Lady Dearing's Masquerade (5 page)

And he regarded her as if she were the Whore of Babylon.

She reached the end of the corridor and entered her bedchamber, relieved to see her maidservant, Alice, there mending a gown Livvy had torn during yesterday’s walk with the children.

“Alice, one of the Governors from the Foundling Hospital is here to see me. I must look respectable. There is no time to be lost!”

The older woman looked startled but quickly set aside her work. She helped Livvy remove the painting smock and clean the paint off her face and hands. Once Alice had deftly rearranged her curls in her usual simple fashion, Livvy eyed her reflection in the glass.

One thing was certain. Until she knew his business, she could not allow Sir Jeremy to guess how they’d met. The fact that she’d kissed a stranger at a public masquerade would weigh heavily against her. The fact that she had kissed
him,
of all men, would make no difference. Gentlemen might be forgiven the occasional lapse, but ladies were expected to behave with greater restraint.

She frowned. Her sleeves were long, covering arms that had been bared the night of the masquerade. However, the gown was a frivolous pale green and cut fashionably low across her bosom, revealing the birthmark she’d struggled to hide under her costume that night. Bother! She’d long since given away all her mourning attire. There was not a single sober-hued or high-necked gown left in her wardrobe.

“A tucker! I need your tucker!”

“Yes, of course, m’lady,” said Alice. “If you’ll help me—”

Livvy helped Alice remove the scrap of muslin and then sat quietly as Alice pinned it into her own bodice. Surveying the result, she nodded.

“Would you like a cap, ma’am? Caps look ever so sober,” offered Alice helpfully.

Livvy pondered the suggestion for a moment. Her blond curls might help confuse the matter. The black wig had hidden them completely. Or so she hoped.

“No, thank you,” she replied. “It might appear that I am trying too hard to make a good impression.”

“Don’t worry, ma’am. You’ve nothing to hide. I’m sure you’ll handle this Governor, whoever he is.”

Livvy hurried out, wishing she did indeed have nothing to hide.

* * *

Jeremy paced the drawing room, looking about for more clues to the nature of his hostess. An interesting assortment of art decked walls of a cheery yellow color, surmounted by plasterwork in rococo swags of fruit and roses. Gracefully curved chairs with embroidered seats, a striped sofa and a pianoforte were arranged casually atop a richly patterned Aubusson carpet.

His gaze flashed back to the pianoforte. A beautiful instrument, gleaming with polish, nevertheless one of its carved, turned legs showed signs of having been broken and carefully repaired.

Surely none of the children could have wreaked such damage.

He looked toward the French doors leading to a terrace outside. In a corner, a harp stood, and a bowl of hyacinths and narcissi added color and fragrance to the feminine setting. He’d half expected something vulgar, not a place so thoroughly ladylike. And beguiling. Lady Dearing was clearly a connoisseur of beauty. An eccentric, Bromhurst had called her.

He stared again at the paintings, but he could not guess if any of the landscapes, portraits or floral pieces were her work. That she was an amateur artist was clear from her smock and the dab of yellow paint that had blossomed on her cheek like a daffodil petal. He’d felt the most insane urge to wipe it away. To see if the peachlike skin beneath was as soft as it looked. It was hard to believe she was in her thirties.

He wished he hadn’t been so curt with her in the entrance hall, but the way she had smiled up at him out of those larkspur-blue eyes had completely bowled him over. At first he’d thought she smiled for him. But how could that be? Was it her nature to try to captivate every man she met?

Now he was sounding like Sir Digby Pettleworth.

Muslin swished. Jeremy turned and promptly found himself staring again. Scrubbed clean of paint, Lady Dearing’s cheeks glowed a healthy pink. Golden ringlets spilled carelessly from a ribbon the color of budding leaves. As she walked toward him, the folds of her matching gown hinted at lush curves and a trim waist. The lace high at her throat was somehow more provocative than the low necklines currently in vogue. Had she chosen this demure ensemble for just this effect?

He wrenched his gaze away.

“Please sit down, Sir Jeremy,” she said.

Her voice was delightful, soft as rain. Her tone was friendly, neither coy nor cold.

He sat on the sofa while she took a seat in one of the chairs. For a moment, he struggled to remember the words he’d planned to say.

“You said you wished to speak to me about the children.”

There was a tremor in her voice, echoed in the flutter of lace at her throat, the swinging of her long pearl earrings.

Annoyingly, his mind conjured the image of her naked in a fountain.

He cleared his throat.

“Yes,” he replied, more gruffly than he’d intended. “I am here for several reasons. First, the General Committee has sent me to inspect how you are caring for the children.”

She inclined her head, but the color ebbed from her cheeks. Was it guilt, or natural nervousness?

“Of course I shall cooperate in any way I can. And your other purpose?” she asked, her eyes meeting his anxiously.

“I also have a particular interest in one of the children. Mary Simms.”

“Mary?” She scrutinized him warily.

Lord, did she think
he
had anything to do with the child’s troubles?

“Yes. I have talked to Lord Bromhurst and Mrs. Hill. I am aware of Mary’s situation and I assure you I have only the kindest interest in her.”

“I did not mean to imply otherwise. But what
is
your interest in Mary?”

“I should like to take her into my own household, and raise her as my daughter. I have arranged the hire of a chaise to take her to London. Could she be ready to leave tomorrow?”

Livvy stared at Sir Jeremy, unable to comprehend his words for a moment. An inspection . . . and now he wanted to take Mary away. Of all her children, the most vulnerable, the one she was just beginning to reach.

“Mary? Why?” she croaked.

“I can see you are surprised. Perhaps it is rather sudden. Let me explain.”

“Yes, it is sudden,” she said sharply. “And I think it very unwise to remove her from Rosemead now.”

“I have a very important reason for doing so.”

Despite herself she was curious.

“My wife used to enjoy visiting the children at the Hospital, and-”

“Your
wife
?” Livvy interrupted, suddenly feeling ill. Had Sir Jeremy been married when he kissed her at the masquerade?

“My wife,” he repeated stiffly. “She enjoyed visiting the children, and took an especial interest in Mary. On her deathbed she begged me to care for the child.”

“Your wife died?”

He stared at her and Livvy blushed. She must seem an imbecile to ask such questions. Pray he did not guess why!

His eyelids lowered. “Over four years ago.”

A sigh escaped her. He had
not
been married, then.

“I am sorry,” she said. “I should not have interrupted.”

He looked up, dark eyebrows drawing together over those intent mahogany eyes. No doubt her reaction to his answer puzzled him. “It was only yesterday that I learned from the matron at the Hospital that it was Mary Simms my wife must have spoken of. Now I am determined to fulfill her wish, and I assure you that I intend to treat Mary with every kindness and consideration.”

She clasped her hands in her lap. It was a strange tale. She looked up, reading determination in his eyes, in the set of his jaw. A more likely explanation occurred to her. As a baby, Mary had been left at the Hospital with the hundred pound fee that guaranteed admission. At least one of her parents was a person of means. Could it be Sir Jeremy?

But to ask might be an unpardonable offense.

“I am most sorry to hear of your bereavement,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “A last request must of course be honored. But I beg you to consider how you might best fulfill that request. You must realize Mary is a special case.”

“I am aware of that. I hope to act as a good father to her.”

“But she has become very fond of me and of the other children here. What do you think it would mean to her to be uprooted?”

He frowned. “It is her welfare I am interested in. Do you not realize the advantages I can offer her?”

She clasped her hands more tightly. “What you mean is, that growing up in the home of a wealthy and respectable gentleman, Mary will have better opportunities than with a scandalous widow.”

“I did not mean to offend you.”

An unexpected softness in his voice shook her. She squared her shoulders. “Let us not beat about the bush. You cannot be unaware of my reputation. All I can say is that I fell out of grace through an indiscretion, but not through actual vice. I promise you I would never do anything to lead Mary—or any of the other children—astray.”

“As my ward, Mary would be well educated and carefully brought up. She might eventually make a respectable marriage.”

Livvy bit her lip. Through his charitable work, Sir Jeremy undoubtedly had many connections with tradesmen, bankers, gentlemen farmers, clergymen and the like. Under his guardianship, Mary would have an opportunity to meet potential suitors, at least some of whom might not despise her for her unknown parentage.

“I do understand that you can offer Mary more than I can,” she conceded, “but that is for the future. What I am trying to say is that I believe she may be on the verge of confiding in me. It would be most harmful for her to be removed at present.”

He frowned at her for a moment. “Perhaps I should meet her and the other children, and judge for myself.”

She sighed. It was reasonable. “Of course you may.”

“I must also prepare a report for the General Committee on how the children are faring here,” he added dispassionately.

She gripped her hands so hard it hurt, rather than reply on impulse. She’d almost forgotten the cursed inspection. Would Sir Jeremy understand some of the ways she’d deviated from Hospital practices, or would he judge her harshly for them?

“The children are out on a ramble with their governess,” she replied, draining all emotion from her voice. “They will not return for another hour, I think.”

“I can wait.”

“But it will be almost time for their dinner, and it would be most improper of you to join us. Daytime visits may be excused on account of Foundling Hospital business, but if you are known to dine here, there would be gossip. I would not wish the good work you are doing on behalf of the Foundling Hospital to be jeopardized by it.”

He directed a suspicious look her way, then finally nodded. “When should I come?”

“Let us say ten o’clock. That is not too early, is it?”

“Not at all. I am an early riser. But are the children permitted to sleep so late?”

“Of course not. They rise at seven and have lessons after their breakfast. At ten they go outside to play. It would be a good opportunity for me to show you about the schoolroom while it is quiet. You may meet them when they return.”

Having played out any fidgets and on their best behavior, she prayed.

“Very well. Ten o’clock it is.”

She rose from her seat to leave and he followed.

“I meant to arrive earlier,” he said as they walked down the hall. “But my horse threw a shoe.”

His tone was friendlier, as if he wished to lull her fear of the inspection. She knew better than to be caught off guard.

“You rode from London?” she asked.

“I prefer to ride or walk whenever I can.”

So he did not care to be driven. Exercise would account for those muscular limbs, the powerful way he moved. Despite her intentions, just walking beside him brought back memories of the masquerade.

A rush of desire.

Idiot, to allow a man’s good looks and athletic physique to affect her so! Once in a lifetime was surely enough for such folly. And this man no longer admired her, if his stiff manner was any indication. What would he think if she told him the part he himself had played in her fall from grace?

He could easily blame her for having encouraged him.

She forced an impersonal smile to her face and bade him goodbye on the steps as a groom brought his horse around. She watched as Sir Jeremy mounted the gleaming, superbly conditioned black beast and rode off. He had quiet hands and an easy, upright seat that spoke of long hours spent in the saddle. If he donned some armor, and some colorful trappings, he could be taken for a knight errant from some old legend.

She dismissed the silly fancy. In truth, the man was a puzzle. At the masquerade he’d seemed so protective, so gentle, so tenderly passionate. Now he regarded her with hard, critical eyes and she didn’t dare tell him the truth, for fear of upsetting the life she had carved out for herself and the children.

And yet, a mad, reckless part of her rejoiced that she would be seeing him again tomorrow.

Chapter 4

Livvy returned to the house. Thurlow still stood in the hall, holding the door for her, a thoughtful expression on his face. It reminded her of something she must do.

“Please tell Charles he is to have two weeks’ holiday,” she said.

The butler blinked, then nodded. “Very well, ma’am. I will tell him.”

“I have a very good reason for what I am doing, Thurlow,” she assured him.

“I imagine you do, my lady,” he said respectfully, but with a twinkle in his eye.

Dear Thurlow! Bless him and dear Mrs. Thurlow, the housekeeper. They’d kindly born with her tantrums throughout childhood and helped her rebuild her life through widowhood and disgrace. They’d not uttered a word of complaint when she began to bring her foundlings home from London, instead treating the children with the utmost kindness and insisting the rest of the staff follow their lead. She could count on their support in helping to make a good impression on Sir Jeremy Fairhill.