Her Secondhand Groom (4 page)

“
Are you saying Mrs. Jenkins doesn’t do it to your satisfaction?”

“
No,” all three of them said at once.

He chuckled. Mrs. Jenkins was originally their nursemaid and after they’d all outgrown the nursery, Mrs. Jenkins just seemed to keep her post. Not that he’d tried very diligently to find a suitable governess to replace her, mind you.

“
Hmm,” he said, cocking his head to the right side as an idea popped into his head. “Did Miss Hughes―the one who helped you with your letters―happen to mention how long she’d be in residence?”

“
No, why?” Celia asked, her lips tipping up into a smile that resembled her mother's.

Swallowing hard, Patrick tore his eyes from her. All three of them resembled Abigail so much that at times it hurt to look at them. “No reason,” he answered gruffly. There was no point in getting them excited about the plan that was forming in his head. Only a few months ago when he’d allowed the newly styled Lady Sinclair to act as their governess for a week, the girls had been beside themselves with excitement hoping the arrangement would become permanent. But that wasn’t meant to be. So he knew it best to keep his current thoughts to himself.

An hour later, the carriage came to an abrupt stop in front of Briar Creek. After helping his daughters down and sending them off with Mrs. Jenkins, Patrick walked to his study and plopped down into his most comfortable chair. Drumming his fingers on the edge of his desk, Patrick let his mind ruminate about the little kernel of brilliance that had planted itself in his head during his carriage ride home, and about an hour later, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

With any luck, Mr. Hughes would see the sense in his plan and Patrick and Miss Hughes would find themselves affianced.

With another stroke of luck, they could be married by the weekend.

Chapter 3

Juliet stretched her arms way up over the top of her head and yawned. Nothing felt better than a good stretch in the morning. She put her arms back down and rolled into a sitting position with her legs hanging over the side of the bed. Her feet touched the cold stone floor and she involuntarily shivered. Forcing herself to keep her feet planted on the floor so they’d adjust to the cold stone, she reached over to her nightstand and blindly groped for her spectacles. Just before nearly knocking them to the floor, her fingers closed around one of the stems. She put them on and stood to start dressing.

She glanced outside her window as she made her way to the wardrobe she shared with Henrietta. The sun was nearly up. She sighed. Once again she’d slept too long to be able to go for a walk before everyone would expect breakfast. She pulled out a tan day dress that reminded her more of a maid’s outfit than anything else. Pushing aside the thought, she dressed and left her room as quietly as she could so not to wake her sister who was still slumbering and would probably continue to do so until noon.

Passing her father who was reading a book by a five candle candelabra that held only two tallow candles, Juliet smiled thinly and walked on. She knew her parents, especially her father, had had high aspirations about her education and Season in London. Though he never said anything, she couldn’t help but feel she’d disappointed him by not making a match in London.

In the kitchen, she gathered together what she’d need to make breakfast, humming as she went. A half an hour later, she set out a bowl of coddled eggs and ten muffins, then set off to find everyone and announce breakfast.

Just as she stepped into their little parlor, Father leapt up out of his chair and nearly knocked her over as he pushed past her on his way out of the room. Furrowing her brows, she looked at her mother. “I didn’t realize he was so hungry, perhaps I should go make more.”

“
It’s not that,” Mother said, twisting her fingers in her skirt. Her face looked a hint paler than normal. Not that that was anything unusual for a woman in this stage of her pregnancy. Mother blinked her eyes rapidly, almost as if she were fighting an onslaught of tears. “Lord Drakely’s carriage just arrived.”

Juliet’s frown deepened. Lord Drakely may not be the nicest man she’d ever encountered, but there was no need for her father to run from him like the man was an executioner.

“
He’s come to collect his money,” Mother said inanely as her dainty fingers absentmindedly played with the worn lace hem of her right cuff. She sighed. “Money we don’t have.”

Juliet tried to swallow as her body tensed and the blood drained from her face. Quietly, she left the room. Perhaps she should have tried harder to catch a husband. Not that any of the gentlemen she’d met had shown her much attention. But perhaps she should have encouraged the two who had, even if they already had one foot in the grave with the other racing to join the first.

Several sharp raps sounded on the front door, making Juliet freeze in place and debate whether to open the door for Lord Drakely or go hide in the kitchen. She glanced at her mother. She appeared to be in no condition to make a composed appearance, and Father was in the room he shared with Mother opening and shutting every drawer and cabinet they owned, presumably looking for some amount of money to appease Lord Drakely until they could make regular payments.

“
Open the door, Juliet,” Father called from his room where he was noisily rummaging through the contents of his bureau.

Nervously, Juliet nodded, knowing full-well he couldn’t see her. She inhaled deeply and starched her spine. She walked to the door and slowly pulled it open, cautiously meeting Lord Drakely’s sharp brown eyes. “My lord.”

“
Miss Hughes,” he greeted with a low bow that made her flush. She’d forgotten to curtsy. Why was he bowing anyway? They weren’t equals. Far from it.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she met his eyes again. “Did one of the girls forget something?”

“
No, no,” he said with a shake of his head. “I was just hoping to talk to your father. Is he close by?”

Juliet bit her lip. Father was close by all right. “Come in.”

Lord Drakely stepped across the threshold and into the small space by the door. “Where shall I wait while you locate him?”

“
The parlor,” she said simply. She pointed down the hall in the direction of the parlor. Mother would be there to keep him company while she rushed down the hall to find her father. Gently scratching on the door to the room her father occupied, she cleared her throat and said, “Father, Lord Drakely is waiting for you in the parlor.”

“
Tell him I’ll be there in a moment,” her father muttered as another drawer shut with a sharp snap.

Juliet exhaled sharply then turned from the door and walked back down the hall to the parlor where Lord Drakely was waiting with Mother. “He’ll be right in, my lord. Would you like me to fetch some tea for you while you wait?”

Lord Drakely looked a bit hesitant before nodding. “Yes, please.”

Leaving the room and walking back toward the kitchen, she passed her father in the hall, coins rattling in his pockets with each step he took. She grimaced and walked to the kitchen to ready a tea tray.

Thankfully she’d already made a pot of tea that was supposed to be served at breakfast so all she had to do was search for the three best teacups and set them on the tray with the tea kettle. She walked to the cabinet to look for their best cups and groaned. None of them were very good. Most had chips along the tops or a crack going down the side. One was even missing an entire handle.

She picked one up that looked fairly decent on the outside. It had gray scratch marks on the inside from someone being careless while stirring in their sugar. She shrugged and put it down, then looked for another in a similar condition. At least the marks on the inside were easy enough to keep hidden as long as the tea was refreshed every time he took a sip. Cracks, chips, and missing handles were not so easy to disguise.

Searching the cabinet, she found another cup that would do as long as she gave it to her mother who would make certain to turn the cup so that Lord Drakely couldn’t see the minor chip in the top.

She just needed one more. Her eyes scanned the row of their finest teacups. Ah, what good fortune! She found one that was nearly flawless with the exception of a triangle shaped chip in the bottom rim of the teacup.

Satisfied, she placed the cups on the tray, walked down the hall to the parlor, then stopped. She frowned, and tightened her hold on the heavy tea tray. The parlor door was closed. She set the tea tray down on the little table against the hall wall so she could open the door. Careful so not to cause a larger interruption than she was going to already, she tightened her fingers around the door knob and twisted. But it didn’t turn. She tried again. It was stuck. Locked. How odd. Her family
never
locked doors. That wasn’t allowed. Closing them was unusual, but locking them was unheard of.

Juliet glanced over to the tea tray then to the door, then back to the tea tray where her eyes just wouldn’t stay put. They wandered back to the door. Then down to the keyhole. Her six youngest siblings were outside playing so she knew she was safe from them giving away her position. That just left Henrietta. Juliet stifled a snort. Henrietta probably wasn’t even awake yet.

Licking her lips, she bent her knees and lowered her head to peer through the keyhole.
Whack!
She winced and jumped back. Drat. For as long as she’d been wearing those thick spectacles one would think she’d be accustomed to them and remember to take them off before putting her eye next to something. Removing her bulky spectacles and resting them on the makeshift table her folded legs created, she leaned forward again and squinted, peering through the keyhole.

Her sight was blurry, not allowing her to see any fine details. All she could see were the hazy outlines of who she presumed to be both of her parents as they sat side by side on the settee and faced the door. A bit to the left, looked like another form. It was Lord Drakely, of course.

She pressed her eye closer to get a better view and the white edges of her eye touched the cold, hard brass. Juliet jerked her head back and rubbed her stinging eye. Not bothering to try to see when she clearly couldn’t, she repositioned herself and pressed her ear against the door. Ah, perfect. The keyhole was just large enough so that her ear fit perfectly up to it allowing all the noise from the room to be funneled straight into her ear.

“
And that will clear all the debt?” her father asked, his voice holding an edge of excitement. Or was that confusion? It was hard to tell.

“
All of it,” Lord Drakely agreed.

“
When did you have in mind to have the wedding?” Mother asked. “I’d think the sooner the better, no?”

Juliet willed herself not to grind her teeth as the first hints of understanding washed over her. Her parents were going to allow Henrietta to marry Lord Drakely as a means to pay off their debt. She’d feel sympathy for Henrietta being forced into a marriage not of her choosing if she didn’t feel swamped with guilt that it was her fault. Perhaps she ought to find the key to the door and let herself in. This debt wasn’t Henrietta’s fault. It was hers. And for as much as she didn’t have any great affections for Lord Drakely, she should be the one who had to endure his unpleasantness, if anyone
had
to be subjected to it, as a means to pay the debt.

But she didn’t get up, barge in, and insist she take her sister’s place. She stayed squatted down there with her ear pressed to the keyhole. Though the debt wasn’t Henrietta’s to pay, it was highly unlikely―not just unlikely, but
highly
unlikely―he’d agree to marry Juliet in Henrietta’s stead.

A small, somewhat naughty smile curved her lips. They’d actually suit each other well. Henrietta was haughty enough to fit perfectly with him and his ilk.

Straining with her ear pressed against the door, she listened to their conversation once again as her parents continued to talk with Lord Drakely about the stipulations of the marriage. “Of course I’ll be willing to dower your other daughters, should they require a Season.”

Juliet frowned. Just who did he think he was buying her sister this way? He must truly have been smitten by her for the whole ten seconds he glanced at her to be offering so much. And what did he mean by:
should they require a Season
? They were poor villagers who just happened to have some distant―almost nonexistent―claim to lesser gentry. Juliet and her sisters would not be requiring Seasons. Not unless that was his way of “suggesting” they needed Seasons as a way to make her family appear more acceptable to his kind.