Heartless (22 page)

Derringer slumped into his chair and watched his cousin in amazement. How could he find the loss of his arm amusing?

Then Derringer felt his own lips twitch upward. He tried not to, but his own long-dormant sense of humor rose to the fore and he found himself giving in to his cousin’s infectious laughter.

16

The breakfast room at Derringer Crescent sat on the east side of the castle so as to catch the early morning rays of sunlight all year. That would have been the case, too, had not this particular autumn day started out overcast and blustery. But a cheery fire blazed in the hearth and thanks to the new mistress, none of the fireplaces smoked like they used to.

Leandra entered the room late that morning, a warm wool gown of dark green making her eyes sparkle like gems behind her spectacles. She surveyed the gathered company and pasted a determined smile on her face. She felt pretty, she felt confident, and she was determined not to let these people take that away from her.

Lord and Lady Greville had yet to make an appearance but Lord Harwood was present with his—for the benefit of the guests—adoring wife at his side. Lady Harwood sent a frosty smile Leandra’s way. Leandra returned it with the poise that had on several occasions been her safeguard. Lady Kathryn and her husband extolled the virtues of their three boys to Lady St. Clair, who agreed with every word spoken, paying Leandra not the least attention.

The Dowager Lady Harwood greeted her stepdaughter with a regal nod designed to nettle that young woman but this tactic failed. Leandra crossed the room and smiled pleasantly at her, unflustered by her late father’s wife. Her sister, Lady Schuster, ignored her completely much as she had done the entirety of Leandra’s life—which bothered Leandra not at all.

Toast and a single egg made up Leandra’s breakfast that morning. She returned to the table and seated herself beside Michaella.

“Good morning, Merri,” her sister bubbled. “What are you planning to do today?”

Leandra absentmindedly smeared marmalade on her toast and considered the question. “I think I may spend some time in the nursery,” she replied thoughtfully. She bit into her toast and grimaced. “I hate marmalade. Why ever did I put marmalade on my toast?”

“I wondered,” Michaella admitted. “I was sure you had never liked the stuff but you seemed so intent when you prepared your toast that I thought perhaps you’d developed a fondness for it.”

“No, I have not. Jem, will you take this and replace it with fresh, please? And fetch me a jar of strawberry jam.” The one-armed footman bowed and departed to do his mistress’s bidding.

Michaella watched him go with round amber eyes. “Do you not think it difficult for him, Merri, to be always running about, fetching and carrying? Why, earlier this morning I saw him polishing silver. He had to sit in a chair and hold the tea service with his knees. I was so amazed he had to ask me if I needed anything before I realized I was staring. I do hope I didn’t make him uncomfortable.”

Leandra shrugged indifferently but her hazel eyes glowed with anything but indifference. “He feels useful, Michaella. I did inquire as to whether he preferred a different position but he has always dreamed of being first footman. We try to treat him as if he has two hands.”

“Oh, I see. It is a matter of pride, then.”

Leandra smiled. “Precisely.”

Michaella took a bite of her own toast, thoughtful wrinkles marring the perfect alabaster of her forehead. “This may seem insensitive, but would it not be easier to hire servants who are better able to perform their duties?”

“Of course it would, dearest. But that does not help those who are injured, those in need. Many of my outside servants were hurt in the war with Napoleon years ago and have been looking for work ever since. These men have families to care for and deserve the chance to do so. I cannot abide the sight of starving children just because Parliament is too busy deciding whether or not trousers are acceptable attire for gentlemen instead of trying to help all these poor men who fought bravely and were unfortunate enough to be injured. Thank you, Jem.”

Jem bowed with a tiny smile on his face, having heard part of Lady Derringer’s calmly uttered words. Although quite young, Jem was one of those injured at Waterloo and had four children and an ailing wife to care for.

“What were we discussing? Oh, yes, plans for today. What are you going to do?” queried Leandra as she spread the preferred strawberry jam on her fresh toast and took a hearty bite.

“I am not visiting the nursery, to be sure,” Michaella decided. “I have not the least desire to be attacked by those savage nieces and nephews of ours and I don’t think Mr. St. Clair’s nephews are any better behaved.”

“You are probably correct,” sighed Leandra. “I want to make sure they are not mistreating the Greville children, however. The baby is only one year old, you know, and can hardly protect himself from the older children and little Rhiannon is so very mild and sweet I fear she will be overcome by their enthusiasm if not their outright villainy.”

As if conjured by thoughts of their children, the earl and his wife entered the room and greeted the company at large. Greville had his arm around his wife’s waist and murmured something in her ear that made her giggle and blush. She moved away from him and sat on Leandra’s other side while he went to fetch them breakfast.

“Good morning, Merri,” she said brightly. “Lady Michaella.”

Michaella greeted the countess with a shy smile, then returned her attention to her breakfast.

“So when do you suppose Hart will return?” Aurora smiled up at her husband and accepted the plate he set in front of her. She buttered her toast as she waited for Leandra’s response.

“He said a week, perhaps longer.”

“And you are missing him dreadfully, I think,” murmured Aurora for Leandra’s ears only. It wasn’t a question.

“In a way,” she admitted. She caught a look of commiseration on Greville’s face and smiled. “The truth is,” she went on as her lips threatened to curve ever further upward, “I am anxious to murder him.”

Silence greeted her words. It dawned on Leandra that her listeners did not share her joke. Greville’s dark eyes studied her, brow furrowed, while his wife’s expression revealed her shock and alarm.

“It was a sort of jest,” she assured them hurriedly. “I don’t actually want to murder him, it’s just that…that…”

Aurora patted her hand. “Just what, dear?”

“I would very much like to ring a peal over his head if I can’t actually strangle the man. His mistress arrived claiming he asked her to come here.”

Aurora slapped a hand over her mouth to hold back a laugh and Greville chuckled before he turned his complete attention to his heaping plate.

“Oh, dear. That wasn’t very well done of him, was it, my love?” Aurora asked her husband. She looked at Leandra. “Hart was ever one to follow his own path. It was very bad of him to invite her here, to be sure, but do not take it to heart.”

“She didn’t even know he had married,” Leandra informed her. “And John Coachman thinks her carriage was tampered with. I thought it was odd at the time.” She paused, frowning as she contemplated recent events. “She claimed that Hart invited her and yet she was surprised that he wasn’t here. Then she claimed that her carriage axle was broken.”

Greville’s eyes twinkled merrily. “The little cat was lying. What was her name?”

“Nicolette,” Michaella offered shyly into the conversation. “Stark said her name was Nicolette and she was demanding entrance. He seemed so very embarrassed by the whole situation and I determined that she was a…well, you know.” She blushed at her own temerity, glanced at her mother to make sure she hadn’t been overheard, then addressed herself to the remains of her toast.

Greville grinned. “Just so. Nicki has been a harpy for years. I wonder that Hart was able to put up with her unfaithfulness for so long.”

“Is a mistress required to be faithful?” She knew it was not a proper subject, but at the moment, she didn’t care.

“If she is the Duke of Derringer’s mistress, yes,” Greville told her simply.

Leandra made her way to the nursery having decided that she would at least peek in to make sure all was as it should be. The nursery lay tucked away on the fourth floor, occupying nearly the whole of the south wing. With several bedchambers, a schoolroom, and the actual nursery, it had seen the raising and education of at least two of the dukes of Derringer, as well as the rest of the St. Clair family. 

Somehow Leandra had overlooked the entire fourth floor under the mistaken impression that the servants were housed there. She inquired of Stark whether or not the servants’ quarters were satisfactory and having received an affirmative reply, she’d forgotten it.

Now, she was absurdly glad she’d done nothing to the nursery floor. Enchantment flooded her senses as she entered the schoolroom. Evidence of childish contentment lay scattered about the chamber, childish drawings and inexpert paintings on the walls, carvings in the desktops, and books stacked on the shelves of a huge oak bookcase.

Perusing the gold-inked titles on the spines revealed more than just children’s tales. The more recent Miss Austen and Mr. Scott claimed space—an indication that someone was adding to this room even while no children occupied it—as well as common improving works like Mr. Porteous’s sermons and
The Book of Common Prayer
. This room was clearly the preferred spot for the older children as well as the younger.

She continued to peruse the shelves, smiling at such titles as
Sir Jason and the Dragon
,
Lady Marigold’s Wish
, and
Turning Frogs into Princes and Other Great Spells
.

This last made her laugh aloud. She removed it from the shelf and flipped through it. The contents made her laugh even more. To think someone had actually thought to entertain children with pretend spells and incantations. And she knew they were pretend because some of the spells called for ingredients such as the “tooth of a red fire-breathing dragon of immense size and considerable ferocity” and “seven hairs from a swallow-tailed man-eating carrot.” A carrot?

Turning the page revealed a spell for changing little brothers into lizards. Written next to it in a childish scrawl were the words
must surely work for sisters and cousins too
. Which of the St. Clair boys had desired to turn one of his family members into a lizard?