The Secretary (11 page)

“Oh, dear,” she said to herself when she had slipped on her nightgown and climbed into bed. She had certainly bitten off more than she could chew. When Lord Stowe had invited her to the theatre she had allowed herself to imagine that his interest was purely altruistic. He saw that the daughter of a man he had admired lived in relative poverty, and he wished to do a good turn. But he had made it clear that his interest was more than selfless, and now she had a decision to make. Could she truly be both Clarence Ford and Clarissa Martin without his suspecting? She wasn’t sure. But she was willing to take the risk. She had never been a society darling—her father had not had the funds to support such a lifestyle. But she had enjoyed her outings with Cynthia and the other young women of her acquaintance. Perhaps it was the fact that she had spent the year of her morning in such solitude, but now that the chance had arisen for her to move in society once more, she wanted to take it.

Be honest, Clarissa
, she thought. It was more than that. She was attracted to Lord Stowe, and she wasn’t sure she could continue to work as his secretary without that attraction becoming a hindrance. Now here was an opportunity for her to spend time with him as a woman, and she was not about to let it slip through her fingers. She could manage both sides, couldn’t she?

NINE

 
February 6, 1833

“How was the theatre last night, My Lord?” Ford asked as Phelps brought in a pot of coffee. They had been working in companionable quiet for much of the morning, for which Anders had been grateful. He could barely keep his mind on his work as it was.

“It was quite enjoyable. I think Miss Martin enjoyed the evening as well.”

“I’m glad to hear it. She always did like the theatre,” Ford said as he laid his notes on Church Reform before Anders.

“Listen, Ford,” Anders said, not looking up from his papers. “I’m going to take her driving on Sunday.”

There was a silence. “I think that’s very kind of you, My Lord,” Ford said at last.

“I can assure you that my intentions are more than kind, Ford.”

“Of course, My Lord. Miss Martin is very...”

Anders smiled. “Beautiful might be a good word. Charming too, perhaps?”

“I couldn’t agree more, My Lord. But as I said the other day, I have known her since we were children. I wouldn’t like to see her hurt.”

Anders turned. Ford was leaning back in his chair, two fingers tapping against his lips. “I have no intention of hurting her, Ford. I suppose that with no family, you are the closest thing to a brother she has.”

“I suppose so,” Ford said, and there was a strange smile on his lips.

“Would it give you some comfort, then, if I asked your permission to court her?”

That odd smile again. “It might, My Lord. But you needn’t worry. You are a man of character and principle. There’s no one I would rather see pursuing Miss Martin than you. As long as your intentions are honorable, I have no objection.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Anders said, feeling completely ridiculous. But then, any man in his position might feel equally foolish, soliciting the approval of a man five years his junior and several steps below him in society. But the fact remained that Miss Martin had no family to speak of, and Anders had developed too much respect for his secretary to offend the man.

For a while they worked in amiable silence, the scratch of pen nibs and the rustling of paper the only sound. When another hour had passed, Anders pushed away from the table.

“I have to visit my tailor this morning, and then I’m due at Sidney House for tea. Would you take these papers to Lord Brougham and then deliver this note to Miss Martin?” he asked, gesturing to a stack he had made on his desk.

“Of course, My Lord.”

“Very good. Perhaps we might meet back here at six to go over the notes for tomorrow?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

Anders strode from the room, for once not feeling his usual gratitude for the fact that the Lords did not meet on Wednesdays. It meant that when Leo had asked him to come to tea that afternoon, he had had no reasonable excuse to refuse. It also meant that he had to come up with some plausible reason not to take Lady Eleanor for a drive in the park afterward, since he was certain her mother could and would drop hints the entire afternoon until he either asked her or explained why he couldn’t.

He wondered as he waited for his horse what Miss Martin would think of his note. He hoped he had been clear enough. He had done a great deal of thinking on the drive home last night and had come to a decision. His absent-minded action in the theatre box had told him what he could not otherwise admit: he was attracted to Miss Martin, and not just her slim figure and lovely blue eyes. It was her mind that was the true prize. He had not lied when he had told Ford his intentions towards her were honest, and he meant her to know it. If everything went as he hoped it did, he would be able to write to his mother by her birthday next month with the gift she had been begging for since he had turned twenty-five: a daughter-in-law.

When Lord Stowe had left the house, Clarissa carefully packed up the documents he had asked her to deliver and slipped his note into her coat pocket. Her mind was whirling, and she had to return to the study twice before leaving the house, once because she had forgotten her coat and a second time because she had left the papers. Her mind was occupied with concocting a dangerous and foolish plan, and there was little room for anything else. “Focus, Clarissa,” she said to herself as she hailed a hackney.

One of Lord Brougham’s three secretaries looked down his nose at her as she handed him the papers. Then, her duty discharged, she hurried out into the street and found another hackney to take her back to Trevor Street. Only when she was safely alone in her flat did she take the letter from her pocket and tear it open.

My dear Miss Martin,

I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed your company last evening. It was a pleasure to have you by my side. I want you to know that I have asked Mr. Ford, as your nearest friend, for his permission to pursue you formally. I look forward to our next meeting and remain

                                                         Yours, Lord Stowe

She read it four times. By the third time, her hands had stopped trembling enough that she could be sure she had understood the words. After the fourth time, she had made up her mind.

She was going to tea.

She had two dresses that were close enough to the latest fashion to be wearable in the refined parlors of Sidney House. She chose the pink, since she knew the color became her best, and in less than half an hour she was back on the street. It took all of ten minutes to walk to Wilton Crescent, and when she knocked on the door and presented her card, Lady Eleanor herself came into the hall to greet her. “I’m so glad you could come!” she cried. “That dress is lovely on you. Please, come in and meet everyone.”

There were four women and two gentlemen in the parlor. Eleanor introduced those Clarissa did not know. One of the ladies was Lady Eleanor’s mother, Lady Sidney, and two of the others were Lady Georgina and Lady Maris, the twins who would be making their come-out in a few short weeks. They curtseyed prettily to Clarissa, their dark curls bouncing. The fourth lady was Miss Annabelle Granger, a school friend of Lady Eleanor’s who was sitting rather too close to Lord Sidney on the settee. The other gentlemen was introduced as Lord Sherbourne, who looked to be about Clarissa’s age and spoke almost exclusively to Lady Eleanor as Lady Sidney poured the tea.

As they drank their tea, Miss Granger questioned the twins about the upcoming ball, which was a little more than a month away. Clarissa listened politely, the discussion of decorations and candles and ball gowns highlighting for her the vast social divide that existed between her and the Chesney family. She had never had a come-out ball, had never made a curtsey at St. James’s. She was beginning to feel rather awkward when Lady Eleanor said, “Come sit by the window with me, Miss Martin. Not that we aren’t fascinated by the ball, mother, but we have other things to discuss.”

Lady Sidney smiled indulgently as Lady Eleanor led Clarissa to a pair of chairs by the wide windows overlooking the street. When they were seated comfortably she asked, “Did you enjoy the play last night, Miss Martin?”

“I did,” Clarissa said. “And it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” Lady Eleanor said, beaming. “But I had another reason for pulling you away. I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. You see, Lord Stowe is coming this afternoon, and I wouldn’t want you to think that he is coming to see me in particular, though my mother will do her level best to make it seem as though he has. He means to court you, doesn’t he?”

Clarissa blushed. “I believe so, yes.”

“Oh, I’m so pleased to hear it!” Lady Eleanor cried. “I think the two of you would do so well together.”

“You mustn’t get ahead of yourself, My Lady,” Clarissa cautioned.

“Call me Eleanor, please.”

She smiled. “Only if you will call me Clarissa.”

“I would like that,” Eleanor said as the door opened to admit Lord Stowe himself. He looked down his patrician nose, scanning the room. When he saw her, Clarissa flattered herself that he smiled a little. But he went to greet Lady Sidney and be introduced to Miss Granger and Lord Sherbourne, taking a seat on the settee as Eleanor leaned closer to Clarissa. “Let’s stay here for a moment and let him think we are talking about something quite important,” she whispered.

“Of course,” Clarissa said, allowing herself to be drawn into the game. As they whispered their opinions of the play and Mrs. Davis’s performance, she was conscious of Lord Stowe’s eyes upon her. When at last she and Eleanor rejoined the group, she found herself seated in the chair closest to him.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miss Martin,” he said evenly, but his eyes said something else entirely. As he leaned in to choose a biscuit from the tray, a long, dark lock of his hair fell across his forehead. Clarissa had to clutch her hands together in her lap to keep from reaching out and brushing it back into place.

It wasn’t long before Lady Sidney began dropping hints that she would like Lord Stowe to take her eldest daughter for a drive in Hyde Park.

“The weather is quite fine today, is it not, Lord Stowe?” she ventured, smiling brightly.

“Indeed it is, Lady Sidney, and it would be a fine afternoon for a drive. I would gladly ask Lady Eleanor if I were not committed to return to Stowe House shortly,” he said smoothly, heading off any further attempts.

Clarissa felt her panicked heartbeat rising in her throat. If he should return to Stowe House to find her absent...well, it didn’t bear thinking of. “I am afraid I must be going,” she announced.

“It was so good of you to come,” Lady Sidney said warmly, though her voice indicated that she had noticed Lord Stowe’s attentions to her and would rather she had
not
come.

Eleanor showed her to the door. “It was so nice to see you,” she said earnestly. “I hope you’ll come again when you can.”

“I will,” Clarissa promised, and then she rushed out the door and back to Trevor Street.

When Anders finally managed to extricate himself from Sidney House, it was nearly four, and he still had one more errand to run before returning to Stowe House.

On the Market Mews there was a bookshop he often visited for the specific reason that it did not carry the novels and ladies’ magazines he found silly and frivolous. When he walked in the shopkeeper, a man called Parks, greeted him enthusiastically as he emerged from the warren of bookshelves behind the counter. “Ah, Lord Stowe. I have that volume on Ivan the Terrible in, if you’re still interested.”

“I am, Mr. Parks, but I’ve come on another errand. I’m looking for a gift for a lady.”

The man looked at him uncertainly and cast a glance back at the shelves. “For a lady? Well, I might be able to get one of them books by Mrs. Radcliffe in, I think, but--”

“No, no, Mr. Parks. The lady in question reads Greek and Latin. I don’t believe she enjoys novels.”

“Well, if you don’t mind my saying, My Lord, that’s a rare treasure you’ve found.”

“I believe so, Mr. Parks,” Anders agreed.

Parks tapped his chin, thinking. “I’ve just the thing,” he said, and he disappeared into the stacks, vanishing completely from sight amid his books. After a few moments he returned holding a thin volume. He handed it across to Anders, but the title was in Greek. “
Iphigenia in Tauris
,” Parks supplied. “By Euripides. I’ll wager half a crown she hasn’t read it, but it’s a nice little play. Ladies in distress and forbidden love and whatnot.”

“Thank you, Parks,” Anders said, and he paid for the book and arranged to have the volume on Ivan the Terrible sent round.

As he was turning to go, Parks said, “I meant what I said about this lady of yours, My Lord. If she enjoys that there play, you snap her up right quick before someone else does, you hear?”

“I give you my word, Mr. Parks,” Anders said, lifting the book in salute.

TEN

February 8, 1833

“Can you believe he
said
that?” Leo cried as he and Anders burst out of Westminster into the frail afternoon sun. Anders had decided it was best to remove his friend from the building before he did something drastic. Lord Teynham had, indeed, brought up the Poor Laws Commission that afternoon as he had promised to do and Lord Brougham had snapped at him rather irritably.

“I do not know why I should be asked such a question rather than any of His Majesty’s other ministers,” he had griped. “I certainly did not move for the Commission, after all.” Lord Brougham was in a fine fettle indeed, and Anders and the rest of the members knew why. It was being widely circulated that Brougham had had a great argument with Lord Colville, who had been a very vocal opponent of the treaty that had been signed with France the year before to begin suppressing the trading of slaves. The two men had been trying to reach a compromise before bringing the abolition bill before the Lords, but now it seemed that that might never happen. Anders could understand Brougham’s frustration, but he had never seen the man quite so agitated.