Never love a lord, p.13
Never Love a Lord, page 13
part #4 of The Wedding Vow Series
Ash bowed to them both. “I will see if my schedule allows such, ladies.”
“You were amazing,” Tuny told him as they started down the stairs. “It’s not easy keeping one step ahead of them.”
“I imagine it’s not that hard for an hour,” he said.
“You’d be surprised.”
At the door, he bowed to her. “Perhaps you would allow me to escort you to services on Sunday.”
“You attend St. George’s Hanover Square?” Tuny confirmed, though she was fairly sure of the answer.
“I do. For some years now.”
Of course. All the nobs attended the church a block off Bond Street.
“We go to St. Paul’s Covent Garden,” she said, hearing the challenge in her voice again. “Services start at ten. If you arrive at half past, you can walk with us.”
He did not argue, but merely inclined his head. “Your servant, madam.”
Keller went so far as to open the door to see him out.
“Still, he thinks,” he mused as he shut the door. “But he has not decided against us yet. That is your doing.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Tuny told him. “He seems to be one who must think through every decision before acting. Sometimes for years.”
Keller’s face tightened. “We do not have years. His Royal Highness says your king will return to London in ten days’ time. He will want an answer then.”
“Let’s hope his lordship can reach a decision,” Tuny said.
She found Charlotte in the sitting room with her head back and her hand on her forehead. Concerned, she dropped down beside her sister-in-law. “Are you all right?”
Charlotte lowered her hand as she straightened. “Fine. Just tired. Thank you for the hour, Tuny. I was able to work in the garden, then talk to Mrs. Prescott about meals for the next week uninterrupted. I was never so thankful for a moment to breathe, but I ask myself why this is so difficult. I managed my brother’s household and much of his correspondence. I conducted my own experiments! And I am finding it particularly galling that I cannot seem to manage my own daughters.”
Tuny patted Charlotte’s skirts. “They are dears. They’ll learn. We did, and I daresay we were far less civilized when you first came to this house.”
“Not all that uncivilized,” she said with a fond smile. “And it’s been a long time since I was called upon to play etiquette teacher.” She sat taller, returning to her usual composure. “Now, to business. I haven’t forgotten our promise to Lord Ashforde. Either Matthew or I will watch the girls with you tomorrow so the other can visit Mr. Hollingsworth.”
“About the Ashforde rubies,” Tuny remembered. “I hope you can find them. It seems sad he lost them, through no fault of his own.”
“His father wasn’t the most attentive,” Charlotte admitted. “To his duties or his son, it seems. Still, it sounded as if you and his lordship were enjoying yourselves upstairs.”
She smiled. “You know I always enjoy Rose and Daphne’s company.”
“And Lord Ashforde’s,” Charlotte said wisely. “Though, if he is to call me Charlotte, I suppose I should call him Ash, as you do. Though most would call him by his title, I suppose he started going by Ash to friends to avoid confusion with his father.”
“Did they share a name?” Tuny asked.
“Thomas, if memory serves. Your Lord Ashforde would be the third in a row to bear that first name.”
Tuny glanced down at her fingers. “He doesn’t seem to think highly of his father.”
“I can understand. Not that the former Lord Ashforde was a bad sort. In fact, he could be quite charming. But he could never say no to another drink, a hand of cards, a wager, or a lady.”
Tuny grimaced. “Unlike Ash.”
“Very unlike him. I was delighted to see how much Fortune approved of him.”
“Yes, she was enthusiastic,” Tuny allowed.
Charlotte frowned. “You don’t sound pleased.”
“Oh, I am,” Tuny hurried to assure her. “But she’s changed her mind before. She didn’t like Count Montalban at first, then later approved of him after he behaved well toward Callie. Fortune was even cool to Belle recently when she was acting high-handed. Perhaps she wouldn’t have been so approving of Ash the year he broke my heart.”
“Likely not,” Charlotte said.
Tuny met her gaze. “And what happens if he decides to break my heart again?”
Charlotte dropped her arm about her shoulder. “Love is a risk, Tuny. Only you can decide if you’re ready to take it. But I can tell you from experience that, for the right man, it’s worth any cost.”
^^^
Her life was pandemonium. Friends coming and going. A guard watchful. Her nieces stampeding through the house with joyful noise. Ash had never lived in such a house. Could that be his future?
It did not seem as daunting as it once might have. In fact, it sounded delightful.
“I take it tea was a success, my lord?” Peaves asked as Ash came through the front door.
Jarls hurried to close it behind him. Mrs. Clowers was peering out the door down to the kitchens, and Ash spotted Theban on the first-floor landing. Even his maids seemed to find it necessary to dust the sitting room, quite close to the entry hall door, as if they hadn’t scoured the place only the day before.
“Tea went quite well,” Ash allowed, handing his hat to his footman. “I will be escorting Lady Moselle to church on Sunday.”
Mrs. Clowers clapped her hands, but a look from Peaves sent her ducking back into the stairwell. Theban stalked off as if intending to determine the appropriate outfit even now.
“You will want the carriage in time to fetch her for St. George’s,” Peaves said.
“We’ll be attending St. Paul’s,” he replied, heading for his library. He expected the quiet to welcome him as it usually did, but now it sounded entirely too still, the dark almost funereal. He shook off the feeling.
“St. Paul’s Cathedral is impressive,” Peaves said, following him. “But it is quite the drive, my lord.”
“Not the cathedral,” Ash said, sinking into his favorite chair. “St. Paul’s Covent Garden.” Ah, that was more the thing. The chair was wide, heavy, and thickly padded. Plenty of room for one.
Or two. He had a sudden image of Petunia seated in his lap as they read together. Now, that would be heaven!
He reined in his thoughts. Today had been highly successful, but he should not allow his feelings to override good sense. That way lay madness.
Peaves coughed, reminding Ash he was not alone.
“Something else?” Ash asked.
“St. Paul’s Covent Garden, my lord?” his butler asked, face scrunched up as if Ash had suggested taking Tuny to watch the horses eat in the stables.
“That is where Lady Moselle and her family attend services,” Ash said. “That is where I intend to be on Sunday. Now, will you ask Mrs. Clowers when dinner might be served? I seem to have developed quite an appetite.”
^^^
“You will be pleased to hear that Fortune approved of Lord Ashforde,” Meredith told Julian when he returned home from his offices that afternoon.
“Well,” her husband said, coming to join her on the sofa in their sunny yellow withdrawing room. “That is good news. I’m glad you agreed with me, Fortune.” He scratched the cat between her ears.
Fortune allowed the touch a moment before slipping down and padding toward the window.
“Quite in agreement,” Meredith said. “I have seldom seen such an enthusiastic response.”
“From Fortune or Petunia?” he teased.
“Fortune,” she said. “Petunia seemed more surprised and relieved.”
“As well she might. I’m sure any young lady of the ton would welcome that sort of certainty about a suitor’s character.”
One of the things she loved about Julian was his unqualified faith in her pet, and her. Now she leaned against him, and he put his arm about her shoulders.
“That will make all our girls settled,” she murmured with a satisfied sigh.
Julian said nothing.
Meredith straightened away from him to meet his gaze. “Julian, is something wrong? Is one of these matches in jeopardy?”
“Perhaps not the matches,” he allowed in his diplomatic voice. “But if the king should decide not to involve himself in the Batavarian question or, worse, come down on the side of Württemberg, it’s possible Leo and Fritz and all their staff will be asked to leave England. I don’t like thinking what that would mean for Larissa and Callie.”
“Or Petunia, if Lord Ashforde advises the king in that direction,” Meredith realized.
“Or us,” he said. “I have been a noted member of the Batavarian court, particularly after King Frederick saw fit to give me this title.”
“A title King George should have awarded himself,” she said primly. “For your many services to his court over the years.”
He inclined his head. “He will never admit as much. And there’s more.”
Her shoulders tightened. “What?”
“I’ve heard rumors von Grub sent another agent to England. Unfortunately, no one seems to know who or where. Canning even suggested assigning someone to keep an eye on Lord Ashforde, just in case there’s trouble.”
She did not question how he knew something apparently not even Lord Ashforde was privy to. Julian had made any number of friends in his career, at all levels of government and power. And she had unwavering faith in him too.
She settled back into his arms. “Between her guards and his shadow, they would be tripping over each other.”
“So I told Canning. He has desisted, for now.”
“But is there nothing more that can be done to protect them?” she asked.
“Not until Ashforde makes up his mind and shares his thoughts with the king,” Julian said. “That decision could well change all our futures.”
Chapter Fourteen
Ash wasn’t sure what to expect of St. Paul’s Covent Garden, particularly after Peaves’ response to the location. The elegant stone church with its four tall columns at the false front dated from the seventeenth century, but much had changed in the area since the famous architect Inigo Jones had constructed it. While once surrounded by homes of the wealthy, now the area welcomed merchants, shopkeepers, and a few rather shadier sorts that were visited only at night.
Then too, the liturgy of the Church of England might be the same here and at St. George’s Hanover Square, but the people responded differently. Where he was used to seeing gazes darting about as if seeking attention, these gazes focused on the rector and the elegant altar behind him.
Not that Ash spent his time observing the architecture and congregants. He was here to worship, after all. He listened to the readings and the rector’s sermon, considered their application to his life. And if his attention strayed to the lady at his side more often than it should, that was only to be expected.
Petunia was dressed in a color between copper and bronze, the overskirt figured with clusters of flowers. They matched the flowers on her straw bonnet. She too seemed to focus on the service, but twice when he glanced her way, her gaze met his, and, for a moment, all other sound ceased.
“A very fine church,” he said as he escorted her out the brick front of the building. Her brother and sister-in-law were just ahead, each firmly gripping the hand of a daughter, and Mr. Huber, the Imperial Guard for the day, was just behind him and Petunia. “Still the most prominent edifice on the square.”
“You should see the area when the market is open,” she said as they came around the building. “It’s mostly closed today because of the laws, but during the rest of the week you can’t see from one side to the other for the crowds.”
The law forbid selling on a Sunday, but a few hardy souls had ventured to their stalls and waved passersby over to view their wares.
“Apples!” Daphne cried, tugging her mother to one side.
Sir Matthew hurried to keep pace.
“Still energetic, I see,” Ash mused as Charlotte steered her daughter toward the far end of the market square.
“Always,” Petunia said. “Do you recall Miss Winchester from the duke’s house party?”
He had only seen the woman in passing, but he nodded.
“Charlotte had hoped to engage her, but she seems to have gone missing.”
Huber took a step closer. “Missing?”
Petunia swiveled to glance his way. “Yes. The agency cannot seem to reach her at her new position. Charlotte has asked them to send other candidates.”
His face was tight, but he resumed his usual distance.
“Are Mr. Huber and Miss Winchester acquainted?” Ash couldn’t help asking.
“They met at the house party,” she explained as they crossed the street at the base of the market, her brother effectively stopping traffic. “Mr. Huber spent a great deal of time in the schoolroom, but so did Prince Otto Leopold. However, I’m beginning to think it wasn’t just guarding the prince that held his interest.”
Suddenly, the very guard was nearly pressed against his back. Ash started to turn, but Mr. Huber put a hand on his shoulder.
“Take the baroness home,” he urged. “Stay there until I return.”
Ash glanced back in time to see the guardsman dash off down a side street.
“What could that be about?” she asked.
Ash took her elbow. “I don’t know, but I intend to do exactly as he suggested.”
“Not much of a suggestion,” she protested as he urged her toward the house. Why had he never noticed how narrow the road was, how many windows looked down on the cobblestones? Enemies could be anywhere. He nearly shoved her through the door ahead of him.
Petunia frowned at him, then turned her attention to helping her sister-in-law remove the girls’ bonnets before they could be crushed.
“Something wrong?” Sir Matthew asked, moving closer to Ash. “What happened to Huber?”
Ash shook his head. “I don’t know, but he wanted Petunia inside for now.”
Sir Matthew scowled at the door as if warning off any interlopers. “Go up to my study, then. I’ll see to Charlotte and the girls.”
Petunia turned to Ash. “Will you stay for luncheon?”
“Delighted,” he assured her. “Your brother suggested we might be more comfortable in his study. I believe it’s this way.”
She fell in beside him as he climbed the stairs. “You and Matty think there’s something wrong.”
“Well, I doubt Mr. Huber would go harrying off if he wasn’t concerned,” Ash admitted as they entered the room. Her brother’s study was paneled in warm wood, with bookshelves on either side, a desk near the window, several spindle-backed chairs, and two upholstered chairs facing the hearth. Ash waited until she’d seated herself on one before taking the other.
“I’m sure we won’t have to wait long,” he told her.
By the way her skirts were swinging, she didn’t like waiting at all.
He made a show of leaning back in the chair, as if the matter didn’t concern him. “Did you have a chance to read Ovid?”
Her eyes lit. “Yes. It was a bit dense at first, but once I noticed the pattern, I found it fascinating. Did he write anything else?”
“A number of things,” Ash said. “Metamorphoses, Amores, Ars Amatoria.”
“Perhaps you’d feel comfortable loaning me those, then,” she suggested.
“Of course,” he said. “I own the first two, but I’m still seeking Ars Amatoria. That means The Art of Love.”
She raised her brows, and he found himself studying her brother’s bookshelves.
“Perhaps,” she said, “we should both read that one.”
His face felt unaccountably hot. He almost welcomed the thumps from downstairs.
A high-pitched voice whined. “But Mama, Lord Ashforde is ever so nice. Why can’t we go see him?”
Tuny giggled. “You’ve made a conquest.”
“Only one?” he asked.
She blushed and dropped her gaze, fingers pleating at her skirts. “Perhaps more than one.” She glanced up. “Daphne adores you too.”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “Ah, how am I ever to choose between them?”
“I wouldn’t,” she warned. “They’re rather competitive. If you intend to bring a treat, make sure to bring two.”
“I’ll remember that,” he promised. “Hatchards has some beautifully illustrated copies of Aesop’s Fables. Do you think they’d each like one?”
Once more her eyes brightened. “Oh, Ash, that’s so thoughtful! I’m sure they’d be delighted.”
And wasn’t he the most brilliant, kind-hearted fellow in Britain? He was leaning toward her before he thought better of it.
A sharp rap on the front door jerked him upright. Her gaze darted toward the stair. Sir Matthew must have thought it prudent to check any visitors himself, for Ash heard his gruff voice a moment before boots thudded on the stair.
Mr. Huber paused in the doorway to salute Petunia with his fist to his chest. “Lady Moselle.”
“Come in, Mr. Huber,” she said with a tilt of her head. “What happened?”
With a respectful nod to Ash, he ventured deeper into the room. “A man followed you from the church.”
Petunia shook her head. “I imagine a great number of people were walking in the same direction we were. Most everyone in the area attends St. Paul’s.”
“He was not in the service,” the guardsman insisted. “He appeared behind us after we exited and kept pace across the square and down the streets. I did not like the way he watched you. So, I went after him to ask him his business.”
She huffed. “You cannot accost every British citizen who happens to look my direction.”
Huber raised his clean-shaven chin. “It is my duty to protect you.”
“What did the fellow say when you caught up with him, Mr. Huber?” Ash asked even as her eyes narrowed.
The guardsman glanced his direction. “I could not catch him. He ran, and I lost him among this warren of streets. But I heard one exclamation before he escaped me. From that word, I have no doubt he was from Württemberg.”
