The Virtuous Ward (Sweet Deception Regency #5) (3 page)

"I think, Dev, that this season should run quite as planned," Max stated. "Unless Endurance is a complete antidote, I should be able to look over her prospects and come up with an acceptable match for her. In the meantime, I will have plenty of opportunity to consider Honoria's suitability as my wife."

"Have you given no consideration to the possibility that you might look for a woman to love?"

"Love is not a proper requisite for entering into a lifelong contract," Max answered pompously.

"Two years ago I might have agreed with your assessment, but, now that I have experienced the absolute bliss of a loving relationship, I find I cannot concur." Dev's face was troubled as he looked with fondness at his old friend. "As you know I scoffed at love but I can say that without Jena I would find little to convince me of the value of life. She is a constant joy to me, Max."

"I admit you have found happiness with Jena, but she is unique. I have vast experience with woman and feel I understand them quite well." Hearing a loud moan, Max stared at his friend in surprise.

"Now I know you have lost what little sense you possess," Dev stated, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Any man who announces he understands woman is doomed. The good Lord never intended us to understand, merely to enjoy."

Max waved his hand as if dismissing all his friend's arguments. "It is my way, old thing. I have arranged my life to function like a well-oiled machine. I do not want the disruptions and turmoils so common to the state of lovesick swains. Each of my estates is run to my specifications. My townhouse is Spartan, well ordered and easy to maintain. I want no confusion in my life."

"Sometimes there is great happiness in confusion."

"Perhaps for some," Max conceded. "But for me, I go the reasonable route. One need only realize that making a proper marriage is not unlike any other purchase. One must select the merchandise with great care to avoid flaws in the materials. Careful consideration is always the best plan."

Having been married for two years, Dev was wise enough to realize that where men and women were concerned things seldom ran according to plan. A low-cut dress and a pair of mischievous eyes could work havoc on the best of intentions. Dev's face registered concern that his friend should discount the joys of love. He could but hope that the season ahead would produce some young deb who, for Max, might turn out to be the perfect mate.

Chapter Two

"Remind me to keep my hands quiet and a still tongue in my head," Amity cried, wriggling on the carriage seat. "It's all so exciting but I must admit I am a trifle nervous. How will I remember all the lessons on proper etiquette, Muffin?"

Receiving only a snore in reply, Endurance Amity Fraser turned to stare out the carriage window. Not that she ever thought of herself as Endurance. She much preferred her second name and had adopted it for her own. Sometimes it was difficult to respond since no one at Beech House ever called her anything but Endurance. Amity thought the name sounded like some squinty-eyed spinster who would wear drab bombazine and a look of martyrdom etched on her face.

She grinned as the carriage hit a particularly nasty pothole, jolting her companion on the seat. The additional movement had little effect on the sleeper and, with a sniff of annoyance, Amity let her thoughts wander to her coming meeting with her guardian. Perhaps in eleven years she had changed enough to find favor in his eyes. She was too aware that she could never claim to be a beauty. Red hair, freckles and pale white skin on a tall frame were not in vogue, Amity thought, wrinkling her tip-tilted nose in dismay. She could but hope that she would make a better impression on him than she had the first time.

Amity could remember her one and only interview with her guardian. The evening of her parents' funeral, after all the mourners had left, she had been called to the library to meet with Lord Max. Although she had seen him during the day, there had been so many people milling around the manor house that she had not spoken to him except to receive his condolences.

Closing her eyes, Amity could bring back the scene in the library with total clarity. Max had been sitting at her father's desk, dressed in his funeral black, face composed into the expected sober lines. He had looked up when she entered the room as though he expected her to break into tears or fall down in a fit. Amity recalled forcing herself to remain expressionless although inside she was quaking with fear and loneliness. She would have liked nothing better than to curl up on his lap and place her head on his chest and feel the warmth of his arms around her. Perhaps if he had been older, but Max was a young man forced to take on the responsibility of a ten year old girl. He would be embarrassed at such a display of emotion. So Amity had composed her expression and waited with anticipation for him to explain his plans for her.

As Max surveyed her from her flyaway red curls to her scuffed half boots, Amity could see equal parts of disappointment and distaste mirrored in the green depths of his eyes. She had straightened her spine and shrugged away the suspicion of tears that threatened to rain down her cheeks. By her bravery alone she hoped to prove her worthiness. But all her stratagems were to no avail. She would have no new home. Max was leaving her at Beech House where she had been born and had lived for ten years.

After Max became her guardian, and despite her original disappointment, Amity began to hope that her life would change for the better. For two years she had looked forward to Christmas when she assumed that he would invite her to his home residence so she might partake of the festivities among family and friends. There had been no invitation, just a holiday-wrapped box of books. As the third Christmas arrived she had buried her hopes, determined to create her own memories instead of depending on others. From then on she was able to open, without anger or frustration, the box of books Max sent as a suitable present. She found amusement in his choice of self-improvement books and chuckled at their reading.

Aside from the Christmas books, never once in the last eleven years had she received a letter, a gift or a visit from her guardian. All instructions as to her care and education were sent to Mrs. Dimwittier, the housekeeper, and thus to the current governess who passed on what information she thought proper to Amity. At first Amity had been hurt but, never prone to self-pity, she eventually realized that a young man would have little in common with a child. Yet it would have been nice if he had taken just a little bit of an interest in her.

"What a time to sleep, Muffin. I could use someone to talk to," Amity muttered in exasperation.

The recipient of these words, lifted sleepy lids for a brief moment, then sighed heavily and drifted off again. The young girl made a moue of annoyance and returned to her examination of the rolling countryside.

Once Amity realized there was no one who cared for her, she had taken control of her life. She no longer expected love so she was free to make friends without fear of rejection. She was surrounded by servants and she talked with them, unfettered by the conventions and taboos of society. She made friends in the village and over the years met nothing but kindness. Innately curious and impetuous, her days were happily occupied with studies, reading and friends on the estate or in the village.

Only in her dreams, did she yearn for a different life. She desired a real home with a husband and a child of her own. And she dreamed of Max. She did not blame him for leaving her at Beech House. She understood that he was too busy to be bothered about her but she wished it had been otherwise. For years Amity dreamed that he would return and rescue her from her bleak existence. A knight on a ferocious, white charger saving the damsel in distress.

Amity snorted at her ridiculous fancies and felt a return of the nervous flutter in the region of her stomach at the thought of her journey's end. She listened to the rhythm of the carriage horses, fearful that one of the beasts might be going lame, but the noble cattle drew her towards her new home and a guardian she had only seen once.

"Come on, Muffin, you lazy slug. Wake up," Amity muttered, elbowing her companion. When this tactic had little effect, she leaned over and whispered. "I'll help you look for cats. And maybe even a rabbit."

Thus tempted, Amity's companion, an enormous brown dog of unknown and highly suspect origin yawned, his great tongue arching upward between neat rows of white teeth. He stretched all four legs and emitted a low rumbling moan before he turned his head toward his mistress. Muffin's eyelids raised and he stared at Amity through soulful pools of brown.

"What a lump you are," Amity said as she hugged her friend, nuzzling one floppy ear. "Ever since we got in the coach this morning you've been sleeping. Besides we're almost there. Coachman said it would be another half hour."

Thus reminded of their imminent arrival, Amity bit her lip, feeling the jolt of her accelerated heartbeat. She pushed the huge dog off her lap and brushed at the clumps of dog hair left behind. Then reaching up, she untied the blue ribbon that confined her hair at the nape of her neck. As usual a cloud of the bright red curls had escaped and were billowing around her cheeks. She raked her fingers through the shimmering mass of waist-length hair and retied the ribbon.

"My reticule! My gloves!" she wailed, searching the carriage.

She found the reticule at last beneath the plain poke bonnet, which she jammed on her head, but after a hurried hunt, could not find her mittens. She remembered removing them at the last stop and accepted the sad fact that she would have to arrive at her destination with bare hands. The reticule was dusty and she grasped the strings and smacked it against the squabs sending up clouds of dust. Muffin inhaled and sneezed so heartily that the movement propelled the dog upright, where he sat, eyes wide open and black nose aquiver. When Amity giggled at the dog's expression, he looked so offended that she burst into a loud whoop of laughter. Thus Amity and Muffin arrived at Edgeworth.

When the liveried footman pulled down the stairs and opened the door, he was confronted by the laughing countenance of a redheaded girl and a low growl from her companion. He backed away, bowing as he said, "Welcome to Edgeworth, Miss Fraser."

From a safe distance, the footman surveyed the young lady. Told to expect Lord Kampford's ward, he had been picturing a small child not this young woman. There was still a hint of youthful awkwardness in her movements, but like a young colt, thoroughbred lines were apparent. Her body was tall and slight but rounded to a nicety; her hands and feet were small and elegant. She wore a carriage dress and matching cape in a muted blue color that was well made and sensible rather than the height of fashion.

The young footman extended his hand but the young lady bounded out of the coach without assistance. Her freckled face was still flushed with laughter and her white teeth flashed in an open smile that quite won the heart of the boy.

"Thank you for the greeting. I'm so glad to be here at last," Amity said, her voice still bubbling with amusement. Then with a swirl of cape she turned back to the coach to fetch her friend. "Out, Muffin."

The dog remained upright on the seat, looking in no hurry to leave the comfortable confines of the carriage for unknown, and possibly unwelcome, surroundings.

"Come on, you great looby," Amity hissed, glancing in embarrassment at the footman. In explanation, she said, "Muffin is rather shy, uh... ."

"Peter, Miss," the boy answered bobbing his head in greeting. "It takes some that way. Would you like me to fetch him?"

Since Muffin had begun to growl again, there was a slight hesitancy in the footman's voice. Catching his less than eager offe Amity said, "Thank you, Peter, but he's more used to me."

Amity scrambled up the stairs and grasped a handful of fur at Muffin's neck. With her hip she shoved the dog off the seat and half-dragged, half-carried the reluctant visitor to the carriage sweep. Peter shifted nervously but, pluck to the bone, he extended his open palm for the inspection of the huge dog. Muffin sniffed once then extended his tongue and licked the footman's hand.

"Muffin approves, Peter. And he's very particular about his friends." Amity smiled at the relieved look on the footman's face but in an instant it had changed to red-faced embarrassment. Turning, she was unabashed to discover the dog had given in to an urgent call of nature. Lowering her voice she said to the footman, " Muffin usually behaves with more discretion, although I suspect my guardian will not be best pleased to have the wheels of his carriage abused in such a fashion."

Peter smothered a laugh, amazed at the matter-of-fact way the young lady spoke of the subject. There seemed to be nothing hoity-toity about his lordship's ward and he resolved to help her when he could.

Amity called to the dog and then her eyes shifted to the imposing facade of the great house and she shivered, intimidated by the grandeur of the estate. In a tentative voice she said, "Well, I suppose I better go in."

Reminded of his duties Peter stiffened to attention, extending his hand in the direction of the opened double doors. Under his breath, he blurted, "Cartwright will have my head, miss, for keeping you jawing on the very steps."

"I suppose that's the very starchy butler I see waiting inside," Amity whispered.

"Aye, Miss Fraser. Him and the housekeeper, Mrs. Trilby, will be greeting you, proper-like."

"Sounds awful," Amity moaned, earning a wink of encouragement from the boy before he turned back to the coach and the other footmen who were struggling to remove her trunks from the boot.

Shifting her reticule to her left hand, she grasped a great chunk of Muffin's hair and hauled the dog up the shallow stone steps and in at the huge carved doorway. Her blue eyes widened at the line of servants spread across the marble foyer and she released the dog, wiping her hand surreptitiously on her skirt. A flush rose to her cheeks but bracing her shoulders she stepped forward to address the impressive figure at the head of the line.