Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Ann

M orning came far too soon. It took a long time to fall asleep after making love with Oscar. I can hardly believe what I allowed to happen and yet find it impossible to regret it.

Staring down at my work, the numbers all blur as my mind drifts back to how wonderful it felt to be naked in his arms.

"Ridiculous." I must be sensible. It was never likely that I would experience sexual intercourse, and I must treat the moment as a past adventure. There's no point in looking forward to more.

According to Mrs. Jenkin, Oscar left the house just after dawn. He clearly doesn't wish to have the awkward moment of seeing me this morning.

It's for the best. Still, my chest hurts.

Refocusing on my work, I shake off the useless feelings and add the ledger column.

For a few hours, I managed quite nicely and even the sound of the front door knocker and talking in the foyer is only faintly registered.

The study door swings open. Mae Bartholomew stands on the threshold beaming. "You did it!"

Placing my quill in the holder, I stand. "What did I do, my lady?"

The normally standoffish countess rushes forward and throws her arms around me. "Thank you. I can't thank you enough."

Dumbfounded, I pat her back for lack of another option. "I'm glad you're pleased, but I have no idea what has put you in such a euphoric state."

Mae pulls back and straightens the little wine-colored jacket that matches her day dress. "Forgive me. I'm just so relieved. Lord Creeves received two requests for Louisa's hand last night. Two."

"That's flattering for her. Shall I call her and order some tea?" I escort Mae across the foyer to the parlor and pull the cord near the door.

Nodding, Mae sits on the settee grinning. "I hope she'll be pleased."

I sit opposite, on one of the overstuffed chairs.

Mrs. Jenkin comes a moment later.

"Will you ask Miss Louisa to join us and have the cook make some tea please, Mrs. Jenkin?" I have butterflies in my stomach and I can't say why. It's not as if I'm the one on the marriage mart.

Once Louisa arrives, she kisses her mother's cheek. "I didn't think I'd see you today, Mama."

"I have news." Mae is the most animated I've ever seen her. She struggles to contain a grin and folds and unfolds her hands. "Both the Viscount of Mansfield and Sir Edward Pepperton went to your father for permission to marry you during the ball last night."

Face frozen, Louisa looks between tears and laughter. "Oh. I didn't think it would be so soon."

Mae's smile falters. "I thought you liked the viscount."

"I do. What did Father say?" She grips the edge of the settee with white knuckles.

"He told them both that they were not the only suitors who had shown interest, and he would not give any answer until closer to the end of the season. He said that he had promised you a full season and if they wished to call on you that would be acceptable." Mae looks at her daughter with love and pride.

It breaks my heart a little, as I wish my mother had looked at me that way. I suppose she would have if I had done as I was told.

The arrival of the tea forces us all into silence until Dotty, the downstairs maid, leaves. She looks back at us with concern but closes the door behind her.

In a very short time, Louisa has earned the affection of the entire staff in her uncle's home.

A small grin and blush push away the worry on Louisa's sweet face. "I do like the Viscount, and we have much in common."

"And Sir Edward?" Mae asks.

Louisa wrinkles her nose. "He's a nice gentleman, but speaks mostly of hunting and his country estate and how it relates to hunting. There is little for me to respond on the subject. He doesn't care for art and is only mildly interested in music. The Viscount plays very well and is well-versed in art and literature. He spoke about his estates, but only concerning their locations and what he likes about each region. It would be nice to marry someone who I can converse with on a variety of subjects. "

Mae takes a deep breath and her smile cannot be contained. "It would indeed, my dear."

D uring tea, it was decided that Louisa would return to her parents' home immediately rather than wait until her uncle left for Devonshire.

Her maid packed her case and by midafternoon, she hugged me goodbye and left.

Honoria dabs the corner of her eye as we stand on the front steps and watch Louisa's carriage roll to the other side of Mayfair. "I will miss that one. Sweet girl. She'll do very well."

"It makes sense for her suitors to call on her at her family's home." I see the logic, but the house feels empty with her gone and no sign of Oscar all day.

Sighing, Honoria sashays back inside. "Where is his lordship?"

I follow. "I don't know."

"Did you quarrel?" She saunters into the parlor, looks at the clock, shrugs at the four-thirty hour, and pours a sherry from the cart.

"Of course not. What would we have to quarrel over?" I decline when she lifts the decanter in askance. Sitting at the pianoforte, I play a few cords before closing the lid over the keys.

"I don't know." Honoria sits with her sherry and crosses her ankles, swinging her legs as they don't reach the floor when she sits all the way back on the cushion. It's very childlike and rather endearing. "I thought you both looked rather friendly when I saw you dancing last night. Two dances, if I'm not mistaken. He bought you a gown and singled you out. With what you told me about the kiss, I thought perhaps a romance was blossoming."

My cheeks are on fire, but I look her in the eye. "That's ridiculous. What would an earl want with a spinster? Besides, I have made my choices."

She stares at me for a long moment. "I'm glad to hear there is no quarrel." She sips her sherry with a gentle smile pulling at her lips. "How much more work do you have on the accounts of this house?"

"Not much. A few days at most. The damage is not as bad as we first thought. While the old steward did take some money, he did not run up debt with his lordship's credit. That is a small blessing. The entire thing makes little sense." I look at the cart with the glasses and sherry and wonder if a drink would make me feel less worried about the foolish choices I've made in the last twenty-four hours.

"What do you mean?" Finishing the drink, she leans forward and places the crystal glass on the table. In her pink dress with many layers of material, she looks like a flower sitting on the green velvet settee.

"Why ruin your career as Bellston did and take only five thousand pounds? He could have taken much more and I'm sure he had to pay off the butler and housekeeper whom he hired." I've been puzzling over the matter for weeks and it makes no sense. He could live for a while on that money, but not indefinitely, and he'll find it nearly impossible to find a new position without the earl's referral.

"Didn't you tell me that a maid ran away with him?" Honoria raises an eyebrow.

"You think this is about love?" I can't fathom throwing everything away over a woman.

"Or lust. Either way, don't look so shocked. You, of all people, should understand. Didn't you give up everything you knew to be with the man you loved in that first season?" There is only caring in her voice and soft expression. Others have taunted, but Honoria only means to make a point.

"Only to find that without my dowry, his love was fleeting." Even all these years later, it stings.

She sighs. "Because he never truly loved you and you were misled. I would advise not to let one man's bad character ruin all of your life."

A bitter laugh escapes before I can stifle it. "At eight and twenty, I'm afraid your advice is too late, my lady. However, I appreciate that you care and are my dearest friend."

Popping up, she flounces back to the cart with her glass. "Are you certain you wouldn't like to join me?"

What harm can it do to have a sherry a bit earlier than is custom? "Thank you. I will have a small one."

Grinning, she pours.

F or the second day in a row, morning came far too early. My head is splitting and as punishment, I force myself to go out into the garden and brave the sunshine.

Honoria kept pouring, and I kept drinking. I barely remember dinner or much else of the evening.

Finding a shady spot under a tree, I slump onto the bench and hold my head in my hand.

"Are you ill, Ann?" Oscar's voice is like a balm. Deep and soft, I could listen to him all day.

Foolish woman, that's what I am. I force my gaze to his. "I took too much sherry and perhaps Lady Chervil poured some other spirits last night. My head and my stomach wish we were back in bed. "

His laughter is not as pleasant as his voice. "That must have been a sight. I'm sorry I missed it."

"I am not sorry for that." I put my head back down, wishing for nightfall at ten in the morning.

His hand reaches into my gaze. "Come on."

I stare at the large yet gentle hand. "Where are we going?"

"I will have cook fix you a remedy." He wiggles his fingers.

Taking his hand, I let him help me to my feet. Part of me thinks I should suffer for my stupidity, but the rest of me can't resist the lure of his touch. "You're not going to make me drink something terrible, are you?"

He leads me through the garden and into the kitchen through the servants' door. "It's not bad actually, and it works every time."

I follow along and sit at the table where the cook writes her menus while Oscar whispers in her ear.

Mrs. Jones, the cook, is a slight woman with red hair and freckles. She's not married, but as the cook is given the honor of the Mrs. title. She gives me a pitiful look. "I'll get you fixed up, Miss."

"Thank you, Mrs. Jones. I'm sorry to take you away from your work." I should have some dignity, but my elbow rests on her little desk and my head feels so weighted down, that I rest it in my palm. I spy a bucket in the corner and think I could make it there should I become ill. The idea of that happening in front of Oscar keeps my lips pressed together.

Oscar leans on the wall beside me. His finger grazes my shoulder as if he's reassuring me that he's there, but also so discreet that no one on the servants' level would think anything was untoward.

A few minutes pass, and I'm soothed by the feel of him near me and the stillness of resting in the kitchen.

"Here you are, Miss Wittman." She puts a mug on the desk .

The scent is floral and it's a buttery yellow color. "What is it?"

"Tea with lavender, ginger, a few spices, and an egg." She crosses her arms and stares at me. "Don't look so sour. It tastes nice and will cure what ails you. Though, you should know better at your age not to drink so much."

I laugh and grip the handle of the mug. "You're right, Mrs. Jones. I had no business trying to keep up with her ladyship and now I've paid the price."

Grinning, she points at the drink. "That will lessen the cost. I promise."

The tea is foamy and I take a sip. "It's quite nice."

Mrs. Jones nods and returns to the long work table where she fusses with some dough.

The concoction is silky and the ginger is the standout flavor. I drink it all and like a strange miracle, my stomach settles. "That's amazing."

Once I've thanked the cook, I follow Oscar upstairs.

He stops in the hallway and takes my hand. "Feeling better?"

"Much better. Thank you." I feel well enough to be embarrassed. "I should go and check on Lady Chervil."

Chuckling, he nods. "I think her ladyship has much experience in such things and the morning after."

"Unlike me, who is still ignorant at my advanced age." I take my hand back and clasp both together to dispel the temptation to touch him. "I will be able to finalize the bookkeeping here in a few days. I'll write up a full report of your losses and the current state of this property as well as your Scotland estate."

The joy leaves his eyes and his shoulders slump. "That will be very helpful. Do you think you'll be ready to go to Devonshire in a week's time? "

"I'll check with Lady Chervil, but that should be fine." It should be a good thing that we are talking business, but I want to cry.

Straightening, his jaw ticks. "I will write to the butler at Kensfield Manor and tell him we'll need the house opened up and two guest rooms readied." He bows and rushes down the hall toward the stairs.

I listen to his heavy boots climbing to the upper level. How have I made such a mess of this assignment? I've been a fool, but no longer. I will behave like an Everton Lady. In a few weeks or a month, I'll have the work done and I'll be out of Oscar's life forever.

That should make me feel relieved, but sorrow fills my heart.

I suppose I should tell my mother that I'll be in Devonshire. It might be possible to visit with her if Father isn't home. It's a big enough area that it's unlikely I'd run into them on the street, but still, the idea of going home gnaws at my gut.

"All will be well," I tell myself and head to the study.