Carola Dunn (15 page)

Thoroughly puzzled, Lissa gave up trying to understand. “Very well,” she repeated. “Peter, Michael, Lord Ashe has arranged for the footman to smuggle you into the house from the stables, so don’t get down yet.”

“What’s
smuggle
?” asked Michael.

“An adventure,” Lissa told him, and she stepped down.

Before she could turn to assist Colin, Lord Ashe burst out of the house and leapt down the steps, another footman following at a trot.

“Miss Findlay!” He cast a hunted glance over his shoulder. “Has Benton explained?”

“Not exactly,” she said tartly.

“Oh. Well, I’ll tell you later. I’ll carry Colin in.”

“I can walk,” Colin announced, “but I’d rather be smuggled. It’s not fair. Why can’t I have an adventure too?”

Lord Ashe exchanged a long-suffering look with the butler, then shrugged. “No reason, I daresay. As you wish.” He moved back. “Miss Findlay, permit me to escort you into the house, by the front door.”

“Yes, thank you, but just a minute. Colin, you may walk from the stables into the house, but you are not to attempt the stairs. I expect Thomas will carry you.” She smiled at the footman.

He blushed. “To be sure, miss, it won’t be no trouble.”

Benton succeeded in looking as if he was raising his eyes to heaven without visibly moving a muscle. “You go along, too,” he directed the second footman, apparently doubting Thomas’s ability to control three children intent on adventure.

Lord Ashe stuck his head into the carriage. “Smugglers have to be very quiet,” he hissed at the boys.

They nodded solemnly, their eyes agleam with excitement. The footmen jumped up behind and the carriage proceeded on its way.

Mounting the front steps at Lissa’s side, Lord Ashe ruefully remarked, “You must imagine you’ve come to a madhouse.”

“Have I not?” she asked in mock disappointment. “What a sad take-in! I quite thought I was to observe the inmates for nothing, instead of paying my shilling at the Bethlem Hospital.”

“You shall hear all,” he promised, “but not until we are safely above stairs. My aunt lives wholly on the ground floor these days.”

Benton conducted them to a small room up two pair of stairs. It appeared to have been hurriedly converted from a rarely used bedchamber into a sitting room. The bed, swathed in holland dust-sheets, had been pushed against the wall, and the chest of drawers and washstand were likewise swathed. An ill-matched assortment of small, easily portable chairs stood in a circle about a folding card table. Even in the warm evening light, the effect was bleak.

The butler looked about in distress. “I fear this is the best that could be arranged on such short notice, my lord.”

“Will it do?” Lord Ashe asked Lissa. “It’s just until tomorrow, so that you and the boys have somewhere to sit.”

“It will do very well,” Lissa assured him.

“Your chamber is directly opposite, miss.” Benton pointed out the door. “There is a connecting door to Lord Orton’s, and the young gentlemen just beyond. The baggage will be brought up directly.”

“Thank you, Benton. I am sure we shall all be quite comfortable.”

The butler bowed himself out and Lissa turned to Lord Ashe.

“Won’t you sit down?” he suggested.

She had enough experience with children to recognize a delaying tactic when she saw one. “I have been sitting for hours, and well-sprung as your carriage is, I am glad to stand for a while. Besides, I must go and settle the children in a moment. Do tell me, pray, why they are being smuggled into the house?”

“Because, Miss Findlay, I am a pusillanimous poltroon,” he said wryly, “in fact an arrant coward.”

“You?” she exclaimed, startled.

“I confess, my aunt has a way of making me quake in my boots. Oh, it’s easy for you to laugh. Wait until you meet her.”

“Meet her! I cannot suppose Mrs. Busby has any desire to meet her great-nephew’s governess.”

“I’m afraid she does, and it’s my fault. You may curse me from here to kingdom come if you wish. The fact is, Aunt Busby cut up rough over my bringing Colin here and I made a hash of explaining why his illness made it necessary. She expects better of you.”

“Well, I daresay I shall be able to make it plain,” Lissa agreed, her lips twitching again. “Especially as the blame for our coming to her house rather than elsewhere is entirely yours, since I did not know of her existence.”

“Don’t laugh at me, you wretch!” he said, half laughing himself. “You do see, I trust, that having been raked over the coals for introducing one boy into her house, and a relative at that, I was reluctant to admit to two more.”

“I am only surprised that the notion of coming here ever crossed your mind.”

“A moment of madness. There, this is your chance to wonder at a lunatic without paying your shilling.”

“Another time, sir. If I am not mistaken, that noise in the passage is the boys being quiet!” She moved towards the door.

He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “My aunt wishes to see you as soon as you have...er...tidied yourself, Miss Findlay, not that you appear to have collected any travel dirt.” His swift, anxious gaze ran over her from head to toe.

Though entirely passionless, his scrutiny together with his touch on her sleeve made her pulse quicken. She took another step towards the door. “I must see to the boys first,” she said firmly.

“Yes, of course. I had my hair combed with a joint-stool for appearing in riding dress, so now the bags have arrived I shall go and change before I escort you down. Never fear, I shan’t let you enter the dragon’s lair alone!”

His words of reassurance were the reverse of reassuring, Lissa thought as she crossed the passage to Colin’s room, whence came the sound of boyish voices. A protector who avowed himself daunted by his aunt--she might do better on her own!

Yet how gratifying that he had owned his cowardice to her, as though she were truly a trusted friend. Calling his aunt a dragon was another sign, for a gentleman did not criticise his relatives to just anyone.

Though the dragon awaited her below stairs, she was smiling as she pushed open the chamber door.

Michael ran to her. “Lissa, Peter says I can’t be a smuggler when I grow up!”

Laughing, she kissed him. What Mrs. Busby missed, not liking boys!

Chapter 12

“What are you doing here, Robert?” Mrs. Busby snapped as Lord Ashe ushered Lissa into her sitting room. “I do not recall requiring your presence.”

His lordship looked positively abashed. “I just came to make Miss Findlay known to you, Aunt.”

“Get on with it, then!”

“Colin’s governess, ma’am, Miss Findlay. My aunt, Mrs. Busby.”

Lissa curtsied. “How do you do, ma’am.”

“Come here, girl.” The dragon raised a lorgnette, breathing not fire but icy disapproval as Lissa moved forward. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen, ma’am.”

“You are by far too young to have any authority over a boy as old as Colin. Daphne has always indulged him abominably, permitting the most obnoxious behaviour. Without doubt she employed you because she knew you to be incapable of disciplining him.”

Since the censure was aimed more at Lady Orton than herself, Lissa had no difficulty disregarding it. She was glad, though, that she had taken the time to put on an old gown and scrape back her hair under a cap again.

“Lord Orton does mind me, ma’am,” she said, “although I prefer to try to teach self-discipline. He profits greatly, I believe, from the example of my...Lord Ashe.”

“Ha!” snorted Mrs. Busby.

Lissa did not dare glance back at Lord Ashe. She had only just avoided giving away her brothers’ involvement in Colin’s life, but the substitute all too obviously failed to impress. She concentrated on keeping her face straight and her voice grave as she attempted to protect her would-be protector. “His lordship exerts a beneficial influence over Lord Orton, I assure you, ma’am.”

“No one so wanting in conduct can possibly exert a beneficial influence.”

“Oh, come now, Aunt!” Lord Ashe protested weakly.

“If you must stay, then hold your tongue. And stop looming there like a monument. Sit down, sit down. Miss Findlay, you may be seated. I trust you are able to enlighten me as to my nephew’s reasons for this incursion?”

Clearly and concisely Lissa described the course of Colin’s illness and her deductions. “I may be wrong, ma’am,” she allowed, “but already he is much improved. At any rate, after his paroxysm it seemed to me of the first importance to remove him from London immediately. Lord Ashe agreed. Since our goal is Ashmead, and your house lies in the way thither, he hoped for your indulgence for one night.”

“Hoped? Counted on!” Mrs. Busby glared at him. “Small chance I had to refuse. Still, what’s done is done, and I shall not turn my sister’s only grandchild from my door.”

“Thank you, Aunt.”

“When do you mean to abandon your profligate ways and provide her with more grandchildren? Legitimate ones.”

Lissa simply could not resist peeping at his lordship. His face was crimson.

“Please, Aunt, spare Miss Findlay’s blushes if you will not spare mine!”

“Bah! The governess of a growing boy cannot afford to be missish. She must teach him not to follow your example in libertinism, at least! Well, girl?”

“I shall do my best, ma’am,” Lissa said primly.

“A fruitless endeavour. Men are all alike. They run riot unless you keep the whip hand, and I could tell at a glance that you are too feeble for that. I trust you are capable of controlling Colin until you leave in the morning. I will not have noise and mischief in my house.”

“I shall keep him quiet, ma’am.”

“See that you do,” Mrs. Busby said with a wave of dismissal. “You have missed dinner, Robert. I keep no Town hours here. Benton will find you something to eat and you may join me for tea.”

Lord Ashe followed Lissa out into the hall. “Whew!” he said, thoroughly discomfited. “What an abject creature you must think me, Miss Findlay. Why she has the power to put me in such a quake, I cannot conceive.”

“I would venture to guess that Mrs. Busby acquired her ascendancy when you were a child. It is not easy to eradicate early impressions.” Witness the loving natures her brothers had somehow preserved through the years of pitiless severity.

He looked startled, then thoughtful. “You may be right. My aunt used to come to Ashmead to run the household whenever my mother was brought to...was confined. Daphne and I used to creep about like mice for fear of her wrath. However good we were, our little brothers and sisters were always stillborn or died soon after birth.”

“Mrs. Busby told you it was your fault?” Lissa demanded, absolutely furious. What a dreadful burden of guilt to lay on any child, as bad as anything Mr. Exton had ever done!

“Not exactly,” Lord Ashe assured her hastily. “She just warned us that if we misbehaved it would make Mama ill.”

“That is bad enough.” Dubiously Lissa allowed Mrs. Busby the benefit of the doubt. “I daresay she did not realise you might imagine a connection with the loss of the babies. But that would be quite enough to explain why she so easily discomposes you, I expect.”

He gave her an odd look. Flustered, Lissa was afraid he must consider her shockingly immodest, even impertinent, to declare her views of his behaviour, and with such unwarranted confidence. She was about to apologise when Benton approached them.

“My lord, at what hour do you wish to dine?”

Lord Ashe turned to Lissa. “May I join you at nursery supper?” he requested.

“Of course, sir, if you wish.”

He turned back to the butler, who said with a suspicion of a grin, “Supper will be served immediately, my lord. I am given to understand that the young gentlemen are ravenous.”

“Cakes and lemonade don’t last long at that age. As a matter of fact, I’m sharp-set, too, after riding all afternoon. Let us dine! Come, Miss Findlay, permit me to escort you.”

He offered his arm. Lissa laid her fingertips on his sleeve in the approved style, but, more tired than hungry, she found herself glad of his support up the stairs. If she leaned more heavily than was perfectly proper, his lordship made no attempt to take advantage of their closeness.

At the top she let go. He smiled at her and said, “A good meal will restore you, and I count upon it to fortify me for tonight’s ordeal. How I envy your escape from drinking tea with my aunt! Though I must say you did not seem intimidated by her strictures.”

“She has no power over me or mine. At worst she could turn us out of the house, but in that case I am persuaded we may rely upon you to find us shelter in an inn.”

“You may indeed, though I trust we have avoided such a fate. Come to think of it, her power over me has no greater extent! The worst she can do is write a distressing account of my shortcomings to my mother.” He paused thoughtfully. “Which she will anyway, regardless of anything I do or fail to do.”

Reaching the makeshift sitting room, they dropped the subject.

Peter and Colin were squabbling over a game of draughts, Michael drawing on his slate with coloured chalks Lissa had brought. Lord Ashe went straight to sort out the squabble, leaving Lissa free to admire Michael’s ship--and his lordship’s kindly firmness.

What a contrast with how Mr. Exton would have repressed them! Lord Ashe had a wonderful way with children. Sooner or later he would want to set up his own nursery, to settle down and marry. Too soon, no doubt, long before Lissa was free to take up her rightful position in the world and enter the ranks of eligible maidens. By which time, she reminded herself, she would in any case be at her last prayers.

The prospect of a future as an old maid had not much troubled her before she came to know Robert Ashe.

The footmen brought up laden trays. It was an odd meal, the product of a kitchen used to feeding a greedy old woman with a taste for sweets, now called upon to provide at short notice both nursery food and a gentleman’s dinner. Lord Ashe had to make do with such kickshaws as fricaseed veal and minced chicken patties instead of a good, hearty roast, while the boys ate too much of the puddings and jellies. At least there was plenty.