Woo'd in Haste (3 page)

This, too, was rare. Until he was nearly twelve years of age, Luc had taken his meals with his tutors and nannies. Perhaps there had been the occasional quiet dinner without guests, or the nights when he was paraded about like a trained monkey. But Thomas sat at the breakfast table as if this family gathering were a regular occurrence. Would he, as well, be expected to share his meals with the family?

He resisted wiping at his dry eyes. This morning had been the first in ages that he had awoken before ten. But he needed to adjust to country hours, and to the hours of the schoolroom, which were considerably more rigid than the schedule of a gentleman on his Grand Tour.

It was far too early for him to even consider food under usual circumstances, but nonetheless, Luc took the seat proffered him, next to Bianca.

He shook. Or at least his hands did. Hopefully, the slight tremor was undetectable. But . . . he was inches from her and forced to look only dispassionately in greeting. To pay more attention to her younger brother, his new charge.

After all, he was no longer Viscount Asquith, entitled to respect due that honorific. He was essentially a servant, and a servant did not long for the daughter of the house.

But, of course, he did.

It was a relief when Mr. Mansfield drew his attention to her with introductions and he had an actual excuse to look at her.

“Bianca, this is Mr. Dore, Thomas’s new tutor. Mr. Dore, my daughter.”

“A pleasure, Miss Mansfield,” he said, taking the opportunity to study her. She was so close to him, and at this minor distance, he could see that the smoothness of her skin was no trick of light and shadow. She had a beauty mark at the top of her cheek, and her pink lips were full and wide and made his own itch to know their touch.

“Welcome to Hopford, Mr. Dore.”

Her voice. Prior to that moment he had loved her only from afar, but now . . . her voice was sweetness itself, slightly husky. The sort of voice that melted over a man’s skin. Not that he’d ever heard a voice like that before. But now he had. It fit her perfectly.

“And our governess, Miss Charlotte Smith. She has been in charge of Thomas’s education until now.”

Charlotte Smith was a thin sparrow of a woman. In that realm of indeterminate age, in which he could as easily believe her to be merely a few years older than him or two decades. Her brown curls sprung about her head, the sort that a brush would only make worse, and her pale eyes studied him critically and he rather suspected he was coming up short. Although that could simply be his own bias, as he had a young man’s usual aversion to governesses and other figures of schoolroom authority.

Nonetheless, it would do him well to be in her good graces as she had nearly raised Bianca and her opinion was likely influential.

Luc nodded his head toward her. “I am certain I will need much of your guidance and assistance in the transition.”

“I will do my best to help you however you need,” Miss Smith said graciously. Yet he still felt that he was lacking in her estimation. Perhaps it was the deception that made him oversensitive.

“And last, my son and your new pupil, my little Thomas.”

“I’m not little, Papa,” the boy protested.

However, unlike his father and half sister, Thomas
was
a small child. Luc hadn’t been around any since he was one himself, and he wasn’t certain what an eight-year-old
should
look like. The boy was thin, too, and pale and had the same coloring as Bianca and her father, though, Luc understood from Reggie’s description of the family, he was a half-sibling,.

Who was staring at him with wide, fascinated eyes. And seemed on the verge of a question but held his tongue.

“Compared to Mr. Dore, you certainly are,” Bianca quipped and Luc flushed. Half with pleasure that she was aware of him, half with embarrassment. As he always had been about his towering size.

“Quite right,” Mr. Mansfield agreed with a laugh. “You cut a rather imposing figure, Mr. Dore. Miss Smith tells me that my son can be rambunctious and disobedient in the schoolroom. I’ve never seen any evidence of that myself.” The words were laced with humor. “But perhaps you can manage him.”

“Very funny, Papa.” Thomas rolled his eyes.

Mansfield reached out to ruffle his son’s hair, and the boy squirmed in his chair till he was just out of reach. It was clear he doted on his son.

“We’ll frighten Mr. Dore away with such talk,” Miss Smith said with a smile, levity lightening the governess’s stern façade.

Luc laughed. As he’d already embroiled himself in this suspect escapade, nothing could now frighten him away. Not when the woman of his dreams was sitting right next to him.

I
t was impolite to stare, but regardless both Thomas and she did so. Lottie did so, as well, but far more discreetly. However, Bianca knew her governess well. Those downcast lashes concealed a sharp perusal, one that Bianca had been the focus of many a time. And now she was using that technique to study the new tutor, who was quite possibly the tallest man Bianca had ever met. He towered several inches over her father and a good half a head above her, at least. In fact, she felt petite and slight in his shadow, something she had never felt before. Unlike Kate, who took after their late mother, Bianca took after their father. But Mr. Dore possessed an athletic build, like some ancient Olympian. His proximity and great height made it difficult for her to notice other details, and instead she formed a vague impression: shaggy brown hair, a prominent nose in a broad face, slightly ill-fitted clothing that was still of good quality, as if originally made for someone other than he. Bianca’s own clothes, a joint effort of the village seamstress and herself, were sewn to her proportions but no more elegantly made.

“Henrietta and Catherine are off to Brighton,” her father said.

She should have expected that her father would discuss the letters they had all received the day before. And even if she chose to ignore hers, it would still be a topic of conversation. As usual.

“My eldest daughter,” he continued, filling Mr. Dore in.

“Yes, Lord Reginald did mention her.”

Bianca smirked. There at least she could find some sympathy. She knew Reggie didn’t hold Kate in any particular regard. No, as neighbors they were too close to keep bad behavior secret. If only Kate’s bad behavior wasn’t continually rewarded.

“Henrietta is particularly eager for the sea air.”

“I’ve never been to the sea,” Thomas informed Mr. Dore. “Have you?”

“Yes, many a time. And many seas. My favorite—”

“Perhaps we should join them,” Bianca interrupted, half-surprised that the words were actually coming out of her mouth, but it was time. Time to stop accepting everything and to confront her father. As much as she loved him, neither of them could live their lives in fear of Kate, in hopes of keeping a peaceful home. This was barely Kate’s home, in any event, as she only resided at the manor a mere handful of weeks a year. “I’m certain Henrietta would love your company.”

Her father frowned. Sent her a disappointed glare, as if he were hurt and dismayed that she would even bring up the possibility.

“There’ll be time for that soon enough, Bianca. You’ll be off to London this coming spring.”

“That’s optimistic of you, Papa, but I shall hold you to that.”

“You’ll need a new wardrobe,” Lottie added, helpfully. “It’s never too soon to start planning for one’s first Season. We’ll have to hire a new ladies’ maid for you.”

“What’s wrong with Sarah?” Bianca asked referring to the upstairs maid who also doubled as Bianca’s Abigail.

“Oh you’ll be wanting a ladies’ maid who is well versed in all the styles and trends of the current season,” Mr. Dore interjected. “I know that my valet studied continental fashions for months before our journey.”

“Your valet?” Lottie said sharply.

Her question made Bianca realize just how odd it was that an impoverished gentleman would have a valet.

“Mr. Bunbury’s valet,” Mr. Dore corrected. “Although he was kind enough to share Geoffrey’s services.”

“Exactly,” her father said. “You will share Henrietta’s maid when you go to London.”

Bianca had imagined numerous times what it would be like to go to London for a Season, but in each of those times she couldn’t quite envision it in the company of her stepmother. While Henrietta was unobjectionable, that was purely because she was so often absent. Even before she and Kate had begun their two-year circuit of the social centers of England, her father’s second wife had been nearly absent in Bianca’s life. Partly that was Bianca’s own fault. As much as she loved Thomas, she hadn’t wanted a mother to attempt to replace the one she had loved.

Kate hadn’t had any such qualms. Naturally. How different they were. That two siblings could be so opposite had always puzzled and amazed her.

But it didn’t matter. Nothing about Kate was her concern anymore.

F
or the first day after he arrived, she stayed away from the schoolroom. She wasn’t entirely certain what strange shyness had seized her, but she remembered clearly the moment their eyes had met during breakfast. She had felt . . . unsettled. Overly aware of him, especially as he sat beside her. Thus, instead of her usual routine, she crossed the fields on the southern border of the property to visit her friend, Alice Lovell.

Watersham had always been a small community, surrounded by seven notable estates. Fairview, Hopford Manor, Sir Julian Lovell’s estate, the Buncombes, the Dunnetts, the Brooks, and a minor estate belonging to the Marquess of Penforth, which was rarely visited by the Marquess’s family. In fact, the only times Bianca had ever seen any of them was when they were all invited to a dance at the Fairview, which was the country seat of the Duke of Orland. The Colburns, on the other hand, had shockingly little of the superiority of other well-born families. Or rather, Lady Orland and her sons did not. The late Duke of Orland had been rather intimidating.

As such a small community, Watersham was immensely safe, but it also offered a limited society of young women of a similar age. Alice was only a year younger than Bianca and, as a result, the two had become friends. However, they had such different temperaments that Bianca often wondered if they would have been friends if their governesses had not conspired to bring them together often. Even now, Alice was chattering on about the new ribbons she’d ordered from London. Admittedly, the red velvet would look fabulous on the chip bonnet against which she was holding it. It wasn’t that Bianca didn’t care about fashion. It simply wasn’t as interesting as a dozen other activities with which she could spend her time.

“What do you think of John Dunnett?” Alice asked as she placed the ribbon aside and reached for the newest edition of
La Belle Assemblee
, which had just arrived from London that week.

John Dunnett, oldest son of the Dunnett family, was a year younger than Alice and about to start Oxford. Over the years, they’d all been thrown together at the occasional “children’s” balls. He was athletic and handsome, but a boy at seventeen was not focused on love and marriage the way a girl was. Other than practicing flirtation, there was little point in forming any sort of tender for someone like John. At the same time, the community had been decimated by the Napoleonic wars and local assemblies were low on eligible men ready to settle down.

“I think he’s—”

“Yes, I know he’s young,” Alice said. “But it isn’t as if I’m going to
marry
him. At least, not yet, and not likely. But he’s grown at least three inches since last summer. And his muscles
bulge
. He must be quite the athlete. I bet he kisses divinely.”

Bianca laughed.

Alice batted her lashes. “Take the bet, would you? Then I have a reason, no, a mission, to discover how he kisses.”

“I’m not making that bet.”

“Pfft,” Alice dismissed her. “You’re no fun at all.”

For a moment they worked on reworking last year’s hats in companionable silence.

“What about Thomas’s new tutor? Is he handsome?”

“He’s a tutor.”

“He’s a man. And young, I hear. Come, fill me in.”

That was Alice’s minimum criteria. She was interested in any young man, be he butcher or prince. She often compared it to being a connoisseur of art, only she appreciated the male species.

“He is tall,” Bianca said grudgingly, imagining Mr. Dore as she had seen him just that morning at breakfast. She had been inordinately aware of how tall and broad he was. Sitting next to him, he seemed to take up so much space. “And his shoulders . . .”

“Broad? Muscular?” Alice sighed with pleasure. “What color is his hair, his eyes? Does he have a cleft in his chin?”

“Brown. I don’t know. And no.”

She hadn’t really had much of a chance to look at him despite their proximity. But she had been
aware
of him. How could one not be aware of such a giant? Or of a newcomer to one’s home?

“And? What is he like?”

Bianca sighed and pushed the thought of him to the side, just like she did everything else that had to do with Watersham. Her life wouldn’t really begin until she hit London. Until Kate married.

“He’s a tutor. What does it matter?”

A
fter breakfast, Luc was shown to his room, a small chamber just a few steps away from the schoolroom. It was neither the meanest nor plainest of places in which he had ever stayed. There had been that boardinghouse on the border of the relatively new principality of Serbia, an excursion not on the original agenda but half the charm of a Grand Tour was throwing detailed plans away and simply following one’s wont. Regardless, he would be comfortable enough in this narrow room with its narrow bed.

He put away his belongings and then went to the schoolroom where Miss Smith and Thomas were in the midst of a lesson on geography. Silence met his entrance as they both stared at him. Miss Smith’s gaze was no less assessing than it had been in the morning room. She would not be easy to impress. He focused his attention on the boy.