Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

The floorboards creaked behind Agatha’s back, and she turned to find her grandfather hovering at the door. Garbed in expensive superfine and crisp, white linen, he intimidated her without even trying. Immediately, she closed her book and stood. “Can I help you, sir?”

“No, no.” He moved into the room, peering around him, frowning at her scattered possessions. “I just thought I’d enquire how your visit with Lady Daventry went. I imagine her drawing room was quite full.”

Agatha smoothed her slightly wrinkled skirts. “Lady Daventry chose to entertain in a limited fashion yesterday.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “How limited?”

She took a cautious pace to the side, under the pretext of more fussing, but she was afraid he would be very unhappy after she spoke. “I only saw Lord and Lady Daventry, sir.”

Her grandfather’s jaw clenched over the news. As she had feared, he had expected the drawing room to be filled with the cream of London society, all clamoring for a glimpse of the new bride. And filled with potential candidates for her to marry, no doubt. Agatha braced herself for the lecture to come, but instead of puffing out his chest and blustering, he sank into a deep chair.

“I had expected Lord Daventry to show off his wife, now that he’s stirred himself to marry and work on getting his heir. Is she an embarrassment to him? ”

Agatha gasped, affronted on Lilly’s behalf. “Of course not. He was very attentive to his wife.” Almost too much so, Agatha thought. Daventry was besotted.

“Hmm, well give the man a wide berth anyway, child. He’ll soon go back to his scandalous ways, once the shine of his marriage dims. Most men are the same.”

While Agatha struggled to hide her surprise at his candid confession, her mind shrieked. How could he sit there condemning—no, not even condemning—explaining his own sex and expect her to marry one of them?

His fingers tapped his knee. “When I come back from my business trip, we shall have to widen our circle of acquaintances. I had hoped that my extended dealings with the Marquess of Ettington and his circle would prove beneficial to you. Never mind. I think a few new dresses and an increase in your social engagements should do the trick.”

Agatha nodded, keeping her face clear of expression. A dozen new gowns would hardly matter to the gentlemen he introduced her to if she never gave them the slightest encouragement, a habit she’d managed to hide from her grandfather for the last season. “How long will you be gone this time, sir?”

A brief smile flickered across his face then just as quickly disappeared. “I will return on Wednesday, late in the day perhaps. The negotiations should be easily dealt with.”

Agatha sank into a chair, relieved that he’d dropped the discussion of their association with Lord and Lady Daventry. “Well, that is all to the good. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a simple letter could deal with the situation instead of dragging you from London so frequently? You must become quite vexed with Mr. Carney’s incompetence.”

“’Tis not incompetence, but my affairs do require a firm hand and the personal touch to keep them running smoothly.” Her grandfather chuckled. “You will remember that George is to accompany you and the maid when you leave the townhouse in my absence. I could not bear it if something was to happen to you while I was away.”

Agatha forced her lips to curl into a smile. “Of course I will take a maid and George too. I agreed, didn’t I? ”

Grandfather clambered to his feet, crossed the room, and cupped his hand around her jaw. “Always the dutiful granddaughter. But I see resentment bubbling in your eyes. What troubles you?”

Agatha shrugged, attempting to dislodge his fingers. “I do not like to be followed about.”

His fingers slipped from her skin. “It is for your own protection. A woman’s virtue, once lost, is irreplaceable. I am only thinking of your future. The man who marries you expects a certain kind of female. One untouched by the sordid traps women often fall prey to by the rogues of society. Suffer George’s company so that I may be at peace.”

Agatha lowered her head. Again, despair trickled through her over how he would react to the news she had no virtue left to protect. “Yes, Grandfather.”

His large palm pressed upon her head briefly then his heavy footsteps crossed to the window. She lifted her head and watched him warily. His presence in the chamber made her feel decidedly untidy.

After a moment, he turned to face her again. “I will be leaving in a moment. So you are not unduly surprised should anyone relate the news, I am escorting Lady Carrington part of the way, to Chertsey for her protection. She’s visiting with a friend there. Given the demands of her son’s engagement, he isn’t free to accompany her. I thought it prudent to offer given the news of brigands on the road. There has been much made of their activities in the press.”

“Yes, I had read something of that. How terrifying it must have been. Are you expecting trouble?”

Grandfather tugged on his waistcoat, smoothing the already precise material. For all of his advancing years, he still kept a trim figure, still retained a vital physique that was much admired by the ladies. Agatha had heard more than one salacious whisper about him, and from surprising directions.

“I am always prepared, but I have made arrangements to stop overnight along the road so as not to travel through that troubled part of the countryside late at night. I’ll keep the good lady safe.”

Agatha smiled. “I’m sure she appreciates your efforts. ”

Another fleeting smile crossed his lips as he bent to kiss the top of her head. “Be a good girl, Agatha. I will see you on Wednesday.”

With a spring to his step, her grandfather hurried from the room and began shouting orders to George. Within a quarter hour, his carriage had drawn up to the door and he was on his way after briefly returning Agatha’s happy wave.

No lectures, no precise routines to follow.

She had five whole mornings of complete bliss ahead of her. Agatha twirled about the entrance hall, determined to make the most of her temporary freedom.

She would spend all day with the orphans and there was nothing to stop her.

“Can you make my hair as pretty as yours?” Mabel asked as Agatha ran her brush over the girl’s gleaming locks. They were settled in the nursery, Agatha sitting on one of the lumpy beds while she twisted and tied Mabel’s hair into a neat braid.

She leaned close to the child and kissed her cheek. “I might. But I think your hair will be much lovelier. I quite admire your dark curls.”

Mabel clutched her hands together. “Really?”

Agatha turned the girl around and touched her nose. “Really.” She looked past Mabel to the last girl waiting. “Come along, Kitty. Your turn.”

Kitty had fine, straight hair, and Agatha twisted the pale strands into braids quite quickly. When the pair was done, she stood and held out both hands. The girls bounced on the spot and they slowly descended to the rear gardens. Agatha crinkled her nose. The grim yard was hardly a pretty space, but the children knew no better. It was good enough for their imaginations, and she wondered what fantasy place she would be transported to today. A pirate ship, or one of the King’s vessels. With the boys outnumbering the girls, their play tended to be much more rough-and-tumble than her own childhood had been .

“Avast. Who be comin’ alongside?” Simon demanded of the trio.

Kitty, the eldest, snapped to attention. “Miss Kitty to the quarterdeck, Captain.”

Mabel tugged her sleeve. “I wanted to be a fine lady today.”

Agatha crouched down. Poor girl. They hardly ever got to play at being ladies. “Perhaps you could be a seafaring lady, chasing down adventure on the high seas.”

Mabel cast her a puzzled frown, shrugged, then ran off to play with her brothers and sisters without a backward glance. Agatha turned to join the nurse, where she sat on a sunlit bench by the wall with the infant, Betty, playing at her feet. With a happy wail, little Betty crawled off her blanket, caught Agatha’s gown, and pulled on the material until Agatha relented and picked her up.

She hugged her close. “Oh, you are an angel, sweetheart.”

“More like a devil in disguise,” the nurse muttered. “Be careful. She’s biting something fierce today.”

Agatha peered at Betty’s wet mouth. “Thank you for the warning.”

The nurse stood. “It’s your fingers.”

She hastily pulled her fingers away from Betty’s eager mouth. “Naughty girl. I need those to play the pianoforte with.” She reached for Betty’s doll and turned the child so she could nibble while she watched her siblings play. “Do run along, Bates. I’ll mind the children for a while on my own.”

The nurse nodded. “Your ears.”

Once the nurse disappeared, the children mobbed her. They had all kinds of questions and indeed, Agatha’s ears did cause her some pain after twenty minutes of solid chatter.

Suddenly, Simon pulled at her sleeve. “Who’s that over there watching us?”

Agatha peered around the children and spotted a man’s hat at the garden’s boundary fence. “I don’t know. Kitty, will you play with Betty for me on her blanket?”

Kitty clapped her hands and Betty happily went to her. Simon’s hand crept into hers. “You should call one of the servants,” he whispered.

“Nonsense. It will surely amount to nothing. ”

“Then I’m coming with you.” He squeezed her hand.

Agatha ruffled his hair. “If you must. I should enjoy your escort, young man.”

Arm in arm, they approached the stranger. When they were within a few yards of the rear gate, they stopped. Better to be cautious. She didn’t know what type of fellow would peer over a fence into a yard filled with children.

“Good afternoon, Miss Birkenstock.”

As she shaded her eyes to peer at the stranger, Simon’s grip tightened over Agatha’s hand. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

The gentleman removed his hat and Agatha relaxed. It was only Lord Prewitt, Oscar’s future brother-in-law. “Lord Prewitt.”

“Ah, good. You know me. Run along, boy, while I speak with this lovely lady.”

Simon didn’t budge.

Prewitt frowned at him then smiled smoothly. “My dear, you look lovely among those thorns. You’d do much better on a gentleman’s arm.”

All of Agatha’s senses came alert. “I am content where I am, my lord.”

He hung his arms over the fence, and a pretty necklace slipped through his fingers to dazzle in the sunlight. “A pretty girl requires something pretty about her neck to show she is appreciated. Something costlier than the two-penny bauble you currently wear.”

Agatha resisted the urge to place her fingers over her necklace. The gift from Oscar was a mere trifle beside the finery Lord Prewitt dangled. But she knew its worth. What Prewitt offered was payment for services she must render to him in the future most likely. Distasteful service, judging by the way he leered at her. What Oscar had offered came solely from friendship.

Beside her, Simon fidgeted. He tugged on her hand, silently urging her to come away from Lord Prewitt and return to the safety of the dwelling.

Agatha squeezed Simon’s hand. “Forgive me, my lord, but I must get back to my charges. Good day to you. ”

Unease prickled Agatha’s back until Simon whispered that Lord Prewitt had gone.

The sleepy village of Staines was a place of great comfort for Estella Carrington, even if they didn’t know who she truly was. To her servants and neighbors, she was Mrs. B—Thomas’ second wife. After so many years, she was used to the lie. As she pushed open the front gate, she drew in the clean scents of her garden—so missed and longed-for throughout the season.

“Welcome home, Mrs. B. We are so pleased to see you return safely.”

“Thank you, William.” Estella glanced back at her weary companion. “I’ll see to any mail in the morning, but please send up a light supper for my husband.”

“Of course.” The butler backed away, returning to the depths of the house.

Thomas Birkenstock slipped her arm through his. “I do like to hear you address me that way, even if it’s not true.”

Thomas drew her through the front entrance and upward to their bedchamber without a glance left or right. There would be time enough to enjoy the house tomorrow. Once secure in their room, he let her go and poured himself a brandy.

“Do you think they suspect us of subterfuge?”

He set his glass down and let out a sigh. “I imagine so.”

That thought wasn’t pleasant. She’d been playing at being Thomas’ wife for the past few years, maintaining the fiction that they traveled extensively, but always returning to this house for brief interludes. It was an imperfect arrangement, but it was the best compromise they could reach.

Estella slipped her arm around Thomas’ back and held him tightly. He turned his head and smiled down at her, but a little frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You do understand that I couldn’t let you marry beneath your rank.”

She squeezed him tighter. “And I never wanted to marry again. There is no discord between us, is there?”

Thomas slipped out of her grip and sank into a chair. “You know as well as I that any marriage between us would have embarrassed your son. But we do not get to choose who we love. I would have been content with just your smile on occasion.”

A lump formed in her throat. “And you shall always have them.”

A knock sounded on the door and their punctual servants settled a heaped supper tray before Thomas. Once they departed, Estella slipped off her shoes, sat with her legs curled beneath her on the bed, and nibbled at some bread.

Thomas picked at his food.

“Were you not hungry?”

He pushed the plate away. “It seems not. Perhaps I’ll eat more later tonight.”

Estella climbed to her feet again and approached him. He seemed more worn down by his concerns tonight than usual, so she pulled him to his feet with the intention of undressing him.

Amusement arched his brow as she unpinned his cravat and slowly tugged it from his neck. She removed his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, then bent to undress the rest of him. As she stood, she let her hands slide up his sides until she could meet his eyes. Instead of the desire she expected to see, there was an unguarded weariness to his features. Without a word, she led him to the bed and tucked him between the sheets.

Thomas didn’t protest at her mothering, so she left him to remove her own gown, thankful she’d chosen one where she’d not require his assistance. When she was bare, she slipped into bed, only to find Thomas was already fast asleep.

Estella watched him for a long time, concerned by his fatigue. His light snore reverberated around the room. She tucked her arm beneath her head and listened. He was growing older—so much more quickly than she realized. At nearly four and sixty, Thomas Birkenstock was still a powerfully built man, still strong enough to lift her into his arms for a night of lovemaking. But not tonight, apparently.

Estella rolled to her back and stared up at the shadows flickering around the ceiling. He had bought the house because she liked to garden, but couldn’t do it in London where very little flourished. He’d also purchased the house so they could pretend, for just a short while, that the differences in their class, their stations in life, didn’t matter. Estella had never thought much about it before she met him all those years ago. But over time she had come to see integrity and strength of will were not confined to the aristocracy. Such characteristics belonged to the man.

Her husband had not been a good man. She did not miss him.

Despite his ardent pursuit prior to marriage, and infrequent visits to her bed to get her with child, he’d preferred his actress mistress for his pleasure and more often than not ignored Estella’s needs. But it was not until Carrington had died that she’d pursued an affair with Thomas. The older man had taught her much about meeting her desires.

Estella blew out the candle, but sleep was a long time coming. In her mind, she kept remembering how Lynton Manning had kissed her with such urgency, such eager hunger for her lips. Was it wrong to lie beside a sleeping lover and think about the effect another man had on her senses?

Estella rolled away from Thomas and punched the pillow. Damn Lynton for stirring up such a conflict within her. His stolen kisses and hints of faithfulness were highly disturbing. But she could ignore him and the wild accusations about Oscar’s parentage. She had to if she wanted any peace.

Thomas rolled in his sleep and pulled Estella into his arms. Growing drowsy and content, she finally closed her eyes.

When morning came, she was alone.

Estella slipped from the warm bed and dragged her wrapper over her bare skin. She looked about. Thomas had a habit of early rising even when immersed in the country with nothing to do, and he appeared long gone. As she pulled the bell for assistance with her early morning toilette, she heard men speaking outside.

Curious, she pulled back the thick drapes and spied Thomas seated in the garden, talking with earnest concentration. The man he was speaking to was dark-haired, like Thomas had been, tall but with none of his physical strength. With the stranger’s back to her, she couldn’t tell who it was and curiosity bit deep. He never discussed business here, and the man resembled none of their closest neighbors.

By the time she’d bathed and dressed for the day, the men were nowhere in sight. She could still hear them though, within the house now, and on instinct she kept her steps light.

“Sign here and here. William, you will witness and sign the other paper with your mark, too.”

Estella leaned against the door, trying to hear more of the conversation, but deeply puzzled by the need for witnesses. What was Thomas up to?

“I am happy to oblige, Thomas. I’ve no need for another house, as London doesn’t agree with my disposition. I’m much happier in Winchester, and it’s closer to the port. Please give my regards to my cousin. It has been much too long a time since we’ve met.”

“That I will, Robert. You may draw on my account as soon as you care to.”

Estella backed away quietly and hurried into the morning room. Voices grew louder in the hall, and then Thomas’ heavy tread approached. “Did we wake you?”

She looked behind him, but he was alone. “No, of course not. Who was it that came to call so early?”

Thomas heaped a plate with food and sat down beside her. “My brother’s grandson, Robert Birkenstock. We had a bit of business to discuss.”

“He works for you?”

Thomas chewed slowly. The delay in answering sent a prickle of unease up her spine.

“He’s been learning the ropes, as it were, as an employee over the past few months. I think he will carry on my concerns quite well.”

“Carry on your concerns? Are you handing over the business to him?”

Thomas reached over and squeezed her hand. “He will have it, in time. He’s my heir. I cannot live forever, and I have quite a number of people depending on the business continuing for their survival. Robert has a level head on his shoulders and is eager to take the reins.”

Estella couldn’t think of what to say. Thomas was setting his affairs in order. The thought, coming so soon on her concerns of the night before, sent a chill to her heart. She clutched at his hand.

He patted hers in return. “Now, my dear, there is no need to fret. A man with my responsibilities must make certain his commitments will be met. Robert will do well by the business, and by Agatha, too.”

“By Agatha? Thomas, what is going on?”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Given her recent moods, and the difficulty of finding a suitable husband, I have come to the conclusion Agatha might never marry. I thought to forewarn Robert of the possibility. With his agreement, we have drawn up papers to allow her to live out her days in the London townhouse, if she so chooses, and to receive a regular allowance from a trust. Since Robert’s wife is increasing again, he has no wish to add possible contention with another female in her domain.” Thomas pushed his unfinished plate away. “Agatha should be pleased. She will have a limited independence.”

Not want to marry? Estella had never received that impression from his granddaughter. She’d always thought it a shame Agatha hadn’t already found a deserving husband. She had such pretty manners and such a good way with children.

Thomas cleared his throat. “I would like to ask, should you have the time and inclination, to keep an eye on Agatha’s well-being if something should happen to me. Only at first, mind. I’m sure she won’t require much of your attention. But the girl is too fiercely independent for my taste, and I fear she will do something foolish once I’m gone.”

“Of course I will. I had no idea she was set against marriage. How extraordinary!” Estella swallowed down the pain in her chest. She didn’t like this morbid turn of conversation at all. Thomas was a strong man. He just needed to relax more to get over his current lethargy. He couldn’t die.

With that thought in mind, Estella vowed to see the next few days were as undemanding as possible.

“She hides it well, mostly to save me from embarrassment, I think.” Thomas sank back in his chair with a softly uttered groan. “Now, what shall we do today? Your garden is looking a little lonely out there.”

Estella forced a smile to her lips. “Perhaps we could have the lounge carried out and you could read to me while I garden?”

His warm smile settled her anxious heart. “With pleasure, my dear.”