Chapter 11

Eleven

T he agriculture book kept Michael occupied for most of the afternoon. Once he started reading something of interest, he possessed the ability to block out the rest of the world. The talent of being able to immerse oneself fully in a project was under-appreciated by most people. Perhaps they, like his valet who knocked a book to the floor, were envious.

"Pardon the intrusion, my Lord." His valet returned the book to the table. Michael should discuss the man servant's clumsiness. Almost daily, the man dropped something, though so far, nothing valuable like one of his mother's vases. "I think I have discovered the problem with the apparatus you gave me to clean. If you could obtain Miss Lightwood's permission, I believe I could repair it."

"Her permission?"

The valet's face reddened. "The item is rather personal in nature. I believe it would be proper not to make changes unless she approves."

"Very sensible. Is there any particular question I should ask?"

The valet produced a paper. "I've taken the liberty of making a drawing. I am afraid it is not very precise. The addition of a soft leather strap here and another here would protect Miss Lightwood in the chance of another mishap."

Michael studied the drawing. It was as good as some illustrations he'd seen of machines in books. "I see what you mean. Do you have the tools you need?"

"My brother is a saddle maker. I thought to take it to him. He is more skilled than I."

"Will a guinea cover the expense?"

"Most certainly."

Michael pulled the gold coin from his pocket and handed it to the valet before retiring to the pages of his book.

"My lord?" The valet's voice was louder than usual.

Michael looked up.

"If you would obtain the lady's approval this afternoon."

How had he forgotten he needed to discuss the drawing with Miss Lightwood? "I'll ask permission straight away."

"Thank you, my Lord." The valet continued to stand near the door.

Michael set the book aside and rose. "Do you know where my mother is?"

"I believe she is in the parlor with Lady Healand and Miss Philippa." Michael checked the time on the hall clock. Half-past two. How long had Lady Healand been here, and why had no one informed him? Murmurs of quiet conversation reached his ears as he turned into the east corridor. The conversation stopped when he entered his mother's parlor.

"There you are. I told them you'd be along any moment." Mother's tight smile was one he'd seen often. She'd been waiting on him. Someone must have informed him of Lady Healand's arrival, only he'd been reading and hadn't heard them. Deborah claimed he frequently ignored others when reading. Either she was right, or their family employed the most disobedient staff in all of England.

"Sorry, I was detained." Michael greeted Lady Healand and Miss Philippa. He'd have to wait for an opportunity to talk to Miss Lightwood, and he needed one of the women in the room to accompany him. On second thought, he needed his mother, but his mother shouldn't need to deal with the issue of the broken prosthesis. It wasn't very proper. Miss Philippa would know, but she wasn't a suitable chaperone into a bedchamber. He needed Deborah to visit. Since she was married, she'd be a much better chaperone. Oh why must interactions with women be so complicated?

Taking a seat near his mother, he sipped from the offered cup of cooled tea. Mother must have been waiting on him for a while.

"I just finished telling your mother how much I appreciate your quick actions last evening and your diligence in alerting me. I'd hoped to remove Alexandra to my townhouse today, but it isn't possible. Your mother informs me there is no imposition, but—'' Lady Healand allowed the sentence to hang in a particular fashion people used when they wanted to ask a question but for some reason couldn't.

"It isn't an imposition at all."

A nod from his Mother indicated he responded correctly.

Lady Healand stood. "If you would please direct me to my niece, I should visit her before I leave."

Miss Philippa set aside her tea.

"Finish your tea, Miss Philippa. I'll show your aunt up. Your maid, Green, was it? Should have settled in by now." Mother led Lady Healand from the room.

Left alone with Miss Philippa and Moriah, Michael sipped his lukewarm tea and waited for one of them to speak. The silence grew. Michael finished his tea.

Moriah set aside her cup and saucer. "When are you taking me to the theater? You promised you would."

"Is there anything you want to see?"

"I don't care. I want to go and see all the people I've been reading about in the paper. I want to know who Sir R is and Miss W." Moriah bounced forward in her seat.

"I thought Mother told you not to read the society pages."

"All of my friends do. I have to read them, or they'll think I don't know anything. Do you read the papers, Miss Philippa?" The teacup wobbled as Miss Philippa set the saucer on the table. "I don't keep up. What is the point? Even if I managed to decode the initials, the stories are probably exaggerated. Some may be humorous, but others are hurtful. My mother taught us to be careful about what we believe about others, especially if we don't know them. Within reason, of course."

"What kind of reason?"

"For example, if someone is rumored to be a rake, one should take caution not to be unchaperoned around him."

"Well, of course, that is why we have chaperones in the first place, isn't it? And how are we to know who the rakes are if we don't read the paper?"

Miss Philippa smiled the kind of smile Deborah did when she explained something to him, again. "I am positive your brother or older sisters would warn you off."

Moriah's mouth formed an exaggerated frown. "They'll warn me off everyone. They always do."

"That is because you are fifteen, and it is my job to keep you safe." Michael hoped she would understand he wasn't trying to be cruel.

Moriah set her cup and saucer on the tray. "It is so difficult being the youngest. I suppose I should go practice the pianoforte or something before someone banishes me from the grownups."

Miss Philippa turned her head and coughed as Moriah pranced from the room.

"Are you alright, Miss Philippa?"

She turned to face him, her eyes as bright as her smile. "Quite."

Michael was sure there was something he was missing. From her smile, Miss Lightwood was amused. There was no cause for merriment in his sister's sullen statement. Since it was only Moriah, he decided not to have his new friend enlighten him. He pulled the valet's drawing from his pocket and offered it to Miss Philippa. "My valet believes a small adjustment to the item left in the coach last night will avoid future problems."

Miss Philippa unfolded the paper. She traced a section with her finger and closed her eyes for a moment. "The leather would have to be very soft."

"My valet assured me he can access the tools needed. His brother is a saddle maker. He only needs your sister's permission and —" Heat warmed his ears.

"Would you like me to speak with her?"

"If you would, please."

"I will as soon as our aunt leaves." She folded up the paper, and it disappeared into the folds of her dress. "Well done, by the way."

"What? What did I do?"

"Did you not intend to put off your sister's question about the theater?"

Michael replayed the conversation in his mind. "Not precisely. I want to make sure I am taking her to something appropriate for the outing. I didn't intentionally put her off. She was the one who changed the subject."

Miss Philippa's brow creased. "May I ask you some questions relating to our conversation this morning and helping each other?"

"Of course."

"Do you know why I was trying not to laugh when your sister left the room?"

"No."

"Hmm. When you are summoned, does it often take you more than a quarter hour to respond?"

"I am not sure. Others claim it is so."

"Before you came into this room, what were you doing?"

"Reading."

Miss Philippa nodded. "And you found the book interesting?"

"More intriguing than interesting. The chemical properties of soil and how to change them gives me much to ponder."

"Thank you, Lord Endelton. That helps me to better understand our earlier conversation."

"How? What do I need to do differently?"

"I don't know what you need to do as much as I need to understand." Miss Philippa rose, so Michael did too.

"I'll let you get back to your book." She turned at the door. "And I was laughing because Moriah reminds me of my younger sisters."

"Thank you for explaining." Michael still didn't understand, but it must be one of those sister things he would never comprehend.

Fatigue rimmed Alex's eyes, but her color was better. Her smile brightened as Phil neared the bed. Green sat in the corner sewing. Phil didn't worry about what their maid might hear, as she never carried tales.

"It seems Lord Endelton's valet has a talent which may help you. He drew these plans to modify Peggy."

Alex pushed herself up into a sitting position and took the paper from Phil. "After last night, I think I should call her Pokey or Brutus."

"Brutus?"

"Et tu, Brute?"

Phil laughed, along with her sister. "Very fitting. You have thought about this too long, I see."

Alex smoothed out the paper. "The valet draws well. I think his modifications would solve the problem of getting cut again. But the leg can still turn. I think the problem is my old Peggy had a wider strap here."

"Yes, I remember."

"Will you ask the valet to replace the lower one with a wider one?"

Green set her sewing aside and came to look. "This drawing looks clever."

"At least it solves the problem of being cut by the buckle." Alex handed the drawing back.

"How did Peggy come to be hit so hard, anyway?"

"Edward left me at a bench. However, a Green-haired matron was in need of a respite, so I went in search of another perch. Just as I was taking a step, a man stumbled into me. His foot caught on mine. He apologized and hurried on. I took another step and realized something was very wrong. The column was the closest thing to support me."

"And I shall never beg you to go to a ball again."

"Aunt would forbid it if you did. She says there are other less crowded events we might attend once I am healed." Alex yawned.

"Are you still tired?"

"MGreen brought me some of her tea. You know how it affects me." Willow bark, chamomile, a hint of lavender and who knew what else made up a tea that soothed her sister.

"I'll leave you to rest while I seek out the valet." Phil left Alex in Green's capable hands.

Where did one find a valet? Likely in the kitchen or the lord's chambers. Finding Lord Endelton would be much easier.

He was in the library in the same chair she'd fallen asleep in earlier. As she approached, he didn't move. The only sign that he was awake was the turning of the pages.

"Lord Endelton?"

He continued to read.

"Viscount?"

Still no response. If Phil hadn't been told he sometimes became so engrossed in an idea he paid no attention to the world around him, she may have left, fearing she'd suffered the cut direct. Her brother had often done the same. A large volume sat on the table. Phil picked it up and dropped it to the floor.

Lord Endelton jumped out of his seat, his own book falling to the floor. "Miss Philippa, I didn't realize?—"

"The book must be good to capture your attention so fully."

"Perplexing." He bent and retrieved the book and checked the spine. "May I help you?"

"I need to speak with your valet about his drawing."

"I'll send for him." Lord Endelton pulled the cord on the wall. A moment later, a footman appeared and was dispatched on the errand.

Lord Endelton shifted his weight from one leg to the other, apparently not sure what to do next.

Phil sat next to the large table mostly so he could retake his own seat. "I am sorry to interrupt your reading."

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough if I had not been warned you could be so focused, I would have left quite dejected."

The valet entered the room, saving them from further awkward conversation.

"Miss Philippa wishes to speak to you."

The valet gave a slight bow.

Phil smoothed the paper on the table. "My sister likes your design very much. She wonders if a wider strap would improve the fit?"

The valet pulled a pencil from a pocket and drew over his sketch. "Like so?"

"Exactly."

Lord Endelton left his chair and stood over the table. The valet continued to draw. "I think two smaller buckles positioned here and here would provide more security."

"Yes. Much like her older one. How soon could it be repaired?"

"If his lordship gives me leave, assuming my brother has the leather I need, it will be finished by morning. Is that soon enough, Miss?"

"Yes. Do you know how much it will cost?" Phil didn't have any money with her, but she could ask for some from her aunt.

"His lordship has already provided the funds."

Phil turned to Lord Endelton. "Thank you."

He nodded in response to his valet. "Take all the time you need."

"I've taken the liberty of laying out your clothing for dinner. The young footman has been practicing tying the cravat. He will aid you if I have not returned."

At the Lord's nod, the valet departed.

"Please, what did you pay him?"

"There is no need to pay me back."

"My grandfather will insist upon it."

"Not your father?"

"Grandfather insists on providing for all of Alex's needs related to the accident. He will be distressed to learn her newest prosthesis failed."

"Who would tell him?"

"Our maid is in his employ. As an apothecary's daughter, she has skills to help my sister."

Lord Endelton took a seat on the other side of the table. "I only met the earl once. He visited my father when I was six. I thought he was ancient."

"Recently celebrated his seventy-sixth birthday."

"Remarkable."

"Grandfather is determined to live another twenty."

"And would you like to live to be one hundred?"

"I'm not yet twenty. I can barely fathom such an age."

"Do not take offense. I thought you were older. You don't behave—I mean—I'm not saying this well." Redness creeped up under his collar.

"I think I understand. I was put in charge of our household the day my mother died. Not many of my peers have run a household or overseen the welfare of the tenants. Once Alex recovered enough, she took over the teaching and planning. I took the jobs that required running up and down the stairs or visiting around the estate."

"Who is in charge while you are gone?"

"George. I mean Georgiana and Jane, our twin sisters. They are sixteen and more than capable."

Lord Endelton nodded. "The experience will help you secure a husband. Some, like Rich—I mean, some men find the woman they married have no experience with anything other than flirting."

"Which is a skill necessary to secure a husband. One I am lacking in."

"How do you know?"

"If I were skilled, the duke would have remained here, guarding you like a faithful bulldog to keep you safe from my influence."

"But we are friends, so you wouldn't flirt with me, anyway." His face was all seriousness.

Phil was unsure of how to correct him. The reason she wouldn't flirt with him had nothing to do with the newly formed friendship and more to do with the fact she wasn't one to force herself where she wasn't wanted. "I should return to my sister and tell her the news."

"Will you come down for dinner?" There was a hopeful look in his eye. As yet, she hadn't worn out her welcome.

"Yes, I will."

2.