His Lordship's Chaperone (4 page)

Catherine walked the Duchess to the front door.
“Thank you very much, Your Grace.” She dipped into a curtsy. “You are so very
kind to care for my family.”

“If your mother would only let me do more. But she
is a proud woman.”

Catherine knew her mother would never take charity
from anyone. She depended on the hard work of her four daughters and the
occasional kindness from others. For some reason unknown to Catherine, the
Duchess of Waverly had always proved to be very kind.

The Duchess placed her gloved hand upon
Catherine’s. “I shall come by on Sunday at two o’clock and see you to Moreland
Manor myself.”

Astonished by Her Grace’s visit, Catherine could
hardly believe that by the end of next week she would meet her new employer.
She did not hazard a guess at what would come next in her life or what new and
amazing things might happen to her as the chaperone to the Marquess of
Haverton.

An hour later, the Waverly-crested coach came to a
stop in front of Moreland Manor. The Duchess found her eldest son at home.
Rarely did he go anywhere during the day but that might all change with the
arrival of Miss Hayward. He seemed to believe that she was the answer to all of
his problems.

Robert met his mother as she entered through the
front doors and escorted her to the drawing room, and finally led her to her
favorite chair. “You’re just in time for tea.”

“Excellent.” The Duchess worked at pulling off her
gloves and glanced at the tea tray sitting on the low table before her.

“You have news of my chaperone, do you not?” He
settled on the sofa and sat forward, showing his interest. “Tell me all about
her.”

That would be the day, when she tells him all.

“I shall accompany her here on Sunday,” she said
simply.

“Sunday, you say?” Then his attention began to wane
and he stared out the large picture window.

“Yes, dear, Sunday.” The Duchess had expected him
to show a little more enthusiasm. After all, this had been his idea.

“Good. I’ll have the staff expect her then.”

The Duchess could not imagine what was more
interesting on the other side of the window than what she was saying in this
room. After all, her news was about the chaperone he had been so insistent she
hire for him. “I had mentioned to her that she would have run of the house.”
She laid her gloves on her lap and took up the pot to pour.

“What do you mean ‘run of the house
?’
” He blinked and turned away from the window to
stare at her.

“Dear, what do you expect her to do all day long?
Stay in her rooms?” Her Grace set the pot down and took up her tea. “She has no
other duties except to tend you.”

“Rooms?” Robert retrieved his tea, holding the cup
to his lips, before taking a sip. “Wait a minute—who said anything about her
living in rooms?”

“I thought she might stay in the gold suite. Oh,
look at these delicious biscuits … fresh, aren’t they?” The Duchess sampled one
of the freshly baked treats. They tasted as good as they smelled.

“The gold suite? But that is the largest of the
guest quarters.” Robert set his cup and saucer down, without consideration of
the delicate bone china. “It seems most inappropriate.”

“She must be comfortable, and you can’t expect her
to come pelting down three flights of stairs at the snap of your fingers.” The
Duchess snapped her fingers, displaying what her son ought not to do. “She is
to be at your beck and call, is she not? Can’t expect her to sleep in the attic.”

“I suppose not.” Robert lifted the tea cup off the
saucer and sounded a bit baffled. “All right, she can stay in the gold suite.”

“And I’ve informed her that you would give her a
twenty pound advance—which is completely separate from her wages.” The Duchess
had said no such thing to Miss Hayward that afternoon. She merely wished to see
if she could cause him to react, he was quite good at wearing his mask of
indifference.

He pulled the rim of the cup away, never taking a
sip. “An advance? Is it customary?”

“I should think you would wish her to have
accessories for her new gowns.”

“Gowns? What new gowns?” His cup hit the saucer.

“I think you might agree that she needs something
more appropriate than brown serge. That is if you intend her to accompany you
out at night without drawing attention. After all, her previous post was as a
governess.”

Robert gave an exasperated sigh and mumbled, “She
is sounding more trouble than a wife.”

Which had not gone unheard by his mother. “What’s
that you say?”

“I said she sounds as if she has terrible life.
You’re absolutely right, Mother. I can’t possibly have that.”

“You are her employer and her appearance does
reflect upon you, does it not?”

“Of course it does.”

“Then you should supply her with suitable attire, I
should think.” The Duchess sipped her tea, replaced the china cup on its
saucer, and set it on the low table.

“I do not feel that would be completely out of the
question.” Robert sounded most resigned. “Next you’ll be telling me she’ll
require a lady’s maid.”

“What an excellent idea!” Her Grace thought that an
inspired suggestion. She realized it was made in jest but it was well done of
him.

“Absolutely not!”

“Of course the maid would be in addition to her
sixty-four pounds a year.” She ignored his protest.

“Sixty-four pounds? That must be at least twice—if
not three times her current wage.”

“I can see the mathematics tutor we hired in your
youth did a fine job with you, dear.”

“You promised her sixty-four pounds a year?”

“I promised you’d pay her sixty-four pounds a year.”
The Duchess tugged on a glove. “She needed an incentive to take this … unusual
position. You must make concessions.”

“But Mother, really—” Robert’s eyes widened.

“I would have thought the price of your freedom was
worth at least that.” She stood to leave.

“I had not considered that.” He fell silent as if
he took a moment to digest their entire conversation. “I suppose you are right.”

“Don’t be a simpleton, of course I am.” The Duchess
paused and faced him one last time. “Oh, by the by, do you wish to know her
name?”

“Ah, yes, I suppose I must sooner or later.” He
stood to see his mother to the door.

“Her name is Miss Catherine Hayward.”

Robert’s lips moved. The Duchess wondered if it was
truly sinking in.

“Very well, then. I shall expect her on …” Robert
turned to his mother. “What day did you say she was to arrive? Next Monday?”

“Sunday!” It was all she could do to not shout at
him. His lack of attention was very tiresome. “Miss Catherine Hayward will be
here on Sunday afternoon.”

“Good. I’ll expect her then.”

“I don’t suppose I shall see you at Norfolk House
tomorrow night?” She wondered if he dare attend another party and risk being
compromised. His marital status was certainly more important to him than a few
hours spent in male camaraderie and turns on the dance floor with a handful of
beautiful young ladies.

Robert followed his mother to the foyer. “I dare
not show my face until my chaperone arrives.”

Oh yes, the Duchess knew they pursued him—for his
title, for his income, and for the exquisitely handsome man himself. She smiled
and patted her son’s cheek. “Dear, it’s not your face I worry about.”

At two in the afternoon on Sunday, Catherine
climbed into the crested carriage and settled in the corner, across from the
Duchess of Waverly. Her Grace signaled the driver to depart.

Catherine dabbed her moist eyes.

The Duchess touched Catherine’s arm. “I can see it
was an emotional farewell.”

“Yes, it was.” The two oldest Talbot children were
brave, barely shedding a tear. However, Tommy had clung to her leg, refusing to
let his beloved governess leave, screaming, “Don’t go,” at the top of his
lungs. Catherine would never forget the look in adorable Chloe’s eyes.

She thought about how overseeing a grown man would
be different than minding children. A stern, disapproving glance would surely
not bring an end to his petulant behavior. Could she employ a hug and a kiss to
mend his skinned knee or his hurt feelings? Catherine could safely guarantee
she would never see the Marquess groveling on the floor, as the children had,
to cure what ailed him.

Catherine gave a final sniff and tucked her
handkerchief in her reticule. “I do, however, feel very uncertain about my new
position.”

“The only issue I foresee is acceptance within
society.” The Duchess’ face remained impassive as she stared out the window.
“The ton can be very unforgiving in their ways.”

Employment as a man’s chaperone sounded peculiar at
best. Would the opinion of others really matter?

“I believe Haverton’s position holds some weight. I
cannot help but assume,” the Duchess looked at Catherine, “you will not
encounter any difficulties.”

“I hope not. It has been a very long time since I
attended any social functions, none ever in Town. I am not sure that I will
know what to do.”

“Do not worry, I’m sure you will learn of his
expectations soon enough. He’s very good at letting his wishes be known, you
know. I am his mother and cannot help but think of him as a dear, dear boy, but
a trifle on the self-absorbed side, I’m afraid.”

Catherine bit her lower lip to keep from laughing.

“I am glad that amuses you, my dear. As bad a time
as Haverton says he has with the ladies, he has a fine sense of humor about it
himself and finds his popularity equally as humorous—but he grows weary of the
constant pursuit.

“The problem is everything comes much too easy for
him. He hasn’t had to work for a thing. He was born with exceptional looks and
he will inherit the title of duke. We need not mention his wealth. I must admit
his manners are exemplary,” the Duchess related with pride. “I am quite sure he
could charm the stars from the sky if he put his mind to it.”

It wouldn’t have surprised Catherine to discover
the Marquess had wall eyes and a beak for a nose. Mothers always saw the best
in their children. She had seen that firsthand with Lady Talbot.

The Duchess’ eyebrows rose. “I can see you doubt me.”

“I do not mean any disrespect. But to be honest, it
is just I find all this praise for your son … his lordship, a bit … much.” She
did her best to subdue her smile and regarded the Duchess’ devotion as motherly
pride. Truly, Catherine just could not imagine any of what Her Grace said to be
true.

“I insist we both be completely honest. It is best
you say exactly what
is on your mind … no secrets here
,”
the Duchess assured her. “Oh yes, you may have your doubts now but you shall
see. My son’s efforts to hire a chaperone for himself are not due to vanity. I
can say that much for him, he has not underestimated his desirability to the
opposite sex. They have proved very troublesome for him.”

As difficult as Catherine found it to believe, it
was enough that the Duchess and the Marquess believed it to be the truth. She
gazed down at her reticule and responded, “If you say so, Your Grace.”

The Waverly carriage rolled to a stop at Moreland Manor.
The Duchess instructed the footmen to take Catherine’s luggage to her rooms.

“Come, let me introduce you to my son.” She strode
through the entrance hall with Catherine not far behind. “I believe we shall
find him in his study.” She paused and whispered to Catherine. “Next to his
evenings out, he finds pleasure in keeping orderly books. He constantly has a
pencil to paper.”

Just as the Duchess had suspected, there sat Robert
in his shirt sleeves among an assortment of papers. He looked up from his work
and shuffled the papers, clearly hiding his current piece of work. “Mother,
you’re here.”

“I have brought her, your new chaperone.” The
Duchess held her hand out for Catherine to come forward so he might see her.
“This is Miss Catherine Hayward.”

He acknowledged her with a mumble while still
sitting at his desk.

Why didn’t he have the decency to stand when they
entered the room? He wasn’t making a favorable impression at all. That’s what
comes of being so lenient with him when he was a boy.

The butler appeared in the hallway.

“Maybury,” the Duchess said over her shoulder.
“Show Miss Hayward to the drawing room. We’ll have tea there.”

“Yes,
Your
Grace.” The
butler motioned to Catherine. “This way please, miss.” She followed him down
the hall.

“We’re to take tea then I’m going to see that Miss
Hayward is properly settled.”

“Very good, Mother.” Robert shuffled the papers,
continuing to cover some document he did not wish her to see in front of him.

“You will be joining us, won’t you?”