Madcap Miss (12 page)

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Authors: Joan Smith

Tags: #Regency Romance

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I see what you are up to, making the lady the complement to myself. You are conferring on
her
all those elements lacking in myself. I am half in love with her already.


Only half? You are hard to please, sir. What shall we call this paragon?


What else but Pamela?


Are you quite sure? She may go off into swoons every time you get near her and want her virtue rewarded, too. Let us call her
—”

The shuffling tread of Lady Healy brought their discussion to a halt.

They are a lazy enough lot, the village girls,

she scolded,

but they have good strong backs. Now, where were we?


We were discussing Papa

s girlfriend,

Grace answered helpfully.


So we were. He will contradict every word you utter, so we shall send him off to his room.


There is a change!

Grace smiled.


Run along, Alfred. Your secrets are all going to come out now.


If Gussie breathes a word of my women, I shall box her ears soundly. And so I warn you, miss,

he added with a menacing look at Grace.


You never lay a hand on her. That

s why she is such a saucy minx.

Lady Healy laughed merrily, for she liked to see anyone discomposed.

Now, tell me all about Mrs. Elton,

she said eagerly as Whewett strolled out the door.

The name was a boon to Grace. It supplied some notion of the woman

s status: a widow, obviously.

Her companion nudged her on with more clues.

What was she doing at Downsfield for a week? You said Alfred was mighty taken with her.

Grace began to fabricate a tale.

She came to visit us.


Something to do with your clothing, wasn

t it?


Yes, that is why she came.


But she cannot be only a modiste.


Oh, no.

Grace proceeded to make Mrs. Elton a family connection on Whewett

s side, the widow of a cousin. She was a blond enchantress, whose hand was sought by all men.


She sounds a proper hussy to me,

the grandmother said at the end of the tale.

Blond curls and silken gowns don

t make a good mother. Is she nice to
you,
Augusta? That is what is important.

Grace realized she had allowed herself to be carried away.

She seemed very nice,

she said uncertainly.


Ho, they

re all nice till they catch their prey. I don

t care for the sound of her. She is only after the title. I shall tell Whewett so. He don

t want a proud beauty who will be trailing him off to London for the season, abandoning you. He wants a more settled sort of lady.

She continued with these animadversions for some time. Grace feared she had inadvertently made future trouble for Whewett, if he did indeed plan to marry this Mrs. Elton. She tried to tame down her description, but her first extravagant outpouring had made a vivid impression, and Lady Healy took the lady in violent dislike, sight unseen.

When it was time to eat, Grace was told she would eat in the nursery.

For I must speak to your papa about this Elton creature.

Grandma scowled.

Ask him to step down, Gussie.

Grace went upstairs and tapped at Whewett

s bedroom door. His valet was just brushing the shoulders of his evening jacket.

You can leave us, Jenner,

Whewett said.

Come in, Gussie. What

s up? You look worried.


I have made
a dreadful
mistake, and I

m very sorry.


She hasn

t found out?

he asked in alarm.


That I am not Augusta? No, but I have landed you in a pickle. I hope your heart is not
quite
set on Mrs. Elton?

He looked bewildered.

Who the devil is Mrs. Elton?


The lady who visited you at Downsfield, and you fell in love with. You cannot have forgotten her in six months!


I don

t know what you

re talking about.


Think! She was helping Gussie with her clothing. I assume she must be a close friend or family connection. I said she was your cousin

s widow.

Whewett touched his forehead.

Oh, Mrs. Elton. I remember her now.


Well, who is she?

He threw up his hand and laughed.

A dressmaker from the village. A schoolteacher

s widow. She was out some time ago to make up clothes for Augusta

s trip to Ireland. I recall my daughter had one of her infatuations with the woman. As Mrs. Elton was genteel, she took dinner with us and Invers. Gussie was fond of her. That is the sum and total of the great romance.


What a take-in.

Grace looked unconvinced.

Gussie

s letter hinted it was you who were fond of her.


No, she is an older woman. She must be forty.


That is not so old. You must have had an eye for her. Augusta would not have made it up out of whole cloth.


Yes, she would,

he said baldly.

She probably hoped I would marry the woman and give her a mother. She was a nice little old lady.


Oh, dear, and I told Grandma she was beautiful

gave her a sense of humor, liveliness, and all, just as you ordered. She has taken the idea Mrs. Elton is only after your title. She is convinced Augusta will be abandoned while the pair of you flaunt your bodies in London.


She must take me for a prime simpleton!


No, Mrs. Elton for a prime hussy. You are guilty of no more than a susceptibility to incomparables, as you told me yourself all men are.

Whewett looked at her in the mirror as he adjusted his cravat.

If you were my daughter, I

d turn you over my knee for such impertinence as criticizing your elders.


You

re ruining that nice design your valet made,

she said, unfazed.

I wager you

ve never laid a hand on Doll. I have just been thinking these past days what a lovely father you would make.

Whewett

s eyes flashed dangerously, and he gave the tie a yank that ruined it entirely.

Very flattering. And was that the great trouble, that I cannot marry old Mrs. Elton?


At the moment your cravat is the problem. Lean down. I am a bit of a dab with cravats. I used to help Papa.

He hesitated a moment before turning from the mirror.

You had best sit down, Whewett. You

re too tall.


I bend like a reed to your ministrations,

he said, and bent but did not sit, as he wanted to see the tie in the mirror.

Grace arranged the cravat, chatting nonchalantly all the while, unaware that Whewett was engrossed with their image in the mirror. It called up memories of married bliss. Just so had Irene used to fuss over him. It felt good, to have a woman cosseting him. He studied her long lashes, spread like fans on her cheeks.


You must go downstairs and be very biddable,

Grace advised.

Ingratiate yourself with Lady Healy by making a fine renunciation scene. She will love to think she

s saved you from ruin. But don

t give up Mrs. Elton without a fight. I made her so beautiful, just for you.

She patted the tie.

There. That

s better. Away you go.

She stood back to view her handiwork.


Are you not coming?


My tender young ears must be spared. Be sure you tell me all the details later. I shall be dining alone.

Whewett was aware of a stab of disappointment. He was coming to enjoy Grace

s easy, playful conversation.

Not again! No, that is too bad. I

ll speak to her.


Don

t bother. I

m more relaxed away from her.


I feel guilty that all the difficulties of the masquerade fall on you.


I shan

t mind. I

ll have my dollie for company,

she joked.

I call her Mrs. Elton, for she is very like my Mrs. Elton, with her blond curls. She

ll be a lively partner.


If she fails, you have plenty of liveliness to spare. Will you join us later?


If I am sent for. Otherwise I shall continue with the perils of Pamela. Frankly I am coming to despise her. I am half hoping Mr. B. will beat her with his sword hilt.


He--

She stopped him with a gimlet gaze.

Don

t tell me. The book is boring enough when I don

t know what is going to happen. Those pious, proper girls make for tedious fiction.


Not only fiction. They

re dead bores in real life, too. See you later, Doll.

Whewett went below to hear a diatribe on the vulgar, encroaching Mrs. Elton. He allowed Lady Healy to wring half a promise out of him that he would not marry her, but put up some resistance to allay suspicion. He did finally admit she was not the only lady he had in his eye.

Grace ate her potatoes and sausages alone, hid her bread pudding in the dustbin, and threw her warm milk out the window. When Molly came to inquire whether she had any laundry to be done, she decided to have her frock washed. The hem was muddied from playing with the geese, and besides, she wanted to have a bath while she was assured of an hour or so of privacy.

 

Chapter Eight

 

Molly felt obliged to help missie with her bath, and by the time Grace got rid of her, the water was growing chill. Her bath was more a dip than a luxurious soak, and when she emerged, she realized she would have to wear her own suit, as her dress was being laundered. She stood wrapped in a towel when the door to Whewett

s door reverberated with his knock.


Are you decent?

Whewett called.


Stay out! I am naked as a needle!


Throw something on. I want to see you for a moment.


It will take a while. I

ll join you when I

m dressed.

While she stared in consternation at the door, it began to open. She clutched at her towel, but only a hand came through, holding a man

s dressing gown. She took it and hastily pulled it around her, surprised at its elegance. The garment was richly patterned in deep hues of red and black, revealing a latent streak of the peacock in Whewett. The smooth caress of silk on skin felt luxurious. The robe fell to her ankles, and the fringed tie touched her toes when she moved to the door.


What is it?

she demanded.

Whewett

s gray eyes widened in surprise when he saw her.

Good God! You can

t let Grandma see you like this! Why did you not buy yourself a proper dressing gown?

His tone was harsh, but his eyes betrayed some pleasure in her appearance. With her curls pinned loosely on top of her head and her face glowing from its scrubbing, Grace looked entirely delectable, but she did not look twelve years old.


Buy a gown for two nights? What wicked extravagance! Is she coming right up?


Yes, she had a headache. She mentioned saying good-night to you before retiring.


Oh, dear! You must go! I

ll slip on my nightie.

Grace unceremoniously pushed Whewett into his own room and scrambled into her nightie. By the time Lady Healy arrived, she was in bed with her hair demurely tied up in bows, the doll beside her, and, unfortunately, one corner of
Pamela
protruding from beneath her pillow.

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