His Lordship's Chaperone (5 page)

“I do not believe so.” Something on the desk seemed
to be luring his attention.

What could be so important? “That is a shame,” she
replied with as much displeasure as she could manage. “How will you two ever
become acquainted?”

Robert looked up from his papers. “I promise I
shall have a word with her before we attend the Trowbridge’s soiree tonight.”

“So you are to attend?” At least he planned to take
advantage of his new chaperone and go out for the evening.

“Will you not be there?”

This was the first time he showed more than a passing
interest in what she said. “I am afraid not. I’ve another engagement to attend.
You must tell me how she works out.”

“I am rather anxious to see what comes of it myself.”

“I imagine there will be several disappointed
ladies.” After tonight, the Duchess mused, London will never be the same again.

The Duchess of Waverly had not been exaggerating
about her son’s appearance. Catherine stepped into the drawing room and
exhaled. Lord Haverton could be described only as absolutely beautiful.

Handsome, she corrected herself. Men were handsome,
ladies were beautiful. But neither word was adequate to describe her new
employer. He was beyond mere handsome. He far surpassed the picture the Duchess
had painted of him.

Did his mother really think he could charm the
stars from the sky? From what Catherine could see, the Marquess had the
personality of a schoolroom chalkboard.

But she could now understand why he needed a
chaperone. Lord Haverton’s facial features were chiseled from marble, crafted
by artistic skill, every angle perfectly formed,
each
plane of his face flawless. His dark, thick hair would make any woman envious.
He was no less than perfection itself.

Catherine had only seen him sitting behind his
desk. If his broad shoulders were any indication of the rest of his physique,
“desirable.” would also be an insufficient word to describe him. Should he have
been out of sorts and Her Grace’s description of his manners correct, that
would certainly make Lord Haverton the most sought-after man in
London.

If his character were to equal his looks, this man
would be a lethal combination for any woman. She would surely melt while under
the penetrating gaze of his dark brown eyes. Just the thought of living under
the same roof with that wonderfully handsome man made her heart quicken.

She wondered if he had any intention of engaging
her affections and plunged into her reticule for her spectacles. Lady Talbot
had told Catherine more than once she was pretty. And being pretty could be
dangerous in London. She slipped on her spectacles. Catherine did not want him
to show interest in her of any kind. She pushed the glasses toward the bridge
of her nose, never doubting that her bluestocking appearance would discourage
any man’s advances.

The Duchess paused in the doorway of the drawing
room before entering. Miss Hayward stared aimlessly into the room. Adrift in
her own thoughts, the Duchess supposed. The girl has had only one look at
Robert and was already lost, although she might not know it yet.

“I must apologize for my son. I’m afraid we’ve
caught him in the midst of his work. It is not particularly a good time.”

Catherine turned to face Her Grace. “I’ll note that
for future reference.”

“He becomes quite distracted—sometimes he appears
almost thick!” The Duchess took a cleansing breath and continued. “He has
informed me that he wishes to give you a twenty pound advance.” She looked up
when Catherine gasped. “You’ll need to purchase matching gloves and shoes for
your new gowns.”

“New gowns?”

She had to proceed with caution. The Duchess did
not wish to make the position sound too good to be true. “Your current gowns
are fine for the schoolroom but they will not do for the Assembly. And, of
course, he will be paying for the new gowns.”

“I beg your pardon? Did you say his lordship would
be paying for my new gowns?”

“Oh, yes.” Her Grace nodded. “He was very insistent
on that point.”

The housekeeper arrived with the tea. The Duchess
sent her away, stating she would pour out. “I’m afraid you’ll have to make do
with what you have for tonight.”

“Tonight?” Catherine leaned forward, sitting up
straighter and more wide-eyed. “Are we to go out tonight?”

“You shall accompany Haverton to the Trowbridge
soiree.” The Duchess set her gloves and reticule aside and lifted the teapot.

“It is my duty. I suppose I must.” Catherine eased
back into the sofa, accepting her new responsibility. “I cannot possibly refuse.”

“Good. I’ll see to it, personally, that you have
what you need. I shall come by tomorrow morning and take you to my modiste.”

“I thank you, Your Grace. You are most generous.
I’m afraid I should not know where to begin.”

“I shall not abandon you now. I will keep in close
contact until you are comfortably installed. You may rely on that.”

“I do not know what to say.” A mixture of gratitude
and relief shone in her eyes. “You are too kind.”

“Think nothing of it. My son feels he needs you for
his protection. Moreland Manor will be your new home until the time the
Marquess finds just the right young woman to become his wife.”

After tea, Her Grace led Catherine to the gold
suite
abovestairs
and pushed open the large door. “I
hope this will be adequate.” The Duchess swept into the first room.

“Adequate?” Catherine entered. She had never seen
such apartments in her life and doubted Lord and Lady Talbot inhabited such
lush quarters. “Is all this for me?”

“Yes, it is. Haverton told me himself that you
should have the very best.”

Catherine looked at the high ceiling and white
walls decorated with intricate patterns of gold leaf. Beyond the open doors on
the right lay the bedchamber. “I cannot help but think there is something more
to all this.”

“I’m afraid you do not comprehend the importance of
your position. Tonight you shall see for yourself. Do allow me to have a look
at your gowns. I’ll have a better idea what we should purchase tomorrow.”

Catherine followed the Duchess through the
bedchamber to the dressing room on the far side. Her meager wardrobe couldn’t
fill a corner of the massive closet.

“Oh, dear.” Her Grace skimmed through the gowns.
“You shall need more than just a few.”

“What shall I do about tonight? Do I have anything
suitable to wear?”

“Tonight? Let me see.” The Duchess returned to the
beginning of the rack for a second look. “This might do.” She pulled out a
light blue gown and held it out for further inspection. “It’s very modest but
it will definitely suffice.”

Catherine took the dress and draped it over her
arm.

“It’s time I be on my way.” The Duchess pulled on
her gloves and headed for the door.

“Thank you for everything, Your Grace.” She trailed
behind the Duchess. “You have been more than kind.”

“Do not give it another thought, my dear. I shall
see you tomorrow and you can tell me everything that transpired at tonight’s
party. “At the doorway, Her Grace paused and turned back toward Catherine. “I
expect Haverton will have a word with you presently.”

Presently arrived a half hour later. Catherine
stood at the doorway to the drawing room and had a good, long look at her new
employer.

Lord Haverton stood with his arms crossed, posture perfect
straight, as if posing for a portrait. His eyes were open wide, staring out the
picture window. He was taller than she had expected. At least he had the
decency to dress properly before meeting with her. He wore a jacket of forest
green over the shirt she had seen him in earlier. Fawn breeches stretched over
the upper part of his long legs and his exquisitely polished top boots were
much to be admired.

Catherine cleared her throat. “You sent for me, my
lord?”

The Marquess turned from the window. “Ah, yes—if
you would please be seated, Mrs. Hayes.” He gestured to the sofa for her to sit
but he remained standing.

“I beg your pardon, but it is Hayward, your
lordship. Miss Hayward,” Catherine corrected and sat as he instructed. How
could he have been so completely wrong regarding her name?

“Yes, of course it is,” he said, clearly distracted
as he rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger. “This is dashed
peculiar. My mother has informed me she explained about the particulars, such
as your wages and living arrangements.”

“Yes, she has.”

“I believe all there is left to speak to you about
are your duties.” Lord Haverton paced back toward the window. “It has been my
personal observation that most ladies’ chaperones fail in their responsibility to
properly oversee their wards.

“Thus I find it imperative that I provide a
chaperone for these ladies. That is where you come in. I expect that you should
watch for unseemly behavior. Nothing suspect should transpire between myself
and any lady in my company. There should be no question about the propriety of
our exchange.”

“I quite understand.”

“I’m sure you will find my manners exemplary. I’m
afraid I cannot speak as well for the ladies. In some cases, they may prove to
exhibit less than ladylike behavior.”

“I believe I understand completely, my lord.” If
any other man except this one before her had said he needed a chaperone to ward
off women, Catherine would have disgraced herself by laughing out loud. But in
Lord Haverton’s case she feared what he said could very well be true.

“Well then, if everything is settled, I am
attending the Trowbridge soiree tonight. I trust you will not keep me waiting?
I wish to leave by eight.”

“As you say, my lord, eight o’clock.”

Three hours after her arrival at Moreland Manor,
Catherine had settled in and was partaking of a light supper in the privacy of
her sitting room on the orders of her employer.

He, Lord Haverton, was not to be seen. Did he eat?
Would she see him before they departed for the evening? Catherine was looking
very forward to their next meeting. He could not possibly be as she remembered
him … as handsome as she remembered.

No, impossible.

Not long after finishing her meal, she began her
toilette.

Other than changing her dress, Catherine did
nothing to alter her appearance. She inspected herself in the pier glass. She
wore her blue, high-collared dress. The dress the Duchess thought modest was in
fact Catherine’s finest. She coiled her hair into the same tight bun she always
wore atop her head and slid her spectacles in place. She was ready.

“Honoria, I will not allow the opportunity of the
Marquess of Haverton to slip by.” Lady Darlington glared with determination at
her daughter’s reflection in the dressing glass. “I want you to throw yourself
straight into his arms!”

“But Mama, I do not think I could do as you ask.”

“Fustian! You are the loveliest young lady London
has to offer. I would not be shocked if you were the Incomparable of the Season.”

Honoria turned from the glass and pulled out of her
mother’s tight grasp. “But I only want to marry for love, Mama.”

“Hush! Ridiculous notion. You will do as you’re
told,” Lady Darlington ordered. “Now remember, if he reaches for you, you will
go straight into his arms.”

Honoria shook her head and remained mute.

“If he kisses you, you will act as if you have
soared to the heights of heaven.” Lady Darlington stretched her hand out and
upward, illustrating the lengths she wanted her daughter to ascend.

Honoria sniveled.

“And if he wishes to do anything more,” Lady Darlington
paused, deciding against an explanation of exactly what the more would entail,
“you will willingly allow him that liberty too.”

Honoria’s banked tears flowed. Where was the girl’s
backbone? No doubt her weakness came from her father. Lady Darlington fingered
a ringlet of her daughter’s hair, setting it back in place.

“Yes, you will, my dear girl. You shall do as
you’re told and your mama will see that everything works out as planned. We
shall wait until Haverton grows tired of the crowd. He can only tolerate the
flock of women for so long before he requires solitude to recuperate. That is
when we shall make our move.”

“Must we, Mama?” Honoria whimpered. “I do not know
if I can go through with it.”

“You will. You most certainly will.” Lady
Darlington could envision the Marquess moving away from the ladies to find
momentary companionship with his gentleman friends, Lord Fitzgerald and Sir
Giles Winthrop.

It wouldn’t be long after that, she thought. He’d
most likely dance two sets and remove himself for a quarter of an hour or so.
It was a pattern, she noted, that he repeated. And because of that predictable
behavior, Lady Darlington would snare her lovely Honoria the most eligible
bachelor in England.

Dressed in her blue gown, Catherine waited in the
drawing room of Moreland Manor at two minutes before eight. She adjusted her
spectacles and ran her hand over her head, finding not one hair had strayed
from her tight bun. She was not about to be tardy for her first outing with the
Marquess.

After five minutes had passed, an immaculately
dressed Lord Haverton, sporting a black jacket over a pair of white satin knee
breeches and a snowy white cravat, stepped into the room. “Come, Mrs. Hayes, it
is time to be on our way,” he announced without preamble.

“Miss Hayward, your lordship.” Catherine was nearly
past the point of correcting him. Not that it mattered, but for one reason or
another he simply could not remember her name.

“Yes, of course it is.” Absorbed in the task of
pulling on his gloves, Lord Haverton never looked up.

How could Catherine have ever thought he had any
interest in her? Goodness, he could not even remember her name.