Evelyn Richardson (5 page)

In a thoughtful frame of mind he returned to his lodgings at the White Hart to lay plans for the next day, plans that included inquiries, not so much into the academy itself, as into the sort of person the late Lord Granville had been, and, if possible, the sort of relationship he had had with his wife.

As to the academy, Lucian had few doubts that it would do his headstrong niece a world of good to be placed in the care of the strong-minded ladies he had seen there. Not only was Arabella bound to learn more than the desultory interest in water colors and smattering of Italian songs that were all her current governess, the ineffectual Miss Mitton, seemed to have instilled in her charge, but Lucian was reasonably certain that the good ladies at Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy would exercise a beneficial effect on a romantical young woman who was, according to her mother, determined to ruin herself with the squire’s son.

When he had first been told of the Marchioness of Charlmont’s fears concerning her daughter’s attachment to young Foxworthy, Lucian, already a most reluctant head of the family, had dismissed them as the nervous imaginings of a weak woman who was still overwhelmed by the untimely loss of her lord and master. But her constant fretting had finally worn on his own nerves to the point that he had engineered a casual encounter with young Foxworthy at the taproom of the local hostelry. He had not the least interest in confronting the young man about his intentions toward Arabella. He merely wished to discover what sort of person the lad was and to learn if he truly had designs on Lucian’s niece or if it was nothing more than anxious delusions on the part of a mother who was anticipating a brilliant match for a girl who was as pretty as she was well born and as wealthy as she was pretty.

What Lucian had discovered had not reassured him. The young man was handsome enough to appeal to any young woman, and being possessed of a somewhat exalted sense of his own worth was bound to appear masterful and bold to an inexperienced young girl like Arabella. However, in the more worldly eyes of her uncle, Tom Foxworthy seemed selfish rather than masterful and a braggart rather than bold. In fact, Foxworthy reminded Lucian of no one so much as the brutal self-styled “husband” of his first mistress, the talented and much sought after actress Miranda Delahunt, And despite the number of years that had passed since Lucian’s involvement with the lady, he had not lost one whit of his anger at the mistreatment she had suffered at the hands of that man. It was an anger so deep that it had ultimately spurred Lucian to devote his energies in ways he had never thought possible to insuring that such men were deprived of the power they so unfairly possessed over women like Miranda.

One
glance into the emptiness of young Foxworthy’s eyes, one look at the stubborn set of his jaw, had convinced Lucian that this callous and selfish young man was fully capable of making Arabella as miserable as William Delahunt had made Miranda.

However, Lucian also knew that sharing these misgivings with his niece was more likely to make her fly to the defense of her beloved than to give him up, hence his plans for her immediate removal from the vicinity and admission into the care of a strictly supervised educational establishment. The fact that this plan had coincided so nicely with Lady Granville’s demand that he pay a visit to Lady Catherine’s Academy had been so fortuitous as to make him accede to Lady Granville’s wishes more promptly than he ordinarily would have considered wise.

Having jotted down notes as to all the inquiries he still wished to make, Lucian strolled down to the taproom in search of refreshment.

He had barely crossed the threshold when the innkeeper’s wife, catching sight of a guest whose presence was bound to bring further business to her establishment, hurried forward to see to his comfort, even going so far as to fetch the fortifying glass of ale he ordered herself instead of leaving it to the barmaid.

“It is an honor to have you as our guest, my lord. You must let me know if there is anything we can do to make your stay here more comfortable. Of course, the White Hart enjoys an excellent reputation, but it has been some time since we have been honored by a guest of your lordship’s distinction. I do hope you will think of the White Hart again should you happen to be in Bath in the future. But perhaps you are considering setting up an establishment of your own in town? There are many who consider Bath to be quite eclipsed by Brighton, now that the Prince Regent has made it so fashionable, but there are still a number of notable families who prefer to come here to refresh their health. Why, I could tell you the names of any number of families who patronize our fair city.”

Clearly the woman considered herself an authority on the comings and goings of Bath’s more illustrious visitors. Perhaps she was an equally authoritative source of information on some of its inhabitants as well. Favoring her with the smile that had never failed to put women at ease, whether they were scullery maids or duchesses, Lucian decided to put her knowledge to the test. “I do, in fact, expect to be an occasional visitor to the city as my niece is to become a pupil at Lady Catherine Granville’s Academy.”

He was instantly rewarded for his trouble. The innkeeper’s wife nodded her head sagaciously. “An excellent choice, my lord. Even though it was but recently begun, the establishment already enjoys the highest of reputations among the best families in these parts. There is no one more loved or respected in the surrounding countryside than Lady Catherine, though you would not think it after the shabby treatment she has received at his hands.”

“His?”

“The new Lord Granville, and as clutch-fisted as they come, he is, at least where everyone else is concerned. For himself and to further his own ambitions, he spares no expense. It was a sad day for us all when the old lord died, not that he was so old, for a finer gentleman and more generous landlord you never did see. And it was an even sadder day for her, poor thing, packed off to the dower house and forced to take on pupils to earn her keep. I tell you, it does not bear thinking of.” The innkeeper’s wife sighed gustily and shook her head. “And she who was so kind and good to everyone, hurried out of the Park where she had been mistress for all those years before the master was even cold in his grave.”

“She seems to have succeeded in providing for herself, however. The academy certainly looks as though it is doing well.” But while he was speaking of the present, Lucian was busy thinking over the past, Catherine’s past. The innkeeper’s wife had referred to her husband as “the old lord.” Surely she would not have done so if Lord Granville had not been considerably more advanced in years than his wife. Then it must have been a marriage of convenience rather than a love match.

Lucian did not want to admit to himself how relieved he felt. Encountering Catherine so unexpectedly after all these years had been unsettling enough already. He did not need to be further unsettled by examining his own reactions more closely than he already had. As it was, he found himself looking forward far too much to seeing her again tomorrow when he would stop at the academy to make final arrangements for enrolling Arabella.

“She has done an excellent job of running the place. Many of her pupils are from the best families in the county. But it is still a crying shame to see a fine lady like that being forced to work for a living, especially when there is no need for it, if certain folks were not so greedy, that is.”

Lucian suppressed a start of surprise. He had completely forgotten the existence of the innkeeper’s wife, so absorbed had he been in his own thoughts. “Does she have no other relatives with whom she could live or who could offer her support?” Dredging back into his past, Lucian thought he remembered an elder brother being mentioned, but he could not be sure. He did remember reading in the Times that the Earl of Hunsford had died a matter of months after his wife had.

“I never heard of any, but even if there were, what woman who has been mistress of an estate like Granville Park wants to become the poor relation in someone else’s establishment?”

What woman indeed? Certainly not the fiercely independent Catherine who had chafed against the confining expectations of proper behavior for a young miss in her first Season. How much more she would resent living by the rules of someone else’s household, no matter how closely related she was to that person. Far better for someone as energetic as Lady Catherine to be in charge of her own academy, no matter how hard she had to work or how much risk it entailed. At least she was in control of her own destiny as the proprietress of Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy.

Or was she? Even as he was arriving at this conclusion, Lucian remembered his original purpose in coming to Bath, not for the sake of Arabella’s education but because the new Lady Granville wished him to persuade Lady Catherine Granville to give up her establishment and behave with the decorum and propriety expected not only of Lord Granville’s relict but of anyone connected with one of the most respected names in the county.

Anyone faced by the determination of the socially ambitious Lady Granville as well as the reputed greed of her husband was bound to feel uncertain as to the degree of control she actually did exert over her own life. As someone who had spent much of his own existence rebelling against the expectations of his family in particular and the dictates of society in general, Lucian could sympathize heartily with the frustration Catherine undoubtedly felt. She and he had always been independent thinkers. In fact, it had been their recognition of this independence in one another, coupled with their fervent desire to create lives of their own, that had initially drawn Lord Lucian Verney and Lady Catherine Montague together a decade ago, establishing a friendship that had made the rigors of the Season not only bearable but almost enjoyable for both of them.

But later that day as Lucian once again sat in the headmistress’s office overlooking the gardens lying behind the majestic curve of the Royal Crescent’s severely classical facade, he could not detect even the slightest indication that Lady Catherine Granville was not supremely in command of her establishment and her life. She answered every one of his questions with an assurance and an authority that would have been impressive in a sixty-year-old man, much less a woman who was less than half that age.

In fact, it was Catherine and not Lucian who posed the truly uncomfortable question in the interview. “And what other establishments are you considering for your niece’s education, my lord?”

He hoped his face did not betray the sheepishness he felt as he relied. “None.”

“What, not even one? I would be remiss in my duties as an educator if I did not urge you to examine at least one other alternative. If you are truly concerned about your niece’s future, it is imperative that you select an establishment that will suit her.”

“Believe me, there is no need. The moment I entered your office, er, I mean the minute I entered this clearly excellently managed academy I knew it would suit her and I feel no particular need to look elsewhere, for it would be the merest waste of my time.”

“Believe me, I appreciate your flattering assessment of our institution, my lord, but I must reiterate my concern over a decision so hastily made.”

“Your concern is indeed commendable, but I am more than satisfied with my choice.”

“Then I thank you for your confidence in the academy.”

There was no mistaking the ironic note in her voice. Clearly she recognized the firmness of his resolve and gave in to it. Just as clearly she recognized that he had selected her establishment for reasons that had nothing to do with his niece, reasons that he was not about to divulge or even examine himself. Lucian felt an uncomfortable flush rising to his cheeks.

Unable to think of a suitable rejoinder Lucian executed an impressively formal bow and strode from the room, leaving her to stare thoughtfully after him.

Chapter Six

It would have done Catherine a considerable amount of good to know that his thoughts were in as much turmoil as hers, that his air of cool detachment was no more real than hers.

She had hoped that after recovering from the initial shock of seeing Lucian again she would adjust to the idea of his being the Marquess of Charlmont, the uncle of a prospective student, and that she would be able to relegate him to the ranks of the rest of her patrons who possessed the good sense and discriminating taste to entrust their female relatives to her care. In other words, he would represent nothing more or less to her than a business proposition.

Unfortunately, or fortunately, as the case might be, business propositions did not make her heart pound and her knees go weak. The Marquess of Charlmont, however, did, even after eight years of marriage and two years of widowhood.

It was not a weakness Catherine liked to admit, but admit it she did. She had always done her utmost to be brutally honest with herself, struggling on a regular basis to face issues squarely and deal with them accordingly. This had been easily enough accomplished when, admitting to herself that she was not what the world would call a beauty and recognizing that she was far too independent to inspire masculine protectiveness or devotion, she had settled for a marriage of convenience to Lord Granville. Fully aware of what she was doing, she had accepted respect instead of love, shared interests instead of mutual passion. It was a great deal more difficult, however, to admit now that someone who never should have played a significant role in her life and in her consciousness had, in fact, never left them.

Shaking her head vigorously, Catherine looked back down at the account book in front of her. She had been young and inexperienced, just a girl, when Lord Lucian Verney had first upset her peace of mind. Then, she had been powerless to combat the deep impression he had made on her. Now she was no longer young and impressionable. She could choose to ignore the way he made her feel. She would focus on her own life, her own goals of turning her academy into a place that shaped women’s lives into something of value and satisfaction instead of a frenetic search for fashion and social status.