The Bride's Secret (15 page)

Because he was so masculine, she knew she would be unable to indefinitely deny him physical intimacy, intimacy she wanted no part of. As they sat there, their thighs parallel to each others', she became vitally aware of the closeness of their position. His muscled thighs served to remind her of his undeniable masculinity.

He leaned back and crossed his legs, boot to thigh, and watched the nearby fire for a moment before he spoke. “Stevie's almost too old for a nurse, but he needs someone to watch after him. As mistress of Yarmouth, you'll have many duties to perform and cannot have a child constantly underfoot.”

“What are you proposing?”

“The lady we engage should have qualities of both a nurse and a governess. It's time the lad learn how to read and how to do sums. His intelligence is most keen. You would appreciate the grasp of military strategy he's displayed. I shouldn't want to hold him back.”

“I thought perhaps it was just I who perceived how bright a lad he is,” she said with a smile.

He nodded. “He's as bright as a newly minted guinea—were guineas still being minted.”

“Before looking at these papers,” James said, “I propose we first draw up a list of qualities we seek.”

“An excellent suggestion.”

He went to the desk for paper and pen, which he promptly handed to his wife. “Penmanship is not my strong suit.”

Carlotta folded up the velum to several thicknesses and made ready to write. “First, I think, should be age. Stevie was most attached his first nurse—who came to him when she was only seventeen. The next one was grandmotherly, and he did not favor her nearly as well.”

James's eyes danced. “So the lad undoubtedly likes them young and pretty.”

Carlotta suppressed a smile. “Sarah—the first nurse—was, now that I think on it, quite pretty.” She began to write.

“I beg that you don't put
pretty
down on paper. I was only jesting. Such a quality is really not relevant.”

She gazed up at him through her thick lashes. “Then a fine appearance is not something you seek in a woman?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Carlotta regretted them. Now she was behaving as the old Carlotta always had. The flirtatious Carlotta. The Carlotta who was confident in her own beauty. The Carlotta she wished to bury in Bath.

He laughed. “Would that it were so,” he said ruefully, his heated gaze sweeping over her from the tip of her ebony head to the toes of her satin slippers.

Her insides began to tremble as she wrote down “Age: under five-and-twenty.” Then she looked back at him. “What next, my lord?”

“James,” he snapped. “You're to call me James.”

Her lashes dropped. “Yes, James,” she said softly.

He lifted her chin with a flick of his hand. “It's as if you're trying to distance yourself from the fact that you're my wife.”

She shook her head. “Never that. I'm very happy you have made me your wife. You're . . . you're only the second man I've known in the six years since Stephen died whom I would wish for a husband.” She saw that he stiffened at her words.
I should have lied and told him he was the first
.

His eyes flashed angrily. “Who was the other man?”

If she did not know better, she would wager James was jealous! She shook her head. “No one important. No one who returned my feelings.” She picked up the plume again. “What next?”

James was silent a moment. “Someone who has demonstrated her amiability with young children.”

Carlotta nodded as she wrote.

“And this person should be proficient at reading and writing and working with sums.”

While she was writing, a knock sounded on the library door, then Mrs. MacGinnis entered the room.

“My lord,” she began, “Mr. Fordyce tells me you are in the process of selecting a nurse for the young master.” She came to stand before them, a nervousness in her countenance, her hands twisting together.

James lifted a brow. “We are.”

“If I might be so bold,” Mrs. MacGinnis said, “I wish to recommend my niece for the position.”

“Your niece has experience being a nurse?” he asked.

The housekeeper shook her head. “Not actually, but she would be wonderful. You see, she loves children. She was responsible for her young brother and showed remarkable patience and maturity in her care of him and in the execution of her duties.”

James leaned back, hooking his thumbs together, his gaze fixed on the housekeeper. “Tell me about her, if you please.”

She sighed. “Her mother—my sister—is housekeeper to Sir Eldridge in Middlesex.”

He nodded.

“My niece Margaret was the third of four children. She had two elder sisters who are now married. Her prospects of attracting a husband of her own, unfortunately, are limited due to her plumpness.”

“She is fat?” Carlotta asked.

Mrs. MacGinnis shook her head. “I wouldn't say fat. It's just that she's a bit too round.”

The girl must bear a resemblance to her aunt, Carlotta thought. “How old is she?” Carlotta asked.

“She's nineteen and has a strong desire to secure a post as a nurse or governess.”

James's brows shot up. “A governess? Then she is educated?”

Mrs. MacGinnis nodded. “Oh, yes, milord. And you should see her penmanship! 'Tis like a work of art.”

“She's in Middlesex now?”

She nodded.

“Thank you, Mrs. MacGinnis,” James said in a dismissive voice. “My wife and I shall give serious consideration to engaging your niece.”

Once the door was closed behind the housekeeper, James's and Carlotta's eyes locked.

“What think you?” he asked.

“She sounds perfect!”

“I agree. Should you like to engage her, sight unseen?”

“You've spoken so highly of her aunt, the girl obviously comes from good stock.”

“And the fact that she's educated should move her to the top of our list.”

Carlotta nodded. “Go ahead, dearest. Engage the girl.”

“Very well.”

* * *

Carlotta's tour of the house was delayed for half an hour as the housekeeper drafted and posted a letter to her niece. While Carlotta waited, she went to fetch Stevie from Peggy.

“Perhaps now that I'm relieving you of Stevie,” Carlotta said to her maid, “you'll have time to unpack your own things. I know you didn't arrive until quite late last night.”

“I'll unpack and press yer things as well, milady.”

Carlotta nodded and gave her hand to Stevie. “Come, lamb, we shall go take a tour of our new house.”

As they descended the stairs, Stevie said, “Yarmouth doesn't seem like a house, Mama. It seems like a palace. It's so big!”

“That it is. I pray we don't get lost.”

But once she saw the house, Carlotta realized its perfect symmetry should keep her from getting lost. Thank goodness, she thought, there weren't haphazard additions jutting out at all angles, as there were in many old houses belonging to the nobility.

During the tour and the seemingly endless procession of bed chambers, Stevie asked Mrs. MacGinnis how many bed chambers there were.

“Three and forty,” the housekeeper replied with a pride equal to that of an owner.

“But I thought the old earl had no children,” Stevie said.

“You must understand, lamb,” Carlotta said, “earls are very important people who have many guests who come stay with them.”

“King George I himself came to Yarmouth in 1719,” the housekeeper boasted. “He liked to hunt in the nearby wood.”

Stevie's eyes rounded. “Think you our king will come here?”

“Our king's very sick—and besides, Lord Rutledge is not acquainted with him,” Carlotta said. She stopped to examine a portrait of a wigged and powdered gentleman.

“That was the old earl,” Mrs. MacGinnis said.

Carlotta studied the portrait carefully but decided he bore no resemblance to her husband.

“Were there children here when the other king came?” Stevie asked Mrs. MacGinnis.

“Indeed. The third earl had fourteen children.”

“I wish my mama—and papa—had fourteen children.”

Carlotta set a hand to his shoulder, silently pleased at the ease with which Stevie had accepted James as his father. “I daresay you'll find children here to be your friends.”

Mrs. MacGinnis nodded. “This place is going to come alive now. It's has been far too dreary for far too many years. Very few of the bed chambers have even been used since I came here.” She began to mount the stairs to the top floor. “When I first came, the old countess was alive, and she was happiest when all the rooms were filled. Then the poor lady took a fever and died suddenly.” Mrs. MacGinnis shook her head sadly. “The old earl was never the same after she died.”

Carlotta paused in front of a window near the stairwell and gazed first at the parterre garden to the rear of the house, then the magnificence of the land north of the estate arrested her attention. Patches of farmland in varying shades of green gave way further north to smooth hills lush with vegetation.

“I should think,” Carlotta said to the housekeeper, “the lack of residents here, though, has surely made your position easier,” Carlotta said to Mrs. MacGinnis.

The housekeeper shrugged. “I would prefer to be worked ragged. I take great pleasure in setting a full table and in having the guest rooms bursting with people. Perhaps his lordship, now that he is married, will bring life back to Yarmouth.”

“Perhaps,” Carlotta said, though she did not wish to open up Yarmouth and jeopardize her secure position as the wife James valued. Were others to converge on the house, James would be certain to learn about Gregory.

Mrs. MacGinnis led the way to the top floor.

“Has my husband made many changes since coming here?” Carlotta asked.

“Most of us believe he's saved Yarmouth.”

Carlotta's brows drew together. “How?”

“As I said, the old earl lost interest in everything, including Yarmouth, after the countess died. He reduced the staff because he did not wish to keep three-and-forty chambers cleaned and dusted for guests who would never come, never be invited. He allowed the house to begin to fall to ruin.”

Carlotta glanced around her. “It seems well maintained to me.”

“That's because the new Lord Rutledge has worked tirelessly to restore the house to what it should be. He's put much of his fortune back into it—and into the mines.” Mrs. MacGinnis chuckled. “When we heard the new Lord Rutledge was a young bachelor, many of us expected he would drain the estates to feed his lavish ways in town.”

Carlotta burst into laughter. “So you expected him to be the absentee earl! That is too funny. To know my husband is to know of his acute sense of duty.”

The housekeeper nodded her agreement. “Nearly every person here in Exmoor owes his livelihood to Lord Rutledge, and all of them think he likely hung the stars in the sky.”

So it's not just me who owes him so much
. “Pray tell, why is he so highly regarded?”

“Even though the old earl did not choose to spend money, he was obsessed with making it. The mines were unsafe, but he refused to put money into making them safer and would not hear of shutting down the unsafe ones.”

Stevie looked up at her. “Did anyone die in the mines?”

“Aye, lad,” Mrs. MacGinnis said, nodding mournfully. “There have been three tragedies in recent years. A total of one and twenty lives lost.”

Carlotta winced. “You're saying these are losses that could have been prevented?”

Mrs. MacGinnis shrugged. “That's what I've been told. As soon as your husband learned the details, he called all the miners together and told them he would do whatever it took to make the mines safe. He told them one life lost was one too many. They cheered him mightily.”

Carlotta was filled with pride. “He told me he's had to close some of the mines that were unsafe.”

“At a great financial loss to himself, I am told.” Mrs. MacGinnis stopped, took a key from her pocket and opened a chamber door. “This is one of the maid's rooms—actually it's not occupied at present because Kate, the one who formerly lived here, married and took a post in Minehead.”

Stevie ran into the room and glanced all around. “It's not nearly as big as my chamber.”

“But it's a comfortable looking room,” Carlotta defended.

“Aye,” Mrs. MacGinnis said, exiting the room, waiting with key in hand to relock it. “All the rooms on this floor are occupied by the staff.”

They started back down the stairs.

“Where is Mr. Fordyce's study?” Carlotta asked.

“Forgive me, my lady, for neglecting to show it you. When you see it, you'll understand how easy it would be to forget it. Mr. Fordyce's office is almost like a secret room off the library. Come, I'll take you there now.”

They walked down to the first floor and into the library. Carlotta's glance flicked to her husband's desk, but he was no longer there or anywhere in the room. Mrs. MacGinnis slid her hand along a shelf of Latin books, and then a twelve-foot tall section of the shelves swung inward into Mr. Fordyce's brightly lit study.

He was sitting at his desk by the window when he looked up and saw them. “Good day, my lady,” he said as he stood up. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I thought to get acquainted with you.” Carlotta glanced at Mrs. MacGinnis, “Please take Stevie to my maid, if you will, Mrs. MacGinnis. He'll be needing to get some sunshine.”

When Mrs. MacGinnis went to the leave the room, she began to close off its entry.

“That's not necessary, Mrs. MacGinnis,” Carlotta said. “You can leave it open.” Carlotta must endeavor to keep any kind of scandal from further tarnishing her name.

Alone with Mr. Fordyce, Carlotta said, “So this is where you work.” She strolled about the chamber, then came to stand in front of him. “May I sit down?”

“Please do.” He waited until she sat before he did likewise.

The exceedingly fair secretary looked to be slightly younger than James, yet a seriousness about him—and the fact he wore spectacles—made him seem older. Although his clothing and his voice were that of a gentleman, his unstylishly slicked hair was completely at odds with a man of fashion.

“How long have you been at Yarmouth, Mr. Fordyce?”