Elizabeth Rolls – Lord Braybrook's Penniless Bride (страница 10)
Christy blinked. She had known he was autocratic— arrogant, even. Her lips set. Yes, she had definitely known he was arrogant! But this! He had completely bypassed his stepmother’s views on the subject!
Anger, and hot embarrassment, overcame the little voice warning her that she’d better bite her tongue.
She lifted her chin and said in the sweetest tones she could muster, ‘Thank you, my lord, for a most interesting, if wasted, journey. Perhaps next time you might have the goodness to take account of the views of
Chapter Four
Lady Braybrook’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her elegant cap, but Christy didn’t care. To hell with what anyone thought of her. She was tired after two days’ travel, and now she had the journey back. She probably wouldn’t even have time to see Harry before being bundled off and she would have to dig into her slender savings to stay at an inn while she found lodgings.
Then, ‘Oh, well done, dear! Julian, for heaven’s sake, stop standing there gaping and see that Miss…Daventry, did you say?’—a swift glance at Miss Trentham— ‘Yes, have Miss Daventry’s baggage taken up. She may have the guest chamber along from me. That will do very well.’
She held out her hand, saying, ‘You must be famished, Miss Daventry, so do not worry about changing.’ Bemused, Christy came forwards to accept the proffered hand.
‘Lissy dear, show Miss Daventry where she may wash her face and hands. Then bring her to the small dining parlour.’
Christy permitted herself to be led away by Miss Trentham and heard Lady Braybrook say in tones of steely determination, ‘In the meantime, Julian, shall we discuss this privately? Matt—take Davy upstairs and see that he goes to bed.’
***
Miss Trentham smiled at Christy in a very friendly way as she led her out of the hall and asked, ‘Are you really Miss Daventry? What a coincidence! I…
‘No coincidence at all,’ said Christy. ‘Harry is my brother. Lord Braybrook sought me out intentionally. Since he was under the erroneous impression that your mother required a companion, he thought of me.’
Miss Trentham’s blue, blue eyes opened wide. ‘But, surely
There was no scorn in her voice, only shock.
First trick to his lordship, thought Christy, following Miss Trentham down a passage. Probably the last one though, given Lady Braybrook’s reaction to his high-handed efforts. She elaborated, feeling she might as well partially earn the quarter’s wages that Lord Braybrook would undoubtedly insist she accept. ‘But of course, Miss Trentham. Harry must make his own way in the world and I cannot be a burden on him.’ Miss Trentham looked a little self-conscious, and Christy went on, ‘At this stage of his career he has quite enough to do to support himself. Our—’ She caught herself and went on, ‘His godfather is generous, but it does not extend to supporting a sister.’
‘Oh. I…I see.’ The dazed tone suggested that Miss Trentham was gaining a whole new view of matters beyond Harry’s good looks and charm. ‘Here we are,’ she said, opening a door. ‘This is the garden room. Mama insists the boys come inside through this room and there are always soap and water here.’
Removing her bonnet to lave her face and hands, Christy thought Lady Braybrook sounded extremely practical. Kind, too, and probably a far more pleasant employer than her last. Christy sighed as she dried her face. She wouldn’t be getting much of a reference out of this one either.
As a reference, it had limitations, she acknowledged, re- pinning her hair. And as a position, this must be a record: dismissed before she had begun. Her hair as neat as she could make it, she turned back to Miss Trentham.
‘Are you ready?’ asked the young woman. ‘It will be famous having you here, you know. Leave your bonnet. One of the maids will take it up to your bedchamber.’
Christy left the bonnet and followed Miss Trentham from the room. ‘Ah, Miss Trentham, I believe Lady Braybrook said that she did not want a companion. I dare say I shall be dispatched back to Bristol tomorrow.’
Leading the way along the corridor, Miss Trentham shook her head so the black curls bounced. ‘Oh, pooh! Of course you won’t. That is what is so particularly annoying about Julian—he persuades people to do precisely as he says! Even Mama. And he is always so…so insufferably certain that he knows what is best. Mama says he means well, but if you were to ask me, he’s a tyrant!’
‘Explain, if you please, Julian.’ There was a distinct bite in Serena’s voice.
Julian had wheeled her into a small parlour off the hall. ‘A ploy,’ he said, closing the door and turning to face her. ‘The companion part is a blind. She’s actually here to keep Lissy in order.’ Bringing up a chair for himself, he explained his reasoning.
Serena’s eyebrows rose. She was silent for a moment, thinking it over, and he waited.
‘I see,’ she said eventually. And he had the sneaking suspicion that she did see. Every single machination anyway. He hoped to hell she couldn’t see the inexplicable attraction Miss Daventry held for him. Not that it mattered, because he wasn’t going to do anything about it.
‘I suppose she’s dowdy enough for a companion-governess,’ said Serena thoughtfully.
Amusement crept around Serena’s eyes and mouth. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I see. Well, I dare say some of my own mourning garb can be altered to fit her. It will certainly give Lissy pause for thought.’
‘She stays, then?’ What the hell was that jolt of relief in his midriff?
Serena blinked. ‘Oh, I think so, dear. I’m sure she will suit admirably. She’s not at all mealy-mouthed, is she?’
‘No.’ Along with meek, that was the last adjective he’d use to describe Miss Christiana Daventry.
Christy tried not to let her shock show. Lit with more candles than she would have used in a year, the small dining parlour was somewhat larger than the entire ground floor of the Christmas Steps house. And, since these were wax candles, without the reek of tallow.
‘Ah, here they are.’ Lady Braybrook was already seated at a circular table with his lordship and Matthew, who both rose politely.
‘Come and sit beside me, Miss Daventry,’ said Lady Braybrook. ‘I apologise for my lack of tact earlier. You must have thought yourself in a perfect madhouse! Unfortunately Braybrook did not see fit to apprise me of his intentions.’ She glared at her stepson, who had strolled around the table to pull out a chair for Christy.
Christy managed to look demure and murmured her thanks as she seated herself. There was no faulting his lordship’s manners, even if his high-handed assurance left a great deal to be desired.
‘I beg your pardon, Serena,’ said Lord Braybrook, sitting down again.
Christy doubted the sincerity of his lordship’s contrition. And she observed that, far from kicking puppies, his lordship was obviously very fond of dogs. The setter, Juno, lay as close as possible to her master’s chair, chin resting on a stretcher.
‘Mama,’ said Miss Trentham, ‘Miss Daventry is Mr Daventry’s sister!’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Should I send him a note to say she is here?’
Christy caught Lord Braybrook’s eye, and said, ‘How kind, Miss Trentham. On accepting his lordship’s offer, I took the liberty of writing to Harry myself.’ Spurred on by malice aforethought, she added, ‘I would be most grateful if you were to inform him that I have returned to Bristol and will write again soon.’
An odd choking sound came from Lady Braybrook. Christy turned quickly and her ladyship patted her lips with her napkin. Laughing grey eyes met hers.
‘No, no, Miss Daventry. That will not be necessary. Now Braybrook has explained
Miss Trentham brightened. ‘Oh, famous! You see, Miss Daventry—I told you Julian would talk Mama around. I’m sure Mr Daventry will come to see you as soon as may be.’
Christy had not the least doubt of that. His lordship was one of those annoying persons who always contrived to achieve their ends.
Lord Braybrook met her gaze blandly. ‘Naturally, ma’am, when he does so, you must take a morning or afternoon off to spend with him. I dare say you have not met for some time.’
‘No,’ said Christy. ‘We have not.’
It had rained unrelentingly. And they had stood there, soaked to the skin, wondering if