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Chapter 9

CHAPTER

a

9

H ow old are you?"

"Twelve."

Agatha glared at the girl, Polly, and said, "You look sixteen."

"Would you like me to start claiming I'm sixteen?"

"No. I was just commenting. You're growing up fast."

"Are you my benefactor? Were you paying my tuition at Mrs. Pemberton's school?"

"Why would you imagine it's any of your business whether it was me or not? You were a charity case, weren't you? Perhaps your sponsor intended to remain anonymous."

"Well, if it was you, I would like to thank you. I enjoyed my experience there very much. I'm very smart and my teachers always told me I was their favorite student due to my determined study habits."

At hearing the conceited declaration, Agatha harumphed, so she sounded like an elderly crone, which was embarrassing. She clamped her teeth together to prevent a second outburst.

The boast was the sort of remark Winston would have made when he was a boy. He'd reveled in the fact that he'd been brilliant at his lessons and more aggressive at sporting games than any of his classmates. He'd been a braggart, and apparently, so was his daughter.

Agatha was constantly amazed by the strength of the Wainwright bloodlines. Winston's were so high, and the girl's mother's were so low, but she possessed many of his same traits. She had his same air of calm aplomb, his certainty that he was better than everyone else. She carried herself like royalty and Agatha didn't intimidate her.

She exactly resembled Winston too, with his same black hair and blue eyes. He was wondering if Holden might have sired her, but Agatha wouldn't let him latch onto the untenable notion. Winston was suffering too much guilt over Holden's premature demise, and if he believed she was his niece, he'd demand to keep her close and openly support her, but Agatha would never allow such an outrage.

She'd definitely like to have a chat with that idiotic Mrs. Pemberton. How dare the stupid cow put Agatha in this difficult position. And what about that teacher who'd dragged the girl to Fog Bay? If Agatha ever crossed paths with her, she'd wring the little shrew's neck.

Agatha had hidden the truth from Winston for twelve aggravating years, and she was about to be rid of the girl forever. She couldn't risk his wanting to become a doting father.

His wedding was in five short weeks, and she'd promised Jasmine that the situation with the girl would be resolved before Jasmine was the new countess. Jasmine would have to endure many humiliations as Winston's wife, but she shouldn't have to fuss with a bastard who'd suddenly popped up to plague them.

"You will sleep in the nursery," Agatha said.

"That's fine, but may I inquire as to how long I will be staying here?"

"No, you may not. I don't know what type of training you've received, but children should be seen and not heard. If there's a detail you require, I will share it with you. You shouldn't be cheeky. It's disrespectful."

"Yes, ma'am. I understand. It's just that I was under the impression that you had information about my parents."

"I don't."

"Oh. How about your plans for me? The housemaid who rode to Dartmouth in the carriage with me expected I would be sent to a different school. Is that correct?"

Agatha bristled. She hated it when servants gossiped. "Did I, or did I not, just warn you to bite your tongue and mind your manners?"

The girl had a spine of steel and she wasn't deterred by Agatha's sharp tone. "So I'm not going to school? What have you chosen instead?"

"When I've made my decision, you'll be the first to be apprised."

In reality, Agatha had her future arranged. She'd contracted a marriage for her to the Ludlow merchant family in London. She was a tad too young to be a bride, but they were interested, and Mr. Ludlow was extremely excited about the dowry Jasmine had offered.

The sole condition for him to obtain the money was that he take her to town and never contact the Wainwrights again. Ludlow's son, the bridegroom, was sixteen and not quite ready to wed either, so Agatha doubted the union would be immediately consummated, but she hadn't asked.

Her ploy was to be shed of the girl. Once Mr. Ludlow assumed custody, she would cease to be Agatha's responsibility, which was the whole point. Whatever happened, or didn't happen, in the Ludlow home was none of Agatha's affair.

The lone snag in her scheme was Boggs and what he'd think about it. He'd insisted Agatha act appropriately toward the girl, that she be educated, then married into a good family. His price for those boons was his silence, so initially, she would tell him there had been a school enrollment. She would string him along for another year or two until she could safely admit the marriage. The Ludlows were successful and settled, so there should be no reason for him to complain about the match.

Agatha was tired of dealing with him though. She never let an underling sass or manipulate her, but he had extra sway due to a brief flirtation they'd pursued when he'd been handsome and randy and she'd been negligent and foolish. For an eternity after it had ended, she'd harbored an unsuitable fondness for him.

It was why she'd encouraged her husband to have him accompany Winston when he'd joined the Navy. Agatha hadn't been able to tamp down her infatuation, so she'd figured his absence from the estate would be the best cure, and it had mostly worked. Their romance was ancient history, but echoes of that prior liaison still reverberated to haunt her.

She permitted him to coerce her rather than fight over trifles and she viewed the girl as a trifle. But she was weary of his morality and displays of indignation. She never allowed anyone to treat her as he treated her, and if he protested the girl's conclusion, she had methods to lay him low. He thought, because of his lengthy tenure as a Dartmouth employee, he could nag at her and be heeded. Yet he'd be wrong to continue presuming on her better nature.

"You may go," she said.

"Am I to remain in the nursery at all times? Or might I walk in the garden occasionally?"

Agatha didn't necessarily want her strutting about the property, but she didn't suppose a walk would hurt. "You may indulge yourself, but when you're finished, you'll return to your room."

"Will I eat my meals there? Or will I dine with the adults?"

"Why would the adults be eager to dine with you? Haven't I warned you not to be impertinent? You're twelve; of course you'll eat in the nursery."

"I didn't mean to be impertinent. I've only just arrived and I'm trying to be sure I'm aware of the rules."

"I will have a maid assigned to tend you. If you have questions, ask her. She'll have the answers, and if she doesn't, she can find out for you. You shouldn't approach me again. It is my specific intent that, while you are in residence, I don't have to fuss with you."

"How long will I be at Dartmouth?"

"No more than a week. You're excused."

The girl gave a half-hearted curtsy and her pique was clear. She didn't like how Agatha had berated, then dismissed her, and she wasn't afraid to show it. She'd inherited Winston's conceit and stubbornness. They were excellent traits in a male, but not in a female.

Obviously, she'd been coddled at her school. Perhaps Agatha should have sent her somewhere with a little more discipline, so her obstinacy could have been drummed out. Well, it was too late to fret about it, and very soon, her attitude would be Mr. Ludlow's problem.

Agatha realized that other people might deem her actions to be coldblooded. They would consider the girl to be Agatha's granddaughter, but Agatha would never assess it that way. In Agatha's opinion, the girl was a peasant's mutt. Her mother had been a serf who'd spread her legs like a harlot. No doubt she'd been hoping to use the incident to elevate her circumstances, and luckily, she'd died before she could extort them.

The girl was a mistake Winston had made when he was an adolescent. She was a stain on their pure bloodlines and she was a bastard Jasmine shouldn't have to raise. Agatha shouldn't have had to support her, but Boggs had insisted, and in a moment of weakness, Agatha had agreed.

She was tired of listening to him though, so that situation was over. The girl was about to be a bride and Agatha's obligation would be complete.

v

"Winston! What are you doing here?"

"Hello, Agatha. Surprise! I'm home."

Win stared at his mother, but she was generally an unhappy person and she never looked overly glad to see him. Even when he'd been a young boy, and maternal instincts should have been flowing in her veins, she'd often gaped at him as if she didn't know who he was.

He tried to ignore their strained relationship. He exhibited the courtesy and esteem she deserved as his parent, but he didn't like her very much.

"I was bored at Fog Bay," he said.

"No, you weren't. You love it there. I expected you to tarry until the week before the wedding."

He smirked. "You've caught me in a lie. I was enjoying myself."

"Then why leave?"

"You fetched Polly away without notifying me."

"Was I required to notify you?"

They were in her boudoir and she was seated on a chair by the window and having a glass of wine. She would relax for a few minutes, then she would begin the ornate process of dressing for supper. At Dartmouth, the meal was nearly always an ostentatious event and their table filled with important guests. She prepared for it like a queen on summer progress.

He shrugged. "No, you didn't have to notify me, but I figured I was owed an explanation. You yanked her away in a manner that was abrupt and clumsy."

"You were on holiday. You shouldn't have had to deal with her."

" I wasn't bothered by her, but her teacher was staying with us too. She views herself as Polly's temporary guardian and she was upset about how it was managed."

"So you rushed home because she was annoyed? Really, Winston, that's very odd behavior and you're aware that I detest your spontaneous bursts of conduct."

He poured himself some wine, then he sat on a chair across the room. She had to turn slightly to look at him and it irked her. She presumed herself to be superior to him and she believed he should defer to her. Usually, he did, but not always.

"I brought the teacher with me," he said.

"Winston! You didn't."

"She was worried that you might not be a reliable custodian."

Agatha sniffed with offense. "I won't dignify that comment with a response."

"Guess what her name is."

"I have no idea."

"Charlotte Cronenworth. Harold was her father."

Win's own father, Reginald, had invested in Mr. Cronenworth's company of HH Imports. When Mrs. Cronenworth had run away with her paramour, the business had collapsed for an extended period. Reginald had lost a ton of money.

"Harold Cronenworth's daughter is on the premises?" Agatha said. "What is wrong with you? We're trying to buy her childhood home of Peachtree Haven and she shouldn't be around and underfoot while we're purchasing it. What are you thinking?"

Peachtree's current owner was suffering some financial difficulties and he was anxious to sell it at a reduced price. Win had decided to acquire it, implement some upgrades, then resell it at a profit. It would help to recoup some of Reginald's prior losses. Along with many other topics, he hadn't mentioned it to Charlotte.

"I don't intend to discuss the property with her," he said, "so the fact that she's at Dartmouth is irrelevant. As to Polly, Charlotte was irritated by how she was whisked away, so she doesn't trust you."

Agatha frowned. "You called her Charlotte. Are you on familiar terms with her?"

"Yes, and don't change the subject. She's quite sassy and she was about to travel here to scold you about it. Since she's never met you, and I am fully cognizant of what a shrew you can be, I thought I'd better be here too, to tamp down any fireworks."

"I'm not a shrew. I am firm and stern and I won't dawdle in my own bedchamber and allow you to insult me. Be polite to me or go away."

"I will depart as soon as you tell me about Polly. Is she connected to us somehow? And don't lie to me. Might she be Holden's daughter?"

"Definitely not. She's a cousin's bastard—a distant cousin, on my mother's side."

"Which cousin?"

"You've never heard of her. They were wool merchants in Manchester and not our kind of people at all."

Win studied her, wondering if she was being frank, but she was a skilled dissembler. If she didn't want him to learn the truth, he'd never pin her down.

"Why does she possess so many Wainwright features?" he asked.

"How would I know? We're not the only ones in Britain with dark hair and we're certainly not the only ones with blue eyes."

"Were you paying her tuition at that school?"

"Are you joking? Why would I have? Her mother had a small trust fund. I used that money."

"Why was Fog Bay listed as her address?" he asked.

"Now that is a question for the ages. I can't imagine why."

"Are you claiming it was simply pulled out of thin air and written down by accident?"

"I was as shocked as you were that she showed up there. I had talked to the headmistress, Mrs. Pemberton, once in my life, when Polly was enrolled as a student. I doubt the woman and I corresponded five times after that. I advised her to never contact me unless there was a problem, and it's my understanding that Polly was very well-behaved. How Mrs. Pemberton came up with Fog Bay is a mystery."

He glared at her, trying to wear her down with his glower, but she couldn't be cowed or intimidated.

Ultimately, he said, "I don't believe you."

"The girl is a nonentity. Why would she be worth a falsehood?"

"There are probably dozens of reasons. I wish you'd spit them out, so I don't have to interrogate the servants. Someone in this accursed mansion must have information about her—and why you're involved in mischief over her circumstances."

"Honestly, Winston," she huffed. "I was accosted by a vicar after her mother died. She was about to be placed in an orphanage and the man begged me to see to her welfare. I've obliged him. I will admit that I performed the minimum of what was required of me, but she's been properly raised. I spoke to her yesterday and she's very impressive."

"Swear to me that she's not Holden's daughter."

"I swear! For pity's sake, you're in such a lather. If I'd realized her existence could stir such a fuss, I'd have told you about her years ago."

He scoffed. "Yes, I'll bet you'd have been a veritable fount of candor. What are your plans for her?"

"I've arranged for another school to take her. Hopefully, the headmistress will be a tad more responsible and the facility won't be shut down without warning."

"What school? What town?"

A muscle ticked in her cheek. "I can't remember the name, but it's outside Manchester and she's from there. I felt it was appropriate for her to return to that area of the country. Miss Havistock did the research and handled the registration for me. I'll have her dig up the details and provide them to you."

Miss Havistock was Agatha's long-suffering secretary who managed her appointment calendar.

"If I pester Miss Havistock, will she tell the same story?"

"Yes." Agatha sighed dramatically. "Will that be all? You've annoyed me enough for one afternoon and I have to dress for supper."

"I asked Charlotte to dine with us."

"A schoolteacher? Absolutely not. What will our guests think?"

"She's not a fishwife I found hawking her wares on the docks. She's an educated, beautiful young lady from a rich, toplofty family. She'll know which fork to use."

Agatha tsked. "She may be beautiful and educated, but her relatives can't still be wealthy. Harold is dead, and apparently, his daughter is working for a living. She's tumbled quite far down Society's ladder."

"You may calm your racing pulse, Mother. I asked her to join us, but she doesn't have a gown, so she declined the invitation. If I can drum one up for her, she may join us in the future. I just wanted you to be apprised, so you don't faint when it happens."

"Don't you dare scurry about and find her a gown either. I can't begin to describe how unseemly that would be."

"Yes, I'm sure it would disgrace you to the marrow of your bones, but she's not a servant and I won't have her treated like one." He stood and started out, then he stopped to add, "By the way, she would like to confer with you about Polly."

"I can't fathom why it would be necessary."

"You'll humor me and make time for her. At two o'clock tomorrow. In my library."

He shot her a look that she clearly received. She was a haughty snob, but she was very British too. He was the Earl and the patriarch. She would obey him when he gave her a direct order.

He whipped away and left. He had to settle in his suite and dress for the meal too, but first, he would visit Charlotte to guarantee she'd settled in too. It was insane to have brought her to the estate, insane to be in the manor when she was present too, but where Dartmouth was concerned, he was its king and it was his castle.

If he went a bit mad over a pretty girl, that was his prerogative, and no one could complain about his folly.

v

"Miss Charlotte! You came! I was praying you would."

Charlotte smiled at Polly and said, "I didn't like how the Dowager had those men abscond with you and I decided I should check on you."

Charlotte had located her in the nursery and it was filled with toys and dolls that were much too young for her. She'd reached an awkward age; she wasn't a child anymore, but wasn't yet an adult. Whoever had stuck her in the room probably hadn't known where to put her.

"Are you all right?" Charlotte asked.

"I'm fine. Everyone has been very kind." Polly leaned nearer and whispered, "Except for the Dowager. She's scary."

"Did she tell you about your parents? Did she tell you about the school her servants mentioned?"

"No. She claimed I was being impertinent for inquiring and that children should be seen and not heard."

They snickered, then Charlotte said, "It's the common opinion in exalted families. They birth plenty of babies, but they're mostly an afterthought. I'm simply impressed that she'd lower herself enough to meet with you."

"I'll be here for a week, but she wouldn't explain what will occur after that. If she's sending me to school, she wouldn't admit it."

"Lord Dartmouth traveled with me, so he'll untangle her plans."

"Oh, I hope I'll have a chance to talk to him before I have to leave."

"I'll be certain it transpires. He's arranging for me to speak with his mother. I'll pose all the important questions, and I'll share her replies with you, so there won't be any surprises."

They were over by the windows and gazing down at the groomed garden. The paths wound through the grass forever, with trimmed hedges, fountains, benches, and statuary perfectly situated. There had always been rumors that Dartmouth Manor was magnificent. It was one of the oldest, grandest houses in the land, so she'd expected it to be superb, but she'd had no idea: the gold-plating, the marble floors and hearths, the carved bannisters, the domed ceilings.

It was a lavish display of wealth and privilege, the likes of which she'd never previously witnessed. It was a testament to the power and longevity of the Wainwrights, underscoring how they'd helped to rule the Empire for centuries.

She was no stranger to ostentation. She'd grown up at Peachtree Haven, and she'd believed it was fancy and splendid too, but compared to Dartmouth, it might have been a hovel.

The Dartmouth salons could have been expensive museums, where every item was too priceless to touch. There were paintings by master artists, antique vases from China and other exotic sites, Persian rugs weaved by foreign craftsmen. The opulent surroundings were extravagant, but the whole place was cold and impersonal too.

She suspected it would have been a dreary spot to be a child. If you ran down the hall, you might knock over a costly object. It made her feel sorry for Lord Dartmouth, but for herself too. They'd been flirting at Fog Bay, and she'd begun to dream about having a future with him, but with her observing his home territory, she recognized how foolish she'd been.

He was so far above her, like an angel up in Heaven. No wonder he'd suggested she be his mistress. She was only fit to occupy the bottom rung on the ladder of his world.

"How have you been keeping busy?" she asked Polly.

"There's not much to do really, so I'm bored and lonely. The Dowager agreed that I could stroll in the garden once in awhile, but I'm not to tarry, so I've been hiding up here."

"Well, I've arrived to join you, and I'm bored too, so we'll figure out how to entertain ourselves. How does that sound?"

Polly grinned. "It sounds marvelous."

"In fact, we'll go out to the garden right now. I've been trapped in a carriage all day and I'd like to explore the grounds."

"Should we? What if the Dowager doesn't like it?"

"Who cares what she thinks? After I depart from Dartmouth, I won't ever see her again, and I doubt you will either. We don't need to worry about her."

Polly's grin widened. "You are horrid."

"I can't abide snobbish people like her. Let me show you where my bedchamber is located, so you'll know where it is. Then we'll head outside."

With Charlotte traipsing into the manor unannounced, she'd been concerned over how she'd be greeted, but Lord Dartmouth had escorted her in and had personally ordered the housekeeper to watch over her.

She'd been given a beautiful suite on the same floor and wing as the nursery. It had both a dressing and sitting room, and it was too much space for her and her meager portmanteau of clothes, but she wasn't about to complain. She loved to be pampered and she would view her sojourn as a short holiday. She would revel in every comfort that was offered.

They left the nursery and went down the hall and Charlotte said, "Lord Dartmouth invited me to join him and his guests for supper. It's been an eternity since I lived this kind of life, so I wanted to very much, but I don't have a fancy gown, so I had to decline."

"That's too bad. You're so pretty. I would like to see you decked out in finery."

"I thought we could track down a servant and ask to have our meal served in the nursery. We can eat together. Would you like that?"

"Yes, I would."

Polly stopped walking and she wrapped her arms around Charlotte and hugged her tight.

"Thank you for coming to check on me, Miss Charlotte," she fervently said.

"You're welcome. I hated how you were yanked away from me at Fog Bay. I shouldn't have allowed those men to take you without a fight."

"I've been so frightened."

Charlotte patted her on the back, then drew away to peer into her striking blue eyes. They were Lord Dartmouth's blue eyes. "You're not frightened, remember? Despite what the Dowager might claim, you're a Wainwright through and through, and that means you don't fear any situation."

Polly straightened her shoulders. "I will constantly tell myself that I'm strong and capable. I have some of the Earl's blood flowing in my veins, so I'm tough. Just like him."

"Absolutely," Charlotte concurred.

They walked on, holding hands. Their relationship had started out as teacher and student, but the past weeks had bonded them in a new way. When they'd still been at Fog Bay, Polly had mentioned that it felt as if they'd become sisters, and it appeared she was correct.

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