might I have some breakfast?  It smells delicious. Claire says I talk too much in the morning, but I can be quiet as a mouse. Scones!  Excellent!  I didn’t think anyone would be about at this hour.”

Ah. Another morning person. The earl indicated the chafing dishes full of food on the sideboard. “Help yourself. I assume a fifteen-year-old boy has enough of an appetite to keep my cook happy.”

“Oh, marvelous. I mean, I do!   I say, sir,  have you tried one of Mrs. McLeevy’s cinnamon rolls?”

Edward looked at him curiously. “Mrs. McLeevy?”

Jody stopped mounding his plate with fried potatoes. He looked chagrined.

“Oh, my lord, I entirely forgot to tell you. I truly meant to yesterday, but Lady Pamela”–here the boy blushed–“Lady Pamela said not to worry you, that it would be all right.”

Jody’s headlong rush of words had left the earl at sea. “Lady Pamela said
what
would be all right, exactly?” he asked.

“Well, that the McLeevys could stay. I mean stay here, in your house. With us,” he finished, faltering a bit.

“If I might ask,” said Edward, “who are the McLeevys?  I take it there are more than one of them. Is it two, or an entire brood?”

“Oh, just the two sir, and Mr. McLeevy is ever so handy at fixing things.”  Jody smiled, his look brightly confident of the earl’s understanding. “They were staying with us in Jermyn Street– they came with the house, you see–and when I went back the other day to get Claire’s clothes I had to explain what had happened. That Claire had been shot, you know, and they were ever so upset, and–”

Edward held up his hand in defeat. “Very well,” he told Jody. “I’ll ask Lady Pamela about the matter. In the meanwhile, your sister and I are to be married–within the sennight, I should think–so I’ve a few errands to run.”

The expression on Jody de Lancie’s face following this pronouncement was all that a groom-to-be might have wished.

* * * *

“Ouch!” said Claire.

“Oh, I’m sorry, miss. Here, just a moment.”

Flora tried again to gently ease Claire’s day gown over her right shoulder. The girl wasn’t a lady’s maid–the earl’s household had had no need of one before now–but she was trying hard to learn the unfamiliar tasks. Claire was the most beautiful woman in the world as far as Flora was concerned, and her clothes were the prettiest the girl had ever seen. Dressing Miss de Lancie  was a clear sight better than helping in the kitchen, anyways, what with the coal boy trying to sneak kisses and Mrs. Huppins always thinking of one thing more for her to do. Flora reckoned she could be as good a lady’s maid as anyone else.

“That’s better,” said Claire.

“I think you ought be back in bed, miss. I really do. Mrs. Huppins will have me ears boxed if she finds out you was up for breakfast.” 

Flora indicated the silver platter on Claire’s nightstand where a cup of hot chocolate was slowly cooling. “Really, miss, I’m happy t’ bring you up whatever else you’d like.”

“I’m fine, Flora. I think if I stay in bed one more minute, I’ll start screaming.”

The girl looked at her, obviously astonished. Oh, heavens, Claire thought. This poor girl spends her whole day hard at work and here I am, complaining about spending a day in bed. Claire determined once again–this was a regular resolution of hers–to be more appreciative of her good fortune in life. 

But enough of self-examination. It was time to get out of this bedroom, injured or not. Claire moved her shoulder tentatively in a small circle and pursed her lips. “Flora, would you have the time to do me a small favor?” she asked

“Oh, yes, miss, of course.”  The girl was at Claire’s side in a moment, ready to help her back into bed.

“No, I’m quite all right, thank you. But I think Mrs. Huppins will be considerably annoyed if I do not drink her delicious chocolate. Would it be too much trouble to ask you to sit here for a few minutes after I’ve gone and finish it for me?

Flora wasn’t one to question a gift horse, and Claire left the girl happily ensconced in the comfortable armchair, lifting the cup of chocolate carefully, one little finger high in the air.

* * * *

The earl’s London town house was enormous, Claire soon discovered. She was able to find her way down to the first level without much difficulty, but once at the bottom of the stairs, she was lost. This must be the entrance hall, she thought, looking at what seemed to be an acre of gleaming oak parquet. Elegant arrangements of flowers were scattered on various tables and pedestals throughout, and the air was redolent with the fragrance of lily-of-the-valley and rose. It wasn’t what Claire might have imagined of a bachelor establishment.

“Can I help you, milady?”  A liveried footman had appeared out of a side door. His expression was one of restrained curiosity, and Claire wondered if anyone had informed the earl’s staff of the unmarried miss now on their premises.

Well, that was silly. Below-stairs gossip traveled at legendary speed, so of course they knew. Perhaps unmarried misses weren’t all that uncommon in Lord Tremayne’s household–no, she didn’t want to think about that. Besides, wasn’t Lady Pamela the earl’s mistress?  How many mistresses did men usually require?  Claire couldn’t think of anyone to whom she could address that particular question.

The footman was waiting for her reply.

“Oh. Thank you, yes.”  Claire said. She gave him a sunny smile.  “Could you direct me to the breakfast salon?”

“This way, milady.”  But before Claire had taken two steps, they heard someone striding towards them down the hall.

It was the earl. He directly one look–with raised eyebrows–at the footman, who discretely excused himself. Lord Tremayne then turned his attention to Claire.

“Where do you think you are going?”  His tone was abrupt and angry, and Claire was instantly provoked.   

“To breakfast, my lord,” she replied. “I believe that meal is customary in the morning.”

“Breakfast will be brought to your room. Return there at once.” 

He advanced towards her, and Claire sensed that he was about to pick her up and carry her bodily back upstairs. Of all the arrogant, condescending, pigheaded men!  She glared at him and backed away.

“I realize my brother and I are only guests in your home, Lord Tremayne,” said Claire. “Nevertheless, I think that
I
am the person to decide whether I am able to be up and about.”

“You have been shot. Perhaps that seems no more than a romantic adventure to you this morning, but I can assure you it is nothing to–”

Claire interrupted him, furious. “It was no romantic adventure to me, my lord, I can promise you that. I am not so lacking in wits that I would endanger my own health on a whim–”

“What is wrong with your maid, that she allowed–”

“–but you yourself said that I suffered little more than a graze!   I am a great believer in fresh air and exercise–”

”Under no circumstances will you take one step outside this house!” roared the earl.

“–and as long as the wound is not bleeding, I see no reason to remain an invalid,” finished Claire.

The earl was breathing heavily, obviously trying to bring his temper under control, and for a few moments they stood glaring at each other. “Very well,” he said finally. “I will take you in to breakfast. As soon as you are finished, you are to return immediately to your bedroom and spend the remainder of the day there.”

“I will most certainly do no such–”

“
Miss
de Lancie,” said the earl,  “you most certainly will.”

* * * *

  Her brother was no help at all.

“Claire!  What are you doing out of bed?” was the first thing he said when the earl delivered her to breakfast. She could see from the evidence on his plate that Jody had been indulging in a substantial
petit déjuneur
, and she smiled. With her brother to feed, Lord Tremayne might have to find himself an additional cook.      

“Your sister would like to join you for a few minutes,” said the earl, fetching a chair and seeing that Claire promptly sat down. “Mr. de Lancie, would you be so kind as to escort her to her room as soon as she has eaten?”

Overbearing, tyrannical–

“Oh, to be sure, Lord Tremayne. I’ll see to it.”  Jody looked up at the older man with something bordering on hero-worship.

Claire sighed. “Traitor,” she said to her brother when the earl had left the room.

“Don’t be a goose. You were shot!”  Jody was loading a plate with bits of food that he knew Claire would like, talking all the while.  “I wager other ladies would have taken to their beds for a month. Do you remember when Sarah Jenkins’s mother slipped getting down from her horse and got that tiny cut on her ankle?  I don’t think it even bled and Sarah said that her mother didn’t leave her room for weeks!  Besides, I’m sure the earl knows all about these things and, well, since you’ll be married to him in a few days, you ought to do what he says.”

Claire stared at her brother. “In a few
days
?  And how do you know about my getting married, anyway?”  

Jody set the plate in front of her. “Lord Tremayne told me,” he said, grinning smugly.

“Oh, he did, did he?”

“Well, yes.”  Her brother looked at her with the dawning of alarm. He had great respect for the stubborn streak in Claire’s character, and if it came down to a contest of wills between his sister and the earl–well, he wasn’t sure the earl would win.

“Oh, Claire, you aren’t going to marry the baronet?  You can’t. Not when Lord Tremayne has offered for you!”

Claire couldn’t resist the urge to twit Jody a little, especially after his earlier faithlessness. “Well, I don’t know,” she said, as if this were something she might need to ponder at length. “I’ve known the earl only a few days. Sir Clarence owns a nice property–”

”A nice–!  Claire, Wrensmoor Park is said to be twenty times the size!”

“–and he dresses with such taste, don’t you think?”      

Not even a gullible fifteen-year-old would believe that Baronet Aubley’s dress was anything but dreadful. Jody threw a bun at her. “Oh, pooh. You
have
agreed to marry Lord Tremayne, haven’t you?”

“Nothing airborne in the Earl of Ketrick’s breakfast room, please. And yes, I have agreed to marry him.” 

Jody crowed with glee.

His sister was looking down at her plate in puzzlement. “How odd. These cinnamon rolls are quite the same as Mrs. McLeevy’s.” 

* * * *

“Darling, this is marvelous news.” 

Lady Pamela gave the earl a quick hug and a peck on the cheek as they stood on her front walk, then led him into the house. Edward had called on Pam somewhat earlier than usual but had found her already dressed and about, pottering in her garden. Her passion for this messy business– digging up mounds of earth to plant one more rose bush or hydrangea–amused him, since in all other ways Pamela Sinclair was strictly a city girl.

Her sitting room was comfortably informal and filled with an eclectic assortment of knickknacks. Pam rummaged around in the pockets of her garden apron until Edward, realizing what she was looking for, gave her one of his handkerchiefs. She brushed the dirt from her hands and rang for tea.

They had always been honest with each other.

“I won’t be back, Pam,” he said.

She nodded. “I know.” 

“I mean, I will be back to town. Without Claire. But . . . ”  He hesitated. “I don’t know why it should matter. Perhaps it’s because she knows you and has seen us together.”

“Edward, my dear, I like Miss de Lancie. I wouldn’t have you.”

She was entirely sincere, and Edward knew it. The tea arrived, and they sat in silence for a few moments as Lady Pamela poured.

“Do you think it would be wrong–would it offend you–should I take another mistress?”

Pam raised her eyebrows. “What a shocking question,” she said, looking unperturbed.