From Governess to Society Bride

Beth watched Eve pace distractedly across the room. ‘And no doubt he was furious and asked you to leave.’

‘Nothing so genteel, Beth. He didn’t ask, he ordered me out.’

Perturbed, Beth sighed. Histrionics weren’t in Eve’s character and in all their lives she had never seen her friend so put out. After a time she ventured, ‘So—that’s it, then. You won’t be working for Lord Stainton.’

‘It doesn’t look like it. I doubt he’d even consider taking on a woman who had the temerity to slap his face.’

* * *

For the next two days Lucas immersed himself in the usual duties and matters of business, firmly believing that it was the only way he could put Mrs Brody’s visit from his mind, which had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. When Henry Channing arrived, he was grateful for the distraction as he tore his gaze from the letter that had just been delivered.

‘Dear Lord! You call this a house, Lucas?’ Henry remarked, glancing around the almost empty salon. ‘This place looks like a mausoleum—all walls, pillars, statues and space.’

‘What do you expect? I’ve sent most of the furniture and artefacts to be auctioned off.’

Never able to stand still for long, Henry helped himself to a brandy and began to wander about the room. ‘There were some rather fine pieces, as I recall. I may even buy some myself.’

‘Feel free. There are plenty to choose from at Sotheby’s. What brings you here today, Henry? A social call?’

‘Of course. You know how I like your company, dear boy. Although,’ he said, his face losing its jocular expression and becoming serious, ‘I did hear some news at my club in St James’s earlier that might be of interest to you—not good news, I hasten to add.’ When Lucas gave him his full attention, he said, ‘Those two shipping yards on the Thames have gone under, Lucas. I’m sorry.’

Genuine concern for his friend clouded Henry’s eyes. They had known each other since their Cambridge days. Henry had always admired Lucas. He was so controlled, so disciplined and determined, forthright and dynamic, driven in everything he put his mind to. As a businessman he was resourceful. He invested his money wisely, buying stock in new inventions and anything he thought promising with confident expectation of future gains. They usually paid off, again and again.

Unfortunately his brother Stephen had not been so clever. Lucas had told him he could not be expected to subsidise him indefinitely, but, unable to curtail his brother’s extravagance, he bailed him out every time, selling stock until his own affairs had reached the point of crisis. He went from a man of substance to being branded a bad risk, and when some of his own investments went under, losses he could normally have withstood, he accrued tremendous personal loss.

And now the news that two of the shipping yards he had invested in—practically the last thing he had to hold on to—had closed, was the final straw.

‘Good grief, Lucas. You look as if I’ve just handed you a death sentence.’

‘Perhaps you have.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Henry realised that this was the worst possible time for Lucas. Suddenly alarm sprang into his eyes. ‘I say, you’re not—I mean, you won’t—’

‘What? Shoot myself?’ A cynical smile curved Lucas’s lips. ‘Nothing so easy. I have my daughters to consider. Their mother may have deserted them, but I will not.’ Looking down at the letter in his hand, he became thoughtful.

‘What is it about that letter that seems to hold your interest, Lucas?’

‘I’m not sure. It’s just arrived from my brother’s solicitor along with the deeds to some land in the north-east.’

‘I didn’t know you owned land in my neck of the woods.’

‘I don’t. Apparently it’s a parcel of land Stephen won off a landowner up in Newcastle—who is now no longer with us.’

‘I see. It sounds interesting. As you know, my own family have been making a profit from coal for decades in those parts. What will you do? Sell it? My father might be happy to make you an offer.’

Lucas shook his head. ‘I won’t sell it, not if there’s coal to be got—at least not until I’ve made some enquiries. I’ll contact a mining engineer to have it checked out.’ His lips curved in an ironic smile. ‘You never know, Henry, it might put me back on the road to recovery.’

‘I sincerely hope so, Lucas. You always did find making money easy. I have no doubt at all that you will soon be over this present crisis and back on your feet. I wish you luck, and if you do go up there then my home is at your disposal. In the meantime, are you able to carry on?’

‘Not for long—but at the moment my prime concern is finding a new nursemaid for Sophie and Abigail before I leave for Laurel Court.’

‘Which is when?’

‘As soon as possible. I haven’t been to the old place since before Stephen died. Eventually I intend moving there permanently, but first I must go and inspect the place. Lord knows what condition it’s in, although any repairs that need doing will have to wait until I’m solvent.’

‘I would have thought you’d have no problem getting a nursemaid.’

‘So did I, but it’s proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be. I’ve seen several, but none that was suitable—although, perhaps there was one.’

‘Then ask her to come again and see how she gets on with the children.’

‘Oh, she gets on with them—and they adore her.’

‘Then what’s the problem? Who is she?’

‘Mrs Brody.’

Henry almost choked on his brandy. Uttering a sound of disbelief, he stared at him. ‘The Mrs Brody?’ he asked, astounded when Lucas nodded. ‘You’re jesting, Lucas. You have to be. Tell me the truth.’

‘On the contrary, Henry, I am in earnest.’ He went on to tell Henry about the American widow’s visit.

‘But—I thought the two of you were at daggers drawn?’

Lucas shook his head. ‘We were, but her application could be of benefit to both of us.’ He smiled wryly. ‘You might say she could be the answer to all my prayers.’

‘But she is an extremely wealthy woman in her own right. Why the devil would a woman like her want to become a hired help?’

Lucas shrugged. ‘She has her reasons.’

‘And will you take her on?’

‘I haven’t decided. I confess that after giving her application a great deal of thought—and needing someone to replace Miss Lacy within the week—I am sorely tempted, if not desperate.’

Suddenly his gaze lighted on the card Mrs Brody had put down on his desk. Picking it up, he looked at it for a long hard moment. Her face came to mind. She was certainly attractive enough. Indeed, from the moment he had set eyes on her his baser instincts had been stirred. In fact, he couldn’t understand why she could evoke a combustible combination of fury and the desire to know her better in him within minutes of meeting her. Slowly and methodically he began reviewing the American widow’s serious proposition, making two lists in his mind—one for accepting her offer and one against. The former won.

* * *

By the time Lucas reached the Seagrove residence and was shown inside, frustration and suspense had twisted every muscle of his body into knots. His voice, demanding to see Mrs Brody, echoed through the house from the hallway, his presence like a strong wind blowing through the quiet rooms, bringing everything that was masculine and loud into the unruffled and well-ordered running of the house.

Eve came out of the drawing room to see who the visitor was, and in a flash her tranquillity was swept away. She could feel the very air move forcefully and snap with a restless intensity that Lucas Stainton seemed to discharge. Clad in an immaculately fitting dark-green coat that deepened his swarthy complexion and turned his eyes to the colour of light blue steel, he looked lethally handsome and incredibly alluring.

‘Lord Stainton!’

‘I would like a word with you, Mrs Brody.’

Lucas strode across the hall and walked straight past her into the drawing room, skirting the hovering servant as if she were not there. ‘Leave us.’

His command was peremptory and the servant stepped back in shock. She glanced at Eve, seeking permission to leave, but Eve was not looking at her. Her eyes were fixed on her visitor. When the drawing-room door closed, shaking her head, the usually slow-moving servant slipped away at a faster pace.