Miss Abbott looked as if her spine was as stiff as that poker.
What do you think, Miss Abbott? Will you feel more secure with a man in the house?
I believe there are a score of male servants sleeping in the attic, near the kitchen, and at the stable mews. They should prove sufficient deterrent to any marauders.
Ah, but they are servants. Would you trust your safety to hired staff, with no true loyalty to new employers?
I trust no man. I trust my safety to the small pistol I keep under my pillow. And yes, I do know how to use it.
Was that a threat? Daniel couldnt tell if it was personal, or she truly disliked all males.
This talk of guns and pokers is bound to give me nightmares, I swear, Lady Cora said. Daniel, I require your presence at breakfast, by which time Dobbson will have made appointments for you with a tailor and a boot maker and a hiring agency for a valet. Youll want to interview the man yourself, wont you?
What do I know of valets? Theyre all finicky sorts, from what I have seen. Just find me a man who doesnt talk much. Theres less chance of false flattery and those other toadying lies. And thanks to your foresight, I have enough trappings to see me through your visit, so I dont need to see the tailor.
Nonsense. Youll go. We rise at seven. Country hours, you know. Well start sleeping in when we start attending balls and such. For now, we have too much to accomplish in too little time.
Seven? In the morning? I might as well sleep here, then, he said, irritated. Ill gather up my things and return in a bit. Ill try to be quiet so not to wake you.
Just dont come back foxed and falling down, singing bawdy tunes, like you did on your last visit home, his loving sister said.
Here hed been concentrating on his table manners for nothing. He was still a great clumsy clod, with his own kin making him look like a snoring sot in front of Miss Abbott.
Miss Abbott was sneering, as if she knew he was going to get drunk, find a woman, lose his purse. That was her idea of a how a man spent his time. It was Daniels usual way, too, as a matter of fact, but that wasnt the point. What was, was how much harder hed have to work to see her wed. First he worried about her morals, but now he feared she was a moralizing shrew. She did not even try to hide her disdain or disapproval. The devil take the woman, for no man in his right mind would.
On the other hand, if he couldnt roll the dice or spin the wheel all night, a chap needed a good challenge.
Chapter Five
T
he dumb ox was gone. Good. Now Miss Corisande Abbott could relax.
I am sorry to delay the cleanup, Mr. Dobbson, she said, lingering over her tea when the other ladies went upstairs to bed. I know how hard the servants have worked today with all the unloading and such. Ill bring my cup to the kitchen myself.
Very thoughtful of you, miss. Good night.
She knew, however, that Dobbson would never seek out his own bed until the parlor was tidied, the fires extinguished, and the doors locked, so she did not intend to stay down here long. As particular as he was, the watchful butler must already be in a pother over Mr. Stamfield. Well, so was she.
The beast was gone for the night, thank goodness, into who knew what den of iniquity and depravity. Corie decided to pour a little of Lord Royces brandy into her tea, the way shed seen Lady Cora do. If anyone deserved a little tonic for her nerves, she did.
Corie thought shed done fairly well as a well-mannered guest, considering how her stomach was in knots, her head was aching, and her fingers were itching to pick up the nearest heavy object and bash the oaf over the head. She feared shed never stop bashing, either, and wouldnt that be poor repayment to her dear godmother?
Not that Daniel Stamfield didnt deserve a good thrashing, she considered while she took the pins out of her hair to relieve the headache. He did, by someone larger, stronger, and more prone to violence than she. No one could hate him more. The cur had stolen her dreams three years ago, and in so doing had blighted her life. That was the past, but now he could destroy her future, also. He had the means to take away her last chance to have a life of her own, out from under her fathers thumb.
Daniel Stamfield was mean enough to do it, too. He took pleasure in inflicting pain. In two minutes, according to the maid who helped her dress, hed manhandled Mr. Dobbson. Corie was not surprised. Just look at the blackguards history: His army career was dubious at best, barbaric at worst; hed almost murdered poor Francis Snelling, a total stranger to him; since then, he had been in too many barroom brawls for the servants to count. Tavern keepers were said to hide the breakables when he cameand hide their daughters, too. Shed wager he was one of those nasty little boys who tore the wings off butterflies. His mother would never say so, naturally.
Stamfield already treated Corie like a fallen woman, finding fault with her neckline, telling his mother to send her home, that shed be a poor influence on Susanna, inviting her to the circus as an afterthought, obviously a reluctant courtesy. Shed leave his house if she had one other place, anywhere, to go. Shed start the letters to old friends as soon as she went up to her room. She was not hopeful, since they had not kept in touch, not after their lives diverged so widely. Her friends were wed, with growing families, while she was a virtual prisoner in her fathers house. She doubted theyd invite a near stranger into their homes, but she had to try.
Lord knew, she felt unwelcome here in
his
house, even though the earl owned it and Lady Cora had invited her. Stamfield was the host now, Lady Coras man of the family, her escort, her protector. Ha! Corie tossed her gloves to the ground.
The lummox was more liable to bring the house down around their ears, and Cories opportunities with it. If he created another scandal, knocked over the punch bowl or started a brawl at Almacks, told the prince regent he was too fat to sit a horse or Lady Jersey she talked too much, or caused any of a hundred catastrophes an oversized, ready-fisted drunkard could cause, Lady Cora would flee back to the country. Cories one and only Season would come to an abrupt end.
That could happen, anyway. In his cups, out of spite, or to warn off his fellow bachelors, Stamfield might repeat what he knew of her elopement. Her father had decided Corie was not fit to be any mans wife. Perhaps Stamfield felt the same. Corie fully intended to tell her side of the story to a suitor, but only after he proposed and she accepted. If he chose to renege, then he was not the kind of man she wished to wed.
Before then, before a gentleman cared enough for her to offer for her hand, no one could know about her disgrace. One word of the old scandal, one hint she was no better than she ought to be, and shed be an outcast. Even if Lady Coras standing, or the countesss, was enough to keep Corie on the invitations lists, there would be sly glances, innuendos, unwanted advances from every young rake and old rogue who thought shed be open to illicit offers. What there wouldnt be were honest marriage proposals.
She knew there was no chance Stamfield could forget her past. His attitude proved it. Shed be forever branded a scarlet woman in his paltry mind, the same as in her fathers. Neither one of them could understandor carethat all she ever wanted was a life of her own.
She wasnt wishing for a duke or even a baronet or a Golden Ball. Just a nice man, a quiet man, an even-tempered man with a small income in case her father did not relinquish her dowry. Hed own a small house, with a spot for a garden, for children to play. That wasnt asking for the sun and the moon, was it? Only a distant star.
Shed make that man a good wife, she swore. Shed show him the respect she could not feel for her sire, or for men of Daniel Stamfields ilk. Shed keep his house, keep her vows, and be grateful for whatever affection they shared. Theyd have a good life together, this kind and gentle stranger and she, raising children, taking their places in neighborhood society, growing old. That was her dream, anyway.
If Daniel Stamfield did not steal her chances again.
She sipped at the brandy-laced tea. Honestly, she preferred it plain, but considered the spirits to be medicinal. While she drank, she kicked her slippers off and tried to think of a plan, somewhere to go if staying here proved untenable. She loved Lady Cora too much to remain at Royce House if her presence distressed the dear woman or hindered Susannas success.
The invitation from her godmother had been a blessing, the only one her father could not refuse. Otherwise, Corie had to wait until she was five and twenty to come into her mothers money. There was not a lot of it, but enough to help her find a way to escape, even if she had to become a governess or a ladys companion.
Five more years with a parent who despised her? Five years with Alberta Rivendale or some other trollop her father dragged home to beget him a son? Five years of not being permitted to spend a night with Susanna, to accept a house party invitation, to have an allowance of her own lest she use it to finance another elopement?
With whom would she elope? Her father made certain Corie had no beaux. Francis was deadand hed turned coward at the first stop, trying to jump out the window rather than face her father.
Susanna thought Squire Abbott meant only to keep Cories dowry in his own coffers by discouraging callers and keeping Corie close to home. Either that or he was too used to having an unpaid housekeeper to let her go. Of course Susanna could not know about the elopement . . . unless her brother told her.
Lady Cora did know. True lady that she was, she said Corie was older and wiser now, and would never let a scoundrel take advantage of her innocence again, so they never needed to speak of the past. She seemed to understand without words the unhappy situation that was Cories existence, so she never talked about that, either, until she had the chance to change things. Shed stood up to Cories father thensomething few men ever didand refused to take no for an answer. When he turned down her written invitation to have Corie join her and Susanna in London, she called in person. When Abbotts butler said the squire was not at home, she approached him after church, in front of the vicar and half the congregation. Every inch a noblewoman, she berated him for not doing his fatherly duty by securing his daughters future. How dare he think of bringing a young bride into his house without finding Corie a home of her own? Corie was not growing younger, Lady Cora reminded him and whoever managed to listen. His dear departed wife would
not
be resting in peace if her baby turned into an old maid. Then she offered to finance Cories entire Season, appealing to Abbotts so miserly nature.
Now that she thought about it, Corie supposed her clothes, her food, the very postage for the letters she wrote, were all charged to the Stamfield purse, not Lady Coras personal accounts. Good grief, was it Mr. Stamfields money paying for this visit? If so, Lady Coras son had another reason to resent her presence, as if he needed another one. Suddenly she felt warm, so she tugged the scratchy lace fichu away from her neck and shoulders.
Now the man was making her sweat! Lord, how could she set her mind to finding a husband when she had to keep looking over her shoulder to see if he was nearby, scowling at her, ready to frighten off any prospective suitors? She could never relax when any loose-lipped utterance from the bumbling sot could destroy the rest of her life, too. As for having fun, sharing Susannas joy in the coming Season, well, that was out of the question now, thanks to slimy Daniel Stamfield.
How could Lady Cora love the muckworm? Didnt she see he was churlish and crude? Corie forced herself to acknowledge he did clean up nicely, in a rough-and-tumble, hulking way. Of course he was too big to make a woman feel comfortable, even in the trappings of a gentleman. The threat of violence was always in his size.
He did have beautiful eyes, she admitted, brighter and a more intense blue than Lady Coras or Susannas, with thicker black lashes. The effect of those sapphire eyes was ruined by a broken nose from some fight or other. His lips were full and nicely formed, she supposed. Some women might find them appealing. Some women kept pet pigs, too.
Stamfields finest quality, from what shed seen or heard of him, was he was loyal to his family and kind to his mother. Hed come to his cousins aid whenever they asked it of him, and now hed answered Lady Coras call. Everyone knew hed rather visit some sordid gaming hell than dance at a debutante ball. He much preferred smoke and ale to punch and perfume, the company of light-skirts to that of ladies. Yet here he was, dutiful son, devoted brother. Corie clutched that thought to her bosom, like a lifeline. He wouldnt bring disgrace on them. His love for his family wouldnt let him, and that just might save her.
He doted on Susanna, who was as unlike him as chalk from cheese. Bright and sunny, she did not have a drop of venom in her. Mischief, yes, but never malice. Stamfield obviously adored her. He said he would not press her to wed, nor urge a gentleman of his choice on her. Hed never force her to marry a man she could not love. The decision was hers, he promised, when she was ready. Stamfield wouldnt do anything to ruin his sisters chances.
