Lord Braybrook’s Penniless Bride (3 page)

Julian took a wary sip, and acknowledged surprise. The tea, if one liked the stuff, was perfectly acceptable. And the teacups, although old and chipped in places, had once been the height of elegance and cost a small fortune. Yet apart from mentioning Alcaston as his godfather, Harry Daventry made no play with grand connections or past glory.

‘Perhaps, my lord, you might explain how you know my brother.’

Miss Daventry’s cool voice drew him out of his thoughts. Did she know about Lissy? If so, then it probably had her blessing. She was no fool. The advantages of such a match to her were obvious. She might make a decent match herself from the connection.

‘Your brother has become acquainted with my sister.’

Miss Daventry’s teacup froze halfway to her lips. Her face
blanched. ‘Your sister—?’ The teacup reversed its direction and was replaced in its saucer with a faint rattle. ‘Would your sister be Miss Trentham?’

‘Yes. My half-sister.’

Spear straight she sat, her mouth firm and a look of mulish obstinacy about her chin. The air of dignity intensified, despite the pallor of her cheeks.

Hell! No doubt she would defend her brother’s marital ambitions to the hilt. Why wouldn’t she? Such a connection would be a lifeline for her.

His mouth set hard.

He had to protect Lissy. Nothing else mattered. Even if he had to batter Miss Daventry’s pride into the dust.

‘How very unfortunate,’ she said, her voice calm. ‘I trust you are doing all in your power to discourage this?’

Unfortunate?
From
her
perspective?
He
had every reason to disapprove of Mr Daventry, but what possible objection could
she
have to Lissy?

With freezing hauteur, he said, ‘I am at a loss to know how my sister merits your censure, Miss Daventry.’

‘Never having met her, I do not disapprove of Miss Trentham,’ said Miss Daventry. ‘Merely of—’ She broke off, staring. Faint colour stained the pale cheeks. ‘I think I understand the purpose of your visit, my lord. A warning to Harry? “Stay away from my sister, and I’ll stay away from yours.” Is that it?’

Outrage jolted through him. ‘I
beg
your pardon?’ Thank God she hadn’t divined his original suspicions!

She faced him undaunted. ‘If that is not the case, I beg your pardon. I can think of no other reason for your visit.’

Could something of his reputation have reached Miss Daventry via her brother’s letters?

‘No doubt, Miss Daventry. However, I
am
a gentleman. Whatever you may have heard to the contrary.’

‘Your reputation is of no interest to me, my lord,’ she informed him, picking up her cup and sipping her tea.

‘And what leads you to believe that I have a reputation, Miss
Daventry?’ His reputation, after all, was not the sort one discussed with respectable females.

She gave him a considering look over her tea cup before answering.

‘Everyone has a reputation, my lord. All that remains in doubt…’ she sipped, ‘…is the nature of that reputation. Naturally, since you are a gentleman, yours is not the sort of reputation in which I interest myself.’

‘Yet you referred to it, ma’am.’

The brows lifted. ‘I, my lord? Hardly. You alluded to the possibility that someone might have mentioned you in unflattering terms. Thus suggesting that, deserved or not, you have a reputation.’

Julian nearly choked on his tea. Did she dot every ‘i’ with a needle? Serena, he realised, would have been cheering the chit on.

She changed the subject. ‘We were speaking of your sister, my lord,’ she said. ‘As I said, I do not disapprove of Miss Trentham. How should I? I have not the honour of her acquaintance. But I do disapprove of my brother’s interest in her.’

‘A fine distinction, Miss Daventry,’ he said. ‘Would you care to voice your objections?’

If possible, she sat up even straighter. Her chin lifted.

‘There is a looking glass over the chimneypiece, my lord. Examine yourself in it. Bring to mind your home. Your estates. Recall your rank. Then look about you. Tell me what you see.’

He didn’t answer. Her cold, blunt assessment rivalled his own. The obvious, brutal response was that everything about her and this room spoke of impoverished gentility. But faced with her quiet dignity, he simply couldn’t say it. Which was foolish beyond permission since the words had been on his lips.

After a moment she spoke again. ‘Your silence is answer enough. Harry and Miss Trentham are from different spheres. You cannot wish your sister to make such a step. I assume that is what you are come to tell me, and also that you have refused to permit Harry to see your sister again.’

‘Not quite, Miss Daventry,’ he said.

He’d intended exactly that, but Serena had talked him out of it.

She stared and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch. That had rattled her.

‘You
can’t
approve such a match!’ The disbelief in her eyes echoed in her voice.

‘Naturally not,’ said Julian. ‘But my sister has a stubborn streak and in four years when she gains her majority, I will not be able to prevent the match. Your objections tally with my own. Your connection to the Duke of Alcaston notwithstanding—’

‘My
what
?’

‘Your brother’s godfather, Alcaston,’ said Julian, eyeing her spectacularly white face. ‘Are you quite well, Miss Daventry?’

‘Yes…yes, perfectly.’ Some colour returned to her cheeks. ‘He told you that, did he? It makes no difference, surely?’

‘None,’ said Julian. ‘Your brother is still ineligible as a match for my sister, even with the income his Grace has settled on him.’

She nodded. ‘So. You have forbidden Harry the house, and—’

‘No. I have not.’ Serena had pointed out that the fastest way to encourage clandestine meetings was to ban legitimate ones. He could see the logic, but…

‘
No?
What sort of brother
are
you, then?’

That caught Julian on the raw. ‘A good one, I hope!’ he snapped. ‘Yes, of course I could forbid them to meet! And where would I be when Lissy hoaxed herself into the role of Juliet and the young fools eloped?’ Serena again.

‘Lissy?’

‘Alicia,’ he said.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said. ‘I did not mean to tell you how to order your sister’s life—’

‘Ouch,’ he said drily. ‘I hope that I do not
order
my sister’s life, as you put it.’

She flushed. ‘I’m sorry, that was—’

‘If you don’t stop apologising, I shall start to think you are buttering me up.’

‘Nothing,
my lord
, could be further from my intentions!’

‘No. I thought as much,’ he murmured.

That silenced her. If one discounted the draconian glare, which fairly scorched the air between them.

He grinned. He couldn’t help it. He wished—oh, how he
wished
!—Serena could hear this exchange. He tripped on the thought—Serena would like this prim, outspoken woman. A woman who was about to be kicked out of her home…and Lissy needed a sharp dose of reality to convince her that life with Harry Daventry would not be love’s young dream at all, but a nightmare. Yes. This might work. Two birds with one shot. He almost patted himself on the back. And then remembered that not only had Miss Daventry not accepted, but that he hadn’t made the offer.

‘Miss Daventry,’ he began, ‘I gather you intend to seek lodgings when this house is sold.’

‘Until I can secure either a position as a companion or a teaching post.’

Better and better. ‘In that case, I wonder if the offer of a position might be acceptable—’

‘No! It most certainly would
not
!’ she flared.

He stared at her scarlet face. ‘I may live on Christmas Steps,’ she continued furiously, ‘but that does not mean—!’ She broke off, biting her lip.

And he realised that—whether or not his reputation had preceded him—an unspecified offer from a gentleman might well be viewed with suspicion by a respectable female living on Christmas Steps.

‘My stepmother requires a companion,’ he said. And waited.

He was disappointed. Apart from her blush deepening, Miss Daventry maintained her composure, or, rather, regained it.

‘Oh. I see,’ she said. ‘I cannot think, my lord, that you really want me as a companion for your stepmother.’

No explanation. No apology. She moved straight on from the potential quagmire of embarrassment. He had to applaud.

‘Why not?’ he asked.

‘Only consider the consequences!’ she said. ‘If I were living in your house, Harry would use that to—’

‘Precisely,’ he said softly. ‘You would be an unexceptionable reason for your brother to call. Most illuminating for Alicia.’

Her eyes flew to his. ‘You mean—’

‘Meeting you, knowing you must earn your living—’

‘Would give your sister food for thought,’ she finished.

‘Yes.’ She had caught the point in a flash. He added feelingly, ‘It would also relieve me of the stigma of being thought a mercenary, callous brute by my sister, because offering you the position would signify my approval of you and, by extension, your brother.’ But it would force Alicia to view Daventry in a different light—a young man who could not provide for his sister.

Another silence. She was thinking about it. He had seen enough of her to know that otherwise she would have rejected the suggestion out of hand. Miss Daventry had a mind of her own and reserved the right to use it.

‘I doubt that I would be a suitable companion for Lady Braybrook,’ she said.

If the lady in question were anyone but Serena, he would have agreed wholeheartedly. As it was…

‘You would amuse her,’ he said. ‘Meekness bores her, and I think we can leave
that
out of your list of virtues.’ An understatement if ever there was one.

Amused at her blush, he went on. ‘An accident some years ago left her unable to walk. I want someone intelligent to keep her company. I was considering older females, but I think she would like you. You mentioned teaching—do you have any teaching experience?’

‘Yes.’

‘I have another sister still in the school room and a six-year-old brother. At present they have no governess, so you could help there.’

Miss Daventry looked sceptical. ‘That will hardly answer once the summer is over and they require more lessons. I cannot be in two places at once.’

He shrugged, dismissing the objection. ‘Once another governess is hired, you can be available on her days off, or if she is in
disposed,’ he said. ‘Naturally, were you prepared to take on this dual—or should I say triple?—role, I would pay you accordingly. Shall we say, one hundred pounds per annum?’

While he did not precisely expect Miss Daventry to leap at his generous offer like a cock at a blackberry, she would no doubt be somewhat flustered. Most governesses or companions were lucky to receive a quarter of that.

The soft, rosy lips parted slightly and he felt a jolt of what he sincerely hoped was mere gratification….

‘You cannot possibly pay such a ridiculous sum to a companion who relieves the governess,’ she informed him.

The devil he couldn’t! He bit that back, opting for icy civility. ‘I
beg
your pardon, ma’am?’

‘It is ridiculous,’ she repeated, her mouth re-primmed.

It was, was it? Just how much more did the harpy want?

‘Moreover,’ she went on, ‘it would be grossly unfair to the other governess, who might well be older and far more experienced, were I to be paid such an astronomical sum!’

His jaw dropped. ‘You’re complaining that I’m offering too
much
?’

She frowned. ‘What did you think I meant?’

He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Miss Daventry, permit me to inform you that most people would not concern themselves in the least if I offered too much. My offer stands.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Fifty,’ she said.

His mouth twitched. Good God! He was actually arguing—haggling like a merchant outside the Corn Exchange—with a potential governess, trying to persuade her to accept a higher figure!

‘Miss Daventry, your scruples are admirable, but your value to me lies far beyond the companionship you will offer my stepmother, or whatever knowledge you may impart to my younger siblings.’

‘But I might fail,’ she pointed out.

‘One hundred per annum,’ he insisted, battling the urge to laugh at this dowdy, honest woman with her disturbingly pink, prim mouth and earnest mismatched eyes. ‘If it helps, no one
besides ourselves will know how much you are paid. Certainly not the other governess.’

‘No. It doesn’t,’ she said at once. ‘It is still unfair, whether the other governess knows, or not.
I
would know.’

He gritted his teeth. Damn the wench. Could she not strangle her scruples and accept his generosity? ‘Miss Daventry, upon occasion I play cards. I bet. Shall we say twenty-five pounds per annum as a companion? A further twenty-five as a governess. I’ll gamble the other fifty against you being able to dissuade my sister from marrying your brother.’

Her eyes narrowed again behind those frumpish spectacles. ‘Very well, on one condition…’

He might have known it. ‘Which is?’

‘If I am still in Lady Braybrook’s employ when your sister marries, the extra fifty pounds ceases. And should she marry my brother, I repay you—’

‘Not bloody likely!’ he said. And couldn’t believe he’d said it. What was he about? He
never
swore before females, but something about this one tipped him on to his beam ends. As for Miss Daventry—the ladylike façade was in ruins, her mouth parted in shock.

‘I
beg
your pardon?’

Sheet ice encased her voice. As for her eyes…that was it—the eyes were tipping him off balance. And she was angry, furiously angry. Beneath that calm exterior was someone quite different.

‘Er, certainly not,’ he corrected himself. ‘Otherwise, Miss Daventry, it would not be gambling. Would it?’

Under his fascinated gaze the fiery creature was visibly subdued and closed away. Prim Miss Daventry stood in her place. ‘I disapprove of gambling,’ she informed him. ‘You can hardly expect—’