From Governess to Society Bride

‘Unfortunately that is so. And do you have to shout? My hearing is perfectly sound and you’re frightening the children.’

‘Children? Don’t be ridiculous. I’m their father.’

‘Precisely, and for that reason alone you should have more control over your temper,’ Eve snapped, having recovered from the shock of meeting the rude and thoroughly obnoxious gentleman for a second time.

Lord Stainton turned his dagger gaze on the terrified servants, who had ceased what they were doing and stood frozen to the spot, their eyes agape. ‘Who the hell let this emotional woman into my house without consulting me first?’

‘I am not an emotional woman and, as I have already told you, I am not deaf, so kindly lower your tone.’ Turning on her heel, she strode to the stairs to collect Estelle.

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ he thundered, striding after her irate figure with the silent sureness of a wolf, stopping in his tracks when he saw three apprehensive young faces peering down at him from the stairs instead of the usual two. Placing his fists on his hips, he glowered from the extra child to the angry young woman. ‘Miss Lacy,’ he shouted. When Miss Lacy failed to appear, he cursed softly and pinned Eve with his gaze. ‘Where has that child come from,’ he demanded, pointing a long narrow finger at the offending child, ‘and what the hell is she doing in my house, today of all days?’

Eve’s eyes flew to the children while still feeling concern for Sarah. After all, it was the purpose for which she had walked into the lion’s den just minutes before.

‘The child you are referring to is my daughter.’

‘Then do you mind removing her from my house and yourself along with her? As you can see—’

‘You are moving out,’ Eve snapped.

‘Do you always make a habit of stating the obvious, Miss…?’

‘Mrs—Brody, and, yes, I do,’ she said, her eyes flashing as cold fury drained her face of colour and added a steely edge to her voice.

He returned her gaze steadily, studying her as though she were some strange creature he had just uncovered in his home. He had already noted her slight American intonation; her Scottish name was another fact that intrigued a rather bemused Lord Stainton. There was a moment of silence in which he tried to calm himself.

At thirty-two years of age, six feet four inches tall and with amazingly arresting eyes he was a strikingly handsome man. Rugged strength was carved into every feature of his bronzed face, from his straight dark brows and nose, his firm and sensually moulded lips, to the square, arrogant jut of his chin. Just now he was also formidable as he glared at the young woman who stood before him on his black-and-white marble floor. Every line of his face was set with disapproval.

‘Have you had an edifying look at me, Lord Stainton—I assume that is who you are?’

‘You are correct in your assumption, Mrs Brody.’

‘You are also the most ill-mannered, arrogant, inconsiderate man I have ever encountered,’ she upbraided him coldly.

His eyes narrowed and his lips tightened. ‘I dare say I am all you accuse me of. It goes with the title.’

Eve was in no mood to be mocked, and she could see by the gleam in his eyes he was doing exactly that. ‘Then with you as an example, I can only hope you are the last titled Englishman I shall ever meet. Yesterday I fervently hoped and prayed I would never have the misfortune to set eyes on you again. Nothing has changed. Such an outward display of temperamental frustration is regarded as a sign of bad breeding where I come from.’

Ramming his fists into his waist, leaning forward, he stared at her in blank fury. ‘Really! You really are the most infuriatingly outspoken woman I have ever met. How dare you come into my house and say these things to me—things you know nothing about.’

‘Oh, I dare say a lot of things to a man who scares his children half to death and terrifies each and every one of his servants so they creep about in fear of you. The whole house vibrates with a tension that springs from you, Lord Stainton. It’s a wonder you have any servants at all to order about. By the look on your face I would wager I’ve hit a sore spot. Please don’t disappoint me by holding your temper. I would hate to see you explode with the effort.’

‘Believe me, Mrs Brody, you would not want to see me explode. I have a temper, I admit it, a violent one when I am driven to it. And how I raise my children and choose to live concerns only myself.’

Eve had made her point with an icy calmness. Lord Stainton was so taken aback by her outburst and her forthright way of speaking that his superiority evaporated as he stared at the attractive young woman whose fury turned her dark blue eyes beneath gracefully winged dark brows to violet. Framed by a heavy mass of auburn hair arranged neatly beneath her bonnet, her face was striking, with creamy, glowing skin, high cheekbones, and a small round chin with a tiny, intriguing cleft in the centre. Her nose was straight, her mouth soft and generously wide. His gaze moved over her slender body with a familiarity that brought a rush of colour to her cheeks.

Mrs Brody was a young woman in her early twenties, and she moved with a natural grace and poise that evaded most of the women he knew. Despite being a married woman, she exuded a gentle innocence that he found appealing. Beneath this he sensed an adventurous spirit tinged with wilfulness and obstinacy.

Appalled that he could find the time to scrutinise a complete stranger who had entered his home uninvited and chastised him so forcefully, when all around him there was complete and utter chaos, in sheer frustration he turned from her.

‘I’ve had enough of this charade, Mrs Brody. I have to get on. No one invited you here. There is the door. Use it.’

Eve could feel her face flaming in response to his rudeness. Her momentary shock gave way to a sudden burst of wrath. ‘You’re right, they didn’t. I came to make sure your children’s nurse arrived home safely. She was taken ill in the park and I considered it an act of human kindness to see that she made it home without mishap. Now that is done, it will be my pleasure to remove myself and my child from your house—when I have retrieved my dog from all this chaos, that is.’

He spun round to face her once more, and for the first time Eve saw his hard façade crack. ‘Dog? What dog?’ he echoed blankly. There was more than irritation in his question—there was stunned amazement.

‘The one that disappeared up your stairs when we came in.’

‘Are you telling me that there is an animal running loose in my house?’

‘That is exactly what I’m saying—but don’t be alarmed,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘it won’t bite. Ah, here it is now,’ she said, thankful to see Sarah coming down the stairs with Jasper in her arms. Meeting her halfway, she took the pup and got hold of Estelle’s hand, impatient to get out of the house as quickly as possible.

‘I see Lord Stainton is out of sorts again,’ Sarah whispered softly, looking at Eve with quiet concern. ‘Are you all right?’ She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Have a care. His lordship is not a man to listen or be reasoned with when he’s in one of his infamous adverse moods.’

With her back to Lord Stainton, Eve smiled at Sarah. ‘Oh, I think I can manage his lordship, Sarah.’

‘Unfortunately his temper rules his head. He will soon calm down.’

‘No doubt so will I—when I am out of this mad house. Now you take care of yourself, and marry that young man of yours before too long.’

Confronting Lord Stainton for the last time at the bottom of the stairs, she lifted her chin, in no way intimidated by this man. ‘Seeing that you are in the middle of a self-destructive rage cycle, Lord Stainton, I’ll get out from under your feet. I’m only sorry that I subjected my daughter to the rantings of a very rude lord.’

‘You have caught me on a bad day, Mrs Brody.’

‘Considering I have encountered you on two occasions, Lord Stainton, judging by your behaviour it would seem that you have a bad day most days.’

‘Not at all, Mrs Brody. If your daughter has been in any way upset by my “rantings”, then she has a small measure of my sympathy—the remainder of it must go to your long-suffering husband.’

Eve looked at him directly. ‘I am a widow, Lord Stainton, and my husband’s suffering was of short duration. He was killed outright by an English bullet in New Orleans. Now,’ she said, grasping Estelle’s hand tighter and clutching Jasper to her bosom with the other, ‘I have no wish to detain you any longer. Good day to you.’ She swept out of the house like a galleon in full sail, too angry to say one more word.

In a state of suspense, Lord Stainton stared at the open doorway through which Mrs Brody had just disappeared, feeling as if a hurricane had just blown itself out. He also felt bewildered and extremely angry with himself and a complete idiot, his expression holding more than a little dismay and remorse at what Mrs Brody had just divulged. From an early age he had been taught by his parents and his tutors to project a veneer of civilisation, regardless of how he was feeling, particularly when his emotions were incensed. He had just failed dismally.

‘Miss Lacy,’ he called, halting the nursemaid as she climbed the stairs to take Sophie and Abigail to their rooms. ‘Mrs Brody? Who is she and where does she live?’

‘Apart from her name I—I don’t know who she is, Lord Stainton. She never said. Although she did say she lived on Berkeley Street.’

‘I see.’ He was about to turn away when he remembered something Mrs Brody had said. ‘Miss Lacy.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Mrs Brody did mention that you weren’t feeling well,’ he said on a softer note. ‘Do you need to see a doctor?’

‘No, sir. I’m feeling much better now.’ She bobbed a little curtsy. ‘Thank you for asking.’

‘Good.’ With the skill he’d perfected when his wife had left him, he turned away and coldly dismissed Mrs Brody from his mind.

Disturbed and upset following her encounter with the insufferable Lord Stainton, and feeling a headache coming on, with a morose sigh Eve sank on to the sofa in the drawing room of the Seagroves’ elegant house on Berkeley Street, unable to believe the furious altercation had happened at all. Her anger had evaporated somewhat on her walk back, but she was still shaken. The dejection that had replaced her fury was completely uncharacteristic of her.

With the children happily ensconced upstairs in the nursery and William, Beth’s devoted husband, at work at the Foreign Office, glad to have some time to themselves, Beth poured them both some tea and sat back. She cast a sharp, searching look at her friend’s exquisite features.