Rules of Engagement Read online

  At last she did, but if she was impressed, she gave no outward indication. “Could I prevail upon you to put the candelabra down, my lord? It is very bright and I fear you will drip wax on my second-best gown.”

  “Your second-best gown? It is so attractive,” he lied glibly, “I thought it your best gown.”

  She viewed him as if he were a candidate for Bedlam and moved her skirt from beneath the flickering candles. “I wear my best gown on Sundays, my lord. When I, like all Christian woman, go to church.”

  A reprimand, one aimed at his dissipated conduct. “Then it is simply the lady wearing it who creates the illusion of unparalleled beauty.”

  Ignoring his graceful figure, she reached into the carpetbag at her feet and brought forth a ball of yarn and the start of a black woolen knitted…thing. “How excessively likely.”

  Hm. She didn’t sound particularly sarcastic, nor did she seem struck by his charms. Was she pretending disinterest, or was she truly the dried-up old prune he required? Placing the candelabra off to the side, he perched one hip on the desk and leaned toward her. “As I expressed to Miss Setterington, I feel the child will be better off serving me than being left in a home for foundlings. It was the thought of my deceit which caused a twinge of conscience.”

  Her cheeks sucked in as she pursed her mouth. “I see.”

  He smiled with winsome, if feigned, interest. “Yet I find myself wondering how conscience-ridden you are, Miss Lockhart. An attractive woman, in the prime of life, must not always wish to care for the children of others. Surely you must wish for your own.”

  She snapped at him. There was no other word for her unrestrained impatience. “What I wish for is no concern of yours, my lord. Your only interest should be in my character and my efficiency. Now.” Reaching behind her head, she plucked the long sticks from within her coiffure, threaded them through the knitted thing and proceeded, before his astonished eyes, to knit. “Miss Setterington told me of your generous offer of salary. Yet you’ll excuse me if I not only confirm the amount, but discuss my living arrangements.”

  Words failed him for a few precious moments. Miss Lockhart was an eccentric, then, the kind of absurd spinster that England produced in abundance.

  The needles clicked without pause. “Bed and board, of course, Lord Kerrich, and in a decent room, well ventilated.” She looked around, appraising his study. “This is a pleasant room, with many beautiful decorations and, more important, I can’t feel a draft. This chamber is larger than it needs to be, but I imagine, like me, you detest a close room. A close room promotes ill health, and a woman on her own cannot be too careful of her health. Also, I’ll have a fireplace that doesn’t smoke. I’ll have a half-day off every fortnight, no exceptions. I expect to be allowed to go to worship every Sunday, and to take the child, too. I believe a righteous heart is necessary for a successful upbringing, and—”

  He interrupted out of sheer necessity and to complete his test. “My dear Miss Lockhart. Dear, dear Miss Lockhart.” He laid his hand over one of hers, stilling her incessant knitting. “You must know you needn’t worry about the placement of your bedchamber. I will…personally…approve your room not far from my own.”

  She looked at his hand in cool disfavor, then up at him. Behind the tinted lenses, her heavily lashed eyes narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

  “These details are of no consequence. You shall have whatever you wish, and I look forward to working…closely…with you on the teaching of the orphan.” He blinked his own not-inconsiderable lashes at her.

  With deadly accuracy, she used the knitting needle to rap his hand hard enough for him to snatch it back and rub the bruise. She then raised the needle and skewered the knot at the base of her neck. Thrusting the unfinished knitting back into her bag, she said with awful severity, “Young man, although I cannot believe my ears, I do understand you. It is the curse of my pulchritude to be besieged by male attentions, but I refuse to unquestioningly accept my fate. Much as I would enjoy your generous salary, I must decline your attentions and the position.”

  My God, she was perfect. Impervious to his charm, so sure of herself, her morals and, amazingly enough, her allure, she could not be swayed from her righteous path. “No! Please, Miss Lockhart, you have made your principles quite clear to me. Rest assured that our association will be that of employer and employee, no more.” With Miss Lockhart, he knew the orphan would be molded and cared for and he would be safe alone in his bed.

  She viewed him suspiciously. “And my requirements for this position?”

  “All will be met.”

  “You will be able to restrain your animal tendencies?”

  With excessive gravity, he agreed, “As difficult as that will be, yes.”

  “I wish to state my opinion, my lord, although I’ve never met a man who was reasonable enough to listen to reason.”

  Oh, this should be prime. “Go ahead.”

  “It would be better if you married.”

  “You women all think alike. That is just what Her Majesty told me.”

  “Marital union, I am told, provides a man an outlet for those inconvenient passions that afflict them. But I suppose you have only a short amount of time before the queen’s demands must be met?”

  “She has given me three months.”

  “Three months in which to become respectable?” She looked at him and laughed, a bitter croak of disdain. “Even I believe that is unfair. Yes, you have no recourse except to bring a child into your home, for no woman in her right mind would marry a man like you without extensive courting and vows of fidelity, written and signed in blood.”

  He straightened from his lounging position. “No woman would refuse me.”

  “You jest, my lord.”

  “There isn’t a woman alive who can’t be seduced by a handsome face, a title or a fortune, and without conceit I can say I possess all three. Really, Miss Lockhart. You have proved resistant to seduction, but what if I offered marriage?”

  “That is a stupid supposition. If I were the most beautiful woman in the world, you would still not offer me marriage. Every man claims his passion leads him, but if that were true, they would marry as they wished and not where they must.”

  “But if my passion led me to you, you would have me for my face and form.”

  “Men do not love from the fullness of their hearts, and handsome men are worse, for they are spoiled.”

  “Then you would have me for my title.”

  “I come from noble stock. I know that title does not confer honor or constancy or integrity.”

  Deliberately, he played the snake in the garden, and offered the irresistible apple. “Then you would have me for my fortune.”

  She faltered.

  As he knew she would. “Ha!” Tucking his knee into his cupped hands, he leaned back and surveyed her with satisfaction. “I was right.”

  She looked at him and saw something in his face—and what could it be, damn it!—that stiffened her resolve. “You are wrong. I have managed to refrain from running away with any of the men who make me offers, and I would not trade my dreams for a life with you.”

  “Your dreams must be grand.”

  “Not grand, but they are mine.” Standing, she hefted the bag on her arm. “And I am done with this fruitless discussion.”

  “Yes.” He couldn’t believe he had allowed himself to be lured into such banter, and with such an ugly, disagreeable creature. “You understand what you should do?”

  “I will find your orphan and bring the child here. Since I suspect you wish the child to have some fraction of deportment, I will train it—”

  He slid off the desk and away from her. “Quickly.”

  “Yes. Quickly. Then…we shall proceed as you wish.”

  “You’ll acquire the child by the end of the day.”

  “It is after the noon, my lord. I will settle into my chamber and look over the arrangements of your schoolroom today. Tomorrow I shall find us a child.”

/>   Taking Miss Lockhart by the arm, Kerrich briskly escorted her toward the door. “Then everything is settled.”

  “The major details, at least. I dislike taking your time.”

  “Good.” He needed to go back to the figures on the sheet, which were good, damn it. Better than good, and Queen Victoria was a fool for ever doubting him. “Tell the housekeeper to put you in the bedchamber adjoining the schoolroom. If you find that unsatisfactory, make improvements as you wish. I’ll tell the woman your wishes supersede all else.”

  The governess stopped just short of the door. “The…woman?”

  “The housekeeper.” He scrambled to remember her name. “Bertha or Betty or some such.”

  The governess didn’t move. “Is she new to your household, then?”

  “Relatively. Seven years. Ten. I don’t know.” What did the blasted governess want? Why didn’t she leave?

  She readied to speak, and already Kerrich recognized the spark in her eyes. He had somehow displeased her. She would render a tongue-lashing. He would bestow a set-down. And the woman would know her place.

  But a tap at the door saved her the much-needed reprimand.

  “Enter,” he called impatiently.

  Moulton—the butler who was so much more than a butler—stepped through and announced, “My lord, Mr. Lewis Athersmith.”

  His cousin had answered Kerrich’s summons at last.

  Kerrich and Moulton exchanged satisfied glances; now their plan could proceed.

  “I’ll be out of your way,” Miss Lockhart said with schoolmistresslike briskness.

  “Yes.” The sight of the whey-faced, pinch-mouthed, purple-clad governess only reminded him of the staggering run of misfortune he had experienced. He didn’t understand how any of it had come to be. A mere month ago, everything had been as it should. He had his title, his fortune, his income, his good looks, his health, an upstanding family, a mistress in his bed, debutantes to flirt with, the respect and good will of everyone in the ton, the fear of his enemies…all was right with the world.

  Then his favorite horse had come up lame, the senior upstairs maid had appeared in his bedchamber stark naked, his mistress had taken umbrage and left in a snit, he’d suffered the catastrophic interview with Queen Victoria, he’d fled to Norfolk imagining that there in the peace and beauty of his country estate he would be able to conceive of a way to appease the queen and her pompous consort.

  Only to seek shelter during a rainstorm, and find that infernal contraption in an abandoned hut.

  He hadn’t even known what it was at first. And him, a banker! Then he had realized, and at the same time he realized his danger. My God, if the villains caught him! He had run from that hut, given instructions that everyone on the estate stay away from the area, and ridden to the train station at top speed. In London, he had gone at once to the correct officials to report the crime and demand they take action—only to discover it was not so easy.

  And that was Lewis’s fault.

  He and Miss Lockhart met his cousin in the entry.

  “A new butler, Kerrich?” Lewis watched as Moulton walked away. “I thought you’d never retire old McCutcheon.”

  “He’s off visiting his daughter for the moment,” Kerrich lied.

  Catching sight of Miss Lockhart, Lewis bowed, his blond hair flopping over his furrowed brow. “I’m sorry, ma’am, I didn’t see you.”

  Miss Lockhart curtsied, and Kerrich reflected bitterly that she probably approved of Lewis. Kerrich and Lewis were of an age, but while Kerrich knew without conceit that he had been blessed with most of the good looks, no one who looked at Lewis would think him anything but good. A cleric, perhaps, or a professor. In the Mathewes family, Lewis had received all the sincerity, resolution and intensity.

  Who would have thought those very attributes would lead to his downfall?

  “My lord, who is this lovely young man?” Miss Lockhart asked, approval in her ringing tone.

  “My cousin, Mr. Lewis Athersmith. Lewis, this is…the governess.”

  “The governess?” Lewis appeared stunned.

  “The governess.” Let Lewis make of that what he wished.

  But the woman pointed her umbrella at Kerrich like a tutor taking a pupil to task. “Lord Kerrich, what is my name?”

  “What? What?” He looked hard at her. The light and shadow of the entry sliced at her face. She looked almost menacing and, to his astonishment, her features revealed a trace of beauty. He looked harder. Faded beauty. “You are Miss Lockhart. Why?”

  Enunciating clearly, she commanded, “Do not forget my name again.”

  In astonishment, he stared at her as she curtsied again to Lewis.

  Lewis smiled as he returned the obeisance one more time with a little too much enthusiasm. “I look forward to meeting again soon, Miss Lockhart. Any woman who dares take my cousin to task must be a formidable woman.”

  Miss Lockhart preened. There was no other word for it, and if Kerrich’s life hadn’t become such a tangle, he would have discharged the female before the farce was truly begun. But he knew full well finding another governess of the proper age and disposition would be well-nigh impossible, and so he ground his teeth as Miss Lockhart approved of Lewis. Approved of him just as everyone in Kerrich’s family had always approved; even Kerrich’s beloved grandfather had held up Lewis as a shining example for Kerrich to follow.

  “I am now in residence here, Mr. Athersmith, and it will be a pleasure to further our acquaintance.” She turned to the butler. “Mr. Moulton, I wish to see the housekeeper. At once.” And she marched away on the butler’s heels.

  “She’s an odd thing.” Lewis turned his attention on his cousin. “But no odder than you. A governess, cousin?”

  Kerrich practiced the tale he had made up to cover his sudden and suspicious philanthropy. “I’m adopting a foundling, a lad I met on the street.”

  Lewis stared at him as if not quite sure of his hearing.

  “The boy’s courage and manliness captivated me.”

  “Courage and manliness.” Now Lewis looked down with a deprecating smile. “Of course.”

  Kerrich could see he had put his foot wrong already. As far back as their childhood, he had been the daring one, the charming one, the one who would inherit the money, the estates and the title. Lewis had been the studious one, the one who had graduated from Oxford with honors, the one for whom everyone predicted a shining future.

  Yet what the hell kind of behavior was he indulging in? And why? Not that it mattered; as head of the family, Kerrich could not allow their name and honorable reputation to be dragged through the mud. But still he determined to know why.

  So with an affection utterly at odds with what he truly felt for his mutton-headed relative, he led the way to the comfortable grouping of chairs around the fireplace. “Sit down, Lewis.”

  Lewis slowly sank into the chair, his blue eyes cautious.

  And guilty. Damn it! Why hadn’t Kerrich noticed that before?

  He answered his own question. Because he hadn’t seen Lewis for months. Heaven knows, he hadn’t missed him, and it hadn’t occurred to him he ought to be scrutinizing Lewis’s activities. Lewis was the son of a vicar, for Lord’s sake! Lewis was supposed to be honorably employed by Lord Swearn preparing his heir for Oxford, not engaging in criminal activities!

  When Kerrich thought about it, he just wanted to shake Lewis until he saw sense, then send him back to the family estate in Norfolk where Grandpapa would shake Lewis until this madness had passed. But somebody had to find out the details of Lewis’s offenses, learn the names of his accomplices, and more important, of the master criminal, and handle the matter. That somebody was Kerrich. So he sank into an armchair opposite his cousin and with a serious mien said, “I have a proposition to offer you.”

  If anything, Lewis became more cautious. “You, cousin?”

  “There’s trouble at the bank.” Kerrich weighed his words with care, choosing them for the optimum effect. “I can
’t go to anyone but a family member. I need you to come and live with me. Work for me.” Lewis began to speak, but Kerrich held up his hand. “Please, hear me out. I know you already have a position”—Lewis had been terminated, but Kerrich pretended not to know that—“and it will not reflect honorably on you to depart at such a time, but I find myself in a dreadful situation, one with dire consequences.”

  “You, cousin?” A faint smile played around Lewis’s mouth.

  “I know I can’t in good faith ask that you abandon your post for me, but I do depend on your affection for Grandpapa.”

  Lewis’s smirk disappeared. “Why would any problem of yours affect Lord Reynard?”

  “Because it is my grandfather’s bank. He started it, he worked there even after entrusting the running of it to my father, he trained me after my father’s death. I know you hate the figures and the finance, and I know you swore you would never labor therein, but I pray that your affection for Grandpapa will overcome your distaste.”

  There it was again. Guilt, writ for Kerrich to see. Hadn’t Lewis thought how his crime would strike at Lord Reynard’s heart? Or was he so lost to all scruples he didn’t care?

  When Lewis didn’t at once respond, Kerrich continued, “I know. You will say Grandpapa isn’t your grandfather, but a great-uncle. Yet I think you feel affection for him, and while he would never mention it, you also owe him your education.”

  Under the weight of the guilt Kerrich piled on, Lewis’s resistance caved in. “Yes,” he said. “I owe your grandfather everything. If I judge your problem at the bank to be as grievous as you claim, then of course I will help you.”

  “It could not be any more grievous,” Kerrich answered. “As you know, we print our own banknotes for distribution in Norfolk.”

  Lewis nodded. Probably he didn’t dare open his mouth for fear confession would come flying out.

  So Kerrich told Lewis what he already knew. “Someone is counterfeiting our banknotes.”

  Chapter 4

  Boys were such obnoxious creatures. Pamela pondered that truth as she searched the eager crowd of orphans gathered around her in the refectory. Each was showing off, each trying to get her to choose him to be taken away from the sterile environs of the orphanage, and the little boys’ antics reminded her of the big boy’s antics she’d recently observed.