Miss in a Man's World (3 page)

‘Shall he, my lord?'

‘Most definitely, child! And now you may begin your duties by tugging the bell-pull, there, by the hearth.'

Taking her immediate compliance to his request to mean that she had accepted the post, he sat quietly, considering his latest responsibility until the summons was answered, and then turned his attention to his major-domo.

‘The child you see before you, Brindle, is my new page.'

Not even by so much as a slight raising of one greying brow did the butler betray surprise, even though there had never been a page employed in the household for as long as he had been in service with the family.

‘Is there a spare room in the servants' quarters?'

‘Not one that isn't presently occupied or used for storage, my lord. He could share with the boots for tonight, I suppose, or perhaps it would be best if he doubled up with James, the footman. His room is slightly larger.'

The Viscount frowned heavily. ‘No. For the time being he may use the small room my niece occupies when she stays here.' Once again he looked directly up at his butler. ‘Now, pay attention, Brindle. Tomorrow, I wish you to take the boy out and buy him a new set of clothes, and whatever other little necessities he might need. In the meantime he is to be fed and you are to arrange for a hipbath to be taken up to his room, where you are to leave him until he rings for it to be taken away. Is that understood? He is also to have his supper up there on a tray. Do not rouse him in the morning. I dare say he is possessed of wits enough to find his own way down to the kitchen.'

‘Very good, my lord. Will there be anything else?'

‘Yes, you may allow Ronan to bear me company for the rest of the evening.'

His lordship acknowledged with a mere nod of his head the shyly spoken ‘goodnight' from his latest employee. So deep in thought did he quickly become that he was hardly aware when the door opened softly a few minutes later; it was only when his favourite hunting dog came gambolling across the library towards
him that he came out of his brown study long enough to return the affectionate greeting with a pat.

‘Am I being foolish beyond measure even to consider housing the chit, Ronan?' Lord Fincham murmured, his mind having quickly returned to the enigma besetting him at the present time. ‘After all, she is nothing to me.'

The dog, now happily settled on the carpet at his master's feet, merely cocked an ear, while his lordship smiled grimly. ‘It cannot be denied, though, the minx has certainly succeeded in pricking my conscience. No mean feat, old fellow, I can tell you! But am I being foolish to give her the benefit of the doubt?' He considered for a moment, before acknowledging aloud, ‘I did the same over you, of course, some three years ago, when the gamekeeper assured me you'd never make a decent gun dog. You have more than repaid my belief in you. Will she do the same, I wonder?'

His lordship gazed down lazily at his favourite dog. ‘It will be interesting to see how you react to the boy-girl who will be sleeping in my niece's bed. After all, you are not overly fond of many people, are you, boy? But, firstly, I must satisfy myself that she is indeed the innocent she appears to be. No doubt some scheme to do precisely that shall occur to me before the morrow. Yes, I shall use the night hours to consider.

‘Then we shall see ‘

I
t was Lord Fincham's custom to rise late in the mornings when residing in town and the following day proved no exception. Every member of his household, not least of which was his personal valet, was awake to his lordship's every desire and need. Consequently, his hipbath awaited him in the dressing room the instant he had broken his fast and had risen from the large four-poster in the master bedchamber.

Unlike so many of his contemporaries, his lordship had always been a champion of personal hygiene. Eschewing the use of strong perfumes in order to mask unpleasant odours, he had always bathed regularly, something which was becoming increasingly popular since the arrival of that astute arbiter of good taste, George Bryan Brummell, on the London scene a couple of years or so before.

The Beau had set a fashion in gentleman's attire that many of the younger members in society had quickly attempted to ape—with varying degrees of success, it had to be said. Perhaps because he was so resolute and
too discerning a gentleman to be influenced by the latest affectations, Lord Fincham had yet to adopt the less flamboyant styles of dress advocated by Brummell.

He continued to wear silks, velvets and brocades, and an abundance of lace. His wardrobe boasted many fine coats in a range of vibrant colours and in richly embroidered materials. He favoured, still, knee-breeches, and his hair remained long and tied back at the nape of his neck with a length of black velvet ribbon.

In fact, it was only his lordship's hair that had ever caused his pernickety valet the least consternation. Not once in the eight years he had served the Viscount had Napes had recourse to a powder box. Nor had he ever persuaded his master to don a wig. In every other respect, however, Napes could find no fault with his lordship, and was secretly so very proud to have the dressing of a physique that was truly without flaw. Shoulders, chest and waist were perfectly proportioned and long legs were so straight and well muscled that no artificial aids to correct the tiniest defect had ever been employed.

After washing his own hair, his lordship allowed Napes to pour a pitcher of warm water over his head, and then leaned back, happy to relax for longer than usual as he had nothing planned for what little remained of the morning. For a moment or two he absently studied the valet's progress, as Napes went about the dressing room collecting various discarded items of clothing, before his mind returned to the matter that had so occupied his thoughts during the early hours before sleep had finally claimed him.

‘Tell me, Napes, have you had the felicity of making the acquaintance of the most recent addition to the household staff?'

‘Indeed I have, my lord,' he answered in a flat tone that betrayed his complete lack of interest in the new arrival.

His lordship wasn't unduly surprised by this indifference. Only in matters of dress did his valet betray the least animation. ‘Has the boy broken his fast?'

This did cause the valet to betray a look of mild surprise. ‘I believe so, my lord. He was in the kitchen with Cook earlier, chattering away about something or other. Will there be anything else, my lord? If not, I shall take these soiled items down to the laundry and return presently with clean linen.'

Through narrowed eyes his lordship followed the valet's progress across to the door. ‘Yes, do that, Napes. But send the boy up with the linen, and then return yourself. I rather fancy indulging in a long soak this morning.'

 

It was some ten minutes later before there was a slight scratch on the door. Experiencing a sense of grim satisfaction, his lordship bade enter, and then watched the most recent acquisition to his household take a step or two into the room, before stopping dead in her tracks. Violet eyes, betraying a marked degree of mingled embarrassment and doubt, widened noticeably, before lowering to consider some imaginary spot on the floor.

‘I—I'm s-sorry, my lord. Mr Napes quite failed to mention you were still at your ablutions. Where shall I put these?'

‘Oh, just put them down anywhere, child, and pass me the towel,' he responded with supreme unconcern, while quite deliberately raising himself slowly from the concealing waters of the hipbath. ‘Look lively, lad!'

The mild rebuke was sufficient to regain the page's
full attention. Then a look of fascinated horror, not to mention utter disbelief, gripped delicate features as those striking orbs remained glued to a certain portion of his lordship's anatomy located between the waist and the knees. A stifled exclamation of alarm quickly followed, the pile of recently laundered shirts was tossed in the air and then fell to the floor as though so many worthless rags, a moment before Master Green fled the room as though the devil himself were nipping at her heels.

Highly amused by the outcome of his little experiment, his lordship gave vent to a roar of appreciative laughter, uncaring whether it could be heard or not by his unconventional and highly discomposed young page.

‘That,' he murmured, as he wrapped himself in a huge towel and wandered through to his bedchamber again, ‘was most illuminating. Though not particularly flattering, now I come to consider the matter. I've never had any unfavourable comments about my manly attributes before!'

‘Beg pardon, my lord.' Like a cat on the prowl, Napes had slipped silently into the room. There was in his eye a watchful look, as he made his way towards the dressing table where his master sat, running a comb through his damp hair. There was a suggestion, too, of peevishness about the valet's mouth.

His lordship could hazard a fairly shrewd guess as to why his valet felt aggrieved, but chose not to pander to the excellent dresser's feelings of wounded pride at having had an underling usurp his exalted place in the dressing room and raised one hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘Merely thinking aloud, Napes,' he assured
him, and then watched as the servant disappeared into the adjoining room.

The strangled cry that quickly followed came as no great surprise to his lordship either. Nor, it had to be said, did the subsequently voiced strictures on allowing unskilled menials to handle clothing of such fine quality.

‘For heaven's sake, calm yourself, man!' his lordship ordered. ‘The confounded garments aren't ruined.'

‘None the less, my lord, the boy must learn to take more care of your belongings if…if you wish him to share my duties. He should be punished for such tardiness.'

When this advice was followed by a decided sniff, his lordship raised his eyes ceilingwards. ‘Be assured, Napes, the child was not hired to replace you, or to relieve you of any of your duties. I merely wished to satisfy myself over—' His lordship checked abruptly. ‘I merely wished to satisfy myself that he had slept well. All the same, your remarks are timely,' he added, staring thoughtfully into the glass before him, as he confined his long hair at the nape of his neck with a length of ribbon. ‘Ring for Brindle!'

Whilst awaiting the arrival of his major-domo, the Viscount proceeded to dress himself. Although he allowed his valet to remove the smallest of specks from his clothes and polish his boots and shoes to a looking-glass shine, he preferred, with the exception of his coats, to don his own garments, and always tied his neckcloths himself.

‘You sent for me, my lord,' the butler said, entering the room in time to witness the valet assisting his lordship into a coat of dark green velvet.

‘I did, Brindle.' He turned, favouring the high-rank
ing servant with his full attention. ‘Mark me well… No one, and I mean no one, is to lay violent hands on my new page. If the child commits any slight misdemeanour…' he couldn't resist smiling to himself ‘…and I suspect he will commit many, you, and you alone, are to guide him in a gentle, understanding way. If he should seriously transgress, you are to inform me and I shall deal with the matter personally.'

He paused for a moment before adding, ‘I shall be most displeased if I discover my orders have been disobeyed over this matter. Is that understood?'

‘Perfectly, my lord.'

‘And you, Napes…?'

‘Yes, my lord.'

‘Good. Now you may be about your duties. And you, Brindle, locate Master Green's whereabouts and request him to await me in the library.'

Although the butler automatically bowed and withdrew, his face wore a decidedly thoughtful expression as he made his way down the back stairs to the kitchen, where he found the page happily assisting the cook to shell peas at the large table.

The youth had been there for most of the morning, chattering away quite knowledgeably about various domestic practices to Mrs Willard and helping her out where he could. Clearly the cook had already taken a keen liking to the boy. Perhaps the lad had aroused her motherly instincts, for generally she ruled the kitchen with an iron hand and would brook no interference from anyone. The scullery maid and the boots knew well not to get under her feet and she wasn't above giving the youngest footman a sound box round the ear, if he happened to catch her in a bad mood. Yet Master Green, seemingly, could do no wrong in her eyes.

And it had to be said the child was no harum-scarum guttersnipe, Brindle considered fair-mindedly, as he made his way towards the large wooden structure taking pride of place in the centre of the room. Not only was the lad well mannered, he spoke, amazingly enough, in a very genteel fashion. Yes, Master Green was something of a mystery.

‘You are to attend his lordship, child.'

There was a suspicion of alarm in the eyes that were raised to the butler's impassive countenance. ‘Not in his bedchamber, I trust?'

‘It isn't for you to question where his lordship wishes to see you!' Napes admonished, entering the kitchen in time to hear the decidedly nervous response.

A considering look took possession of those striking eyes as they followed the valet's progress across the large room, before it was vanquished by a knowing twinkle.

‘Ah, but you see, Mr Napes, I have no desire to trespass on your domain. I think any skills I might have lie elsewhere, perhaps even here with Mrs Willard.'

‘Oh!' The valet looked taken aback for a moment, not to say slightly relieved. ‘There's no need for you to worry yourself on that score, my boy,' he assured, noticeably less sharply. ‘His lordship demands you await him in the library.'

‘Not quite, Mr Napes,' the butler corrected when the page had left them. ‘He requested the child await him in the library… Requested, mark you.'

‘Well, that do seem strange, Mr Brindle,' the cook declared, as the butler, continuing to look perplexed himself, joined her at the table. ‘Mind, the child do have winning ways, I'll say that for him. Perhaps his
lordship has a fondness for the lad.' She gave a sudden start. ‘Oh, my gawd! You don't suppose…?'

‘That possibility assuredly crossed my mind,' the butler admitted, following Cook's train of thought with little difficulty. ‘But, apart from the hair, the child bears no resemblance to his lordship from what I can see. Nor the master's late brother, come to that. Besides which, I would have thought he was rather too old to be an offspring of his lordship's.'

‘Not only that, Mr Brindle, the master were so good natured in his youth,' Cook reminded him. ‘Never a breath of scandal attached to his name in those days. It was only after he came back from France and discovered what Miss Charlotte had gone and done that changed him.

‘A bit before your time, Mr Napes,' she explained, when she chanced to catch him frowning down at her, looking bewildered. ‘Miss Charlotte were a close neighbour's daughter. She and Master Benedict were childhood sweethearts, inseparable they were back in them days. His brother only wanted Master Benedict to finish his studies up at Oxford, then he were happy to give the union his blessing and set Master Benedict up in a nice little property a few miles north of Fincham Park, with a nice bit of land attached to it, too. Well, no sooner does Master Benedict finish his studies than he goes jaunting over to France to help his friend Mr Gingham rescue a cousin, or some such. Wicked goings on over there at the time, Mr Napes, murdering all their betters. Wicked it were!

‘Master Ben were away quite some few weeks, I seem to remember,' she went on, quickly returning to the point of the story, ‘and when he came back he discovered Miss Charlotte had spent some time in London
with an aunt or some such, and had upped and wedded Lord Wenbury.' She shook her head sadly. ‘He were never the same after that, were he, Mr Brindle? Cold, he became, cold and distant.'

‘He certainly became less approachable,' the butler was willing to concede. Then he shook his head. ‘But that child seems to have stirred something within him again. I swore I heard him laughing earlier, shortly after I'd shown the lad where his lordship's dressing room was located, and I was about my duties on the upper floor. I haven't heard him laugh like that in many a long year.'

‘But where did the young fellow come from, Mr Brindle, that's what I'd like to know? Ever since he came into the title, his lordship has always trusted your judgement when it comes to hiring staff,' Cook re minded him. ‘So I don't think he came from any agency.'

‘I'm sure he didn't. Just as I'm convinced he's never been engaged in service before. All I can tell you is his lordship brought him back with him yesterday. No doubt the young fellow will reveal more about himself when he comes to know us better.'

 

His lordship, seated at his desk in the library, was of a similar mind, and had decided not to bombard his unusual page with questions, but to bide his time in the hope of discovering more.

Only just detecting the light knock on the door, he bade enter and watched the girl come shyly into the room. The glance she cast him was brief in the extreme, before she resolutely stared at the floor, her heightened colour visible even from where his lordship sat. Clearly she was still highly embarrassed over the incident in the
dressing room. But it was no more than she deserved! his lordship decided, hardening his heart.