My Lord Wicked (Historical Regency Romance) (10 page)

"Pray, do not let me keep you from your work, my lord. I will snip some white mullein while you return to your plantings. A distillation of its flowers makes an excellent remedy for gout--a complaint Dr. Edgekirth is called on to treat all too regularly."

Lord Stacks came to a stop and beamed down at her. "I have enjoyed showing you my garden. No one else has ever seen it."

Then he must have begun it after he lost his wife, Freddie thought. Had the garden been his way to purge the lovely Elizabeth from his heart? "But you have gardeners," she said.

"For the park beyond the abbey's walls. The quadrangle is my domain. I do allow the gardeners to work in my orchard and occasionally in the conservatory."

She remembered seeing the orchard and conservatory west of the abbey. "I thought this must be the work of half a dozen gardeners. I haven't seen a single weed nor a wilted vine."

An earnest smile crossed his angular face.

She was truly impressed. Her guardian did nothing by halves.

***

The afternoon sessions between Freddie and Mrs. Taylor were to take place in the small drawing room accessible from a staircase in the corner of the great room.

Freddie mounted the stairs, one hand on the thickly carved wooden banister, the other holding a contented Marmalade to her breast.

A fire was just being laid in the grate when Freddie entered the drawing room. Mrs. Greenwood, who stood on the room's Oriental carpet directing three maids, smiled at Freddie when she entered. It was the first time Mrs. Greenwood had favored Freddie with a smile.

"His lordship should be most pleased, indeed, with the room. He was particularly anxious there should be no dust--because of your recent lung complaints." The middle-aged housekeeper stood back and beamed. "You could run a white glove across anything in the room and nary a spot would appear on it, I daresay."

Freddie's gaze swept across the room that held a table with four chairs and a damask sofa flanked by two French chairs and a tea table. She felt as if Mrs. Greenwood awaited her approval, but Freddie felt utterly unable to wear a mantle of authority. "His lordship should be much pleased," Freddie echoed. "The room is lovely."

"You should have seen it two days ago, miss," Mrs. Greenwood said. "The dust you wouldn't believe! Not a soul here for these ten years past. It's good to see life returning to Marshbanks Abbey. And all thanks to you."

It was the most words Freddie had ever heard the housekeeper utter. She not only no longer objected to Freddie's presence at the abbey, but she seemed now to welcome it.

Because Freddie cared so deeply for her guardian, she was happy life had been restored to his home after a decade of unutterable loneliness. But, oh, how she lamented that she would now have to share him with countless others. "It's not for me so much as that his mourning has at long last been cast aside," Freddie told the housekeeper.

At that moment Mrs. Taylor, carrying several books and a small bag, came into the room, panting from her ascent up the steep stairs. She put her books down on the table, ignoring Mrs. Greenwood. "Good afternoon, Fredericka. How nice and cozy it is in here!"

"His lordship insisted on a fire," Mrs. Greenwood said. "Because of Miss Lambeth's recent illness."

Mrs. Taylor did not reply to the housekeeper. Meeting Freddie's gaze, she said, "Well, my dear, are you ready to begin?"

Mrs. Greenwood and the maids left the room, closing the door behind them.

"Come sit at the table," Mrs. Taylor directed Freddie. "I have decided on a schedule. We will begin every session with a short lesson on etiquette. Then you will do a French lesson. I've brought my old book. Then you will practice drawing. We will finish every day with needlework instruction. I have selected a simple pattern for you to begin embroidering."

The etiquette lesson for the day dealt with titles and how to address those of the peerage. Mrs. Taylor went through each title, instructing Freddie on the proper address. When she finished, she quizzed Freddie, and Freddie answered every question correctly.

The French lesson did not actually involve Mrs. Taylor, since she had Freddie read the book and copy the exercises. With Marmalade curled on her lap, Freddie undertook the first lesson and was struck by how similar French was to the Latin which she knew so well.

"Now as to the drawing," Mrs. Taylor said, "I'm having to send to London for the water colors. Today I will have you draw some simple objects, and I will give you my opinion."

First, she asked Freddie to draw a bowl of fruit. She reached into the bag she had brought with her and took out a small ironstone bowl, three apples of different colors, some grapes and a pear. "Lord Stacks allowed me to raid his garden," she explained. "Now, my dear, let's see how well you can draw these." She gave Freddie a sketch book and a soft-leaded pencil.

Freddie hurried through the task and presented her work to Mrs. Taylor, who took the sketchbook and stared at it for a long moment. Finally, she said, "Remarkable. You have a high degree of artistic talent."

"Drawing has always come easily to me," Freddie said without boasting. "What I need is someone to teach me to paint. I've never even owned a brush."

"It will be a delight to see what you can do," the woman said, putting away the sketch book.

Next, she pulled out some small pieces of fabric and embroidery thread of every color and began to show Freddie how to get started on the floral scene she was to embroider.

The door creaked open, and Lord Stacks stuck in his head. "How goes my ward's progress, Mrs. Taylor?"

"Well, I most certainly have my work cut out for me," she said, throwing him a martyred expression. "Fredericka does have a gift for drawing, though. I cannot get the paints soon enough."

"I shall endeavor to get them with all haste," he said, turning his gaze to Freddie. "What say you we have your pianoforte lesson now, Miss Lambeth?"

Freddie flung down her embroidery, gathered up Marmalade, and leapt to her feet.

Mrs. Taylor snatched the needlework. "I'll bring this along tonight. A proper young lady should never sit idle."

Downstairs in the great hall, Freddie slid onto the pianoforte bench beside her guardian, feeling strangely exhilarated, not over the impending lesson but over the nearness to Lord Stacks.

As he showed her the C chord she stole a glance at his face, admiring his dark good looks. And understanding how a beautiful woman like the late Lady Stacks could have fallen in love with him. She looked away, only to find her gaze on his long, brown fingers so knowingly striking the keys. She wondered how it would feel for her small hand to be held by his, to feel him sweeping her into his bulk as he had the day she got sick in the rain. Could anything on earth be more satisfactory than to feel protected--even cherished--by Lord Thomas Stacks?

Her gaze shifted to his muscled thigh, and she experienced a fluttering low in her body and a racing of her heart. It was hard for her to concentrate on what Lord Stacks was telling her when so many alien emotions seemed to swamp her.

Then Eason entered the room and announced Dr. Edgekirth.

Lord Stacks got to his feet as Freddie remained seated in front of the pianoforte, turning toward the doctor.

"Good day, Edgekirth," Stacks said, his manner stiff.

Edgekirth bowed. "I wish to check Miss Lambeth's progress. I feared we kept her too long from her bed last night."

"I wasn't tired one bit," Freddie retorted, standing and offering the doctor her hand. "I even went outside today--inside the quadrangle, which is quite sheltered from the winds--and declare I am as good as new. I haven't coughed once all day." She turned to Stacks. "I was telling my guardian I long for another good ride, and he said I was not to get back on a horse until
you
give your approval." She threw a hopeful look at the doctor, whose height matched her own.

"If you had no ill effects from visiting the quadrangle, I pronounce you well, Miss Lambeth," Edgekirth said. "In that case, let me be the first to accompany you on a stroll through the park."

"Oh, but I was just beginning my pianoforte lesson--"

"I have remembered some papers that require my attention," Lord Stacks said curtly. "Please, Miss Lambeth, enjoy the lovely afternoon." His Hessians struck the stone floors as he moved away toward the library.

She would have preferred to have stayed with him, but turned to Edgekirth, a smile on her face.

"You must get your pelisse and bonnet," he ordered. "It would not do for you to take a chill."

Eason sent a footman to get Maggie to procure Miss Lambeth's hat and pelisse, and within minutes, Freddie and the doctor were strolling across the neatly clipped grass. The doctor presented his arm to her. The contact with him did not make her feel the same way the contact with Lord Stacks made her feel. How funny it seemed, a month ago she had never taken a man's arm, and now she had strolled with two different men--each of whom treated her with concern. How good Yorkshire had been for her!

"Lord Stacks has given me permission to use whatever herbs and plants I wish for medicinals to help you," she informed Edgekirth proudly. "I told you he would want to share."

"His generosity is for you, Miss Lambeth, not me."

She gave him a pout. "He could have refused."

Edgekirth's voice was inscrutable when he said, "That is true."

"Anyway, I have procured white mullein to make a potion which has great success treating gout. By week's end I should have some elixir for you."

His green eyes danced as she spoke and a slow smile creased his dimpled face. "It will be my pleasure to come back and take possession of it. Now that you are no longer ill, I had feared I would not be seeing you again."

"I told you last night we are friends. You are to come whenever you like."

The vivid life drained from his face. "Yes, we are to be friends," he said grimly.

***

During dinner Freddie missed the doctor's company, for now she was forced to listen to Mrs. Taylor recant the many important tables she had dined at during her youth as companion to Elizabeth.

Freddie admired her guardian all the more for his patience and courtesy toward the insufferable Mrs. Taylor. From his bemused expression when the woman was talking, Freddie knew he found her as tiring as she.

After dinner they retired into the great hall, Mrs. Taylor sending for her and Freddie's needlework. Stacks played at the pianoforte. While Freddie was hopelessly trying to copy one of Mrs. Taylor's perfect stitches, an idea came to her. An idea that lifted her spirits to the heavens. The idea would not only help her dear guardian. It would also bring her together more with him. And that idea made her very happy indeed.

She wanted immediately to share her idea with her guardian. Then, she thought she would wait until Mrs. Taylor was not present, for Freddie held a strong notion that Mrs. Taylor would not like Freddie's plan. The woman seemed bent on winning the baron's approval only for herself.

 Freddie decided to make her idea known to her guardian at breakfast.

Chapter 9

So exhilarated was she that Freddie had scarcely slept a wink all night. She had hit upon a plan—a very exciting plan that--if approved by her guardian--would be beneficial to both of them. Her thoughts whirled with her bold proposal, so much so that she was surprised to see the sun straining through her tiny gothic windows at dawn. She rose much earlier than usual and instructed Maggie to cut her hair and curl the newly shorn tresses. It was important to Freddie that she appear mature--and hopefully attractive--when she met with her guardian at the breakfast table. She selected a new peach colored day dress but left off the gloves. She would want her hands bare in order to work in the garden.

Her chest tightened when she thought of the exciting proposal she would make to her guardian this morning. Not once since she arrived at Marshbanks Abbey had he refused her. She hoped today would not break his record.

He was reading the paper as she stepped into the dining room, nervous. She hoped he would notice her hair.

He looked up and held her gaze, unconsciously tossing aside the paper while not removing his eyes from hers. "How lovely you look, Miss Lambeth. The short hair becomes you."

She felt feather light as she moved to sit beside him, but she caught a glimpse of Elizabeth's portrait and suddenly felt awkward, even ugly, as she sat down, those sparkling blue eyes of Elizabeth's--though long ago stilled--seeming to follow her, seeming to validate Freddie's ugliness.

If she could not match Elizabeth in beauty, she would in intellect. She could not wait to tell her guardian of her plan and began to blurt it out. "My lord, an idea has occurred to me which I think will be most satisfactory to both you and me."

A bemused smile on his face, he said, "Enlighten me, Miss Lambeth."

She felt he was laughing at her. "It is just that since Mrs. Taylor confirmed that I have artistic talent, I propose to assist with your botanical book."

His brows drew together as he considered her proposal.

She must persuade him, she thought nervously. "My penmanship is tolerable, too. And if I could read my father's handwriting, I daresay I could read anyone's. There is nothing I would enjoy more, my lord," she said, her voice low with humility.

She felt his scrutiny as she sat nervously waiting for his response.

"I'm the devil to work with, you know," he said.

"Not so much as my father, I am sure."

"I am cursed with a bent for perfectionism and am intolerable with those who do not share my sense of precision."

"Then you will often find me intolerable, but I should not be sensitive. I know my own faults only too well."

"You are much too humble, Miss Lambeth," he said in that authoritative voice of his.

His fine black eyes sparkling, he threw down his napkin, rose to his feet and spoke with excitement in his voice. "Come with me to the library, Miss Lambeth!"

She forgot all about breakfast and followed her guardian with enthusiasm. He had looked favorably upon her proposal! Nothing had ever made her so happy.