Sally MacKenzie Bundle (157 page)

“I confess I don’t know whom your father married, Miss Hamilton,” Lady Gladys said as soon as the coach lurched into motion. “David became the black sheep when he left England. The old earl never spoke of him.”

“I didn’t really know my mother, either, Lady Gladys.” Sarah had only vague memories of a soft voice and flame-colored hair. “Her name was Susan MacDonald. Her father was a Philadelphian flour merchant.”

“A Scottish tradesman.” Lady Amanda folded her hands and sniffed.

Sarah did not care for the criticism she detected in Lady Amanda’s tone. “He was a very good tradesman. If my father had had a jot of my grandfather’s business sense, I’m sure I would not be penniless now.”

Lady Gladys smiled. “I’m sure you are right, my dear.” She turned to Lady Amanda. “Really, Amanda, Miss Hamilton’s connection to trade is not significant. You know that
successful
merchants are always acceptable.”

“True. The
ton
overlooks the dirt on their hands for the money in their pockets. And let us not forget, Miss Hamilton
is
an American. Some allowance can be made for her on those grounds.”

Sarah straightened her spine. She disliked the criticism of her country even more than the criticism of her family. She opened her mouth to object, but the older ladies had their heads together, completely ignoring her.

“James could marry an actress—not that he would, of course,” Lady Gladys said, “and society would accept it.”

“Exactly. No one wants to risk losing the Duke of Alvord’s favor.” Lady Amanda looked Sarah over. Sarah lifted her chin, and the older woman smiled. “She does look a bit like a duchess at the moment. I think she’ll do, Gladys.”

“I rather think so, too.” The women smiled at Sarah; Sarah smiled back cautiously. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she was about to lose control of her life.

“I see you’ve already put off mourning, my dear,” Lady Gladys said.

“Yes. I would have worn black, but there was no money for a new wardrobe, nor any time to make it. And my father would not have expected it. Why make the world a drearier place, he used to say, by decking yourself out in black?”

Lady Gladys nodded. “Then I hope you won’t object to wearing colors and dancing when we take Lizzie up to London?”

“No.” Sarah hesitated. “I don’t object. I would like to be helpful, but…”

“We don’t have to put it about when Miss Hamilton’s father died,” Lady Amanda said. “If anyone is bold enough to ask—as Richard might be—we’ll just say they do things differently in the colonies.”

“Yes,” Lady Gladys agreed. “There may be some raised eyebrows, but it’s not as if Sarah is just out of the schoolroom or on the catch for a husband. She’ll soon be wearing the Alvord emerald.”

Sarah shifted in her seat. “Lady Gladys, I really don’t think you should assume your nephew and I are going to get married.”

“Of course you’ll marry him, girl.” Lady Amanda looked at Sarah as if she had two heads. “The man’s a duke, wealthy, young, and handsome. What more could you possibly want?”

“I don’t know.” Sarah shrugged helplessly. “This is all so confusing.”

“What’s confusing?” Lady Amanda looked at James’s aunt. “It seems crystal clear to me, doesn’t it to you, Gladys?”

“Yes.” Lady Gladys reached over and patted Sarah’s hand. “Tell us what the problem is, Miss Hamilton.”

The problem, Sarah thought, was that she was a penniless American girl and James a wealthy English duke, but what she blurted out was “I don’t dance.”

Gladys and Amanda startled as if Sarah had said she didn’t eat or breathe.

“You aren’t a Methodist, are you?” Lady Gladys asked.

“No. I don’t object to dancing, I just never learned how. I’ve never been to a ball, and I’ve never had a suitor.” Surely now these ladies would see how far removed plain Miss Hamilton was from the glittering world of the Duke of Alvord. “My only friends were the two spinster ladies who lived next door.”

“My dear,” Lady Gladys said, “how dreadful! It sounds to me as if you’ve been in mourning your entire life.”

“Indeed.” Lady Amanda could not have looked more shocked. “No balls, no young men! How very dreary.”

Lady Gladys smiled. “Even if you weren’t going to marry James—and maybe you aren’t,” she said as Sarah started to protest, “you deserve some fun in your life, dear. I suggest you take this as an opportunity to live a little. Enjoy yourself. Dress up. Dance. Flirt. I’m confident James can present himself in a credible enough fashion to win your regard.”

Sarah looked at the two older women who were watching her so expectantly. For some reason, she did not want to disappoint them—and, if she were completely honest, she didn’t want to disappoint herself. The thought of Miss Sarah Hamilton, a lowly teacher at the Abington Academy for Young Ladies and the daughter of a penniless republican, attending such glittering events was dazzling.

“All right.”

“Splendid.” Both ladies beamed at her. Then Lady Gladys glanced out the window.

“Ah, we’re home!”

Sarah leaned forward so she could see where James lived. Her jaw dropped. She was looking at a medieval castle.

“That’s
your home?”

“Yes. The first Duke of Alvord fought with William the Conqueror,” Lady Gladys said. “He built the original castle. Subsequent dukes have added on and remodeled the place, filled in part of the moat, extended the grounds and gardens, and built on a terrace in the back. It’s very comfortable now, not drafty or damp at all.”

The castle was situated on a lake, surrounded by rolling, forested hillsides and meadows. Sarah stared at the gray stone edifice, the crenellated turrets, and the drawbridge.
This
was where James lived? She had taken Richard’s words literally when he had said James was opening his “little” home to her.

“Quite an impressive sight, is it not?” Lady Amanda sounded smug. “Alvord Castle has over twenty bedrooms. The grounds cover five-hundred acres.”

“Oh, Amanda, stop it.” Lady Gladys laughed. “You sound like a penny guidebook.”

“I’m sure Sarah has never seen such a stately residence before, Gladys.”

“And how kind of you to point it out. Pray, excuse Amanda, Sarah. It must be a touch of the gout that has her out of spirits.”

“Gout! You know I do not suffer from gout, Gladys.”

The carriage rattled over the drawbridge, under the portcullis, and up a circular drive. It stopped in front of a pair of huge wooden doors. A footman came up to let down the carriage steps. James was right behind him.

“We had a nice visit with your Sarah, James,” Lady Gladys said as she allowed James to hand her down the steps.

“Yes,” Lady Amanda said, following behind Gladys. “Now if you will just do your part, we can welcome a new bride to Alvord. It’s about time you looked to the succession, you know.”

“Yes, Lady Amanda,” James said meekly. He grinned at Sarah as the other women went inside. “I see you have charmed the ladies. I think they like you.”

Sarah wrinkled her nose at him.
“I
think they want to get you married and I’m the likeliest candidate they’ve seen recently.”

James laughed. “Perhaps.” He kept her hand as she stepped onto the gravel drive. “Welcome to Alvord, Sarah. I do hope you will feel at home here.”

“It’s a little overwhelming.” That was an understatement. She surveyed the large building before her. Lady Amanda was right. She certainly had never seen anything like this in Philadelphia.

“It is a bit of a barn, but I won’t let you get lost in it.”

“James!” A girl with James’s sun-streaked hair appeared just inside the huge wooden doors. She launched herself at him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back.

“Lizzie, I was only gone overnight.” He shook his head half in amusement, half in exasperation.

“But you are never gone, James. Not without telling us. You are so reliable that we were sure
something
must have happened. A highwayman or…or something.”

“Lizzie, there are no highwaymen in Kent.” He looked at Sarah. “As you can see, I am sadly domesticated. I cannot have a single night of carousing without my womenfolk setting up a hue and cry.” He turned the girl to face Sarah. “As I’m sure you’ve guessed already, this is my scapegrace sister, Lizzie. Lizzie, let me make known to you Miss Sarah Hamilton of Philadelphia.”

“How do you do, Lizzie?” Sarah smiled. Lizzie reminded her of many of her older students at the Abington Academy for Young Ladies. At seventeen, she was on the brink of adulthood. Not yet a woman, but no longer a child, she was a volatile mix of poise and exuberance.

“Welcome, Miss Hamilton. I don’t believe I’ve met someone from the colonies before.”

“Lizzie, I think Sarah would prefer that you refer to her homeland as the United States. The colonies won their independence a few years ago, you know,” James teased. “At least I hope you know. I’d hate to think I’ve wasted vast sums of money on your governess.”

Lizzie frowned and flushed slightly. “I didn’t mean any offense, Miss Hamilton.”

“No indeed. And you must call me Sarah. I confess that this is my first journey outside Philadelphia, so perhaps you can help me get adjusted to England. I’ve already told your brother that I find English titles very confusing.”

“And vexing,” James put in. Sarah smiled.

“I shall try to conform, no matter how much it goes against the grain,
my grace.”

Lizzie giggled. “It’s
your grace.”

“What’s your grace?” Sarah asked.

Lizzie laughed harder.
“Who’s
‘your grace.’ James. He’s ‘your grace.’”

Sarah felt even more mystified. “Isn’t that what I said?”

James laughed. “What my sister is trying to say, Sarah, is that the proper form of address for a duke is ‘your grace,’ not ‘my grace.’”

“Why? Didn’t you tell me I could call you ‘my grace’?” Sarah thought back over that conversation and blushed. Perhaps that wasn’t quite what James had meant. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I’m supposed to say ‘my lord,’ aren’t I?”

James nodded.

“So why not ‘my grace’?”

“You wouldn’t address the king as ‘my majesty,’ Sarah,” Lizzie said, “but as ‘your majesty.’”

“I address God as ‘my God.’ Is a king or a duke of higher rank than the Almighty?”

“Some would like to think so,” James said, chuckling. He put up a hand as Sarah drew breath to argue. “But, I hasten to add I am not among their number, so you can lower your republican hackles. Now, shall we go in and get you settled?” He took her arm and started walking toward the door.

“Is Sarah staying with us, James? I don’t see her bags.”

“That’s because they are, unfortunately, at the bottom of Liverpool harbor. But yes, she’s staying here and going up to London with us for the Season.”

Lizzie looked surprised, but was obviously too well-bred to ask more questions. Sarah did not want to go into
all
the details, but she thought some explanation was warranted.

“Your brother is helping me out of a predicament, Lizzie. When my father died in December, he insisted that I come to England. We didn’t know that his brother had also died, and that Robbie was the new Lord Westbrooke. Since I can’t stay with Robbie, your brother has graciously offered to let me stay here.”

“He has?” Lizzie grinned, looking even more like her brother. “Well, I’m glad. It will be fun to have you here.” She glanced back at James. “You never said what you were doing at the Green Man, James.
Were
you carousing?”

“No, I was not! And even if I was, I wouldn’t tell you.” He nodded at the very proper, very elderly butler standing just inside the front door. “You weren’t worried about me, too, were you, Layton?”

“Of course not, your grace.” Layton bowed slightly. He had a thick mane of white hair and a very imposing nose. Sarah thought he looked much more like a duke than James did. “I tried to reassure the ladies, but Lady Gladys will worry.”

James shook his head. “I should have given them more reason to worry when I was younger.”

“I believe the ladies would say you gave them plenty of reason to worry when you were fighting Napoleon, your grace.”

They stepped into a cavernous entrance hall where a short, plump woman waited for them. The brown hair beneath her cap was liberally streaked with gray.

“Ah, Mrs. Stallings, we have a guest. Will you show Miss Hamilton to the blue bedroom?”

“Certainly, your grace. If you will come with me, Miss Hamilton?”

“And I’ll help you settle in, shall I?” Lizzie said, linking arms with Sarah.

James frowned. “Sarah might like some time alone, Lizzie.”

“I won’t be any trouble. You don’t mind, do you, Sarah? I’d like to get acquainted.”

Sarah looked at the younger girl. Lizzie was smiling hopefully back at her. It was an odd but welcome feeling to have her company sought. None of her students, even those close to her in age, had ever attempted to bridge the gulf between them. She was not sure she would have let them if they had tried. She had been too afraid of losing her authority.

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Don’t be a pest, Lizzie,” James called after them as they followed Mrs. Stallings’s solid form up the stairs.

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Really,” she whispered to Sarah, “sometimes James seems to think I’m still ten years old.”

Sarah laughed. “I noticed. I envy you. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

“Here we are, Miss Hamilton.” Mrs. Stallings opened a door and led the way into a lovely bedroom.

“It’s beautiful.” There was a note of awe in Sarah’s voice.

The room was at least four times the size of her room in Philadelphia. The walls were covered in pale blue fabric, and darker blue swagged curtains and blue-cushioned seats framed the large windows that flooded the space with light. A delicate blue lacquer desk and chair stood off to her left while two upholstered chairs were grouped by the fire. A thick carpet, a geometric pattern of blues and gold, covered most of the floor.

Sarah felt like an imposter. This room was far too grand for her, but then James’s servants’ rooms were likely more spacious than her small bedroom at home.