Royal Regard (8 page)

Charlotte smoothed her skirt and
unconsciously tapped her beaded violet silk slipper as if she were
still in last night’s ballroom.

“The Duke of Wellbridge would have danced
with you with the slightest encouragement. He was staring all
night.”

“And yet, like every other gentleman, he
never asked,” Bella noted, as she threaded pink silk through the
needle. A sudden crash of the burning log sent sparks flying about
the hearth. Bella found the sudden heat set her shivering, and
Charlotte moved quickly to make sure no errant flames caught the
muddy-gold carpet. Finding none, she added a small log and returned
to her seat.

“Can you blame him after the slur on Lord
Malbourne? Everyone heard it.” Charlotte observed. “Besides, his
sister had him dancing with debutantes all evening.”

As she threaded the needle with a dark grey,
Bella asked, “Which one was Wellbridge?”

“The terribly handsome man whose attendance
on the dance floor was enforced by the Viscountess Nockham all
night.”

“I don’t know Lady Nockham. I don’t know
anyone, you might recall.”

“You remember Lady Allison. She tried to run
off in her brother’s clothes to stow away on his ship.”

Bella laughed aloud, “I do remember that. I
envied her until they dragged her home and locked her up in the
country. I will make a point to encourage an acquaintance.”

“Indeed.” Charlotte was suddenly as crafty as
a politician arranging a bribe, painting a circle on the floor with
the toe of her shoe. “If only because Wellbridge is the
brother.”

Bella turned away to continue needling
Charlotte as pointedly as her embroidery. “And which gentleman was
Wellbridge exactly?”

“For Heaven’s sake, you needn’t pretend to be
so silly. He was the one you caught staring over the shoulder of a
girl-in-white every time you looked.” Charlotte poked Bella in the
arm. “Not that you were looking.”

Bella conceded, “With the blond hair?”

“Yes, in the green waistcoat to match his
eyes.”

“I’m afraid I didn’t make a study of his
eyes,” Bella said, tying off a final French knot and trimming the
thread.

“A shame. He does have remarkable eyes. He’s
still as handsome as sin, even at nearly fifty, and finally the
duke. Second son until his brother died a few years ago, but the
Northopes have always been flush in the pocket. Debutantes have
been throwing their handkerchiefs at him for decades.”

Bella tugged loose another strand of pink
thread the length of her arm, then pulled the red silk from the
basket and set it carefully on her knee.

“If he’s escaped the matrimonial noose this
long, why do they still bother?”

“Well, just look at him! Knee breeches make
every man look silly, but you should see him in buckskins… And the
way his shoulders fill out his coat… When his hair comes loose and
falls across his forehead, I could lose my breath entirely.”
Charlotte went a bit dreamy-eyed, “He rides every morning, and the
way he sits a horse is just—”

Bella poked the back of her cousin’s hand
with the sewing needle.

“Ouch!” Charlotte exclaimed, snatching up the
same scrap of cloth Bella had used to stop the bleeding. “Why did
you do that?!”

“To remind you of your husband.”

Charlotte glowered, but with no real malice.
“Fine, Miss Marplot, spoil my fun. Aside from his more
obvious
attributes, he might have the largest fortune in
England. At least that is what Alexander says.”

“What is wrong with this paragon? Why has he
not been leg-shackled long since?”

Charlotte whispered like a spy, from the
corner of her mouth, her voice lowered as though this particular
gossip might earn her a rebuke from her mother. “He’s sworn for
years he will never marry. Says he has no need, since he can borrow
other men’s wives.”

“Borrow?” Bella’s eyebrow seemed to pull her
nose up so she could more easily look down it.

Charlotte kept her voice low, looking around
for misplaced servants. “He only takes up with married women.
Alexander watches him like a hawk, as though a man like Wellbridge
would ever want me.” She rolled her eyes. “He is older than the
Alps, of course. I might not mention him at all, but Lady Allison
has sworn to have him married by special license inside the month,
before he is too ancient to produce an heir. You’ll have to put
your oar in right away if you want to snare him.”

“It doesn’t bear discussing, if only because
the idea of ‘snaring’ anyone is ghastly. I already have a husband
and no intention of becoming some man’s mistress. Even if I had, no
man so handsome as that will look twice at me. He was either struck
dumb by my spectacular ugliness or wondered why a
kaffir
was
invited to Almack’s.”

“You aren’t so very ugly,” Charlotte observed
blithely. Her face indicated Mrs. Jemison returning, so Bella set
aside her needlework, as well as any sharp retort.

The housekeeper slid the tea tray onto the
table, followed by a maid with a huge platter piled with scones,
crumpets, and teacakes of every description, as well as butter,
clotted cream, honey, and three types of jam.

Before Bella could dismiss them, Charlotte
asked Mrs. Jemison, “Do you not have maids to carry tea trays?”
Before the woman answered, Charlotte snatched at the younger girl’s
hand, holding it closer to the oil lamp. “This looks like she’s
been scrubbing pots all day and night, and the uniform is much too
large. Why are you trying to pass off scullery maids in Her
Ladyship’s sitting room?”

Mrs. Jemison flushed red, but it could have
been out of embarrassment, frustration, or outright anger, and she
was reticent to explain herself. If her grey hair weren’t slicked
back in a tight bun, it would be shaking in indignation, fear, or
dismay.

Charlotte insisted, “Do you not have enough
maids?”

The housekeeper took a deep breath, looking
at Bella, hoping to be dismissed, but Bella just shook her head and
indicated with her hand that there was no stopping Charlotte. She
leaned over the sewing basket to find the tiny bit of yellow thread
she would need for the bird’s talons and beak.

Charlotte would stand for no more
impertinence. “Well? Answer me.”

“We are only just staffing the house, my
lady. Lord and Lady Holsworthy have only been here a sennight,
and…” The housekeeper looked at the Turkish carpet.

Charlotte stared suspiciously at Bella, but
addressed Mrs. Jemison. “Lady Holsworthy opened the door for me
this morning…” Mrs. Jemison scowled. “I suppose I must ask: does
the house not have a butler?”

“No, Your Ladyship. There have just been the
three of us here in the empty house since Lord and Lady Holsworthy
left. He only acquired it a few months before then, so it was never
fully outfitted, but some furniture and staff came with the house,
myself included, and Lord Holsworthy was kind enough to keep us
on.”

“No butler, no lady’s maid, no valet, no
driver, no parlor maids.”

“No, my lady. And we’ve rented nearly
everything until the baroness can choose her own appointments.”

“I was told. Pray, continue.”

Mrs. Jemison looked over at Bella again,
begging with her eyes for a reprieve, but as soon as Bella saw it,
she pulled more thread from the basket to be sorted. It might make
her a coward, but she had been allowing Charlotte her way,
especially with servants, for more than thirty years. Bella wasn’t
going to change her tune just as it might benefit her for the first
time in their lives.

“Mr. Watts took another position just after
the baron left to be married, as there was no reason to keep a full
complement in an empty house. A man wants to use his skills, you
understand.” Charlotte nodded. “Lord Holsworthy has never
entertained here, not even a few men for supper. Now, besides me,
there is the cook—Mrs. Elliott—and Hannah,” she waved her hand at
the maid, “who most often does as she’s told and will soon make a
better parlor maid than scullery drudge. Now that we once again
need parlor maids.” Her glance slid over Bella, hoping her mistress
might not see the non-verbal excoriation. “Mrs. Elliott’s son helps
with repairs and the garden.”

Charlotte said, quietly, “You may go, Hannah,
but you will trim and clean underneath your fingernails and press
your uniform before you appear again before Lord or Lady Holsworthy
or their guests. Mrs. Jemison will measure you later today for
appropriate upstairs attire, and we shall try you as a parlor maid.
You may tell Cook to find a new kitchen girl when she goes to
market.”

The girl bobbed a curtsey, mumbled, “Yes,
Your Ladyship,” and managed not to run until she cleared the
doorway.

Now that Mrs. Jemison had an audience for her
complaints, she continued, “We’ve only just hired two footmen
yesterday, Clarence and Benjamin, Mrs. Elliott’s nephews, both too
young to know their business, but I’ll have to advertise for a
butler if Mr. Watts can’t be located or is under contract. If he is
not available, Heaven knows how long it will take to find a good
one. I don’t even have livery for the boys yet.” Mrs. Jemison
hardly took a breath. “Lady Holsworthy said she preferred no lady’s
maid, and Lord Holsworthy said a valet was an unnecessary expense,
but I’ve heard from Lady Windersal’s cook they’re to be called
before the king tomorrow, and we have been at sixes and sevens—if
we had known they were coming home…”

Charlotte snapped, “Dash it, Bella! You could
have written to me, and your house would be ready even if the king
wanted to visit. If nothing else, you should have called me here as
soon as you saw the dust in the curtains.”

Bella spoke in a feeble, whiny tone, most out
of character, so Charlotte paid closer attention as she explained,
“I had no idea we were coming home until we were halfway to Calais.
Myron had business in Lille, but he took a bad turn, so I—He had
agreed—” She stopped before she revealed more to her servants than
she wished. “I did send notice, just not much.”

Charlotte nodded slightly to show Bella she
understood the half-explanation, then turned back to the
housekeeper. “This is in no way your fault, Mrs. Jemison. My cousin
simply has no experience managing a proper London residence.”

Bella’s nostrils flared, both at the
insinuation and Charlotte making it in front of her staff—as though
they were still girls speaking to the housekeeper in Charlotte’s
parents’ home—but it was too late to comment now. It would only
make things worse. Mrs. Jemison showed no reaction but the most
minute of nods.

Either not noticing or not caring about
Bella’s sensibilities, Charlotte turned to her cousin. “One would
think you might have overcome such deficiency by now.” The
housekeeper looked as though she might follow Charlotte right into
battle, were she asked.

Bella snapped, “My deficiencies are not your
concern.” Mrs. Jemison took a step back, but then regained her
footing, moving infinitesimally closer to Charlotte.

Charlotte talked over Bella, focusing her
attention entirely on the servant. “I shall send several of our
staff to attend Lord and Lady Holsworthy for their appointment
tomorrow, and I will ask our housekeeper, Mrs. Pearson, to join
them to assist with anything you might need. You may expect them at
eight in the morning. Lord Holsworthy’s audience at Court won’t be
scheduled any earlier than two, although if the invitation
specifies otherwise, you must send a footman immediately.”

“Thank you so very much, my lady. I can’t
tell you how poorly this has all been—”

Charlotte held up her hand to forestall
comment from anyone else on Bella’s household management. “Lady
Holsworthy is managing extremely trying circumstances, which will
require the discreet assistance of you and your staff. If you
cannot represent her adequately without discussing it with Lady
Windersal’s cook, we will make other arrangements.”

Mrs. Jemison cringed. “No, my lady. I
understand.”

“You will have a firm household budget by
this time tomorrow, but you may begin hiring interim staff
immediately through any service you prefer. Please refer any
questions or concerns you might have about Lord Holsworthy’s home
to Mrs. Pearson. She will act with perfect discretion, and anything
she cannot accomplish, I will.”

“Staff,” Bella insisted, flinging silks into
the basket like jackstones. “
Only staff
, and it is my home.
You cannot start deciding—”

As the housekeeper was leaving, Charlotte
told Bella, “Between us, Mrs. Jemison and I will have you sorted in
no time.” Just as she cleared the door, Charlotte briefly recalled
Mrs. Jemison. “Please tell Cook her teacakes look delightful, and
Lady Holsworthy has just invited me for nuncheon before we go
shopping.”

Opening night of
Il Barbiere di
Siviglia
at the Italian Opera House, Nick saw Lady
Holsworthy—no, Lady Huntleigh—the second time. She and her husband
visited the boxes of Lord Huntleigh’s more important investors, and
Nick was the guest of Lord Pinnester, who had brought Seventh Sea
Shipping to the attention of the last king thirty years
earlier.