From Governess to Society Bride

Chapter Three

Mrs Brody had been shown into the drawing room. Lucas would have known it was her the moment he entered, even before his eyes lighted on her. It was the perfume she wore—that was the thing he remembered about her—a subtle smell, hardly noticeable at all, but nevertheless a part of her.

Dressed in open-necked shirt and light grey silk waistcoat, Lucas stood surveying her from beneath frowning dark eyebrows.

For a moment Eve stared at him blankly. He watched her in silence, fixing her with a gaze so hard that she quailed. What a strong presence this English lord had. It filled the room, momentarily distracting her from her reason for being there. His bearing was proud and he was a man of uncertain temperament. Eve wondered what dark secrets lay behind that handsome visage.

Normally she was unimpressed with exceptionally handsome men because they were either vain or after her money, but this man was neither. He was thoughtful, intelligent and thoroughly male, positively emanating masculine sensuality. All of these attributes, combined with the fact that he had two adorable motherless children, made Eve decide that he was in every respect the right man she wished to work for. His words brought her back to reality with a jolt.

‘Mrs Brody! You seem to have a propensity for invading my home. What is it this time?’ he asked with mock civility. ‘A mislaid child or dog, or another dressing down?’

‘None of those.’ She could hear defiance in her own voice, which she tried to moderate. ‘How is Abigail? None the worse for her encounter with the tree, I hope?’ she asked in an attempt to ease the situation between them.

‘Abigail is very well considering, Mrs Brody.’

‘Then I’m relieved to hear it.’

‘I suspect you are not here to ask about Abigail. This is a surprise.’

‘And not a very pleasant one, I take it, Lord Stainton?’

‘That remains to be seen, though I must admit I had not taken you for a lady who indulged in afternoon calls to gentlemen’s homes. Does visiting friends not keep you busy? I imagined you to be fully occupied from morning till night on the frivolous pastimes with which you ladies fill your days.’

His tone was caustic and his gaze ironic and Eve longed to tell him to go to the devil, but with everything balanced on this interview, and not wishing to antagonise him until she’d told him the reason for her visit, with great self-control she managed to smile politely.

‘As a matter of fact, I prefer to fill my time with more worthwhile pursuits, but I hardly think you would spend your time light-mindedly thinking of what I do with my time, Lord Stainton.’

‘Oh, and why is that, Mrs Brody?’

‘It is merely an impression you give. The picture I have of you in my mind is of a man who does not employ himself with useless thoughts of other people.’

‘Really. I had no idea you had any picture of me in your mind at all, Mrs Brody. In fact, as we have only seen each other on four occasions, I fail to see how you have had time to form any opinion at all.’

‘Oh, I can be charitable when I want to be, Lord Stainton—although I am certainly no saint. Far from it, in fact. My father was for ever telling me that I am not a lady, for I have this awkward habit of arguing when I should be listening and speaking my mind when I should be quiet. Our previous encounters have been unfortunate, and the one at Lady Ellesmere’s a misunderstanding. We—do seem to have got off on the wrong foot.’

‘Don’t we just.’

Not to be put off, she ploughed on. ‘I…have given our unfortunate encounters—and your predicament—some thought, Lord Stainton.’

‘Indeed!’ With narrowed, shuttered eyes focused on her face, he moved closer, looming over her. ‘My predicament! And you know all about that, do you?’

‘I know that Miss Lacy is to leave your employment very soon and that you must be concerned for your children’s future well being.’

The muscles of his face tightened and a hard gleam entered his eyes. ‘Prying into my affairs is a tasteless invasion of my privacy, Mrs Brody. I am very grateful for your concern, but I can assure you I don’t need it.’

Eve began to feel her spirits drop. ‘I see. So you have already found a replacement.’

‘No, as a matter of fact I have not—at least not yet.’ Lucas was becoming extremely frustrated at the difficulty he was having trying to find a suitable nursemaid. There were plenty of available women well qualified in looking after children, but none of them seemed willing to take on the position of working for the formidable Lord Stainton. Only two had approached him. One had the hard features of a harridan he would never consider letting close to his children, and he was sure there had been the smell of drink about the other.

‘Then perhaps I can be of help.’

‘You? Mrs Brody, am I supposed to be impressed or flattered by your show of interest in me and my affairs? Dear me, what a persistent busybody you are.’

‘I have a proposition to put to you, Lord Stainton,’ she went on, ignoring his sarcastic diatribe and looking him straight in the eye, ‘a proposition that may be of benefit to us both.’

Resting his hips against a rather splendid walnut desk, the only piece of furniture left in the room, he regarded her coldly. ‘I am intrigued.’

Eve wasn’t sure how to interpret his tone. She waited for him to ask her to go on, but instead he folded his arms and stared at her, looking oddly impatient. She’d gone over what she wanted to say to him so many times that she was afraid it was going to sound like a well-rehearsed speech, and now the moment had arrived it came out in one sentence.

‘I would like to apply for the position as nursemaid to your children.’

‘What?’ His amazement was genuine and he looked at her incredulously. ‘You?’

Eve felt a wave of desperation as she strove for control and to calm her mounting fears. ‘As mad and impossible as it seems to you, yes, me.’

‘Mrs Brody! Is this your idea of a joke?’

Eve stiffened and lifted her chin. ‘A joke? I find nothing amusing, Lord Stainton. I have given the matter a great deal of thought and it’s a solution I am sure would suit us both.’

Recovering from the shock her suggestion had caused, Lucas burst out laughing unpleasantly, his reaction telling her that her application was not only ridiculous, but laughingly so. ‘You, of all people, want to look after my children?’

Eve flushed violently. This arrogant Englishman had a habit of crushing her with shame and anger, but she refused to retreat now she had come so far. ‘There is nothing unusual in it, Sir. I like children—indeed, I have one of my own, as you know. I am eminently suitable to be a nursemaid and have the advantage of having met Sophie and Abigail. They are two beautiful girls and I get on with them well.’

‘Yes, I saw that in the park,’ Lucas was forced to concede, having dwelt on the charming picture that had remained in his mind of Mrs Brody comforting Abigail with soft words as she held her close. ‘But—forgive me if I seem somewhat perplexed. You see, I have been led to believe that you are a wealthy woman, Mrs Brody, in which case I am bewildered as to why you should be seeking such lowly employment.’

‘I do not consider looking after children to be a lowly occupation, Lord Stainton—quite the opposite, in fact. It is a worthwhile and rewarding profession. It is true that my father was a wealthy man—and as his only child that wealth will pass to me. Unfortunately, there are legal matters to be taken care of in America, and until such time as the money is made available to me, I find myself in—unfortunate circumstances. I also have a daughter to raise. It is a situation that makes it necessary for me to seek employment.’

He looked at her hard, and after a pause he snapped, ‘Temporary employment by the sound of it. I am not interested in setting someone on who will see it only as a short-term post, Mrs Brody, someone who will up and leave when she no longer has the need to stay.’

Eve felt hesitant, slightly uncertain, as well she might, in the face of such cold regard. ‘Yes—I suppose it would be temporary, but this might be the case with whomever you employ. I can assure you that I would not leave until you had found someone else. Of course, I realise you will need time to consider my proposition.’

He spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes hard. ‘I have. It took precisely one second. The answer is no.’

Their eyes locked.

‘I see. Won’t you at least consider it?’

‘There is no question of it.’ Biting down visibly on his impatience, he brought himself to his full height. ‘I have no place in my house for a woman of volatile temperament and who has no regard for her employer or his children that she would leave without a thought of how it might hurt their tender feelings. That said, the interview is concluded and I think it would be better for us both if you left.’

Eve clenched her hands tightly. When she had come here, her objective had seemed close within her reach, but now was as remote as ever. ‘Really, Lord Stainton, my proposition cannot be as dreadful as all that. I would not intentionally do anything to hurt your children. I am offering to look after them, to give you the perfect answer to your dilemma, and you are reacting as though I have suggested I commit murder.’

‘As I might, if you remain here a moment longer. So, before you insult me further, Mrs Brody, with any more of your outrageous proposals, I would be grateful if you would leave my house.’ He saw the banked fires leaping dangerously into flames in her eyes, and he deliberately threw verbal oil at her. ‘I am sure after your time in America you are ignorant of such things as etiquette, but the English place great importance on such matters. Take my advice and learn the rules before you go knocking on any more doors and offering your services. You may get more than you bargained for.’

His volatile anger was tangible, frightening and completely incomprehensible to Eve, who had never met anyone like him. Shocked into stricken paralysis, she stared at him as the insult hit home. Then her temper exploded and she silenced him with the only means available—she slapped him so hard his head jerked sideways, then she took an automatic step back from the ice-cold fury in his eyes.

‘How dare you insult me when I came here with nothing but good intentions? I will not tolerate it. Contrary to what you might or might not think of me, sir, I am not a savage. Perhaps my fellow Americans are to you. If so, then that might explain how we managed to beat you in the war we fought for our independence.’

Lucas’s jaw tightened and his eyes were glacial. ‘Try anything like that again and I will personally throw you out on to the street while your hand is in the air,’ he said, icily and evenly. ‘I am a survivor, Mrs Brody, and I have an ugly temper when roused. Don’t test me any further.’

His tone was implacable and left no room for argument. ‘Very well. I’ll go. I’m sorry to have inflicted myself on you.’ Still fuming, taking a card from her reticule she held it out to him. When he made no move to take it, she slapped it down on the desk, refusing to give up on him or his children just yet. ‘However, when you’ve had time to come to your senses, to calm down and think more rationally, you may see things differently. This is where I am staying—should you change your mind.’

With nothing more than a quick nod, with her head held high and a swish of her skirts she took her leave. As she left the house she understood that his decision was irrevocable.

‘Well, what did he say?’ Beth asked, having waited impatiently for Eve to get back from Upper Brook Street. ‘Did he agree to your application, or did he think you were mad?’

‘I’m sure he did think I was mad, Beth. He refused. Absolutely.’ In frustration Eve strode past Beth into the drawing room. ‘He accused me of being an ignorant American, saying that my proposition was quite outrageous—and a great deal more that I won’t offend your sensibilities by repeating. The man’s an overpowering, conceited beast.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I slapped his face.’

Beth stared at her in shocked disbelief. ‘You slapped Lord Stainton?’

‘He deserved it.’

Beth watched Eve pace distractedly across the room. ‘And no doubt he was furious and asked you to leave.’

‘Nothing so genteel, Beth. He didn’t ask, he ordered me out.’

Perturbed, Beth sighed. Histrionics weren’t in Eve’s character and in all their lives she had never seen her friend so put out. After a time she ventured, ‘So—that’s it, then. You won’t be working for Lord Stainton.’

‘It doesn’t look like it. I doubt he’d even consider taking on a woman who had the temerity to slap his face.’

* * *

For the next two days Lucas immersed himself in the usual duties and matters of business, firmly believing that it was the only way he could put Mrs Brody’s visit from his mind, which had unsettled him more than he cared to admit. When Henry Channing arrived, he was grateful for the distraction as he tore his gaze from the letter that had just been delivered.

‘Dear Lord! You call this a house, Lucas?’ Henry remarked, glancing around the almost empty salon. ‘This place looks like a mausoleum—all walls, pillars, statues and space.’

‘What do you expect? I’ve sent most of the furniture and artefacts to be auctioned off.’

Never able to stand still for long, Henry helped himself to a brandy and began to wander about the room. ‘There were some rather fine pieces, as I recall. I may even buy some myself.’

‘Feel free. There are plenty to choose from at Sotheby’s. What brings you here today, Henry? A social call?’

‘Of course. You know how I like your company, dear boy. Although,’ he said, his face losing its jocular expression and becoming serious, ‘I did hear some news at my club in St James’s earlier that might be of interest to you—not good news, I hasten to add.’ When Lucas gave him his full attention, he said, ‘Those two shipping yards on the Thames have gone under, Lucas. I’m sorry.’

Genuine concern for his friend clouded Henry’s eyes. They had known each other since their Cambridge days. Henry had always admired Lucas. He was so controlled, so disciplined and determined, forthright and dynamic, driven in everything he put his mind to. As a businessman he was resourceful. He invested his money wisely, buying stock in new inventions and anything he thought promising with confident expectation of future gains. They usually paid off, again and again.

Unfortunately his brother Stephen had not been so clever. Lucas had told him he could not be expected to subsidise him indefinitely, but, unable to curtail his brother’s extravagance, he bailed him out every time, selling stock until his own affairs had reached the point of crisis. He went from a man of substance to being branded a bad risk, and when some of his own investments went under, losses he could normally have withstood, he accrued tremendous personal loss.

And now the news that two of the shipping yards he had invested in—practically the last thing he had to hold on to—had closed, was the final straw.

‘Good grief, Lucas. You look as if I’ve just handed you a death sentence.’

‘Perhaps you have.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Henry realised that this was the worst possible time for Lucas. Suddenly alarm sprang into his eyes. ‘I say, you’re not—I mean, you won’t—’