Miss Grantham's One True Sin (The Regency Matchmaker Series Book 2) (31 page)

His words stung, and she couldn’t help wincing a little. Orion noticed. He stopped and gave her a questioning look. “I say, have I managed to put my foot in it?”

“Not a true Gypsy,” she quoted him. “Please understand, Orion, I have heard those same words hundreds and hundreds of times since ... since ... ”

“Since your father’s family so cruelly turned you and your mama from your rightful home?”

There was sudden, white-hot anger in his words that quickly contracted and cooled into a sober, clear hatred.

Artemis was stunned—and profoundly grateful. “Thank you for your depth of feeling, Orion, but I choose not to focus on that part of my past. I rarely think about Branleigh anymore, and I hold my cousin, the one who inhabits the place now, blameless. That part of my life was only eight short years. The next sixteen were much more important and have had more lasting effect. I have lived the life of a Gypsy all these years—I
am
a Gypsy! I speak Romany, I cook Gypsy food, dress in Gypsy clothes, and dream Gypsy dreams. But,” she said with a shrug, “I have never truly belonged there, in caravan. To the Gypsies, half Romany is also half Outsider. And, of course, my own blood is only one-quarter ‘pure,’ as they call it.”

“It seems they distrust us without reason.”

“Not without reason,” Artemis quickly returned, obeying an impulse to defend her people—for that was how she thought of them. In spite of her having only one-quarter Romany blood, in spite of never having been fully accepted among them and of living the first eight years of her life as any other young English lady had, Artemis Rose still thought of herself as Romany, and she always would. “They are ill-treated everywhere they go. They have been rejected, disparaged, and even hunted down. They have every reason to be wary and distrustful. And yet they took my mother and I in when we had nowhere else to go.”

“You could have come to Stonechase, I am certain. You would have been welcome here for as long as you wished to stay.” He gave a soft smile. “You still are.”

A lump formed in her throat. She was certain he meant what he said, but she could hardly settle at Stonechase Manor. Even if she were inclined to accept such generous charity for herself, she still had the baby to consider—a baby of whom Orion and his mother knew nothing. What could Artemis say?
Why thank you, Orion! I would love to impose on your generosity and stay here forever, and oh! by the way, I shall be sending for my baby sister for you to feed, clothe, and educate, as well
? No. It was simply out of the question. Raising Anna was her own responsibility, and that was that.

“Thank you, Orion. You are most kind ... but I cannot stay.”

He didn’t press her, and they found the parlor without further conversation.

She troubled her mind no further with thoughts of staying at Stonechase. Optimistic by nature, Artemis believed everything would work out in the end. She always tried to live in the moment, to enjoy what the path set before her.

And, at that moment, her path carried her into a game of chess. Not just a game, either, but a battle. A struggle. Artemis was pleased to find she and Orion were evenly matched opponents.

Gypsies, typically, loved the game, and she’d played thousands of matches over the years. She was a good player, and she had Orion cornered before too long. She wondered if he realized it. Five moves and she’d have him checkmated, unless he anticipated and acted within the next two. She suppressed a happy-puppy wiggle of anticipation. It would feel good to best Orion. She stole a glance at his face. He was studying the board, but he looked completely unconcerned.

Good
.

Outside, the sky had darkened and the wind had risen. It whistled through the arbor and over the manor’s gray stonework as garden flotsam tumbled over the lawn. A few ducks scurried for cover.

Artemis was about to deliver Orion the killing blow when Lady Lindenshire sailed through the door and then, seeing them, hesitated a second before continuing to the bank of windows at the other side of the room, where she began pacing at once and waving her fan agitatedly. Orion and Artemis traded questioning looks and then slid their gazes back to the countess. A few heavy raindrops dashed themselves against the glass, but she gave no heed to the gathering storm. Clearly, her attention was focused somewhere else.

“What is the matter, Mama?” Orion finally queried.

She spun about, startled. “What? Oh! Oh ... ” She sighed. “It is hardly worth disturbing your game over. Do continue playing.” She began pacing once more.

ORION’S BROW FURROWED. Mama was usually irrepressibly cheerful, so her fretful countenance had him worried. He hated to see her upset over anything, and he was in the habit of shielding her from harm—harm she often brought down upon herself with her stubbornness.

Not that Orion would have her any other way. He admired his mother and wished there were more ladies like her amongst the
ton
. She was an independent lady, one who dressed at the height of fashion but who didn’t
think
about fashion all the time. One who held a voucher to Almack’s but who did not always attend. One who knew who had been present at Carleton House the past evening, but who did not particularly care.

That’s the sort of lady Orion wanted for himself, but they were deucedly difficult to come by, and then, when one did manage to find oneself a female who could think of something other than fripperies and of who did or did not hold vouchers to Almack’s, she got snatched from under one’s nose by some handsome pirate—drat the blasted scoundrel Viscount Trowbridge!

Orion scowled before noticing Artemis was casting him a quizzical look. By the devil, he had forgotten completely about the chess game and his mother!

He turned to Artemis, mouthed “Sorry,” and silently moved her knight and bishop along with one of his pawns—the very sequence of moves she’d obviously been planning. Then he flicked a glance at his mother, gave Artemis a wink, and exclaimed, “
Checkmate
? I never saw it coming. Well done, Gypsy! How satisfying to find such a worthy opponent.”

“Indeed,” Artemis said with a smile that suggested she didn’t know which pleased her more: that he had known her strategy all along or that he had sacrificed the game for the comfort of his mother. Orion fancied that, in spite of his fashionable facade, Artemis liked the man he had become. He hoped he was right.

“I demand a rematch,” she said with a sly smile.

He nodded and returned her smile. “You shall have one, I promise. Mama,” he said, raising his voice a notch, “the game is over. Come, tell us what troubles you.”

His mother rang for tea and the three of them sat upon a pair of elegant sofas. Then the countess leaned close and whispered, “Florence has run away.”

“Your companion? Where has she gone?”

“She has eloped! With the under-gardener. It is all in here.” She pulled a crumpled note from the tiny reticule that hung at her wrist and handed it to him. “She says they are in love.”

Orion took the note and scanned it. “Love,” he said at last, “is a delicacy, and most get only the barest taste. If Florence is able to feast, then good for her!”

“Perhaps,” the countess conceded. “I do wish her happy, truly I do. But her romantic adventure is dreadfully inconvenient for me. I need her.”

His mother was very independent. After the death of her husband, Orion’s father, when Orion was only a few weeks old, the countess had never remarried. She openly espoused greater freedom and autonomy for ladies, and she practiced the same whenever she could. Though she was not one to set propriety completely to nought, she was not averse to bending it a little.

One manifestation of that was that she eschewed the employment of a footman—or any other man—to usher her about Town, delivering packages and calling cards, opening and knocking on doors, and lending propriety. She opted instead for the presence of a female companion. Belle opened her own doors, and she either had packages delivered or she carried them herself.

Belle sighed. “Lady Marlborough has invited me to her grandson’s christening. It would be dreadful to Miss it. Yet traveling to London alone is not the thing.”

Orion shrugged. “You could break tradition for once and use a perfectly traditional footman.”

“
Pish-tosh!
” his mother cried with a chuckle. “No, Orion, I will not use a footman, even if it means missing the christening. I am afraid I shall have to send my regrets.”

“Come now, surely Miss Dove will not be that difficult to replace. I daresay there are any number of suitable young ladies—”

“Did you say ‘Miss Dove’?” Artemis interrupted him, her fingers visibly trembling. Looking from one to the other of them, she set down her cup and saucer with care. “Lady Lindenshire—Belle—I ... I saw a dove when I first arrived. I interpreted it as a sign of peace, but now ... now I believe I was wrong. I believe—”

“Oh!” the countess blurted. “Why yes ... of
course
!” The countess laughed. “The dove! I see.”

“See what?” Orion asked.

“Yes.” Lady Lindenshire ignored him. “It is a perfect solution.”

Orion pressed his temple. “What solution?”

“Do you not see, Orion?
Miss
Dove and
the
dove.”

“
What
dove?” Orion asked.

The countess looked at Artemis and gave a delicate shrug. “It will come to him in a moment.”

“He does not see clearly.”

“Never did.”

“What am I supposed to be seeing?” Orion asked irritably, unsure which annoyed him more: that the ladies were making no sense, or that they seemed to think they were making perfect sense.

“The signs,” the countess answered. “Do you not remember the story of how Artemis came to us? She saw a dove. It was a sign meaning she is destined to take the place of Miss Dove.”

“Destined? Really, Mama, you do not truly believe in all that sign nonsense. It is rubbish.”

“Then how to explain the dove?”

“Coincidence, and not a very unlikely one at that. The countryside is full of the creatures.”

From the moment she’d marched into Stonechase Manor and announced she had no place to go, Orion had known he would have to rescue her. He’d felt ill at the thought of what might have befallen her had she bypassed Stonechase and proceeded to London on her own.

London would not have been kind to a young lady newly arrived with no employment, no references, and no place to stay. Especially a young lady as pretty as Artemis. Alone on the streets, she’d have ended up in St. Giles or Spitalfields at some flash house or gaming hell. Or in the clutches of a hardened procuress.

Inside, he shuddered. She’d have been eaten alive.

He had no intention of letting anything happen to her, and he’d thought to save her by finding a position for her at one of his estates. He hadn’t mentioned it before now because he’d have wagered his best barouche that the stubborn wench would not accept an offer of employment from him, and then what? He would have had to take drastic measures to stop her from hieing off to London alone.

An image of himself forcefully imprisoning her entered his mind.

Ridiculous.

An image of himself slipping a wedding ring onto her hand ...

Beyond
ridiculous!
But how else could he have saved her?

He knew he should be grateful for his mother’s intervention, but— He shifted uncomfortably. “Perhaps another position in your household would be more suitable, Mama.”

“Pish-tosh,” The countess said. “What would you have her be? A parlor maid, perhaps?”

“Of course not!”

“A milkmaid, then? A seamstress?”

Orion looked from one to the other, at their sanguine expressions, and alarm clawed at his sense of calm. “Mama,” he said, “please think with your head and not with your heart. Engaging Artemis as your companion will not work.”