A Most Unconventional Match (24 page)

L
ate the next morning, after a flurry of painting, Elizabeth put down her brush. Wiping azure-tinted fingers on her apron, she gave the canvas a critical look.

Filled with euphoria after the wonderful visit to Mr Christie's brokerage, she'd awakened at dawn, eager to get to her studio. It might well be wise to wait for Faith and David to become settled before submitting any work for public display, but rather than slow her efforts, she thought it best to forge ahead so that she might have a body of work from which to choose when the moment arrived.

A ‘body of work'. How she loved the sound of that!

In the interim, she might also find a mentor with whom to take lessons. Or, at the least, visit the Royal Academy's collection and study the masterworks. Hal would arrange it.

Hal. Hugging herself, she smiled as a rush of warmth filled her. Now that she'd had time to consider what he'd done for her—this time—she admired him even more.

How horridly embarrassing it must have been for him to force her to face the truth about Sir Gregory. How genteel and forbearing he'd been as she'd railed at him! She felt ashamed all over again, remembering her behaviour.

Through it all, though, he'd remained as he always was: patient, gentle, concerned. Selfless. She didn't think she'd ever met an individual who seemed less preoccupied with achieving his own goals or a gentleman more attuned to the thoughts and wishes of the people around him. Was it the observer's role forced on him by his verbal affliction that made him so perceptive? Whatever forces had shaped him, Hal Waterman was a marvel!

Oh, how she hoped she would see him today! Though she'd have to behave herself. She stifled a giggle. She might not be able to keep herself from at least stroking his hand. She knew it affected him to be touched by her, had watched his face redden, his breathing accelerate.

Did she affect him as powerfully as he affected her?

Probably not, she concluded with a sigh. After all, when she'd leaned toward him in the carriage yesterday, practically begging for a kiss, he'd refrained. Which was for the best, of course. She couldn't imagine what had come over her! Heat flushed through her as she recalled that brazen gesture.

Though he'd pretended not to notice her momentary lapse, he was doubtless an experienced man. Just how experienced? she wondered. What else could he do with the big hands that had brushed her cheek so gently? Was every part of him equally big and capable? Sensation swirled in the pit of her stomach, shuddered through her body.

She was still tingling when the door flew open and David ran in. ‘Are you finished, Mama? Nurse said I could come tell you I read my whole book. Can I read to you?'

She'd done enough for this morning. Seizing her son, she swung him around in a whirl of shrieking protest. ‘Very well, young man,' she said as she set him back down. ‘Let's see how much you will impress your tutor.'

After he'd completed a whole section, for which she praised him sincerely, he asked, ‘Is Uncle Hal coming today? I want to show him, too!'

‘Perhaps after nuncheon. Shall we eat now?'

‘Oh, yes! I'm very hungry. When we're done, I want to teach Max a new trick.'

‘As long as it doesn't involve linen on a laundry line,' she cautioned with a smile.

Some of her excitement dissipated as they walked out. She'd not been too disappointed that Hal had not come by this morning. After all, he'd told her yesterday that he would be leaving London soon and doubtless had many details to settle before his departure. Still, he'd said he would visit again. Oh, she did hope it'd be today!

But as the hours passed after nuncheon with no sign of him, she drifted upstairs to visit with Miss Lowery, taking great pleasure in carrying away the now-drooping flowers Sir Gregory had brought Amelia—an attempt to curry the elderly woman's favour, she thought darkly. Restless and unable to settle to needlework or household chores, when David bounded in begging her to come and see Max's new trick, she willingly followed him.

David had succeeded in getting the puppy to leap up at his command, although since he teased him with his favourite rope to do it, Elizabeth wasn't sure this truly qualified as a trick. But her own spirits lifted by her son's delight in his dog, she found herself smiling at their antics. Impatient to pull the rope from David, the puppy launched himself at the boy, missing her son, who jumped aside at the last minute, but grazing her. Caught off balance, she fell in a crumple of skirts to the stable floor, laughing as heartily as her son while the puppy frolicked in her lap and licked her face.

Oh, that she might jump into Hal's lap, her hair mussed, her gown awry! Part his jacket, loose the buttons of his waistcoat, run her tongue across the contours of his chin…Her sensitised body hummed to life, her breasts, her body heating. She felt aroused, giddy, light-headed, as if she'd imbibed too much champagne.

There was still time for him to visit this afternoon, she thought hopefully, dislodging the puppy and standing to brush the dirt from her gown. She must go and tidy up, in case he dropped by for tea.

Until yesterday, she reflected as she walked up to her chamber, all their conversations had focused around her own and David's needs. She'd found the few details he'd given her about new investment opportunities fascinating.

She wanted to know more about them—and Hal. His interests. His background. What, besides managing complex financial schemes, he liked to do. She wanted to know
everything
!

While Gibbons clucked over her soiled dress and helped her wash and change, Elizabeth sat dreamily, a half-smile on her face, contemplating all the kind and wonderful things Hal Waterman had done for them.

Taking over their tangle of finances, eliminating the frightening Mr Smith, she ticked off mentally. Realigning the estate's income and investments to remove her financial worries for good. Showering attention on her grieving son, making him laugh again, bringing a puppy to befriend him. Urging her to simply love David and reassuring her that she need not send him away. Perceiving the danger posed by Sir Gregory, then girding himself to warn her and enduring her abuse. And, last of the wonders, appreciating her painting and understanding its importance to her.

Truly, she had never before met so amazing a gentleman! Sands had better never frown at him again.

Recalling Sands, she suddenly remembered that with the distressing events of the last several days, she'd forgotten to reassure Gibbons that her position was secure. She was about to do so when a knock came at the door.

James the footman handed Gibbons in a note. Elizabeth's pulse leapt—until she recognised the writer's hand.

Her first impulse was to tear up Sir Gregory's letter unread. But acknowledging that part of her anger was disappointment that the communication had not been penned by a different author, she supposed she ought to allow Everitt's best friend to apologise.

Though she had no intention of accepting his apology.

Her aggravation intensified as she read his pretty missive. In flowery phrases he implored her pardon for their ‘misunderstanding' and begged leave to call upon her later, when ‘she was less distraught'.

With a sniff of disdain, she walked over and dropped the letter into the fire. ‘Gibbons, you may discard any future notes from Sir Gregory. And regarding the unpleasantness with Sands, let me assure you that I trust your honesty and appreciate your service. I would never dismiss you on so slender a grounds as someone else's suspicion. But…' she paused, the memory coming to her suddenly ‘…was there something more you wished to say?'

‘Thank you, ma'am, there surely was!' Gibbons cried. ‘I'm so glad you're not gonna see that Sir Gregory. 'Twas his interference got me into trouble. I overhead him asking Sands to report to him on all your doings, especially regarding Mr Waterman. Gave Sands a guinea.'

‘Sir Gregory engaged Sands to—to spy on me?' she asked incredulously.

Gibbons nodded. ‘I thought if I could find where Sands had hid the coin, I could prove what was going on. I never liked the way Sir Gregory looked at you, not even while the old master was still with us, God rest his soul! But after Sands caught me, 'tweren't no use to speak to you about it in front of him, since he'd only deny it and…and I was afraid, relying on him as you do, you might believe him and dismiss me. But all I ever wanted was to protect you and your sweet little boy!'

After listening with a growing anger, Elizabeth thanked the maid again for her loyalty and dismissed her.

No wonder Sir Gregory had always known where she'd been and what she'd been doing! And to think, after conniving with the baronet behind her back, Sands had tried to induce her to discharge Gibbons! All the while, she thought bitterly, setting her up to fall like a ripe plum into Sir Gregory's hands.

She could hardly believe that the butler who had stood beside her to confront the unsavoury Mr Smith, would do such a thing. It also pricked her deeply that poor Gibbons had thought her too likely to meekly acquiesce to Sands's masculine judgement to dare to tell her the truth.

Shameful as it was to admit, in the past the maid's assessment would probably have been correct. But this was her household to run now, her responsibility. She wanted a staff like Gibbons, who were loyal to her alone.

Perhaps it was Sands who should be dismissed.

A righteous sense of purpose filling her, she walked downstairs and told James to fetch Sands. Firmly she dismissed the niggles of doubt that warned she didn't know anything about hiring a new butler. If she wanted to become a serious artist, to defy society's expectations of a woman of her station, she must learn to exceed her own.

A moment later Sands appeared. ‘You called, ma'am?'

As the thought of him with Sir Gregory, their heads together as they talked about her, Elizabeth's anger rekindled. ‘I should like you to explain to me why I should not turn you off without a character.'

Shock registered on Sands's face. ‘Mrs Lowery, I cannot imagine what you mean!'

‘Do you deny that you accepted money from Sir Gregory to spy on me? To report back to him what I was doing, who I received?'

‘Spy on you? Oh, no! He merely asked me to…to watch you and let him know how you got on. He was concerned about you. And the money—'twas a vail, merely.'

‘A whole guinea? A rather generous tip! Do you deny he wished most particularly to know about Mr Waterman?'

Sands drew himself up. ‘It's not fitting that you…consort with another, with the master not yet three months dead!'

‘It's not your place to judge my behaviour,' she said, feeling only a twinge of conscience, considering her erotic daydreams about Hal, at borrowing Sir Gregory's argument. ‘That gentleman is not seeking to make a…a kept woman of me. Oh, yes, that was indeed Sir Gregory's intention! If you do not believe me, ask among your friends at the other great houses. There was even a wager at White's over it!'

Sands stared at her. ‘I cannot believe it!'

‘Believe it,' she said bitterly. Her anger, outrage and sense of betrayal combined in the glare she fixed on him. ‘Did you not also try to induce me to discharge Gibbons in order to conceal what you were doing? I cannot tolerate having in my employ a man who would spy on and endanger me.'

This time, he made no attempt to deny her accusation. ‘But, ma'am!' he protested, fear and uncertainty on his face. ‘What would you have me do? I worked for Mr Lowery for more than thirty years!'

‘I suggest you apply to Sir Gregory. Perhaps he will write you a character, since you've served him so well. You have not served me. I'll give you until week's end to leave this house. In that time, I do not wish to see your face again.' She gave him a curt nod. ‘That is all.'

As she watched her chastened soon-to-be-former butler walk away, a huge sense of relief lightened her. Strolling into the library, she threw back her head and laughed. If anyone had told her six months ago, cocooned in her studio at Green Street, that she'd be gambolling with puppies, thinking of showing her paintings and dismissing butlers, she would have been astounded!

How she wanted to tell Hal all about it. But already afternoon was waning into evening. Perhaps she could write a note, informing him of what had happened with Sands and begging him to come and advise her on the hiring of a new butler.

She felt her face flush at the idea of resorting to so desperate a ploy. Still, so great was her desire to see him, she decided to do it.

When it came to Hal, apparently she had no shame.

She'd dragged out paper and was reaching for a quill when a knock sounded at the door. James entered, bearing yet another note. A second plea from Sir Gregory? she thought disdainfully. Then she recognised the writer's hand and excitement made her dizzy.

She ripped open the seal and read eagerly, then sat back with a huff of frustration. After begging her pardon for the short notice, Hal informed her he'd discovered he must leave London immediately for the north. He hoped to return within a fortnight and claim the privilege of calling upon her as soon as possible after his return.