A Lesson in Pride (9 page)

“True enough, Alysanne. I wish you luck. And perhaps some happiness.”

“That's all I can ask for.”

********

Ginny watched as Grant Montgomery took his leave. A piece of her died inside, watching him go. Alysanne was rearing her ugly head again, messing with her fragile-enough psyche. When tears appeared unbidden in her eyes, Ginny quickly made her way to her room.

The last thing she needed was for the staff to see her cry over another man. She had worked magic to get them to respect her. Well, maybe not respect her, more life feel sorry for her. Whatever it was, it made them loyal. With loyalty came a desire to protect. With protection came no rumors leaving the house.

It wasn't like everyone didn't know that the new earl was arriving in two days. The ton was well aware that she was being banished to the country to live out her mourning. Mostly, everyone knew that she wasn't the least bit sad. What they didn't know was that she had never slept with her husband. Though he had threatened it, Nigel had never breathed a word.

And neither did her staff, though she thought they suspected her of something. Maybe not outright murder, but of something. Which was why Ginny had to win them over, and quickly. Of course, they were the new earl's staff now. She would be retiring to a home that had a full staff already.

She was to be a mother to five girls she'd never met. If her luck held, the girls would be nothing like their father. Vivianne was a grumpy sow. Ginny hadn't met the second sister, as she was married to a Scottish lord and rarely came to London. Drake had little influence on his other daughters, mostly choosing to stay in London and away from his kids. They would have been raised mostly by staff. It gave Ginny hope.

So she was to be off to the country. A whole year spent wearing black and mourning a man who deserved nothing from her. What would she do? It certainly lengthened the amount of time she'd be in this life. She'd done it before, waiting a year for Colin to return from his escapades on the continent. With little choice and absolutely no options, Ginny prepared herself for the inevitable. She was to be a mother and country miss. She was to stay locked away from the prying eyes of the ton. It could be good, or it could be bad. Just like life.

Chapter 10

One year later...

The wind was brisk and the sky was gray, but it didn't dampen Ginny's spirit. She sat inside a grand carriage, her two oldest stepdaughters asleep across from her. After a year of waiting, she was finally returning to London. Not as the mourning widow, but as the financially independent widow. She had put her life on hold to satisfy the ton's notion of how a woman should act when her husband died. Now she would get to live her life as she saw fit.

Glancing at the two young girls across from her, Ginny smiled. As she'd hoped, the girls were nothing like their overbearing, disgraceful sire. Charlotte Drake, nearly twenty years old, had to put her first season on hold to wait out the mourning. As shy as she was, Ginny didn't think she much cared about the delay. She was a petite girl, barely over five feet tall, but she possessed a strong spirit. With her long, auburn hair and vivid blue eyes, Ginny thought her the epitome of romance novel heroine. Which was all well and good, but Ginny had her own romance to worry about.

Hope Drake, only just eighteen, was Charlotte's half-sister. After Charlotte, Drake must have seen the writing on the wall. Her mother died shortly thereafter. Drake waited a total of two months before marrying Hope's mother. From what Ginny had learned from the chatty staff of Kittredge Hall, her home for the past year, Hope's mother endured pure agony after Hope had come out a girl. It had been Ginny's greatest regret that she couldn't have informed Drake before his death that he was the reason he'd had so many girls.

Regardless, Hope's mother had gone on to have three more girls and had probably died happy knowing that her time with that man had finally come to an end. It gave Ginny shivers to think that was almost her life, or Alysanne's life. Had it turned out that way, Ginny doubted the story would have been terribly romantic.

Hope could put forth a demure exterior that would win her many suitors in London, but in reality, she was a firecracker. She was taller than her half-sister at five foot six, and she had gorgeous strawberry-blonde hair that Ginny swore shouldn't occur in nature, only from a bottle. She always had a witty comeback to any comment.

The three of them had become very close over the last year. It helped that Alysanne was of the same age they were, even if Ginny was older. Though they were banished to the country, they spent their days riding horses, enjoying the good weather, or playing music.

Drake's youngest daughters were still too young to come to London. There was Elizabeth, who had just turned fifteen. Heather was only twelve, and finally Nellie, who was eleven. Though most kept their thoughts of their father to themselves, Hope had given Ginny the lowdown on the Drake clan. They all had dreaded any visits from their father, and were always thankful that they were few and far between and short in duration. They were all less than enamored with Vivianne, and would be thankful not to run into her while in London. Finally, they knew that if they didn't find a husband within two seasons, they would be financially cut off. Even dead, Drake showed just how much of a toad he was.

Ginny had tried to reassure the girls that they would be fine, but even she couldn't know that for sure. Her husband's will had specifically forbidden her from helping out her father. For all she knew, it could contain the same condition about his daughters. The man wasn't omniscient, but who knew what he'd come up with before he took his final breath.

After leaving London in such a rush the year before, Ginny was grateful to hear whatever gossip she could. Occasionally, someone from London society would end up in their little village. One of the girls would always invite them to dinner and they would get a chance to hear the latest
on dit.
There was always the usual stories of elopements to unsuitable partners, which married person was enjoying which other married person, and who was in desperate financial straits. One story, in particular, caught Ginny's attention most particularly.

Mrs. Lewis, wife of Lord Everson's third son, had stopped in their village to fix her broken carriage. At dinner that evening, she had told a story of the newest Lord Essex and his bride. It would seem that the pair had gone on a spending spree when they discovered he would inherit. In the end, it turned out that the previous Lord Essex, her dead husband, had left them with only what he had to. In other words, anything that wasn't entailed had been given to someone else.

With little cash, the couple had only one estate in Yorkshire and the London townhouse. The estate was profitable, but not as much as the new Lord Essex would have desired. Once again, Drake had screwed over someone from beyond the grave.

Ginny didn't believe in hell, but if there was such a place, Franklin Drake was probably running it by now. The man had such a way for being an utterly despicable human being.

The one person that Ginny had hoped to hear something about, she never did. Grant Montgomery was never mentioned by anyone passing through the village. Whether he was not important enough to mention or he hadn't done anything worthy of mentioning, Ginny had no idea. She was still certain that he was the one she would have her happily ever after with, or maybe that was just Alysanne talking again.

There had been occasions over the past year when Ginny could feel the young girl's presence. More emotions than thoughts, Alysanne would make herself known at certain times, especially at night. Ginny would be treated to vivid dreams of her and Grant's one night together. At times, it was just as it had been that night. On other occasions, the background changed and Grant would become an epic hero and lover. Those were Ginny's favorites.

Deciding to take her life into her own hands, Ginny would send Grant a note as soon as they returned. She would make it friendly, simply letting him know that she had returned. They were bound to run into each other at parties and such, but Ginny had been waiting a year for this story to move along. Patience, while she admitted to being better, was still sometimes an issue with her.

Ginny watched as the scenery outside the carriage changed from rural to city. They would arrive soon at Drake's townhouse, the one that hadn't been entailed away. It was bigger and more grand than the one given to the new Lord Essex. Yet another snub to his former title.

When the homes started to become finer, Ginny woke her two stepdaughters. Both girls sat up and rubbed their eyes. Neither looked terribly excited to have arrived, which worried Ginny more than anything. How was she to get them married off if they had no desire?

“We should be there soon,” Ginny ventured as the two looked out opposite windows.

Hope was the first to speak. “So this is London. I am so far unimpressed.”

Charlotte, a natural diplomat, stated, “I am sure there is more to see, Hope. Think of all the museums and gardens. I am looking forward to exploring them all.”

“When will you find the time, Lottie? We are to be presented and displayed like two prized cows at market.”

“My, Hope, such attitude,” Ginny stated with a smile. “You would think that you have no interest in getting married.”

A gleam entered Hope's expression. “Oh, but I do, Alysanne. With such a glowing example as yourself, why would I ever want anything else?”

Ginny laughed at her impertinence. Her stepdaughters weren't stupid and were fully aware of the circumstances of her marriage. Their friendship had blossomed over Ginny's honesty. Not to mention the fact that they saw exactly what their mothers had endured under the protection of Franklin Drake. It wasn't any wonder that Hope had no desire to marry, but her father had given her no choice.

In his usual manner, Drake had made sure his daughters had been provided for after his death, but only to a certain point. They would each receive two seasons. If after that time they had not found themselves a husband, they would be cut off entirely. As cold as it sounded, Ginny knew that the curmudgeon was actually being fairly generous for his character. If Ginny had her guess, she would have figured that the old man would have given them only one season.

Charlotte took her father's dictate as a burden. She wanted to marry well so that if her sisters did not, she would be in a position to care for them. Ginny had reassured Charlotte on several occasions that she was financially well off enough to care for any of her stepdaughters that didn't marry, but Charlotte saw that as unfair. Ginny was, after all, not truly related and shouldn't be burdened with a bunch of girls.

Hope had every intention of being the perfect débutante, but would never settle for anyone. If she were to marry, the man would have to be damn near perfect. What Hope didn't know was that she was living in a romance novel, so any man who crossed her path, even if he didn't seem like it in the beginning, would be perfect for her.

Then there was Ginny, playing the part of heroine in order to find Mr. Right. Was it Grant Montgomery? Of course it was, but she had to jump through some kind of hoop first.

The carriage stopped under a portico of a large home. The footman opened the door and lowered the step. The women piled out, happy to stretch their legs after the long journey. Entering the house, Ginny was greeted by Mrs. Smith, the housekeeper, and Mr. Frommer. It had been a year since she'd seen the pair, but they had not changed a bit.

“Mr. Frommer, Mrs. Smith, it is such a pleasure to see you again,” Ginny stated as she handed over her bonnet and pelisse. “How have you both been?”

Mr. Frommer answered for both of them. “All is well, as you can see, my lady. Mrs. Smith will want to meet with you tomorrow to go over the menus.”

Ginny smiled at his business-like style. “That would be fine. Mr. Frommer, Mrs. Smith, may I introduce my stepdaughters. This is Charlotte and Hope Drake.”

Mr. Frommer bowed regally as Mrs. Smith gave a small curtsy. Hope came forward and smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you. Our father spoke highly of both of you. I thank you for your service.”

Blinking back her confusion, Ginny watched as Mr. Frommer puffed up a bit more over the compliment. It had to be an exaggeration, Ginny thought, since Franklin Drake complimented no one, even if the job was done perfectly. Hope would know this since she had never received any such praise from the man. Regardless, with only a few words, Hope had made strategic allies in the coming marriage wars.
Well played, Hope
, Ginny thought ruefully.

“Let me show you to your rooms,” Mrs. Smith said, also standing a little taller. The women made their way up the stairs.

After depositing the girls off to their rooms, Mrs. Smith walked Ginny to her room. Opening the door, Ginny saw that all the furniture from the other house had been moved here. She had the same bed, same furniture, same linens.

As if sensing her confusion, Mrs. Smith offered, “We could not be sure if you wanted anything changed, my lady, so we kept it as it was. If it is too much for you to bear, I can open another bedroom for you to use until you can redecorate this one.”

Shaking her head, Ginny responded, “That won't be necessary, Mrs. Smith. I was only married for a few hours. It wasn't as though I'd spent a lifetime with Lord Essex. I'm afraid there is nothing sentimental in this room for me... yet.” Ginny added the last part in case Mrs. Smith found her insincere. She still needed the staff on her side, since she was in no position to fire them. All things to do with this house were under the discretion of Mr. Thornberry. Her main concern was to find herself a husband, as well as husbands for her stepdaughters.