In the Arms of the Heiress (A LADIES UNLACED NOVEL) (5 page)

“Thank you, Mr. Norwich.”

“Think nothing of it. Who is Robertson?”

“Our chauffeur, though I think he doesn’t get to drive the Daimler very often. Aunt Grace hates it. But all that will change now that I’m back home.”

Charles didn’t trust her gleeful smile. “What is your fascination with automobiles, Louisa?”

“I don’t know, really. I do so love the wind in my face.”

“And the bugs and dust,” Kathleen added. “You’d best let Robertson do the driving, Miss Louisa. I hear he’s thought of putting in his notice. No man likes to feel useless.”

“You
hear
? Did a little bird tell you, Kathleen? So that explains all the mysterious letters you received from Rosemont. I swear, you got more mail than I did, even with Aunt Grace hounding me at every turn.” Louisa turned to him and winked.

The redheaded maid put her book in her carpetbag and snapped the clasp with finality. “As far as I know, it’s not against the law to write letters.”

“And if it was, you’d do it anyway. Do you drive, Cap—Maximillian?”

“I have not had the opportunity.” He’d been perfectly satisfied with horses all his life, and his cavalry career confirmed his expertise.

“I’ll teach you then.”

Kathleen snorted and looked out the window.

“It will be fun!” Louisa insisted. “There’s nothing like the freedom of the open road.”

Charles would reserve his opinion on that. There had been a time when he’d sought freedom—from George Alexander’s well-meaning mentorship and his family’s resentment. He’d turned down the chance to go to university for the army, and he now wondered if his quest for independence had not backfired rather spectacularly.

Everyone knew war was hell, but Charles had not expected to plummet so deep into the devil’s environs.

Louisa concentrated on teasing Kathleen about her chauffeur for the rest of the journey. The train rolled into one more charming station after the other until it got to Stratton Halt. A flock of seagulls that had been perched on the red tile roof of the tiny whitewashed building squawked and circled away as the train pulled in.

As soon as Charles stepped onto the platform, the scent of salt water enveloped his senses. He’d not been a good sailor during any of his transports, so there was no danger of following in Louisa’s relatives’ footsteps. In any event, it was coming on winter, not ideal for testing the waters.

But he’d always appreciated the sea, its vastness and power. He would be seeing it safely behind glass soon. Rosemont was set atop a white cliff overlooking its own shingle, according to
The
English Illustrated Magazine.
Louisa may have had her reasons to run away from home, but it hadn’t been for lack of a view.

A couple of men and a horse-drawn wagon were waiting to collect their luggage, and a young man in livery, presumably Robertson, stood near a dark green Daimler. If Kathleen was expecting a kiss from her sweetheart, she must have been disappointed. Apart from a tip of his cap to the ladies, he was all that was proper, helping the men with the trunks in efficient silence before he got back behind the wheel.

It was not an effusive welcome for any of them, and Charles felt a prickle of unease. Even Chattin’ Stratton seemed subdued. What exactly had he got himself into?

Chapter

6

L
ouisa had wished for flags and flowers and a little crowd at the train station. She’d read of such welcomes when heiresses arrived from their honeymoons, but Aunt Grace would not condone such frivolity. Just as well, really. If she ever came back from a real honeymoon, that greeting would be special.

“Good God.”

They had finally turned into the drive, Robertson driving far more slowly than Louisa ever would. She tried to see Rosemont with Captain Cooper’s eyes. Eye. She’d have to be careful regarding his injury. It was just like her to ask a person in a wheelchair if they’d like to go for a walk in the garden—she meant to be kind, but her foolish tongue constantly tripped her up.

To her two eyes, the house looked as tall and forbidding as it ever did. It was built in 1856 by her grandfather, George Stratton, a banker who had delusions of grandeur more suited to a peer of the realm. Of brick construction, it was an odd mix of Gothic and classical, with pitched roofs and turrets and too many windows to wash. Snarling gargoyles perched on every peak and pediment. When she was a little girl, she had named them all.

“Home sweet home,” she said lightly.

“It looks like a prison. Or an asylum.”

“There are plenty of inmates within who would argue they are as honest and sane as you and I.” And they would be lying, Louisa thought. “It looks nicer in the summer when the roses climb over the façade. Rosemont, you see. We are missing the mountain, but my grandfather was very fond of his roses. The aspect is lovely, don’t you think? But it was still a lonely place to live in.”

The gray-green sea was flat today, but Louisa remembered when it roiled. She took a deep breath of salty air. “It’s too cold to swim now, of course, but perhaps we can walk along the beach later once we get settled.” The car rolled into the courtyard, and in less than half a minute, the staff emerged from the front door and lined up. Beside her, Captain Cooper gave an audible gulp.

“They’re all here to meet you, Maximillian,” Louisa whispered. “Begin as you mean to go on.”

“What in hell does that mean?”

“Hush. Maximillian doesn’t use vulgar language in the presence of a lady. You must accept their deference as if you’re used to it. Remember the château staff attended to your every whim, not that you were hard to please. But don’t be
too
friendly—the servants will think less of you. Don’t be too cold, either. I never would have married a snob.”

“I’ll aim for ‘just right’ then. Goldilocks would have had a regular field day breaking beds and chairs in a pile this size.”

Captain Cooper had seemed weary on the trip, but suddenly his chin lifted and spine stiffened as he climbed out of the car. He extended a hand to her to help her down and she gave it a gentle squeeze. “Showtime. Break a leg! Good afternoon, everyone!” she said with false cheer. “I’m so pleased to be home.” Louisa clung to the captain’s arm as an affectionate—but not
too
affectionate—new wife would. “May I present my husband, Mr. Maximillian Norwich?”

Louisa performed the necessary introductions and accepted the earnest congratulations. Several of the servants were unfamiliar to her, but Griffith, the butler who’d been here since her grandfather’s day, provided assistance. Captain Cooper nodded and smiled in a most dignified manner, not showing too many teeth. He made a striking impression in his new clothes. Aunt Grace would not be able to fault the man on his fashionable appearance.

“How fares my aunt, Griffith?”

The butler clucked. “Not well, Miss Louisa, not well. Oh! I should say Mrs. Norwich. I daresay that will take me a little to get used to. Mrs. Westlake has not left her bed this age. She’s most anxious you go straight to her apartments to see her, once you’ve refreshed yourselves, of course.”

“And my cousin. Is he about?”

“In London, madam. On bank business. We expect him back any day.”

Well, that was one good thing. Louisa did not relish the prospect of Hugh inspecting Maximillian Norwich just yet.

“Lulu, darling!”

The man at her side twitched. “
Lulu
? Really?”

Louisa stifled her groan and urge to elbow Captain Cooper for his mockery. Isobel flew out the front door, dripping in pearls and trailing sleeves and scarves. Louisa found herself embraced in a quantity of silk heavily scented with patchouli. She stifled a sneeze, too.

“Is this divine creature your husband? I quite see why you eloped, dear heart. What shoulders!” Isobel was actually running a hand over one of them while Captain Cooper looked somewhat ill at ease. “I am Lulu’s second cousin, Isobel Crane.
So
delighted to meet you. Now, you must tell me exactly how you charmed her. We’d given up that any man could do so.”

“Isobel, do let go of Maximillian; you’ll bruise him. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. I’m sure my husband wants to see our rooms before we go to Aunt Grace. Griffith, where did Mrs. Lang put us?” The housekeeper had not been present in the line of employees.

“In your parents’ room, Mrs. Norwich. Mrs. Lang wished me to apologize for her. Her mother’s funeral was yesterday and she is not yet back.”

“Goodness, how awful.” Louisa wasn’t sure if she was commenting over the death or being forced to share a bedroom with Captain Cooper.

“Cot,” Cooper muttered.

“Shh. I’ll see to it, if Mrs. Lang hasn’t already. She does tend to cover all the bases.” Louisa didn’t much like Mrs. Lang, but she recognized the woman was an excellent housekeeper.

They trooped up the front steps behind Griffith, passing into the enormous entrance hall. An arrangement of hothouse flowers stood on the center table. Louisa had spent much of her time growing up hiding in the conservatory, and she recognized the plants as Rosemont’s own—she’d tended them herself. “Lovely,” she said to the butler.

“Your aunt Grace did them herself to welcome you home.”

Louisa was surprised. It was not like Grace to be crafty or kind. “Got out of her bed, did she?”

“No, Mrs. Norwich. Everything was brought up to her and then carried down.”

The Chinese urn weighed a ton, even empty. “How annoying for the servants. I’ll be happy to do the next one. It will be time for pine boughs and holly soon, I think.”

“Yes, madam. May I say how delighted we all are to have you home for Christmas. Last year just wasn’t the same without you.”

It hadn’t been the same for her, either. She and Kathleen had dined on roast duck and champagne in a French country inn, warm and snug in the charming little dining room. There had been no interminable Christmas lunch with twenty courses and Aunt Grace giving her the gimlet eye.

“I hope you and Mrs. Lang will help me when it comes time to get presents for the new staff, Griffith. There are quite a few new faces.”

The butler cleared his throat. “Yes, madam. Your aunt insisted on replacing those staff members she felt were inefficient.”

Grace really had no right to do so now that Louisa was officially in charge. But how had Louisa exercised her authority? By running away.

“Well, thank goodness you’re still here. I don’t know what Rosemont would do without you.”

“You’d all manage, I’m sure.” But Griffith looked pleased with the praise. “But speaking of presents, we have a small wedding gift for you and Mr. Norwich from the staff.” Griffith snapped his gloved fingers. There was no noise, but a footman raced in with a very large beribboned box. The servants had followed them into the hallway and stood expectantly.

Captain Cooper stared. “A
small
gift?”

“Oh, Griffith! You shouldn’t have! How very kind of you all. Help me open it, Maximillian. Darling.”

“Of course, Louisa. Darling.” The captain pulled one end of the silver ribbon while Louisa pulled the other. They tussled with the box top. Inside a cloud of tissue was an ornate ceramic planter.

“To pot one of your orchids, Mrs. Norwich. We know how you love your flowers.”

“It’s lovely.” Louisa stifled her impulse to kiss the old butler on his cheek. The impropriety of it would horrify him. “I cannot wait to fill it. Thank you all so very much.”

There was a smattering of polite applause. Everyone had contributed out of their hard-earned pay, Griffith more than his share, no doubt. Louisa was sure Aunt Grace was not a generous employer and resolved to do something about that as soon as possible.

“You needn’t accompany us up the stairs, Griffith. I know my way. Come along, Maximillian, dear.”

“Yes, Louisa, dear.”

Louisa looked over her shoulder. The captain was wearing a deceptively meek expression. That wouldn’t do at all. Maximillian was forceful, always in command, except of course when he deferred to her superior sensibilities.

“Stop that,” she hissed.

“Stop what?”

“Looking like that—so, so—milksoppy.”

“Is there such a word?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, dear.”

Oh, this was not going to be easy. Louisa rued for the hundredth time that she’d ever created the impossibly charming, impossibly perfect Maximillian Norwich. What man could ever live up to him? Certainly not Charles Cooper, who seemed determined to drive her the slightest bit crazy.

She passed by her old bedroom with regret and continued around corner after corner to the end of the hall. The double doors to her parents’ suite were open. More flowers graced the sitting room mantel and tabletops, and a lively fire warmed the room. The cream and gray wallpaper was new, and the furniture had been reupholstered in dull grayish jacquard fabric that reflected the present color of the water. Not very cheerful. Louisa sensed Aunt Grace’s grim decorative hand. She walked to the bank of windows and set the new planter down on the sill. “I never get tired of watching the waves.”

“Impressive.”

The captain had come up behind her, his single word tickling the back of her neck.

“Yes, isn’t it? This suite has a sea view from all the rooms, even the bath.”

“I trust the seagulls won’t tell any tales when I’m scrubbing away.”

Louisa had a quick mental flash of a burnished man lazing in the bathtub—his chest slick with silver beads of water, his head thrown back and eyes closed—and shook it out of her head. She was not going to see any of Captain Cooper’s exposed brown skin if she could help it, no matter how curious she was. “You can close the shutters for privacy if you like.”

“I don’t think so. The view’s too beautiful.”

Louisa nodded. “We can agree on that at least. But you mustn’t be
too
agreeable. No more of this “Yes, dear” nonsense. I would not respect a man who doesn’t stand up for himself, and neither will my aunt. She already thinks I’m much too headstrong and need the firm hand of some man. But that’s nonsense. Maximillian and I have an equal partnership.”

“Do we indeed? That’s not very likely, particularly for two spoiled only children. I grew up in a castle, after all.”

“It was a château, and I wasn’t spoiled!”

“Oh, come now. You grew up in all this splendor. I’ll have to drop bread crumbs like Hansel and Gretel to find my way back here.”

“I can draw you a map.”

“I may take you up on that. My entire family lived in a cottage half the size of this room.”

It was true that the sitting room was very large. The bedroom was even larger. Louisa supposed she should get the inspection over with. The door to it was set flush into the gray-painted paneling. Really, if she was truly married, she’d feel like she lived in a battleship. If she stayed in these rooms for any length of time, they’d have to be done over. What had Aunt Grace been thinking?

Louisa knew very well. Apart from the flowers, which the servants had probably placed, this sitting room did not say “Welcome home.”

The bedroom was at least as her parents had left it, its furnishings quite faded from years of morning sun. She had only the dimmest memories of cuddling on the glazed chintz window seat with her mother, and even those memories were more likely wistful wishes. Louisa bustled through to her mother’s dressing room, the cupboards standing open and empty, and threw open the bathroom door. The black-and-white tiles sparkled, but she had no interest in refreshing herself just yet.

“God blind me! The tub’s the size of a swimming pool.”

“Never mind that. We are searching for your cot, Cap—Maximillian.” It was going to be dreadfully hard to remember to call him by the correct name. She should have practiced more on the train.

Another door led to her father’s dressing room.
Dressing room
was a misnomer. It was really a small bedroom, complete with a single bed, a fireplace, and a comfortable leather club chair beside it. It had its own exit to the hallway, so the captain would not have to wander through the bath, her dressing room, and her bedroom and catch her in a state of dishabille. A stack of books lay on the bedside table. Had her father ever read them? Louisa knew so little about her parents’ habits.

Captain Cooper sat down on the mattress and bounced. “Hard. But better than sleeping in a trench. And you’ll be far enough away so my restlessness won’t disturb you.”

Ah yes. His nightmares. She would have to send for Dr. Fentress. “I’m glad it suits. I really haven’t spent time in here in years and had forgotten what was in this room. The doors have always been locked.”