A Lord Rotheby's Holiday Bundle (93 page)

The cat licked Sarah all over her
face. She elicited another round of giggles and squeals while he
continued to purr. They rolled together about the floor. Sarah’s
frock was soon covered with long orange and white hairs, just as
Mama and Miss Matthews were. If Peter allowed this to continue much
longer, she might well have those same disgusting stains upon her
attire as Miss Matthews and his mother currently wore—whatever they
were.

The urge to put her in her place
became overwhelming.

“
Unpleasant?” he drawled,
returning his attention to the miscreant. “Might its behavior be
more unpleasant than whatever has caused the unsightly state of
your attire? More unpleasant still than the fright that creature
put me through when it attacked my daughter?” He advanced upon the
woman, hoping to cause her some alarm and not stopping until he
stood toe-to-toe with her.

She feared him—the look in her eyes
made that fact quite plain—but she didn’t cower.

Peter narrowed his eyes and continued.
Clearly, she didn’t fear him enough yet. “More unpleasant than it
would be to banish you both to the stables, where it obviously
belongs, and I daresay you might as well? You look an absolute
fright. And Mama, you hardly look better.”

His mother’s eyes flashed at him, but
Miss Matthews spoke before Mama could cut in.

“
Ah, my attire? Oh, dear
me, yes. Well, Mr. Cuddlesworth became quite ill on our journey and
we’ve had a few accidents.”

Her hands pulled at a stray thread on
her gown, and it was a miracle it didn’t unravel before his eyes.
The woman had no business amongst polite society. That much was
plain.

“
I’m certain he’ll be more
than all right now that he’s no longer in a moving carriage and can
settle in.” She brushed her hands down the front of her haggard
dress and tried to straighten it, but her efforts made no
difference. “But you are certainly overreacting, Peter, about
sending us to the stables. He’ll clean up in no time, and I’m quite
sure I can remove these spots from both our gowns. Your Grace, that
is. Peter. Oh, double drat, what on the blasted earth am I supposed
to call you?”

A chorus of feminine gasps and
childlike giggles sounded behind her.

Obviously, her
faux pas
didn’t even faze
her, as she kept digging herself into a deeper hole. “This business
with titles is a bit asinine, isn’t it? I mean, you are only a man,
like any other man. You were lucky enough to be born to the parents
you were born to is all. Anyway—” she waved a hand through the air
as though to ignore all of what she’d just said— “where shall I
take Mr. Cuddlesworth, so we can freshen up? I should most
dreadfully enjoy a bath. Why, I believe I have some remnants of his
stains stuck beneath my bosom and it’s bothersome, indeed. Cousin
Henrietta, wouldn’t you enjoy a bath as well?”

Her bosom. She was talking
about her bosom. To him. In front of his children, for Christ’s
sake. Peter had never seen or heard the like in his entire life.
This Jane Matthews was a disaster ready to strike the
beau monde
and take him
with her.

She turned to his mother while his
sisters, children, and servants all looked on with their jaws
agape. Mama just smiled with the widest smile he’d seen on her face
since the day his niece, Isabella, was born. Sophie’s jaw quickly
returned to its usual position, and her shock gave way to a smile
that soon put Mama’s to shame.

He should be furious with Miss
Matthews for her impertinence. He should banish her to the stables
like he’d threatened. He should throttle her until her teeth
rattled in her head.

No one spoke to him like that. No one
dared.

But instead of doing any of those
things, he had to fight back a laugh. Still, he couldn’t allow her
to see the unreasonable and thoroughly irregular effect she’d had
on him. He fixed his sternest glare upon her instead.

“
Come along, Jane,” Mama
said. “I’ll show you to your rooms and have a bath drawn. That
sounds delightful to me. Sarah, will you come with us and bring Mr.
Cuddlesworth so we can show him where he’ll sleep?”

His daughter squealed with joy before
he had a chance to counter. “Oh, Grandmama, can he sleep with me?”
Blast it, now that confounded animal would be sleeping in his home.
How had he lost so much control over his life?

With Miss Matthews’s arrival, suddenly
all of his family had something to keep them occupied, so they all
filed out behind Mama.

He finally had the peace he sought to
work on his books and ledgers...but no longer cared. What in bloody
hell was he going to do now?

Chapter Three

Cousin Henrietta led Jane through the
winding halls of Hardwicke House to what would now be her chamber.
“I do hope you’ll be comfortable here. You’re so sweet to allow
Sarah to play with Mr. Cuddlesworth. She is already attached to
him, I fear.”

“
As he seems attached to
her. I’m glad he’s made a new friend. Especially since I’ll have to
spend some time away from him.” Drat those balls she’d be forced to
attend. “Sarah can keep him company.”

The walls lining the
hallways were so elaborately decorated and furnished, Jane feared
she might trip over herself from gawking—it was all so
garish.
His Grace
felt this was tasteful? Good lord, she would be living in
precisely the lavish extravagance she had always so despised about
the elite.

The dowager seemed to notice neither
her shock nor her disdain. “Yes, they’ll be quite good friends, I
believe. Here we are, dear.” She opened a French door into a huge
suite of rooms, draped with chocolate and gold fabric over all the
furnishings, exquisite oil and watercolor paintings in gilded
frames, massive mirrors running from floor to ceiling, and a
roaring fire in the hearth. Even more of the gaudy embellishments
than she saw in the hall filled what would now be her own private
rooms. To one side, a tub sat full of steaming water, beckoning to
her. It, at least, was welcome.

“
Will this suit? I chose
this chamber especially for you. Of course I chose it before I met
you. I do think it’s one of the more pleasant rooms though, with a
lovely view of the back garden outside your window. When the roses
bloom in a few weeks, their scent will waft up to you.”

The main room of the suite was easily
as large as half her parents’ home. Perhaps even larger than that.
Good Lord, what would any one person need such an expanse for? “Oh,
yes, ma’am. This will more than do. I’ll almost feel guilty,
staying in such a place with Mother and Father in their tiny house
at the vicarage. It’s all quite splendid, isn’t it?” She hoped no
sign of her distaste came out in her words.

The dowager admonished her with her
eyes, and Jane feared she had been unsuccessful. “I’ll hear nothing
of this guilt, young lady. Have your bath and relax, and I’ll send
someone to fetch you in time for tea.” Cousin Henrietta left her
then.

Somehow during the brief span of her
interview with Lord Somerton in his library, servants had moved all
of her belongings into the suite of rooms, unpacked her clothing
and placed it all in the bureau, and drawn the most luxurious bath
she had ever taken, scented with fruity oils.

One of those same servants was even
waiting in these mammoth rooms for her arrival. The girl wore a
tidy, starched lavender servant’s dress and apron, which caused her
soft blue eyes to sparkle against yellow curls. “Hello, miss. My
name is Meg. Would you like me to select a clean gown for you to
wear after your bath?”

“
Ah, hello, Meg. Call me
Jane, please.” Her life, clearly, was about to take a drastic turn,
if a maid thought to help her with such a simple task as selecting
a gown to wear. Not that the choice would be all that complicated.
Her options were limited to the drab yellow cotton, the drab
sea-foam green cotton, and the drab periwinkle blue
cotton.

Everything else Jane owned had been
soiled on the journey.

She would need to discover where she
could launder her clothes, and the sooner, the better. Cousin
Henrietta’s gowns that had been damaged on their journey, as well.
Perhaps after her bath and tea, Jane could explore this monstrosity
they called a house and find where she could clean her
gowns.

More importantly at the moment,
however, her bath would grow cold if she didn’t get started with it
soon. “I’ll choose my own dress, thank you.” Hopefully the girl
would leave her alone now. “I believe I’ll take my bath
now.”

But Meg didn’t take the hint and
leave. The silly girl tried to assist her in undressing, which was
beyond ridiculous. Jane had clothed and unclothed herself since she
was a young girl. She could never envision a real need for someone
to bother with that, when she was certain many more important
things must need the young maid’s attention.

“
Thank you for your
assistance, Meg, but I’m quite capable of managing this task on my
own. You may leave now and see to whatever other chores you must
have waiting. I’ll be perfectly fine.” She waved a hand, shooing
the girl along.

Meg didn’t take the dismissal lightly.
Actually, she looked rather taken aback. “But I’m to be your lady’s
maid, ma’am.” Lady’s maid? Good God. What on earth did they think
she would need a personal servant for? Meg kept talking. “My only
chores are those which you assign to me. My job, for the duration
of your stay at Hardwicke House, is to help you in whatever ways
you need assistance.”

Jane’s jaw dropped. This was going to
require far more adjustment than she’d anticipated. At her parents’
home, she’d always done quite a bit for herself. She’d never
allowed herself to imagine a life with someone waiting around to do
her bidding at every turn. It seemed so frivolous. She frowned at
the girl, as fiercely as she could muster, hoping to give the
impression that she wouldn’t need any assistance so that Meg would
scurry along on her way.

The impertinent girl frowned back,
just as ferociously as she had done. “Her Grace will be most
displeased with me, miss, if I should neglect my duties.” Meg
didn’t lift a single foot to move.

Jane sighed. “Oh.” She couldn’t very
well be responsible for having the girl sacked. Somehow, the
dowager would have to come to the understanding that Jane would not
be waited upon by anyone. “I suppose I’ll have to take the matter
up with Cousin Henrietta then. I’m certain, in a household as large
as this, there are plenty of better ways of using your skills.
Please, run along, and I promise to visit with her as soon as I’ve
finished with my bath.” It wouldn’t do to let herself grow
accustomed to such extravagances, when she surely wouldn’t be able
to afford them as a modiste.

Finally, Meg left her alone. But she
only went as far as the dressing room, after making certain that
soaps, oils, scents, and ample towels were at her disposal, and
even then, only after informing Jane that she need only pull the
bell, and she would rush back to her side to assist her in any way
possible.

That
was not likely to occur.

Even after Jane agreed to Meg’s terms,
the servant snuck into the chamber again, once Jane was good and
wet, in order to remove her stained gown.

“
Meg, do be a dear and
retrieve Cousin Henrietta’s soiled garments as well. I might as
well launder them all at once.” She chose to believe the servant’s
scandalized gasp was due to the fact that the dowager had a soiled
garment, and
not
because she intended to handle her own laundry. Good Lord, she
had started washing her own clothes when she was only a
girl.

Once she was finally alone, she
settled in to the steamy tub and tried to relax. Her mind, however,
would not cooperate.

The journey to London, while full of
traumatic moments with Mr. Cuddlesworth, had provided her with far
too much to contemplate—and her arrival at Hardwicke House had
given her even more fodder to mull over.

She’d agreed to the journey to set
Mother’s mind at ease. Yes, she was five-and-twenty, and yes, she
had already squandered the one and only chance at marriage she had
been offered. But a marriage to Mr. Thornhill was the last thing
Jane could imagine providing her with a lifetime of contentment.
She could never love the man. He bored her.

The entire time he’d courted her (a
full three years ago, and not one man had even hinted at the
possibility of an attachment since), he’d made it abundantly clear
the kind of relationship they would have should she accept
him.

They would live in Cornwall, somewhere
near the sea and far from her family. There would be no affection,
no tenderness—not even any friendship. He would expect her to stay
at his home and care for his children (which she must also
provide), and never leave, never visit with friends, never do
anything of which he didn’t approve, since he was to be a vicar and
must maintain appearances within the village.

What kind of life would that have
been?

Mr. Thornhill was not wealthy, which
her parents seemed to think might be the true reason Jane had
refused him. How very wrong they were. Money did not matter one
whit to her. She’d always been a hard worker, and more than willing
to do her share—and a good bit more on top of it. Why, she’d even
earned a modest income for herself for well over a decade through
her sewing.