Grenville 02 - Lord John's Dilemma (12 page)

Chiding herself silently, she turned to her other charge. “Come, Molly. You waltz very well. Let us join them.”

They succeeded in mashing down a swath of daisies with their antics.

“For the first time, I can say that perhaps I shall enjoy dancing when I am out,” said Molly.

“It is great fun,” said Delia. She watched the major patiently teaching Mariah.

How did he happen to be here today?

Eventually, they all came to a stop, breathing hard and laughing.

“That is more fun than a
ton
ball, by fathoms,” he said.

“Shall you go to a ball when you are in London?” Mariah asked.

“Not if I can help it. I shall be there only a short time and I have business to see to,” he said with a frown.

She did not want to think of how much she would miss him, even as infrequently as she saw him. Gathering her good sense about her like a cloak, she said, “Girls, I think we should be going and leave the major to contemplate the daisies in peace.”

“Why do you always call him ‘the major?’” Mariah asked. “He is Lord John.”

The governess bit her lip and considered the question. “I suppose because that is how I think of him. When I met him, he was dressed in his uniform on his way home from the War.”

“She can refer to me as ‘major’ if she pleases, Miss Mariah. It is quite correct. Lord John is only a courtesy title, after all.”

“What is a courtesy title?” the girl asked.

“I am only called Lord because I am the son of an Earl. My children will not inherit the title, and it comes with no inheritance attached to it.” Mariah considered this. “I think it is all very confusing.”

He pulled one of her sausage ringlets. “You will get used to it. Soon you will be studying
Debrett’s Peerage,
looking for the best catch on the Marriage Mart.”

“I would rather marry you,” she said.

“Twelve is just a little on the young side for me,” he said with a gentle laugh. Taking Delia’s hand, he bowed over it. “I must be on my way,” he said to her. “I just wanted to visit the daisies again before I left.”

She smiled at him. “Godspeed, Major. I hope your journey is successful.”

“We will miss you,” said Molly.

“And I will miss all of you,” he said with a full grin this time. Then he turned and left. Delia watched the tall figure walk off and held his words close.

I am such a fool!

{ 13 }

A
ll the way to London, the scene in the daisy field visited John in flashes of light, dispelling his incipient melancholy. He had gone to there in hopes that it would raise his spirits and was thrilled to find he had company.

Dancing with the petite governess, holding her in his arms, had seemed so natural. And her presence had lifted his heart, as usual, warming him clear through. He was more determined than ever to discover her background. At least now he knew Haverley wasn’t her name. Was she in hiding? The more he thought about it, the more he believed that must be the answer. He had no intention of putting her in danger or at risk in any way.

I just want to know who she is!

Tompkins knew the gentry in Kent. The governess was distinctive with her red hair and small stature. And John knew something of her family. Surely, if she was from there, Tompkins would know who she was. He must know all the lieutenants serving from Kent, particularly those who gave their lives.

He turned his mind forcibly to considering his business in London.

Alex had written ahead, and a room was waiting for John at Grenville House when he arrived late in the afternoon, three days after setting out. He took a much-needed bath, shaved, and dressed, then set out for Brooks’ to have his evening meal.

It had been years since he had been to his club, and there were many fond greetings and offers to share a bottle of claret. The evening passed in much conviviality. He sent a note around to Alan Caldwell, asking Anabella’s husband if they could lunch together the next day.

When he returned to Grenville House that night, a note was awaiting him, confirming the luncheon plan and suggesting they meet at Willows, the doctor’s town house. Tired after his long journey, John disrobed and went to bed. He slept badly, however, with nightmares of his last battle marching through his mind and waking him continually. Only toward dawn did he think to counter them with thoughts of Grenville Manor, the daisy field, and a certain red-headed minx. Miss Lindsay had never been further from his mind.

When he woke mid-morning, he faced an unpleasant thought. He could not continue to fantasize about the governess. Even if things did not come to fruition with Miss Lindsay, as he was beginning to think they would not, it would be a horrible insult to her and her family if he preferred the erstwhile Miss Haverley.

Unless I can unmask her identity. Unless I can provide her safety from whatever she fears. I would be willing to wager she outranks the daughter of a viscount.

At some point, the woman had become more than just a mystery to him. He knew nothing at all about her except that she carried the sunshine with her. But that was very self-serving, surely. What had he to offer? A disposition that was rendered half-mad with melancholy? If he cared about her at all, he would leave her and her mysterious origins alone.

With this dispiriting thought, he dressed and tried to concentrate on the morning paper. Finally, at the appointed time, he made his way to Willows.

Alan was not looking well. He had the air of sleeplessness about him that John associated with the battlefield. They greeted one another with hearty handshakes and back slaps.

Willows clearly showed his sister’s hand. Of an artistic turn, Anabella had caused the morning room to be painted off-white and hung it with works by artists who were her protégés. The furniture was upholstered in peacock blue and thrown with pillows in the assorted colors of a peacock’s fan.

With greetings out of the way, John sat in a wingback chair and said, “You look like the very devil, Alan. Do you want to discuss the situation with Anabella? She is certainly very unhappy. I cannot believe she truly wants to be at the manor.”

Alan, a handsome man in the Romantic fashion of Lord Byron—only with kind eyes and a tired smile—leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs. “I am at a complete loss, John. One day I came home from the clinic and she was gone. She didn’t even leave me a note. I supposed she had gone to the manor. But I have written her there and received no answer.”

“She
is
at the manor with your children,” John assured him, frowning, annoyed beyond measure with his sister. “I always knew she was temperamental, but this is beyond anything. It is downright cruel.” He gripped a hand on his knee.

“If only I knew what I’d done!” His brother-in-law’s eyes were full of anguish.

John considered what he knew. The man seemed genuinely distraught. He decided to be forthright. “Anabella says there is another woman in your life. You’ve been seen with her by her friends. I believe she mentioned Sybil and Anne.”

Alan looked as though he had been struck. “Another woman?”

His puzzlement seemed authentic. “You were seen by two of her friends walking down Harley Street with a beautiful woman on your arm. According to these friends, you had quite a bit to say to one another. In fact, you didn’t notice or acknowledge them.”

The doctor drew back in his chair and said, as though exhausted, “There is no woman but Anabella in my life. Believe me, she takes up the attention of ten women. To be perfectly frank, she is very demanding.”

John was not surprised to hear this. “She has always had a penchant for drama,” he said with a nod. “Not the most relaxing person to live with.”

“Exactly. I haven’t strayed, however. I can’t imagine who her friends saw me with. Perhaps they are in collusion and were making it up for some reason.”

“It is possible, I suppose.”

“I miss my children devilishly.” Alan put his head in his hands. “It has been torture not knowing where they were or what was happening.”

“You miss them more than you miss Anabella, it would seem.” John hoped his sister had not soured her marriage beyond redemption.

“My feelings are hard to describe,” he said with a grimace.

“Let me guess,” John said sadly. “You miss your family, but you are glad of a respite from the drama.”

“Yes. But I will put up with her scenes gladly to have my children back. They are what matters most in the equation.”

John thought for a moment. Alan had always struck him as a kind and reasonable man. How could his sister have managed to drive him to this state of cold and weary acceptance?

“I am going to speak to Alex about this,” he said. “I am the younger brother, but there must be some way he can intervene. Not only is it bad for your marriage for Anabella to constantly keep things stirred up, but it is bad for the children. I know. My father was like Anabella. In the end, we were glad when he went off to his parties and gaming tables.”

“But what of this woman her friends supposedly saw me with? She will never believe that there is no one!”

“Has there been anyone that you have worked with for a charity project that you might have been seen with?”

Alan sat back and pursed his lips, concentrating. “There is always some society or another who is working with my clinic in the East End. And to tell you the truth, some of the women have been known to be flirtatious. But I never let it lead anywhere.”

John frowned. “Well then, I would say that it was most probably one of those women. The thing is, she wasn’t known in
ton
circles.”

Alan slapped his knees. “Of course! It must have been Miss Stubbs.”

“Miss Stubbs?”

“She is what Anabella would call a cit. She has inherited a lot of money from her grandfather and has formed rather a wonderful charity which includes my services to a particular foot regiment she has adopted. She is jolly lovely
,
but I’ve only met her in person once.”

“Miss Stubbs it is, then.” John thought for a few minutes, his brain making lightning connections. “You know, I’m here to organize a charity of my own for my own regiment. I have come into a bit of money. I don’t know how much. But I won’t be living in London. Perhaps it would be good for Anabella to have a charity of her own to organize. She is very good at that sort of thing, but I know when she got too idle at home, that is when she would cause trouble. “

“Sounds a tremendous idea, John. Perfect solution all ‘round. Now, what do you say we have luncheon?”

Over lunch, John discussed the plans for his charity, which were still in their infancy, also giving his brother-in-law an update on their Grenville nieces and nephews. When the servants were out of the room, Alan inquired after his further advice on the situation with Anabella. “She wants me to come storming after her as I have in the past. What shall I do? I think that sort of dramatic reaction only encourages her.”

John considered. “I shall write to Alex and ask him, as head of the family, to talk to her and encourage her to come home. She needs to know that you are at the end of your tether as far as this behavior is concerned. After I speak with my friends, I shall be more prepared to speak with her about our plans for our soldiers’ charity and ask if she would like to run it for us.”

“I appreciate both of those things. She will listen to Alex if she listens to anyone, and the charity work will give her thoughts another direction.”

They finished up their luncheon with an apple crumble and a glass of claret apiece. Alan rose reluctantly. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your intervention in this situation. I have been tearing my hair out with worry.”

“I hope Alex can make her see reason. You are very good to her. You don’t deserve this type of treatment.”

They walked down to the vestibule, where they shook hands. “I’m off to the clinic, then. My curricle is being brought round. May I drop you someplace?”

“Brooks’ if you don’t mind.”

John went immediately to the writing room, where he undertook to write the letter to Alex as promised. He knew before he even started that Anabella was going to give him the very devil for going behind her back, but he felt that inasmuch as this was an ongoing problem, it needed intervention by a third party. She was very close to Alex and always had been.

Dear Brother,

I have seen Alan and apparently Anabella’s problem is more serious in quite a different way than she believes it to be. He has no other woman, first of all. The woman he was seen with was difficult for him to even recollect, as it was a single occasion and they were discussing charity business. She is an heiress whose roots are in the City.

However, Alan is becoming very weary of Anabella’s continual need for drama. Apparently, she is very jealous and is continually making trouble. It is to the point where, though he misses his children exceedingly, he is glad of the respite from dealing with Anabella’s tempers.

He swears he has given her no cause. It is my view that she simply wishes some kind of attention from him, even if it is negative. He is a very busy man with his practice, his free clinic, and his charities. I think Anabella would be much better served if she involved herself in some worthwhile project in concert with him. Or, if she liked, she could work on my project alongside the Countess of Worth.

I don’t envy you having to bring this up with her, but she will be miserable and make her husband miserable if she continues along this path.

My business goes well …

He spent the remainder of the afternoon and evening renewing friendships with club members from Harrow and Sandhurst. Many he had not seen since he had begun campaigning on the Peninsula four years earlier. Few were anything but idle gentlemen with cards and horseracing taking up their time. The minutiae of their lives depressed him.

A particularly boorish peer called Lord Manchester seemed to sum up all that he most disliked about these club-dwellers. He was gambling at piquet using his expectations of a marriage to an heiress as his stake.