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Authors: Joan Smith

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BOOK: Madcap Miss
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It was a happy chance for me as well. I

ll be at the inn at four. Good-bye, Mr. Whewett.


I

ll take your case with me.

He rose and bowed gracefully.

Au
revoir,
Miss Farnsworth.

She rose and began to walk away, then stopped and looked back over her shoulder. She thought he was looking at her ankles.

I should have said
Lord
Whewett!

His flashing smile might almost have been called a grin.

You should have said Papa, Doll.

Her eyes widened at such a familiar form of address. His expression softened.

It is what I call my daughter,

he lied easily.

A pet name, you might say. Be good. Don

t go talking to strangers.

A low chuckle followed her as she hurried out of the tea shop.

Despite her gentlemanly instincts, Grace considered quite seriously bolting on Lord Whewett. He said the money was a gift, so she was free to do as she liked. Was he trustworthy? He had told his story quite frankly on the stage, only omitting that he was a lord. A man bent on mischief would not have done so.

Mrs. Sempleton had corroborated his story

she knew the Broughams. He had been sincere in trying to help her when he thought her a child. Likely he still thought of her as a child. He was a father, a solid, sensible gentleman. Except that he had come up with the outrageous idea for this masquerade. And he had noticed her ankles and called her Doll in a way that did not sound at all fatherly. Oh, what
should
she do?

Only two days out of her boring life. What did it matter? There was no real harm in it, and if trouble
did
arise, Lord Whewett must protect her to protect himself. Lords were practically impervious to legal proceedings. The worst she could envisage was that Lady Healy should somehow discover their trick and send her packing. She would have her money in even less than two days.

How fine it would be to have a hundred pounds! She decided to go through with it and spent the afternoon shopping. She was very careful to call all the clerks sir. Every one of them mentioned it was odd her being alone. She invented the story that her mama was waiting in the carriage. She had taken a dizzy spell. No one questioned her story when they saw her money.

At a quarter to four she walked up to the inn door, her arms full of parcels. Standing in the yard was the most elegant black chaise she had ever seen, with a crest on its side and four shiny bays in the harness. A footman wearing green livery hopped down and bowed to her.


Allow me, Lady Augusta,

he said, taking her parcels with a sly wink. Lord Whewett had been busy to inform his servants of the charade. Funny, she had thought just the two of them would be involved in it. It was a more elaborate affair than she had envisaged.

The proprietor held the door for her and bowed till his nose very nearly touched his protruding stomach.

His lordship is waiting for you in his private parlor, milady. I hope you

ll be comfortable,

he said, and held the door wide for her to enter.

Whewett sat before a window looking over his journal. He rose when she entered.

Hallo, Gussie. How did the shopping go? A pity your woman could not have accompanied you. I trust there was no trouble?


No trouble, Papa,

she answered, scarcely able to hold her lips steady, for the whole business was so very strange. Servants and innkeepers bobbing to her, and a lord standing up when she entered the room, while she was rigged out like a child.


Put Lady Augusta

s parcels there, Hucker,

Whewett directed the footman.

Would you like a cup of tea before we leave, Augusta?


Yes, please,

she replied happily. The bottle of wine at his elbow also interested her.

The proprietor bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

You

d ought to have let me go with the lass. It looked odd-like for her to be on the streets alone and hauling her own bags and boxes,

Hucker said.


I

m sure Miss Farnsworth lent even that a touch of plausibility,

Whewett replied.

How did it really go?

he asked, turning to Grace.


Fine. I got everything I need and have money left.


Keep it. Mad money. I had Hucker pick you up a decent light traveling case. That is
—”
He came to a conscious stop, glancing to see if the lady had taken offense.

Hucker produced a leather case bound in brass.

That was well thought of,

she replied nonchalantly.

What shall I do with the indecent one I brought with me?


We

ll discard it here. You will want its contents put into the new one, for when the play is over.


Yes. Are all your servants in on the scheme?


Just me, Trudgen, the groom and his lordship's valet, Jenner,

Hucker replied.


You may leave us now, Hucker,

Whewett said. The footman left.

I had to tell them,

he added.

They know you

re not Gussie. They are to be trusted implicitly. Indeed, they are enjoying themselves hugely. Of course I told them nothing of your personal history.


I am not ashamed of it!

she said sharply, pulling open the straw case to repack her belongings.


No reason you should be. It is hardly your fault that your father was improvident. There are a good many things you need to know. We live at Downsfield, outside of Dover, not far removed from the coast. You and I live alone but for the servants. Your governess is Miss Invers, a good woman. I don

t know if Lady Healy is familiar with the name. I have a sister, Mary, married to Lord Dewitt, from Ireland, where they make their home.


That is where your real daughter is now?


From this moment
you
are my real daughter. The Dewitts spend the season in London. They have two girls, Catharine and Anne, aged seven and six respectively. You know them fairly well from their visits to us. If embarrassing questions arise, I

ll try to give you a hand. Grandma Healy is not intimately aware of our business, which is all to the good. She was my wife

s grandmother, and since her death, she takes little enough interest in me.


Who are you? I mean what kind of lord?


Tory, of course.


I mean your rank. Are you a baron
—”


An earl.


I should know your Christian name, too.


Alfred, and yours is Augusta Isabel, the Augusta after Grandma Healy. Don

t forget it.


Don

t call me Doll, then, or she won

t like it. What about my mother? Did I know her at all?


She died ten years ago. You would have no recollection of her. Her name was Irene. She was your type, generally speaking. Small. Not so small as you, quite, but smallish, with brown hair.

Grace finished the packing and went to sit beside him. The tea tray was brought in by an obsequious servant. It was amusing to watch him bow and truckle to Whewett and treat her with that combination of respect and playfulness deemed suitable to a noble child. As soon as they were alone, the lesson continued.


You enjoy riding. No matter if you don

t really. There will be no occasion to do so at Willowcrest. You have not traveled at all.


What of cousins and so on that I should know about?


None on the Brougham side. She would have no interest in any others. Oh, hell!

A quick frown pinched his brows together.

She and Augusta correspond once a month. I don

t know what is in the letters. Fake it if you can.

Instructions and facts were poured out in such a rapid stream, Grace did not grasp the half of them, but she did her best. When tea was finished, she said,

Should we not be getting along?


No hurry. The later we arrive, the less time you

ll have to be with her. It will be a strain on you, I imagine.


I

m worried sick,

she confessed.

What if I make a shambles of it?


You won

t. I

ll be there to give you a hand. I

ll try not to leave you alone with her. And Miss Farnsworth,

he added in a hopeful voice,

be nice to her. She will not be easy to be nice to, but it would be a shame if anything should arise to turn her against my daughter.

Grace saw the worry etching lines on his forehead and felt a spasm of pity for Whewett. Whatever else he was, he was certainly a considerate father.

I

ll try. There is just one thing

why did we not bring Invers with us?


Good point. We

ll say her mother is ill, and she had gone home to Sussex for a week. Invers is actually in Ireland with Gussie, of course.


I feel as if I had a herd of stampeding horses in my stomach. If anything goes wrong, what becomes of me? She

ll throw me out on my ear.


Us, on our collective ear. We

re in this together. If you give any wrong answers, I shall claim you

re addlepated from the trip. Gussie doesn

t travel, remember?

She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and said in her new childish voice,

Don

t you think it is time to leave, Papa?


Yes, Doll.

When he cocked his head to one side and laughed, he looked ten years younger and much more attractive.

What

s the matter?

he demanded, seeing her studious gaze.


You were to call me Augusta because of its being Grandma

s name,

she reminded him.


I

ll try to remember,

he said, and went to the door to call Hucker to take out the luggage.

As Grace left the room with Whewett behind her, she had an instinctive feeling he was looking at her ankles. They almost tingled from the imagined perusal. She was struck with a terrible premonition of disaster and had to force herself to advance sedately to the carriage.

 

Chapter Three

 

A five-mile trip in a well-sprung chaise bore no resemblance to a ten-mile one on the common stage. As Grace was wafted along the road, she admired the blue velvet squabs and the elegant silver appointments of the interior. The trip was over before it seemed possible and before Grace felt quite ready to become Lady Augusta.

Chin up,

Whewett said, offering his arm as she descended from the carriage.

Till she was striding along beside him toward the house, she had not realized he was so very tall. Besides having to reach up to hold his arm, it was necessary to lengthen her stride uncomfortably, for he did not shorten his.

She took only a glance at the building she was entering. It was a sprawling red brick place, more wide than high. The lengthening shadows of evening emphasized the unkempt condition of both grounds and house. Though there were no Gothic windows or brooding elms, it struck Grace as the proper setting for a Gothic novel. The brick was not perishing, but dusty windows and overgrown grass caused the proper air of brooding menace.

The servant who showed them in was a groom masquerading as a butler and looked it. His rough manner and ill-fitting jacket suited the house, however. Lady Healy had come to a place that had been standing empty for some time, and she had only her own few servants to tend to it.


You

d be his lordship,

the servant said.

Come in, then. She

s been waiting forever.

He sounded put upon as he pointed a peremptory and not very clean finger toward a lighted saloon.

It was in this ghastly Purple Saloon, large and dingy, with the fading sun filtering through dusty glass and dispirited lace curtains, that Grace had her first view of her new grandmother. Whewett had called the dame old, leading her to expect a decrepit little gray-haired lady with a humped back.

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