The Impossible Earl
Sarah Westleigh
An unexpected inheritance…Leonora wanted him to leave: Having been reduced to working as a governess, she was left her uncle's fortune and fine town house in Bath. But she also inherited the most infuriating–and most handsome– resident, Blaise, Earl of Kelsey!Blaise refused to go: He had a lease and, by George, he was staying to run his popular gentlemen's club! Especially since Lady Leonora was such a captivating woman….Leonora's hopes for a respectable life in Society and the possibility of marriage would come to ruin without a compromise, particularly when the Earl was so clearly not a candidate for marriage…or was he?
Would nothing deter her?
He smiled on a sudden thought. “You have not yet seen the accommodations, Miss Vincent,” he reminded her.
“Nor have I inspected your gambling hall,” she returned with patently false affability. “At what hour do you close?”
“At three in the morning, Miss Vincent.” His lips twitched with quite irrepressible amusement. “You are determined to stay? It would be highly improper of you to do so.”
The Impossible Earl
Sarah Westleigh
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
SARAH WESTLEIGH
has enjoyed a varied life. Working as a local government officer in London, she qualified as a chartered quantity surveyor. She assisted her husband in his chartered accountancy practice, at the same time managing an employment agency. Moving to Devon, she finally found time to write, publishing short stories and articles, before discovering historical novels.
Contents
Chapter One (#u1f3ac78a-bd65-5d57-bc45-4167410b591b)
Chapter Two (#u1373458b-ad23-59fb-848e-5f9f504965d1)
Chapter Three (#ua96ff03f-8818-5f7b-a862-67ee7a1624e0)
Chapter Four (#u7db4c1af-a487-536a-83eb-d0957a354ea4)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
1816
“A legacy?”
The faint frown which appeared between Leonora’s well-defined brows served only to emphasise her excellent complexion and its general freedom from lines. Her eyes, grey liberally flecked with blue and green within a dark outer rim, widened on the elderly solicitor, who had written for an appointment and undertaken the long and tiring journey from London to Buckinghamshire especially to see her.
Mr Warwick wiped the lenses of his spectacles and put them back on his bulbous, large-pored nose, winding the wires of the frame about his ears.
“Did you not expect it, Miss Vincent?” he asked, his watery blue eyes, set beneath white brows, surprised. “Mr Charles Vincent did not inform you of his intention to name you as his heir?”
“No,” said Leonora. She made a quick gesture with her hands. “He was kind to me as a child, but I have not seen or heard from my great-uncle for many years. I had supposed that my uncle the Earl would have benefited upon Uncle Vincent’s death.”
She sat on a sofa in the morning room of Thornestone Park, her feet together, her hands folded neatly on the dove-grey muslin of her gown. On no account must she show the excitement, the elation growing inside her. Her Uncle Vincent, the Honourable Charles Vincent, younger brother to her grandfather, who had been the Earl of Chelstoke, had not been rich, but as far as she knew he had not been stricken by poverty either.
There should be something to come—unless, of course, he had died heavily in debt, like his nephew her father. That disaster had left the Honourable Peregrine Vincent’s wife and daughter homeless and penniless. His wife had not possessed the strength of character to survive and had speedily followed her husband to the grave.
Leonora, on the threshold of life, made of sterner stuff and valuing above everything her independence, had come here, to Thornestone Park, as governess to Mr and Mrs Hubert Farling’s two daughters. She had not thought to be trapped for seven long years but now, suddenly, when she was almost at her last prayers and faced with the problem of finding another, most probably uncongenial, position, the prospect of freedom seemed something too precious to be hoped for.
“As I understood my client’s mind, Miss Vincent,” went on the lawyer in his dry voice, “he remembered you with great affection. Knowing that you had not been offered a home with your uncle the Earl and had not yet found a husband to provide for you, he sought to ease your situation with this legacy.”
“My uncle did offer me a home,” said Leonora honestly.
“But you did not accept?”
“No. I would rather earn my living as a governess than live as a poor relation at the beck and call of Lady Chelstoke and her brood.”
A faint smile touched the whiskery lips of the lawyer. “I see. I believe my client understood something of the kind. He…er…he held Lady Chelstoke in some dislike.”
“So.” Leonora drew a breath and grinned wryly. “I have become an heiress, but rather too late in life to hope my good fortune will lure a gentleman of consequence to offer for me.” Her neatly folded hands gripped each other as she sought to hide her overwhelming anxiety to know. “How much am I to inherit?”
“My client left everything to you, Miss Vincent, apart from a small sum which is to go to his valet, a man who had been with him for many years.”
Mr Warwick made a show of consulting a sheaf of papers on his knee. He was sitting on an upright chair opposite Leonora, with a table by his side. He cleared his throat and reached out for the glass of Madeira he had been offered on his arrival. Leonora quelled her growing impatience, making herself take inaudible but deep, calming breaths as she waited for him to continue.
He took a sip of the wine and then, at last, went on. “There is a house in Bath, a substantial residence not far from the Abbey. You know Bath?”
Leonora shook her head. He said, “I am informed that it is an older property, but superior in size to the fashionable terraced buildings designed by John Wood and his son. It is near the Pump Room and Baths and the shops in Milsom Street are within easy walking distance. A conveyance would be required to reach the Upper Rooms, where the Balls and Assemblies are held. The property would be worth a fair sum if you cared to sell it.”
Leonora stirred and he went on quickly, as though he wished to continue without interruption. “At the moment the ground and first floors are let to a friend of the late Mr Vincent, who himself occupied the rooms on the floor above. The gentlemen shared the kitchen and servants’ facilities in the basements and attics.”
The frown, which had disappeared from Leonora’s brow, reappeared. “Would this tenant expect to remain?”
Mr Warwick looked uneasy and coughed slightly. “That I cannot say, but he holds a sound lease which does not expire for another five years.”
“I see. But unless he goes, I cannot hope to sell the property immediately at its full value?”
Mr Warwick took another sip of wine to cover his hesitation. “Possibly not, Miss Vincent,” he allowed. “But in addition to the property, my client had investments, mostly in the five percents, and some cash in the bank. There were, of course, a few debts to be settled and the valet’s legacy to find, but the residue of the investments and cash together will total around three thousand pounds.
“Not a great fortune,” he added hurriedly, anticipating Leonora’s disappointment, “but, together with the interest on the investments, the rent Lord Kelsey pays would provide you with a comfortable income should you decide to move into your great-uncle’s apartment. Or you could increase your competence by letting that as well.”
Leonora was not disappointed. How could someone who had nothing be disappointed to inherit somewhere to live and enough rent and interest on capital to enable her to set herself up in modest style? In grand style for a period, were she prepared to hazard the capital in an attempt to secure a suitable gentleman’s hand in marriage.
An idea was forming in her mind. At five-and-twenty she might be almost at her last prayers, but women older than herself did wed. And, to be quite honest, she longed for an establishment of her own. An establishment with a nursery and an agreeable husband who might, were she lucky, love her and, in turn, win her love.
She said, “I should like to see the place before I make up my mind.”
Mr Warwick nodded. “Very wise.”
Rosy pictures of her future flew into Leonora’s mind and drifted out again as she forced herself to listen to Mr Warwick’s further information; but he had little more of moment to impart. It was arranged that, when she was ready to visit Bath, he would ask a colleague with chambers in the city to represent her interests.
She signed some papers, which were witnessed by himself and the footman stationed by the door. He rose, preparing to take his leave, only to be intercepted by Mrs Farling, who, full of curiosity, must have been hovering nearby. She was not prepared to allow her governess’s visitor to depart without being quizzed.
Her round cheeks flushed, her bosom heaving, “Surely you are not returning to London today, Mr Warwick?” she exclaimed, fluttering her hands and with them the gauze scarf draped about her dimpled elbows.
Mr Warwick bowed. “No, madam. I shall find accommodation at the nearest hostelry and make the return journey tomorrow.”
“You would think us poor creatures to allow you to lie overnight at an inn, sir! You must, of course, accept our hospitality!”
“Indeed, madam, you are most kind. I gladly accept but I must dismiss the post chaise and order it to return in the morning…”
“Bennett will do that,” said Mrs Farling imperiously. She turned to call out the order to the butler, who appeared in the doorway, bowed and departed on his mission.
Mr Warwick would be happy to enjoy the comforts of the quite extensive country residence of Thornestone Park instead of lying in a possibly louse-infested inn, Leonora knew. But it meant that she would be called upon once again to add the cachet of her presence at the dinner table. On this occasion, though, she resented less than usual the way her employers used her breeding to add to their own consequence. Mr Warwick was here because of her.
But the exclamations, the questions, when Mrs Farling discovered the reason for his visit, were almost beyond bearing. Leonora wanted privacy in which to come to terms with her good fortune but was not allowed the privilege.
Mr Warwick, it transpired, had never had occasion to visit his client in Bath and so had no idea of the exact nature of the residence Leonora had inherited, or of the circumstances and person of the lord who was now her tenant. No amount of questioning or speculation could tell Mrs Farling more than Leonora already knew.
“I must tender you my notice,” Leonora said. “Perhaps I could plan to move to Bath in two weeks’ time? Would that be convenient to you, Mr Warwick?”
“Indeed, Miss Vincent, that will give me ample time to arrange for Mr Coggan to place himself at your disposal.”
“You wish to leave us so soon!” cried Mrs Farling. “How my girls will miss you! Husband, persuade dear Miss Vincent to remain with us until everything is quite settled!”
Her stout husband, a gentleman who had as little to do with the womenfolk in his household as possible, wiped his greasy lips with his napkin and grunted. “I suggest you allow Miss Vincent to do as she pleases,” he declared.
The Earl of Kelsey, who seldom made use of the quizzing glass suspended from his elegant buff waistcoat, raised it to study the broad, open face of the young lawyer, not much older than himself, facing him over the office desk.
“This female now owns the premises?” he enquired, a forbidding frown drawing deep grooves between the straight lines of his dark brows.
“Indeed, my lord. The late Mr Vincent left her everything, apart from a bequest to his valet. Mr Warwick informs me that Mr Vincent’s fortune was not great, but the lady will be able to live in some comfort on the income from it and the yield from this property.”
“Hmm.” His lordship’s slate grey eyes became thoughtful. He’d known Vincent was only modestly wealthy, but had never discovered exactly what the fellow had been worth. This lawyer would never tell him. He asked, “How much would this place sell for?”
“On the open market, my lord? With yourself as a sitting tenant?” On Kelsey’s nod the lawyer, whose name was Coggan, named a figure.
“And without myself here as tenant?”
Coggan thought for a moment and suggested a larger sum.
“As I thought,” mused the Earl. “She should be glad to be offered a figure somewhere between the two. I cannot have her living in the rooms above. Such a circumstance would be quite beyond the tenets of decency.”
“Indeed, my lord. To have a lady walking through your part of the property would be most—” Coggan sought just the right word “—unseemly.”
“It cannot be allowed. You must inform her so.”
“I would, my lord,” said the lawyer deferentially, “but there is little time. Mr Warwick only instructed me yesterday. I am retained to represent her interests on his behalf, my lord, until she arrives in Bath and claims her inheritance. She is due on Wednesday, and proposes to occupy the late owner’s rooms. Since Mr Warwick was not aware of your lordship’s activities in the part of the house you occupy, neither is Miss Vincent.”
“Is she not?” Kelsey placed a long finger against his pursed lips as he thought. “The day after tomorrow, you say?”
He abandoned his stance by the window and began to pace the floor. He possessed a finely proportioned figure set off to perfection by the cut of his buff trousers and the fit of his green cut-away coat. He wore immaculate linen and his neckcloth had been tied with subtle flair.
He stopped and stood tapping the long fingers of one hand with the quizzing glass he held in the other. The frown left his face as he turned to the lawyer. The skin about his dark eyes crinkled and his firm, shapely mouth curled upwards at the corners. But it was not a friendly smile.
“Then I shall have to receive her and tell her myself. The sooner she is appraised of the situation the better. I shall persuade her of the impropriety of her proposal to occupy the rooms so recently vacated, and offer to purchase the building.”
Her worldly possessions packed neatly into two trunks, Leonora arrived in Bath. She had persuaded her friend the local Rector’s daughter, Clarissa Worth, to accompany her as companion and seduced Dolly, one of the maids at Thornestone Park, to transfer to her employ. To her surprise and relief Mr Farling had insisted that she make use of the family chariot, drawn by post horses, and had sent a footman with them to make all the arrangements for the necessary overnight stay at an inn along the way.
Winter’s early dusk was beginning to fall as the chariot entered Bath. The tower of the Abbey caught Clarissa’s attention while Leonora was entranced by the warm, creamy-yellow colour of the stone used for the buildings. Dolly, perched between them on the pull-out seat, simply gazed with her mouth open.
The chariot threaded its way through streets thronged with rigs of every description—barouches, curricles, chaises, phaetons, gigs, wagons and hand-carts—while uniformed men carried the gentry about in sedan chairs. Pedestrians—the expensively and modishly dressed along with liveried attendants, a few officers in red coats or blue pea jackets, merchants in more sober cloth and workmen in threadbare coats and breeches and holed hose—sauntered or hurried along according to their need. The infirm, she noted, were pushed in wheeled chairs and wrapped in rugs against the February cold.
It was a different world, an exciting world. Bath in 1816, after this first winter of true peace, was full of people. The ton, as usual, was there in force to take the waters before embarking on the exertions and excesses of the London Season.
The post boy seemed to know the town. He turned the carriage into a short street forming one side of a leafy green square surrounded by buildings and drew up before a large, double-fronted house standing on its own between two narrow alleys.
Fancy ironwork fenced off basement areas on each side of a causeway that led to the front door. Three pairs of windows rose on either side of the front entrance, with single windows set between above it. Leonora, scarcely aware of her silent companions, drew a steadying breath as the footman jumped down from the box to lower the step and open the carriage door.
She descended to the pavement and waited, studying the building, while Clarissa and Dolly followed her down. A carved lintel and pediment, with “Morris House” inscribed on it, topped the single front door, which opened expectantly to reveal a footman, garbed in good but unostentatious livery in two shades of grey.
Leonora crossed the causeway and halted before the step. “Miss Vincent,” she announced herself. “Lord Kelsey is expecting me.”
A second person had come forward, dressed in excellently tailored black worn with some elegance. In contrast, his immaculate neckcloth, the high points of his collar, the frills of his shirt, all gleamed starkly white.
“Indeed he is, madam,” said this individual, taking the place of the footman, who retreated into the hall where his powdered wig gleamed in the semi-darkness. “Allow me to introduce myself. Digby Sinclair, at your service.”
He bowed. Leonora, not certain of the person’s standing, acknowledged his words with a nod. Clarissa had come to join her while Dolly and Mr Farling’s footman, who wore a tall hat rather than a wig, waited patiently beside the chariot.
“His lordship understands that you wish to occupy the late Mr Vincent’s apartments,” went on the individual smoothly.
Impatient at being kept standing on the doorstep, Leonora retorted with some asperity. “For the time being, at least. Please allow me to enter.”
“Of course, madam.” He made no attempt to let her past. “But his lordship requests that your boxes be taken round to the back entrance and carried up the stairs there. It will be more convenient.” He looked beyond her. “Perhaps your maid would accompany them? You will then find her installed in the apartments when you have spoken to his lordship and follow her up.”
Leonora frowned. Enter by the back stairs? Not if she had anything to do with it. “His lordship is at home, I collect?”
“Oh, yes, madam. He is awaiting your arrival.”
“Excellent. I look forward to meeting him. And you are?”
“His manager, madam.”
Manager? Leonora kept her curiosity to herself. Perhaps the Earl was too old to manage his own affairs. It had crossed her mind that, were the Earl available, he might be pleased to acquire a wife and with her the ownership of this property. She was open to offers from any reasonable quarter. None of those she had received over the years had been appealing enough to tempt her into giving up her freedom, limited as it had been. Governesses, however well connected, seldom received offers from gentlemen.
She turned to speak to Dolly. “Wait there with the chariot,” she instructed briskly, “until it is decided what is to be done about our luggage.” She turned back to Sinclair. Now, perhaps you will announce me to his lordship.”
Who might be an earl, but she was an earl’s granddaughter.
“But, madam—”
Leonora lifted an imperious eyebrow. Sinclair bowed.
“If you will follow me, madam?”
“Do you want me to come with you?” asked Clarissa.
Leonora eyed her friend and decided that her presence would serve to hinder rather than help her in the coming interview. Some five years her senior, Clarissa Worth had never been further than Buckingham in her life and although perfectly capable of dealing with her father’s parishioners, Leonora doubted whether she had ever learned how to confront a member of the nobility.
“No,” she said. By this time they were in a large vestibule with doors on either side and the main staircase, wide and curving, facing them. It was furnished with a small table holding a silver salver, a bench and a number of rout chairs. The muffled sound of male voices came from somewhere above. She speculated momentarily as to who the gentlemen might be and then ignored the sound. She indicated the chairs and said, “Sit down while you wait for me.”
Sinclair, knocking on a door on the left near the foot of the stairs as he opened it, announced, “Miss Vincent, my lord.”
His tone was deferential yet there was an undercurrent of amusement in it that told Leonora that this man, a personable creature approaching the age of forty, she imagined, was on intimate terms with the Earl. He turned to usher her in and she could see something else in his blue eyes, something she had come to recognise over the years. He found her pleasing.
She did not care whether the man Sinclair found her pleasing or not. Her business was with his employer. She lifted her pretty, firm jaw and sailed past him into the lion’s den.
The manager withdrew, closing the door behind her. A tall youngish gentleman rose languidly from behind the desk, where he had been sitting perusing some papers, and stepped out to make his bow.
“Miss Vincent.”
He made no attempt to be more than civil. Leonora dipped a polite curtsy and acknowledged the greeting. “My lord.”
They studied each other. Leonora saw a tall, lean, but well-built gentleman of some thirty years—certainly he was a deal younger than his manager—with short brown hair arranged in the latest careless style, who wore his well-tailored garments with easy elegance. The hair framed a face whose individual features would have been difficult to criticise—a broad forehead; slate-grey eyes set beneath brows of a lighter hue than his hair and fringed by enviable lashes; a straight nose and shapely mouth.
Only his chin gave her cause for concern. It looked formidably firm and determined.
To Blaise Dancer, Earl of Kelsey, heir to the Marquess of Whittonby, Miss Leonora Vincent looked the epitome of a strait-laced governess well beyond her youthful prime. The way she dressed, the way she held herself, the severe expression with which she was attempting to intimidate him, told the tale. But, despite her years, he could not fault the perfection of her complexion, the accumulation of fine features that gave her an appearance of classical beauty which, given the matching stoniness of her expression, he did not find attractive.
Light brown hair tending towards fair strayed from beneath the brim of an elderly velvet bonnet trimmed with wilting silk flowers. It matched the colour of the brown pelisse he could glimpse beneath the enfolding cloth of a grey travelling cloak. Her skirts, by what he could see of them, were of a lighter colour, a dull buff muslin sprigged with brown and green. Her eyes, an interesting mixture of grey, green and blue, were narrowed between gold-tipped lashes with something suspiciously like vexation. He allowed himself a secret smile of satisfaction.
“You,” said Leonora at length, quelling the dismay she felt at having so young a gentleman occupying the rooms beneath hers, “are Lord Kelsey, my tenant?”
“I am, madam.” They were still standing. He waved her to a seat facing his desk and, once she had settled herself, sank back into his own chair. “Naturally,” he went on easily, “I am devastated by the death of Mr Charles Vincent. We dealt well together. That he had left his property to a great-niece came as a surprise to me. Not to say a shock.”
“And to me, my lord. I had not seen my Uncle Vincent for many a year. Not since my mother’s death.”
“So you were not expecting to inherit anything,” remarked his lordship with evident satisfaction. “In that case, madam, you must be grateful for your good fortune. I am prepared to make you an offer for this building. The money, well invested, will enable you to live quite comfortably wherever you may choose.”
Leonora stared at him. To think that she had once contemplated taking lodgings elsewhere! That had been before she saw the wonderful house Uncle Vincent had left her and met this infuriating, domineering creature. Now, she was determined to make this her home.
She said, “On the contrary, my lord, I am prepared to buy out your lease. It must be quite immaterial to you where you reside. There must be many more convenient places in Bath.”
“But I have established a business in these rooms, madam.”
Leonora’s eyebrows rose. “Business, my lord? I had not imagined that a gentleman of your rank would indulge in trade!”
“Trade, Miss Vincent?” His haughty tone could not have been more chilling. “You mistake. I have established an exclusive Gentleman’s Club on these premises. Even now, if you will listen, you will hear a party of members being admitted. You must see how inconvenient it would be for you to have such an activity taking place on the floors beneath you.”
Her hands had begun to tremble. She clasped them tightly in her lap, on top of her reticule. “What activity?” she demanded. “Drinking? Gambling?”
He smiled. The devil had the most fascinating smile she had seen in a man. Creases radiated from his eyes, which sparked with wicked amusement, and bracketed his mouth, which had assumed the most alluring of curves.
She fought down a desire to smile back. Her hands gripped each other harder. She would not be seduced by his charm.
“Both of those things, Miss Vincent. But I also provide a Reading Room and serve food as well as drink in the Dining Room. Only two of the rooms are given over to cards and gaming.”
Leonora’s lips compressed. “You are operating a gambling hell in my house,” she accused.
The chilly hauteur returned. Eyes which normally looked upon the world with audacious challenge became cold and repressive. “If you say so, madam.” He would not deign to argue with the prudish creature. “I collect that, since you so obviously disapprove of my activities, you will have changed your mind about taking up residence here yourself?”
To his surprise she smiled. Pleats curled round her perfect mouth. Unexpectedly, his body reacted in an all-too-familiar way.
Her eyes challenged his. “On the contrary, my lord. If it would not inconvenience you too much—” the irony did not escape him “—I will have our boxes carried up the main stairs to my rooms. It will be easier for the servants to carry them up that way, rather than being compelled to negotiate what I imagine are the much narrower service stairs.”
He stirred. He had not expected her to outface him and his annoyance grew. Would nothing deter her? He smiled on a sudden thought. “You have not yet seen the accommodation, Miss Vincent,” he reminded her.
“Nor have I inspected your gambling hell,” she returned with patently false affability. “At what hour do you close?”
“At three in the morning, Miss Vincent. And I open again to serve breakfasts at ten. If you are interested, I shall be pleased to show you round one day before we open.” He raised his quizzing glass and inspected her through it with undisguised challenge, though his lips twitched with quite irrepressible amusement. “You are determined to stay? It would be highly improper in you to do so.”
She chose to ignore his last inconvenient remark. “It is my right to live in and to inspect my property, Lord Kelsey. I shall move in immediately and you may expect me down here at nine tomorrow morning to look over your rooms.”
“Very well.” Devil take it, he could scarcely have the aggravating female thrown out. “Meanwhile, pray consider my offer to purchase the property, Miss Vincent. Or alternatively, I would be prepared to take over the lease of the entire house. The rent I would pay you would enable you to command more suitable premises for your own use.”
Leonora rose. “Your proposition, my lord, would no doubt sound tempting had I no desire to live in the property left me by my uncle. However it is, in my opinion, ideally suited to my needs. I warn you that, having taken up immediate residence in the rooms my uncle used, I fully intend to consult my lawyer over the possibility of terminating your lease. And now, if you will be so kind as to allow my luggage to be carried upstairs?”
He rose when she did, as was polite. They were on their way to the door when Leonora stopped. She was not short herself, but she had a long way to look up to meet Lord Kelsey’s dark, inscrutable eyes. “About the kitchen facilities. I understand that my uncle shared them with you. I shall need to do the same. And my maid will need accommodation in the attics.”
“Madam,” said his lordship with the utmost civility, “you may, of course, share the kitchen, provided only that you can come to terms with my cook, Monsieur André. I should point out that Charles—Mr Vincent—was used to order meals to be sent up from the kitchen. I rendered him an account at the end of each month.”
“Astronomical, no doubt,” said Leonora acidly.
“But, no, madam. He paid only the cost of the food. The services of Monsieur André were taken account of in the rent I agreed to pay.”
Leonora eyed him, not certain whether to do the same or not. In the end, “I will try it for a month,” she decided.
In a month, with luck, he would be gone.
“I will inform Monsieur André of your decision, Miss Vincent. Your maid will, of course, collect the food when it is ready. There are just the two of you?”
“No, my lord. I have with me a companion, a friend and chaperon. Otherwise I could not have taken up residence here without causing a scandal.” She gave him a smile to match his own. “The presence of Miss Worth, a clergyman’s daughter, will quieten the gossips. You do have gossips in Bath?”
He was impelled to laugh. “The ton is here, Miss Vincent, the scandalmongers included. The situation will no doubt give rise to speculation, but if you are discreet you should avoid the loss of your reputation.”
Fire sparkled in her eyes. “I shall inform everyone I meet of my abhorrence of your activities, my lord, and of my intention to see you off the premises as soon as may be.”
“I think you will find, madam, that your intention will fail. If you wish to avoid the stigma of living above a gambling hell, you will find it necessary to move out yourself.”
Leonora lifted that delightful, stubborn chin. “Never!” she declared as she walked into the hall.
Clarissa stirred at sight of her, an enquiring look on her rather plain face. Leonora glanced back to the man following her.
“My lord, I name to you Miss Worth, my companion. Clarissa, this is my tenant, Lord Kelsey.”
Clarissa rose, her colour high, and the two made slight acknowledgement of the introduction.
Leonora said, “Excuse me,” and walked back to the front door to tell Matthew and Dolly that the luggage was to be taken upstairs through the front door.
“When it is all unloaded, Matthew, you may see to the carriage. You know what to do, and have funds to meet any expenses?”
“Aye, miss. Mr Farling were generous, miss.”
“Capital! Thank you for your services on the way here.”
A coin changed hands. Leonora turned back to the Earl.
“Someone, no doubt, will show us the way up?”
“I will escort you myself, Miss Vincent. This once. After this, you must, I fear, use the service stairs and enter and leave by the back basement entrance at all times when the Club is open.”
They had begun to mount the curving staircase, arranged round a small, circular, open well. Leonora snorted.
“You mean that I shall not be allowed to use my own front door? I do not see that you can prevent me, my lord!”
“The lease expressly forbids it,” said Kelsey complacently. “Naturally, as a member of the Club, your uncle was able to come and go by these stairs whenever he wished.”
He cut off to greet two gentlemen passing them on the landing. Leonora realised that they were more than a little foxed and their bold scrutiny offended her. She tossed her head and trod silently up the next, much narrower flight until she came to the landing and found a screen and a door barring her path.
“You will appreciate the danger of meeting strange gentlemen on the stairs should you insist upon using them,” murmured Kelsey as he leaned past her, uncomfortably near, to unfasten the door. “Though you need not fear intrusion provided you keep this door locked,” he went on smoothly, handing her the key.
Leonora walked through into a small lobby with some half dozen doors leading off it. The apartment was larger than she had anticipated and her spirits rose. Secure behind her locked door she could ignore what went on downstairs while she made her plans.
“Charles—Mr Vincent,” went on the Earl, “had old-fashioned tastes. No doubt you will require to redecorate and refurnish in your own fashion.” He flung open the door to a room at the front of the house. “This was his parlour.”
Leonora entered, curious to see how her uncle had lived. She took in the double window with its brown drapes, the comfortable leather armchair, the writing desk and the shelves of books.
“It looks extremely comfortable to me,” she said, shuddering inwardly at the dinginess of the place. But the furniture was good and the books looked interesting. She could soon change the soft furnishings. “I shall be quite content living here,” she informed his lordship with conviction.
He could see that she meant it. Of course, she would. The decorations would suit a drab, narrow-minded governess to perfection.
Damnation. He had absolutely no desire to conduct his business with a highly critical female, who was, intolerably, his new landlord, installed above him.
Chapter Two
The Earl departed as the luggage came up, causing confusion on the spiralling stairs.
Anything large, Leonora could see, would have to be hoisted in through the windows. She looked forward to causing a different kind of confusion when she changed some of the furniture. For although she had said, and believed, that she could be comfortable surrounded by her late uncle’s things, her ideas on furnishing were rather different to his. Were she to be here long, changes would have to be made.
“The apartments are quite spacious,” remarked Clarissa as they went from room to room together.
Once the Earl had left, they had taken a good look round the front parlour and the rear dining room before inspecting the front bedroom, which Leonora would use despite its masculine decorations, because it was big and had a door through to a dressing room.
“Morris House is nothing like Thornestone Park, of course,” went on Clarissa as they moved on, “or as grand as what you were used to as a child, I collect.”
“No.” Leonora opened the last door and looked around approvingly at the smaller bedroom at the back of the house, which must have been used by Mr Vincent’s valet. “This should suit you, Clarissa, if we brighten it up a bit. The bed and rest of the furniture look adequate. It seems my uncle did not scruple to make his man comfortable.”
“Indeed, yes! It is larger than my room at home in the Rectory and look, there is a splendid washstand, and a writing table—even a mirror!” Clarissa’s normally rather sallow complexion had taken on a faint glow of excitement. “But what of Dolly?”
“She will sleep upstairs in one of the rooms in the attic. I’d better go down and arrange it with this Monsieur André. Meanwhile, you could begin to unpack your things.”
“Would you like me to see to yours first?”
“No. Dolly can do it after she has been downstairs with me. You make yourself comfortable.”
The back stairs were discovered behind the main staircase, at the end of a short passage accessed through a narrow door opening from the lobby. Dolly, her boots clattering on the bare boards, followed her mistress down to the basement. A comfortingly warm, aromatic and steamy atmosphere drew them to the kitchen.
Dinner was over, though sounds of washing up came from the adjoining scullery, through which Leonora dimly glimpsed the back area and steps.
In the kitchen itself, pots and pans, mostly iron but some copper, hung from hooks and sat on shelves, shadowy in the light cast by oil lamps and candles. A huge dresser held an assortment of crockery and jars. Beyond the long scrubbed table that occupied the centre of the room, a large range stretched along the opposite wall. A clockwork spit turned a couple of chickens over the glowing fire, which largely accounted for the mouth-watering aromas filling the kitchen, and a couple of pots simmered gently on the hob.
Mixed in with the smell of roasting meat were echoes of coffee, of baking bread, of spices and herbs. Leonora’s stomach rumbled. They had not stopped to take more than a light nuncheon on the way.
A small man in a tall, crumpled white hat aimed an excited stream of fractured English at those working about the table chopping, beating and blending. As the door opened he paused in mid-flow to exclaim in scandalised tones, “What ees eet? What you do ’ere, madame? What you want?”
Everyone in the room stopped work.
Leonora swept forward with a gracious smile. “Monsieur André?”
“Zat ees me, oui.”
“And you are the cook.” It was a statement. He could be no one else.
“Le chef de cuisine, madame,” he corrected her stiffly, with a small bow.
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, monsieur,” said Leonora. “Allow me to introduce myself, since there is no one here to do it for me. I am Miss Vincent, now the owner of these premises. I have spoken with my tenant, Lord Kelsey, who informs me that, through him, you are contracted to supply any meals I might order.”
The cook’s stiff manner changed into one of open curiosity as he made a deep, deferential bow. “Madame! Enchanté, madame! Hees lordship, ’ee ’as tolded me you come. And you ’ave chose to stay?”
“I have, monsieur. I find the house quite charming. This,” she said, pulling her reluctant servant forward, “is my maid, Dolly. She will bring down my orders and collect the dishes when they are ready.” Dolly dipped a clumsy curtsy and Monsieur André acknowledged her presence with a nod. “And perhaps she may be allowed to use your kitchen to make me a pot of tea or some other drink or snack occasionally?”
He eyed the girl, who stood awkwardly beside Leonora, her face as red as her work-worn hands. “Zere will be nossing of any difficulty, madame.”
“Thank you. Dolly will need to occupy a servant’s room in the attic. Perhaps someone could show her up?”
“Zee ’ousekeeper will arrange zat, madame. She is in ’er chamber.”
“Housekeeper?” murmured Leonora, momentarily brought up short. Lord Kelsey had not mentioned a housekeeper, though of course he would need one.
“Mrs Parkes, madame, une veuve—’ ow you say? A vidow? She ’as zee room in front next zee servants’ room. I ’ave zee one next ma cuisine.”
“Then perhaps you will introduce us?”
The housekeeper’s room had a large chunk cut out of it for a store-room, but otherwise it was the same size as her own drawing room upstairs, plenty big enough to accommodate table, chairs and bed. The fast-fading daylight barely allowed her to see the basement wall, some three yards from the window. As she looked up she glimpsed the railings etched against the flickering light cast on the feet of a man by the torch he carried. The grass and trees beyond were quite out of sight.
The housekeeper herself was of ample proportions and looked middle-aged. Her gown was of dark stuff and a frilly black cap touched by white hid her hair. She rose from a chair drawn up before a bright fire, while candles flickered above on its mantel. Her curtsy was made without fuss and a neutral smile appeared on her smooth-cheeked face.
“Of course there’s room for the lass,” she said comfortably and the smile she turned on Dolly was motherly. “You’ll find company up there, my girl.” To Leonora she said, “I’ll be up in a minute to show her where to go. Have you ordered your supper, madam?”
Leonora, surprised by the way the woman spoke, shook her head. “Not yet. I have a companion to live with me. There are therefore three of us, with Dolly.”
“Dolly can eat in the Servants’ Hall, with the others, if that suits. I shall order a meal for you and your companion, madam. Leave it to me. Monsieur André is an exceptional cook, which makes the Club’s dining room popular, and I shall see that you are provided with the best.”
“Thank you, Mrs Parkes. When will supper be served?”
“Dinner is between two and five o’clock and supper between eight and midnight.” The excellent Mrs Parkes, plainly a superior woman of some education, glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It is only a half after five. Would you like a snack while you wait?”
“Thank you, I would appreciate that. And supper early, at eight, tonight. We have had a tiring day. I am obliged to you, Mrs Parkes.”
The spiral stairs seemed to rise up forever. Following Dolly now, Leonora wondered if she would ever be able to mount them from bottom to top without losing her breath. But of course she would! She was comparatively young, and fit, and she would not allow the inconvenience of having to climb innumerable narrow, winding stairs to reach her rooms daunt her. It would please his lordship too much if she did.
She was out of breath by the time she reached her floor, but managed to recover it quickly by inhaling deeply a couple of times.
“Come, Dolly,” she ordered the youngster. “While you are waiting for Mrs Parkes, you may as well begin to unpack my things.”
Her bedroom was large enough to double as her boudoir, she thought, looking around with more attention than she had given it before. With pretty striped drapes at the windows and new bed curtains and cover, it would be both comfortable and pleasant on the eye.
A mahogany chest of drawers and a cupboard with shelves stood in the dressing room, with a wash stand and close stool. Her clothes would all be kept in there. She would buy a cheval mirror or two and replace the gentleman’s chest in the bedroom with a dressing table and perhaps buy a chaise-longue.
She would show the intolerable Earl downstairs that she was no wilting lily to be frightened off by his desecration of her premises. What had her uncle been thinking of, to allow him to set up a gambling hell below?
The answer came to her without her even having to think. He had been a man, probably a gambler and had belonged to the Club. Of course he had seen no reason to object!
Apart from the interminable stairs she must climb to reach it, she would have been well satisfied with her accommodation. That she must use the servants’ entrance and back stairs was an insult entirely caused by the disobliging presence of Lord Kelsey pursuing his dubious activities beneath her.
Tomorrow, she decided as she consumed the cold ham, fresh bread and butter and pot of tea Mrs Parkes had sent up after showing Dolly her quarters, she would confront Mr Coggan in his chambers and demand that the lease be terminated. After she had inspected the premises downstairs.
Tomorrow promised to be an interesting day.
Sharp on nine the following morning, refreshed by a night of deep and untroubled slumber, Leonora trod down the main staircase to beard Lord Kelsey in his den. She took the precaution of taking Clarissa with her. After all, she was flouting convention by visiting a gentleman in his rooms, even although it was on business. Besides, there was something about the Earl she did not—quite—trust.
The doors on the middle landing were ajar and sounds of cleaning could be heard. They passed straight down to the ground floor and Leonora, seeing no functionary to stop her, led the way to the office she had been in yesterday.
Most of the doors down here, to private rooms occupied by the Earl and his manager, were firmly closed against intrusion. The office door, however, was ajar. She rapped on the panel and entered on a brisk invitation so to do.
She had not noticed, yesterday, that the room was more than an office. It was, in most respects, equipped as a study, with armchairs by the fire and a reading desk near the single window. The other window, this one’s twin, had been cut off to create an inner room, the use of which was not immediately obvious.
The Earl, however, had risen from the same large desk he had been using yesterday. Its surface was strewn mostly with bills and ledgers. He was not making the entries but checking someone else’s work, the scanty daylight augmented by the light from a branch of candles.
“You are punctual, Miss Vincent,” he greeted her, having bowed and received their curtsies in return.
“In business, my lord, it pays to abide by one’s promises,” Leonora said. “I am ready to make my inspection, and have brought Miss Worth with me to take down any necessary notes.”
Clarissa held a pad of paper and a pencil clutched to her breast. She was gazing at his lordship with bright, interested eyes and faintly flushed cheeks. Yesterday, realised Leonora, Clarissa had not had much chance to take in Kelsey’s splendid physique and the excellent tailoring which displayed it to full advantage. Neither had she been treated to a smile which conveyed both welcome and a degree of conspiratorial sympathy. As though she, Leonora, was some harridan to be placated!
She looked about her with an austerely critical gaze.
“This room appears to be in satisfactory order—except for that patch of damp by the window.” She walked over and looked up, peering as closely as possible at the stained wallpaper. “Why have you not had it repaired?”
Kelsey spoke in the resigned tone of one dealing with a fractious infant. “Because, Miss Vincent, the trouble is outside, in the stonework, for which the owner is responsible. Mr Vincent was intending to have a repair effected before he so unfortunately died. He also expected to bear the cost of having the wall redecorated internally.”
“I shall consult a stonemason,” declared Leonora briskly, hiding her discomfort under a businesslike manner. Dear Lord, how much would that cost her? She had not even considered that repairs might be necessary to the fabric, for which she would be responsible. “Clarissa, make a note.” She indicated the closed door to the inner room. “What is in there?”
“I had that room formed, with Mr Vincent’s permission, to accommodate my valet. It seemed the most convenient place since my dressing room is little more than a cupboard and has no window.”
He opened the door and Leonora took a brief glance around the small but tidy bedroom.
“Very well. Shall we move on?”
Kelsey closed the door again as they withdrew and strolled across to the office door to hold that open for them, looking indolently tolerant. Leonora seethed. He had certainly had the best of that exchange.
As they passed through she glanced about the hall but could not fault the polished floorboards, the strip of patterned carpet leading to the stairs, the cream walls and brown paintwork or the blue and gold tasselled decorations. Tasteful, mildly opulent yet dignified, it was tilted towards the masculine, of course, but she could scarcely complain about that.
A wreath-like decoration affixed to the wall near the front door caught her attention. She had not noticed it before, or the words it contained.
“‘Welcome to the Vitus Club,”’ she read aloud. “Is that what you call your gambling den?”
“The Vitus Club is known throughout Bath, Miss Vincent.”
“I’m certain it is. Do your members all suffer from nervous twitches?”
He laughed, but his tone patronised when he spoke. “Fortunately, no, Miss Vincent. My family name is Dancer. St Vitus is the patron saint of dancers. I thought the name appropriate.”
“Prodigiously so. If your clients are not twitching from some nervous disease, they will be from gambling fever or despair,” Leonora scoffed.
The dark brows lifted. Now his tone held an undercurrent of scornful disbelief. “Do I infer that you disapprove of gambling, Miss Vincent? That you never wager on a hand of cards?”
Leonora flushed. She had allowed herself to fall into the trap of appearing a prude. “Not at all, sir,” she contradicted him. “Like everyone else, I gamble in moderation when in card-playing company. I do not disagree with gambling in principle but fear the hold it gains on some people—” like her father, though she would not mention him. Her hand tightened on the handle of her reticule “—and despise those who trade on their weakness,” she concluded quickly.
He waved a hand, indicating that she should enter the door he was opening. She did, and Clarissa meekly followed behind. Leonora wondered what her friend thought of the verbal battle raging between herself and the Earl.
In truth, she scarcely knew why she was being so difficult, except that the entire situation had taken her completely by surprise. White’s, Boodle’s and Brooks’s in London could be regarded as respectable, she supposed, but even so a man could lose a fortune in an evening. The less respectable clubs often set out to fleece their clients.
Unable to meet the high membership fees demanded by White’s and the like, her father had fallen victim to such a one on his last visit to Town, a circumstance which had undoubtedly given her a jaundiced view of small clubs like the Vitus. His losses had, in effect, caused his death. He had sold his carriages and horses and his hunters, and been thrown by a devilish animal with an evil eye, the best mount he could afford.
“So no one should deal in the selling of wine or spirits and thus incite drunkenness and delirium tremens?” remarked Kelsey smoothly as he walked to the centre of what must be his parlour-cum-dining room.
Leonora, unwilling to confide her true reasons for her antagonism, chose to ignore this irrelevance while busily occupying herself with looking about. The room was tastefully decorated and comfortably furnished with armchairs. The dining table was small, large enough only for intimate dinners. He would not eat here often, she supposed, he would take his meals in the Club. A side board held an array of decanters and glasses. Leonora could not fault the condition of the place.
“The bedroom is through here,” said Kelsey smoothly, opening a communicating door leading to the back room.
Not to be hurried or intimidated, Leonora finished her survey of the room she was in before walking through with her chin in the air. Clarissa, reared in the genteel confines of a rectory, held back. Kelsey, a hand in the small of her back, guided her through. Clarissa’s colour flared. Her colourless lashes fluttered, revealing and then hiding the pale blue eyes raised to meet the Earl’s.
Turning, Leonora felt a small shock run through her. Clarissa was flirting with his lordship! Her voice, therefore, was sharp as she called for her attention.
“Miss Worth! I hope you have continued to make notes?”
“I did not realise that there was anything to write,” said Clarissa placidly. “You have found no other fault, I believe?”
“No. But that fact must be recorded, too. Hall, parlour and bedroom are all in excellent order.”
“I am glad you find them so, madam,” came Kelsey’s rather amused voice. She had scarcely glanced at the bedroom and in her hurry had ignored the middle-aged gentleman’s gentleman occupied in tidying his master’s clothes beside a cubicle containing a cupboard and washstand, and he knew it. He might not intimidate her, but his huge canopied bed did.
“There are other rooms on this floor, I believe,” Leonora said, making speedily for the door to the hall.
Kelsey followed her out of his bedroom, a small smile denting one corner of his mobile mouth. He crossed to the door next that of his office. “Only one. This is Sinclair’s room. I have arranged with him that you should be admitted.”
Leonora merely raised her brows at this piece of nonsense. She had every right to be admitted!
Kelsey knocked. A voice bade them enter.
Sinclair had risen and met them near the door, his manner almost effusive.
“Good morning, Miss Vincent. I believe you wish to inspect my room?”
Leonora gave him her sweetest smile. “I merely wish to discover the general condition of the part of the building Lord Kelsey rents,” she explained.
“Then you must be quite reassured,” observed Sinclair, returning her smile and transferring it to Kelsey as a grin. “He is most particular and Mrs Parkes is an able housekeeper.”
“Your apartment looks comfortable, clean and well-decorated,” observed Leonora. “You are well suited here?”
“Indeed, madam, I am happy in my accommodation and my association with his lordship. As you can see, he has provided me with every comfort. Is there anything else you wish to know?”
“I think not,” said Leonora, noting that he had a small desk in his room, at which he had been working, as well as a dining table and chairs, a well-stocked side board, several armchairs and a narrow bed behind a screen in one corner. “Thank you, Mr Sinclair. Miss Worth, note only that there is a little paint peeling from the window frame.”
“There is?” murmured Kelsey, his brows rising. “You did not tell me, Sinclair.”
“I thought the matter too trifling,” said the manager.
They all dutifully inspected a small area near the sill where the paint had flaked.
“Strictly, it is,” said the Earl. “But I will undertake to have it touched up. And now, madam, if you are satisfied with this floor, we can mount the stairs to see those rooms I use for the Club. I fear we must not linger, for the doors will open in half an hour. I will lead the way.”
“Very well.”
This flight of stairs was wider than the next one leading up to her rooms, as she had already noted. It was usual, of course, for stairs to become narrower the higher they climbed. She became even more determined to gain possession of the lower rooms, particularly the main rooms served by the wider staircase, as soon as possible. Otherwise, how was she ever to receive?
“This is the Dining Room,” he said, ushering them into one of the back rooms through an already half-open door. “But you may even think that selling food holds out the danger of encouraging gluttony?”
He wanted to throw ridicule on her views. The question in his voice held the ring of irony. Leonora shook an angry head.
“Pray do not be absurd,” she snapped. “If a man chooses to drink or eat himself to death, he does not necessarily leave his family bereft of anything but his presence. A man who is stripped, of intent, of all he owns and dies deeply in debt, leaves a destitute family. There is a difference.”
There was a considering look in the slate-grey eyes. Leonora flushed again, conscious that she may have given away more of her past than she had intended.
He bowed. “I give you best, madam. A prudent, honest gentleman will have a care for others. It is the imprudent who find themselves with pockets to let, be it through over-indulgence in the good things of life or in gambling.”
“Imprudent? Maybe.”
Leonora stood by one of the circular tables, her fingers smoothing the polished mahogany surface. Her father, for one, had not in general behaved rashly. She collected her scattered thoughts and looked about her.
Like others of its size the table was set about with four padded chairs. Some were meant only for two, one for a larger party. White damask cloths were already in course of being spread and cutlery placed in position. The clatter of continuing activity distracted her for a moment.
She realised that it would be pleasant to eat in this room, with its buff walls divided into panels outlined in blue, while above gold leaf and blue paint decorated the wide cornice. A gilt—it could scarcely be gold—chandelier holding dozens of candles and dripping with crystal hung from the centre. Rich damask curtains matched the blue and gold chair seats.
She stirred, only now ready to finish what she had begun to say. “But gambling is like a fever. The compulsion can be caught; once in its grip, an individual is helpless until the bout is over.”
“The addictive compulsion to alcohol is equally deadly, Miss Vincent, particularly for the poor, where families starve because the father spends what little he earns on drink. Yet alehouses remain open and merchants continue to peddle spirits without rousing condemnation. I see no reason why I should be damned for providing the facilities for gentlemen to eat, drink and amuse themselves in congenial company.”
He shrugged his immaculately clad shoulders. “I no more encourage anyone to indulge to excess than does your wine merchant or the hostess who sets up card tables in her home. The stakes at the tables here may be a little higher than at a rout or at the Assembly Rooms, but that is the gambler’s choice, not mine.”
He was, she realised, attempting to justify himself and using all his charm to win her over. He did have a point, if what he said was true. But how could she know that it was? He must take a percentage of the stakes. She shook her head, the slightest of involuntary movements. The very fact that he had chosen to profit from the frailties of others must condemn him.
She met his dark, quizzical eyes without flinching, going straight to what she conceived to be the weakest part of his argument. “You set no limit on the stakes, I collect.”
He shrugged shoulders encased in immaculate blue broadcloth. The shadows on his neckcloth shifted and changed but his expression did not. Not a trace of guilt showed in his manner. “No, madam. A man must have somewhere to go where he is allowed to do as he determines.”
“To go to hell if that is his choice?”
“Exactly, madam.”
Leonora’s soft lips compressed into a tight line before she said, “I should prefer such an activity to take place somewhere other than beneath my roof.”
“I regret, Miss Vincent, that I cannot oblige you in that respect. Have you seen all that you require in here?”
So he wanted to abandon the argument for the moment. Leonora’s frustration grew. Nothing she could say or do could shift him.
She could feel nothing but righteous pleasure that she had made her position so abundantly clear. She had no desire to prolong the argument. What she did most urgently want was to find some flaw in his lordship’s tenancy agreement or in his adherence to it, which would allow her to evict him.
“Yes,” she answered him. “This room is in excellent repair.” The double doors leading to the front room stood open. She moved to pass through. “This is the Reading Room?”
“As you can see, Miss Vincent.”
If anything, it was decorated, furnished and equipped in better style than the Dining Room. High-backed armchairs, each with a small table beside it, predominated. Where the walls were not lined with shelves bearing books, they were painted cream with white, blue and gold decorated panels. Rich brown velvet curtains hung at the windows.
Besides the central chandelier and a number of wall brackets, a branch of candles stood on the table by each chair, ready to be lit with a taper from the jar standing near the grate where a fire was already burning. The supply of candles must form one of his greatest expenses, she thought, he was so lavish with his lighting. One side-table had newspapers spread upon it while another held an array of glasses. The drink itself must be out of sight in the locked cupboard behind the main door.
Leonora found herself fingering the leather spines of some of the books. Perhaps she allowed her longing to show. His lordship lifted a brow and smiled. Sweat pricked uncomfortably under her arms and a pulse throbbed in her throat. She would so much rather he had not smiled in the way he had, in warm enquiry rather than in censure or irony.
“You would be most welcome to borrow a volume at any time, Miss Vincent,” he invited. “Although,” he added, “you would require to come down at about this hour to make your choice, while the room is unoccupied.”
“Thank you.” Despite the unwelcome response his smile had provoked and the caveat about the time, she wanted to explore the books so much she found she could not hide her pleasure. “I had feared I would miss the library at Thornestone Park, but I expected that there would be a subscription library in the town?”
“There is, in Milsom Street.”
“Then between the two I shall not lack for something to read.”
“Reading can give great joy, can it not?” he remarked, apparently with all sincerity. “No doubt, as a governess, you have felt the need to extend your knowledge.”
“I have enjoyed reading since I was a child,” responded Leonora, inordinately annoyed that he should think her interest in reading due entirely to the profession forced upon her.
He bowed slightly in acknowledgment of her protestation. He said, “If you would care to come through, I will show you the other rooms,” and opened the door to the landing.
Card rooms, of course, were a feature of every large house, of every Assembly Room, and card tables graced every private gathering. She could never have entered any level of society had she not been willing to play cards and lay down her stake, however small! Kelsey had known this and deliberately misunderstood her. The more generous perception she had begun to have of him suffered on this reflection.
So she entered the other front room with a frown between her brows, her eyes narrowed, looking for evidence of foul play or sharp practice.
“The Card Room is reserved for those desirous of playing whist,” said Kelsey. He regarded her frown, the intent expression in her grey-blue-green eyes, with relaxed amusement.
As well he might. It was impossible to tell, of course. The room was equipped with perfectly ordinary green baize-covered tables large enough for four people to sit around, with a candle and an unbroken pack of cards on each. And the decorations, as elsewhere, proved to be both tasteful and faultless.
“Nothing to be done,” she said abruptly to Clarissa, who faithfully recorded the verdict.
Here again, double doors led through to the back room. This was fitted out rather differently. A large padded, baize-covered table predominated, with small tables and their attendant chairs scattered about in random fashion.
“This is the Gaming Room,” Kelsey informed her. “Members are free to play whatever they like in here. Vingt-et-un and other games involving many participants are played at the large table, piquet, cribbage, dominoes and dice at the smaller ones.
“That book there,” he went on, pointing to a leather-bound ledger-like article, “records all the non-gaming bets and the stakes laid between members. Gentlemen will wager on anything under the sun, as you must know. But once a bet is recorded in there, no gentleman can deny its existence or refuse to honour the debt. I do not make the book,” he observed mildly. “I merely keep the record.”
“Has anyone,” asked Leonora fiercely, “ever lost their inheritance in here? Gambled away the deeds of their property?”
Kelsey’s face remained inscrutable. “Would you like to be the first to do so, Miss Vincent?” he asked amiably.
“You are unbelievable, my lord!” cried Leonora. “You are suggesting that I should bet my ownership of this property on the winning of a game of cards? What, may I ask, would be my reward should I win?”
“I should set my lease against your deeds,” responded his lordship imperturbably.
“Ha!” exclaimed Leonora. “And both of us are very sure that you would win! No, my lord, you cannot bamboozle me in that fashion! I was not born yesterday!”
“No,” he agreed, his gaze considering. “You are certainly not in the first flush of youth, Miss Vincent.”
Her choke of shocked outrage and Clarissa’s surprised gasp almost overset him. Lights danced in the dark eyes and his mouth gave an involuntary twitch. Leonora was too angry to notice.
“You are no gentleman, sir!” she managed to gasp.
“But then, madam, you do not behave like a lady,” came the instant riposte. He bowed languidly and gave her a lazy smile. “May we not call a truce while you inspect the last room over which I have temporary dominion? May I show you the office?”
“You may show me the office, my lord, but I do not accept your truce. I shall proceed to my lawyer’s rooms immediately after breakfast.”
“That will be your privilege, madam.” He sounded not in the least perturbed.
She scarcely looked at the small room above the entrance hall, where an elderly clerk sat on a tall stool working at a sloping desk surrounded by shelves and strong-boxes. She could not escape Kelsey’s presence soon enough. She flounced off up the narrowed stairs, her front-door key conspicuous in her hand, with Clarissa following meekly behind.
And did not see the amused, reluctant admiration with which Blaise Dancer, Earl of Kelsey, watched her undoubtedly attractive posterior disappear from his view.
Chapter Three
Despite her fury, Leonora managed to consume two soft-boiled eggs and several crusty white rolls spread with butter, and to drink two cups of coffee. Anger made her hungry and the food was delicious.
“An excellent repast,” offered Clarissa as she, too, pushed her plate aside. She had broken her fast with kidneys and bacon.
“Yes.” Leonora was in no mood to be fulsome over anything which had its origins in Kelsey’s management. “Can you be ready to go out in half an hour?”
“I am ready now, except for my bonnet and cloak. Shall you take a sedan chair? I believe there is a rank nearby. Dolly should be able to find it.”
“Not this morning,” Leonora decided. “Mr Coggan’s chambers in High Street cannot be far away and I should like to see something of the town.”
“Oh, so should I,” cried Clarissa, her pale eyes shining. “I am so grateful to you for bringing me here, Leonora! The very atmosphere makes me feel quite young and giddy!”
“Does it?” So far, Leonora had not felt either young or giddy but that was because of the infamous use to which the Earl of Kelsey was putting her property. The only feelings she had known were those of uncomfortable awareness of his lordship’s personal charm and frustration and anger at his attitude. And utter mortification that he should think her old.
Mortification brought a lowering sense of unease to her entire being and she could feel a flush rising up her neck when she remembered his look and words. She would hazard a guess that she was several years younger than he was. But then, he was a man. He did not have to fear that his child-bearing years were dwindling with depressing rapidity.
She must make her utmost endeavours to have his lordship evicted. She jumped to her feet. “If you are ready, then we may leave immediately,” she declared. “Dolly, my bonnet, my cloak, gloves and muff if you please.”
She, like Clarissa, already wore her pelisse, for the morning was chilly and the fires had not yet had time to make the rooms warm.
Dolly dropped the dishes she was clearing with a clatter and rushed out, hurrying along the landing to the dressing room. Leonora followed her, shivering slightly at leaving even the comparative warmth of the dining room. She glanced quickly into the rather mottled mirror above her uncle’s dressing chest—she must do something about mirrors as soon as possible—as Dolly handed her her bonnet, and examined her features as best she could.
She undoubtedly lacked the fresh bloom of real youth, the bloom she had possessed at eighteen when her parents had died. But she did not look old.
He had not said that she did. He had only spoken the truth in such a way as to imply it. Devil take the man! Her soft mouth tightened as she determinedly thrust all thought of Lord Kelsey behind her. She did not have to think about him to arrange the termination of a lease.
With her outer garments on, she bobbed about and stood on tiptoe to see as much of herself as she could.
Depression settled in. No wonder the man was so scathing about her appearance. She looked every inch what she had been—a governess. She would never engage the attentions of a suitable gentleman of means dressed as she was. The second thing she must do was to buy some new clothes. Mr Coggan would know about her money, though she would doubtless be able to purchase what she needed on credit.
She passed through the comparative warmth of her bedroom to pick up her reticule and emerged on the chilly landing to find Clarissa waiting.
“You know what to do, Dolly,” said Leonora to her hovering maid. “Take the dirty breakfast things downstairs to the scullery and then come back and clean the rooms. Remember, we found the brooms and dusters in there.” She indicated the dark oak cupboard standing on the landing. “Have your dinner with the rest of the staff. I shall not trouble Monsieur André on the way out.”
She did not wish to make a production of her use of the back entrance but to slip out, as far as possible, unseen. “Tell him that I shall dine at four o’clock,” she went on. “If there is mutton I should like that, but otherwise whatever is available. I cannot fuss over what we shall eat today. Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes, miss,” said Dolly fervently.
She was devoted and willing and not the most able girl she had ever dealt with, but Leonora liked her and appreciated the effort the child made to please.
“By the way,” she said as an afterthought, turning back with her hand already on the knob of the door to the back stairs, “is your bed comfortable? You slept well?”
“The room’s lovely, miss, such a nice view as I’ve got, over the trees. I slept like a log.”
“Capital,” said Leonora with a smile. “I’ll leave you, then. Don’t forget to keep the fires stoked.”
“No, miss,” said Dolly with another bob.
Having descended the stairs, the two ladies passed through the scullery without speaking to the cook, who was busy at the far end of the kitchen.
Leonora’s only real disappointment in the actual property she had inherited was its lack of a garden, but the leafy green fronting it largely made up for this deficiency. It was, after all, a town house built before John Wood and his son had begun to build the Palladian-style terraces, with long gardens at the rear, which now prevailed in Bath. She was, indeed, rather glad that Morris House stood in isolation.
Mounting the back-area steps, they found themselves in a street they soon discovered was called Abbeygate.
“Which way?” wondered Leonora.
“The Abbey will be in the town,” suggested Clarissa.
Its tower beckoned. “Very well,” decided Leonora, “we will go to the Abbey and ask our way from there.”
“It truly is a huge building,” murmured Clarissa as they walked its length to arrive at the West Front. “Dare we go in?”
“It is so,” agreed Leonora “But we must not linger. I have no appointment and we may have to wait to see the lawyer.”
“We could attend a service here on Sunday,” suggested Clarissa.
“Perhaps,” said Leonora. She did not intend to be seen in public before she had acquired a more becoming wardrobe.
High Street was nearby and they had no difficulty in finding Mr Coggan’s offices. He, it seemed, was free to see Miss Vincent immediately.
“Good luck,” murmured Clarissa as she took the seat offered by a clerk and prepared to wait.
Leonora was ushered into a dimly lit room where she discovered a youngish man in legal garb, who rose from a chair behind a desk strewn with parchments and papers intertwined with red tape, to greet her.
“Miss Vincent! A privilege to meet you,” he cried, bowing deeply before asking her to be seated and sitting down again himself. “Sadly,” he went on, “I never knew Mr Charles Vincent, but Mr Warwick asked me to represent him here in Bath, and to act in your interests as beneficiary under Mr Vincent’s Will. You have appointed him to act for you in other matters?”
“No,” said Leonora, frowning. “He is, I suppose, not acting for me but for my uncle still, as his executor. It did not occur to me that I myself had need for a lawyer.”
“I should be delighted…should you think it in your interests…should it please you…to act for you in whatever way you might need, Miss Vincent,” he said, eagerly yet with a diffidence which appealed to Leonora.
He was really quite a personable creature, even distinguished, in his wig. He was young, keen and surely ambitious. He might be just the one to take on the Earl.
“You have met Lord Kelsey?” she asked, without committing herself.
“Once, Miss Vincent. To inform him of your being named as beneficiary under Mr Charles Vincent’s Will.”
“And what was his reaction, pray?”
Coggan looked embarrassed. He flushed. “He was dismayed,” he admitted. “He proposed to offer you a sum of money to purchase the house. Has he done so?”
“He has. And I have refused. Morris House is mine, is it not? There can be no question under the Will?”
“Indeed, no, madam. You have taken possession of the property, its deeds and all the investments have been transferred to your name and the cash rests in an account at the bank in Milsom Street, which needs only your signature to make it operable. No doubt you will present yourself there as soon as possible.”
Leonora nodded.
Coggan resumed speaking. “I have presumed to write a note of introduction to the manager. Thus the Will has been fully executed. Mr Warwick’s duty, and therefore mine, is at an end.”
“Thank you,” murmured Leonora, accepting the sealed paper handed to her. “Mr Coggan,” she went on, tucking it into her reticule, “I shall be glad if you will advise me on the matter of the lease.”
“Ah,” said the lawyer thoughtfully. “You are dissatisfied with the terms? They could, by agreement, be amended.”
“I want it terminated,” said Leonora baldly.
“Terminated,” repeated Coggan. His voice had gone flat. “I do not believe that to be possible, except, of course, by agreement. I take it Lord Kelsey is not willing?”
“No. But I want him out. I cannot endure to have a gambling hell on my property.”
“A hell?” Coggan sounded surprised. “Do you have proof of your contention, Miss Vincent? As far as I am aware, the Vitus Club is a legitimate business and the use of the rooms for the purposes of cards and gaming is not forbidden in the lease.”
“Then find proof that Lord Kelsey is in some other way breaking the terms of his lease or even of breaking the law! I cannot believe that he does not use the Club as a cover for relieving gullible gentlemen of their fortunes. Small establishments are notorious for this.”
“Gentlemen lose fortunes at White’s, Brooks’s and Boodle’s, madam. No one condemns those clubs as gambling hells.”
Leonora rose. “I see you are on Lord Kelsey’s side,” she said stiffly. “Thank you for your time. I must seek another lawyer to represent me.”
Coggan jumped to his feet. His wig slipped and he clapped it hastily back into place. “No, Miss Vincent. You mistake me. I am not on his lordship’s side. I merely point out to you the difficulty you face in attempting to overthrow the lease if his lordship is determined to remain in possession of his rooms. Do please sit down again and let us discuss the matter further.”
Leonora sat. She liked Coggan and thought him honest. But as the discussion continued, she came to see that there was little either she or her lawyer could do to evict Lord Kelsey unless he was proved to be violating the terms of the lease.
“He must be,” said Leonora with growing lack of conviction. “Find someone who will investigate the way he runs the business. Find someone he has fleeced.”
“I will do my utmost,” promised Coggan.
And with that Leonora had to be content. For the moment.
“I have to go to the bank,” she told Clarissa as they left Coggan’s offices. “This way, I believe.”
The streets were narrow and busy. Leonora and her companion picked their way through to Milsom Street, eyeing the shops and the dressmakers’ and milliners’ establishments on their way.
“There is the circulating library!” exclaimed Clarissa suddenly.
Leonora was engaged in looking for the bank, but was sufficiently interested to stop and take a good look at the quite impressive façade of the library. “We must take out subscriptions,” she declared. “But look, there is the bank. Why do you not go into the library and make enquiries? I will join you there when I have finished my business.”
She had almost reached her destination when she recognised the gentleman walking towards her. He wore a many-caped top coat, a tall hat set at a rakish angle on his brown head, carried a silver-knobbed cane and had a ravishing female dressed in blue velvet and sable fur on his arm.
Kelsey. She could not ignore him. She acknowledged his pleasant but formal greeting with the courtesy demanded.
He turned, smiling, to his companion. “Alicia, may I name to you Miss Vincent, the new owner of the property in which the Vitus Club has its rooms?”
The woman’s scrutiny held slightly amused interest. “Of course,” she murmured. Leonora suspected that she had been the subject of some earlier discussion between them.
“Miss Vincent,” he drawled, “I have pleasure in presenting you to Lady O’Brien.”
“My dear!” exclaimed her ladyship once the formal curtsies and avowals of pleasure had been made. “How intrigued I was to learn of your good fortune! My husband is one of the Vitus Club’s most devoted members!”
Leonora did not know of the O’Briens or what rank the woman’s husband held. She forced an amiable smile, inclined her head in acknowledgment of the pleasantry but said nothing.
“You are alone?” asked Kelsey. He sounded disapproving.
“My companion is in the circulating library,” said Leonora shortly. “I shall join her there after I have seen my bank manager.”
“Ah! Money!” sighed Lady O’Brien. “How it rules our lives!” She did not appear to study Leonora’s dress but was moved to say, “You must allow me to recommend my excellent modiste, Madame Fleur—so clever, so reasonable! Her establishment is in New Bond Street—you may have passed it?”
“I believe we did, my lady. I thank you for your interest. I shall, of course, be renewing my wardrobe now I have the means at my disposal.”
“There is a fine emporium for gloves and other accessories further down. Shopping in Milsom Street is vastly rewarding.”
“So I suppose. I look forward to investigating at my leisure.”
“I will leave my card,” promised her ladyship, preparing to move on. “You must call on me, I am at home on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I look forward to meeting you again. And now, Blaise, we must take our leave of your friend, for I have an appointment at my milliner’s—another excellent creature, Miss Vincent, her place is next door to the dressmaker—and I must not be late.”
Blaise. Blaise Dancer. So that was his name. And the woman who had erroneously called her his friend was looking up at him in a way that suggested to Leonora that they were rather more intimate than that, more intimate than the lady’s husband might wish.
He was returning the look. Leonora became hot under her collar despite the chilly wind. She bent her knee in farewell and hurried on.
The encounter disturbed her. She had imagined Kelsey safely caged in his Club but, of course, he had a manager. He could come and go as he wished. She could never count on not meeting him when out and about in Bath. She would feel better able to cope with chance meetings after she had been to the modiste.
She was in two minds as to whether to patronise Lady O’Brien’s dressmaker but had to admit that her ladyship had been tastefully gowned in the height of fashion. Whatever her morals, she possessed stunning good looks, knew what suited her—the sable furs had emphasised the spun-gold of her hair and the fairness of her skin—and looked every inch a lady. No wonder Kelsey had fallen victim to her lures.
But in all probability she had purchased her clothes in London. Her recommendation may not have been kindly meant.
She forgot Kelsey and his mistress while with the bank manager, emerging from his presence with a cheque book, a pouch of golden guineas and a wad of Bank of England notes complete with the recently introduced serial numbers. She had never felt so rich.
She sailed out of the bank, walked to the library with a spring in her step, discovered Clarissa engrossed in a book by Mrs Radcliffe, paid her own subscription out of the haul from the bank and took out a novel by a writer more to her own taste, Mansfield Park by Miss Austen.
“Come with me to the dressmaker,” she invited Clarissa as they left the library. “I met Lord Kelsey on my way to the bank, and he had a lady with him—a Lady O’Brien. She has recommended me to visit Madame Fleur. I shall go, but am not perfectly persuaded that she will suit.”
“I shall be most interested. Papa gave me some money before I left,” Clarissa told her. “I must have a new gown if we are to visit the Assembly Rooms.”
“Then perhaps we may both be suited.”
Leonora did not mind Clarissa patronising the same modiste if she could afford it. A well-dressed companion would add to her own consequence, which she had already decided to enhance in every way within her power. No one knew the exact extent of her inheritance. There could be no harm in her aim to persuade Bath society that it must be much larger than it was. To instil such a belief remained an essential element in her campaign.
As they arrived at Madame Fleur’s, Lord Kelsey was leaving the milliner’ next door.
“Ladies,” he murmured, raising his hat.
“Lord Kelsey. We meet again,” said Leonora, stifling a desire to scream. “You have abandoned Lady O’Brien?”
“She understands that I have urgent business to attend to, Miss Vincent. During your inspection yesterday I noticed that the carpet in the Dining Room is showing signs of wear. I must arrange for it to be replaced. I am about to drive to Bristol to visit an excellent warehouse I know of there. Should you desire to renew any of your own carpets, I can strongly recommend it.”
“Thank you,” said Leonora icily.
He went on, quite unperturbed by her tone. “My oddjob man is already attending to the faulty paintwork. Do you have a mason in mind who will attend to the rear wall?”
The desire to scream increased. “Whom did my uncle intend to consult?” asked Leonora grimly, torn between independence and ignorance. The last thing she wanted to do was receive help from the Earl.
“A man called Black, I believe. He has a yard on the outskirts of the town.” He smiled engagingly but the dark eyes taunted. “Shall I send a boy with a message asking him to call?”
“Thank you, but no. If you will supply the direction, I shall send a note myself.”
“With pleasure, Miss Vincent. I shall see that the information is provided without delay.” He bowed. “Miss Vincent. Miss Worth. I bid you good day.”
Clarissa, blushing, returned his smile. Leonora merely inclined her head. Both ladies watched his retreating figure. He strode along, his stick swinging, as though he had not a care in the world.
Leonora indulged her desire. “Ar-r-gh!” she uttered.
Clarissa eyed her warily. “You dislike the Earl?” she asked diffidently.
“He sets my teeth on edge,” said Leonora grimly. Her teeth were not the only parts of her anatomy he put on edge. “There can be no place for his business on my property.”
“I cannot see that his Club is so very objectionable,” said Clarissa. “And I find him pleasant enough.”
She was blushing again. Leonora glared. “Of course he has a pleasant manner! That is all part of his despicable character!”
“You cannot know that his character is despicable!” protested Clarissa with unusual heat.
Everyone thought her unwarrantably prejudiced, irrational, even obsessed by her opposition to gambling for high stakes. But the discovery of a gambling club on her own property had shaken her badly. Even to herself she would not admit that her main battle now was against herself and her reaction to Lord Kelsey.
For however much her body might wish otherwise, her mind insisted that he was a rogue, a rake, and not a suitable gentleman of means to be lured into the bonds of matrimony.
Madame Fleur, petite and voluble, had an impressive variety of made-up gowns on display.
Her assistants fluttered in the background as she explained, that madame could have any of the finished garments altered to fit. Her English was almost faultless.
“Or I can make up any of the designs in another material and to your exact measurements. Or, if madame prefers, I could suggest some slight alterations to any pattern, or create something exclusively for you.”
Her practised eye ran down Leonora’s person and back up again. The cloak had already been discarded. Now Madame Fleur suggested that she take off her bonnet and pelisse. After another close scrutiny, she announced her verdict.
“ Madame has a figure that will display my creations to admiration. So shapely, so graceful! I shall be delighted to dress you if you will honour me with your order.”
Prices were discussed. Leonora realised that to have a dress designed exclusively for herself did not come cheap. She could allow herself one, perhaps, for special evening occasions. For the rest, she could select from those delectable muslins, silks and velvets already made up and on display. Her eyes glowed. Choosing from those, she could instantly be gowned as she would wish.
Clarissa was much taken by a white muslin, but the style was more suitable for a young girl and the colour would most certainly emphasise her sallow complexion, Leonora knew. She was reassured to hear the modiste skilfully turn her companion’s attention to a rose-tinted gown patterned in mulberry, a shade which reflected a faint glow to her skin.
Leonora herself could wear white. She was entranced by an exquisite evening gown in white silk with an overskirt of the flimsiest oyster-coloured chiffon, which shimmered in the light. It had satin ribbon trimmings. The neckline was modest and the fashionable sleeves long, which, being winter, would be an advantage.
The price was high but it needed the minimum of alteration and Leonora, turning about before the mirror, decided that she would enjoy presenting herself at a concert at the Assembly Rooms wearing it. It would do excellently well were she to be invited somewhere to dine. Regardless of the cost, she bought it.
Her other purchases were more modest: a couple of pale-coloured muslins for the morning in simple styles—though one needed some of what Leonora considered to be excessive frills removed—a walking or driving dress made from a wool and cotton mixture in an attractive shade of green trimmed with dark green velvet, a matching pelisse and a less costly evening dress in pale primrose muslin with a low neckline and short puffed sleeves for dancing.
She had no idea whether she would ever be invited to a private ball of any consequence but could not resist the temptation to order a gown in case. Surely, one day, particularly should she attach the interest of an acceptable suitor, the occasion to wear it would present itself. Madame was delighted to bring all her artistic talents to bear and promised Leonora a stunning creation.
“Your eyes,” she murmured. “Let me see.” She rummaged amongst her samples and returned with a length of shimmering aquamarine silk, which she draped over Leonora’s shoulder. “Yes. This will enhance your beautiful eyes. Trimmed with ivory and gold…Yes. A low neckline—”
“Not too low,” interrupted Leonora quickly.
Madame Fleur smiled. “Trust me, madame. Modest yet revealing. The skirt gathered at the back to give you room…Elegant and stylish—fit for a duchess!”
Leonora hoped so, considering the huge sum it was to cost her.
Being minor, the necessary alterations to those gowns which were already made up could be accomplished overnight. They would be delivered next day. Those made from the same patterns but in a different colour or material, within the week. The special ball gown would take a little longer. Madame would have to return for a second fitting in a few days.
“I shall bring the altered gowns to you myself,” announced Madame Fleur. “I must be satisfied that there are no further adjustments needed.”
“That is most kind of you, madame,” said Leonora.
“Mine will be delivered too?” asked Clarissa anxiously. As well as the ball gown, she had ordered a modest walking dress in heavy russet twill trimmed with coney.
“Indeed, Miss Worth.”
For the first time, Leonora was faced with the difficulty of explaining her predicament.
“Once I have terminated the lease and the Vitus Club has moved out there will be no problem,” she explained. “But meanwhile, if you cannot deliver before ten o’clock then you must use the back stairs. I am sorry. The situation is not of my choosing.”
“How unfortunate for you!” exclaimed Madame Fleur. “I know Lord Kelsey, a quite superior gentleman,” she added with distinct admiration. “He has been in here with…er…”
She trailed off in confusion.
“Lady O’Brien,” supplied Leonora drily. “She recommended me to visit you.”
“I must thank her! She is an excellent customer. Her husband the Baron, you understand, is elderly and rather infirm. They are in Bath to enable him to take the waters.”
And if he was like to die, then to obtain the hand of an earl in marriage would be a step up the social ladder for his widow, thought Leonora rather sourly.
“Is he very ill?” asked Clarissa.
Leonora, grateful for the question she had not liked to ask, concentrated on smoothing her gloves.
“Gout,” said Madame Fleur succinctly.
Looking up, Leonora saw her own relief, which she declined to acknowledge, mirrored on Clarissa’s face. Surely Clarissa had not decided to set her cap at Kelsey? The idea was ludicrous.
The modiste was still talking. “But the Club is popular and Lord Kelsey will not easily agree to change its location, I am certain. He has spent lavishly on refurbishing the place to make it more acceptable to his members. He must regret Mr Vincent’s death for many reasons. They were, I believe, on the best of terms.”
But he had not been in her uncle’s confidence regarding his Will. No one had been, it seemed. “I am sure he does,” concurred Leonora drily, donning her bonnet and cloak. “I will expect you tomorrow morning, then.”
“I shall come at nine, if that would suit you?”
“Capital,” agreed Leonora. The gowns could not arrive soon enough for her.
All they had to do now was to visit the milliner next door and then walk home without being noticed. Since Kelsey was going to Bristol she did not expect to encounter him again. But she particularly wished to avoid Lady O’Brien, too.
When she thought of Lady O’Brien, all sorts of complicated emotions coursed through her. The one she recognised was jealousy, and it irked her. But soon she would have no material cause to envy the delectable Alicia. With decent gowns and becoming hats to wear she would have no reason to feel loweringly dowdy and old-maidish in her presence.
Except that Lady O’Brien possessed an assured manner and an easy elegance Leonora knew that she herself lacked. Never having experienced a London Season and subsequently having been exiled from Society for seven long years, she had had no chance to acquire it.
Unaware that her own innate dignity, elegance and charm were far more engaging than the affected deportment of many a Society beauty, or that her sharp intelligence set her apart from the vapid nonentities trained by governesses at the prompting of proud mamas, and could captivate far more effectively than demure acquiescence, she decided that she must learn fast.
With her new wardrobe to keep in trim she needed a lady’s maid, someone who could also do clever things with her hair, perhaps provide her with the perfect grooming needed for her to take her place in Society with a similar degree of confidence.
Then she would be able to meet her ladyship without suffering those uncomfortable pangs of jealousy the woman’s manner and appearance inspired. The fact that Alicia was also blessed with looks any man must admire caused Leonora little concern. Any gentleman she might consider suitable as a husband would not be misled by a pretty face alone. He would admire character above beauty.
No, it was the creature’s dress and grooming that had given Leonora that lowering feeling of inferiority. That sudden burst of jealousy.
Lady O’Brien had long ago left the milliner’s when Leonora, having first satisfied herself on the point, entered the workroom. By the time she left, with Clarissa carrying a bandbox, Leonora had discovered where to go to engage a lady’s maid. Clarissa dutifully accompanied her to the Agency where the woman promised to send along several highly qualified applicants that very afternoon.
“She will have to sleep in my dressing room,” Leonora told Clarissa as they at last made their way back to Morris House. “I shall lose my privacy, but there is a bed in there.”
“She would not like to sleep in the attics,” observed Clarissa.
She had bought a bonnet in brown velvet to match her new walking gown. Leonora had purchased and was wearing a hat with a small brim and a dashing bunch of feathers in a neutral yet pretty shade of grey and had ordered a similar hat to be fashioned from the same velvet used to trim her new walking gown. She had been promised that tomorrow morning as well. The milliner would obtain the material from Madame Fleur and work all night if necessary to finish it.
They climbed the stairs and were met by a hugely beaming Dolly.
As she took their outer garments, she explained with gleeful satisfaction that they could have a pot of tea and toasted muffins straight away, if they liked. Since they were back earlier than expected, four o’clock and the dinner she had ordered—mutton was available as miss had requested—was still more than an hour off. But she had borrowed a kettle and teapot from the kitchen, and the cook had given her tea, milk, sugar, muffins and butter.
“You sees, miss, there are trivets as can be turned over the coals and I found a toasting fork among the fire irons. So I asked downstairs and he were only too happy to oblige.”
“Well done, Dolly,” Leonora praised the girl, who had shown surprising initiative. “I should be most grateful for tea and muffins.”
“The kettle’s singing on the hob,” said Dolly smugly, dumping their garments on one of the chairs furnishing the hallway. “The tea can brew while I toasts the muffins.”
By the time Leonora had washed her hands and tidied her hair the tea was ready. The muffins, running with melted butter, proved delicious. Seeing Dolly’s longing gaze, Leonora offered her one. Not until that moment did she realise that Dolly had nowhere nearby that she could go to eat it except up to her room in the roof.
“Is there a bell in your room, Dolly?” she asked.
“Yes, miss, but it don’t ring. Not like them in the servants’ hall. If I was down there I’d soon know if you wanted me.”
“I dare say the one upstairs is not connected. Mention it to Mrs Parkes, tell her I would like it to work. Then you would be able to go to your room whenever you are not needed and do not wish to go down to the basement. Go up there now, Dolly. I shall call if I need you.”
Tomorrow she must remember to see about the mason.
“Shall you go to the Pump Room and sign the book tomorrow?” asked Clarissa.
That, too. Once she was decently gowned.
The third lady’s maid Leonora interviewed proved to be youthful but experienced. Her mistress had come to Bath for her health and had died a week since, she explained. She had references…
Leonora read them, smiled at the woman, calm, capable, neatly dressed and probably about Clarissa’s age, and offered Juliette Tranton the position.
Juliette smiled, accepted without hesitation, and took up her post immediately. She only had to collect her trunk.
Leonora felt that by tomorrow she would almost be set up in the style she wished. A carriage of her own would not be practicable in Bath. If she wished to drive out into the country she could always hire an outfit. There were still one or two ends to be neatened off, but by and large she was settled.
Apart from the nagging irritation of having Lord Kelsey’s Vitus Club operating below. The rumble of men’s voices, the occasional burst of laughter, could not fail to remind her. The sounds were not overly intrusive, but they were there in the background. And during the day she could not use her own front door to receive callers.
Which was intolerable.
Chapter Four
The following morning Leonora drew the bolts on the door closing off the main staircase and put the key in the lock.
Dolly answered the anticipated knock to admit Madame Fleur and her assistant, loaded down with boxes. Leonora received them in her bedroom.
Juliette was on hand to assist as the boxes were sorted and opened. Clarissa took possession of hers and carried them to her own room.
Leonara’s gowns, removed from the layers of tissue paper and spread over the bed, created a breathtaking confusion of colour and texture.
In a mood of sheer delight, Leonora tried them all on. Only the smallest additional alteration was necessary to the morning gown, a mere stitch, which the modiste undertook personally while her assistant went to wait upon Clarissa.
Another knock announced the arrival of the milliner’s assistant with her hat. Leonora happened, by lucky chance, to have tried her walking dress on last and was still wearing it. She watched eagerly as Juliette took the hat from its bandbox, and sat obediently while her new lady’s maid set it upon her head.
Juliette had made a remarkable difference to her appearance already, Leonora knew, dressing her hair in a softer style, arranging her chignon in a most clever fashion, even using hot tongs to coax some curls to hang by her ears.
When she stood again to peer into the mirror over the dressing chest she was amazed and pleased by the transformation. And by what little she could see, the soft leaf-green of the costume and the darker velvet trim, together with the matching pelisse and hat, constituted an outfit of which she could be proud.
“I am going out after breakfast. I shall keep the gown on,” she decided as Juliette removed the hat. “I need new gloves and a muff.”
The modiste, busy packing up her tape measure, scissors, needles and thread, straightened up. “I am gratified that you are pleased, Miss Vincent. The other morning dress and the undergarments you ordered will be delivered in a few days, as I promised.”
“Thank you, madame. Clarissa!” Leonora exclaimed as her companion walked into the room behind Madame Fleur’s assistant. “How very à la mode you look!”
She was glad to be able to utter such a genuine compliment. She had thought the russet walking gown a good choice and her opinion was confirmed. Clarissa’s new brown bonnet went with it well.
She wore a cap, had done so for several years as the Rector’s daughter and, unlike Leonora, who had discarded her badge of servitude upon leaving Thornestone Park, continued to assume one as Leonora’s companion. It was fashioned in ecru lace, much the same straw colour as her hair, and its pretty frill beneath the dark velvet was most becoming. She looked almost attractive.
Clarissa was making the most of her change of circumstances and Leonora could scarcely blame her. She had asked her to accompany her to Bath because she needed a respectable companion and felt sorry for the quiet, repressed young woman, already dwindling into an old maid, with whom she had come to be on terms of friendship.
The modiste had scarcely left when an imperious rap on the landing door sent Dolly scuttling to open it. Leonora was still in her bedroom with Clarissa. The two ladies were discussing the things they intended buying and doing once they had partaken of the breakfast Dolly had just brought up.
Leonora recognised the voice at once. She stiffened. Lord Kelsey, and not in the best of tempers by his tone.
“I will be with him immediately,” she told Dolly when the girl came to inform her rather nervously that she had shown him into the parlour.
She drew a deep breath. Clarissa’s eyes widened. “I wonder what he can want?”
Her colour had heightened again. To her chagrin, so had Leonora’s own.
“Nothing pleasant, I’ll warrant,” Leonora snapped. “Wait here.”
She patted her hair, for the hat had squashed her chignon somewhat, and straightened her gown. Would he notice it? It did not signify whether he did or did not. With set mouth and determined tread, she marched across the lobby—which she had decided to call the hall—and swept into the room which did duty for morning room, drawing room, sitting room and parlour. It was convenient to call it the parlour.
“Miss Vincent.”
His greeting was curt and accompanied by a stiff bow. His cold gaze did not alter at sight of her improved appearance. Her mouth set in an even firmer line as she returned his bow with a slight dip of her knee.
“My lord. You wished to speak with me?”
“Indeed, madam.” He clasped his hands beneath the tails of his cutaway coat and rocked back and forth on firmly planted feet. “I reluctantly gave you permission to use the front door of this establishment before I open at ten o’clock in the morning. I can tolerate you and your companion passing through my private living quarters, though it is dev—most inconvenient. But I cannot allow your tradespeople to make use of my hall and stairs as though they had the right.”
“No?” murmured Leonora, deceptively quiet.
“No. In future, madam, whatever the time of day they may choose to call, they will mount by the service stairs. My footman has been instructed to refuse them admittance. The back entrance is designed for the use of such persons.”
Leonora went cold. He had the right of it in a way, although even if she was admitted by the service door, a modiste of Madame Fleur’s standing would be invited to mount the main stairs to see her client.
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