Читать книгу The Rogue's Reform - Regina Scott - Страница 13

Chapter Five

Luckily, dinner proved to be enlightening, for Adele learned things about Samantha’s family she’d never known. Jerome was adept at keeping the conversation flowing, inquiring about Samantha’s pastimes, her acquaintances and her preferences in literature and fashion, and somehow managing to make Adele feel like an honored guest instead of the governess. He also took the opportunity to express his condolences.

“I wish we could have met under happier circumstances.” His long fingers toyed with his silver fork. “I’m sure I speak for all of us, dear cousin, when I say we share your sorrow.”

Compassion echoed in his warm voice, and Adele nodded her support across the table to her charge.

Samantha smiled bravely, her own dinner long forgotten. “You knew my father well?”

“Well?” Vaughn shook his head, light from the silver candelabra in the center of the table glinting on his platinum hair. “Can the acorn know the oak? The husk of wheat the rippling field?”

Adele raised a brow.

“Cousin Vaughn was particularly close to your father,” Jerome drawled, although Adele thought she saw him flash the fellow a look of warning. “Uncle helped raise all of us.”

“Don’t you have parents of your own?” Samantha asked.

“We did, or do in Vaughn’s case,” Jerome replied easily enough, as Adele tried not to look too eager to hear more. “But if you are interested in your family history, perhaps I should start with the first Lord Everard, our grandfather.”

Vaughn set down the crystal goblet from which he’d been drinking. “You have no sense of the dramatic,” he told Jerome, then leaned closer to Samantha. “Once, in the Grand Age before we were born, our grandfather was master of the seas.”

“He was a privateer,” Jerome explained to Adele.

That certainly made sense. She found it all too easy to imagine the three of them swinging from lines and grappling with pirates.

Vaughn ignored Jerome, obviously intent on his tale. “Legend has it he braved death to rescue a certain lady who’d been held for ransom on the high seas. His Majesty the King was so grateful, he graciously granted the old fellow a barony and an estate to support it.”

So that was how Samantha’s father came to be titled, through his own father. Adele had often wondered. Like his swordsman nephew, the former Lord Everard had seemed more dashing rogue than polished courtier.

“Regardless,” Jerome continued, brow raised as if annoyed to find himself upstaged by his colorful cousin, “he parlayed his riches into a considerable fortune, for which we can all be grateful. He also had three sons. Arthur, Samantha’s father, was the oldest. My father, Lancelot, was second.”

Samantha giggled. “Lancelot?”

Adele held back her own smile. “A great many gentlemen have romantic names,” she advised Samantha. “None appreciate being snickered at.”

Samantha wrinkled her nose, but Vaughn obviously didn’t mind laughing at the name, for he grinned at Samantha. “You think that’s tiresome? My father’s named Galahad.”

Samantha snorted and picked up her napkin to hide her grin, but her dark eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Grandfather named all his children after one knight or other from the days of King Arthur,” Vaughn explained. “And like the knights of old, they all distinguished themselves. Your father was our leader.”

“When it pleased him,” Jerome said, taking back control of the conversation with a wink to Adele. “My father managed the estates, even after Grandfather died and Uncle inherited the title. My parents were on a tour of the estates when they were killed in a carriage accident. I was thirteen, Richard ten. At that time, we all thought Uncle had sworn off marriage, making me the heir presumptive, so everyone agreed Richard and I should go live with him.”

Adele frowned. Then he’d known he was the heir before Samantha was even born. He would have been groomed for the role. Small wonder he looked pensive at times.

Across from her, Samantha sobered. “I’m sorry for your loss. My mother died when I was young, as well.”

Oh, no. They would not discuss Samantha’s mother if Adele had anything to say in the matter. She smiled at Jerome. “And did you and your brother take after your father, Mr. Everard, in managing the estates?”

“I did,” he replied with a smile that could only be called proud. “Richard preferred to look after our ships.”

“We have ships?” Samantha asked eagerly.

“A veritable fleet,” Vaughn assured her. “Cousin Richard took command immediately.”

“My brother rose to the rank of captain quickly,” Jerome agreed with far more humility in his voice.

“Tragically, he lost his one true love along the way,” Vaughn continued. “Lady Claire promised to wait until he returned, fortune made, but she proved fickle and gave her heart to another. It nearly destroyed him.”

“How sad,” Adele murmured. Even dashing privateers, it seemed, were prone to sorrow, just like far less dashing governesses.

“My brother prefers not to dwell on the past,” Jerome said to Adele, then he turned to his cousin and tipped up his chin. “However, I’m certain you’d prefer to take up the rest of the story.”

Vaughn shook back his white-gold hair and straightened in his seat. As if to be sure of his audience, his dark gaze traveled from Adele to Jerome to Samantha, who sat spellbound.

“My father was the youngest,” he said, voice low as if moved by emotion. “He was a dreamy lad, head always in the clouds. No one was surprised when he ran away from home to join a traveling caravan, journeying to the farthest parts of the world and partaking of all its riches. There he fell passionately in love with a gypsy princess. When she bore me, she begged him to return to his family so that I might be raised with the rights and privileges due an Everard.”

My word. That explained a great deal. Samantha blinked, obviously just as fascinated.

Jerome slowly clapped. “Well done. That story gets better each time you tell it. But I suggest you offer her the truth.”

Vaughn’s dark eyes glittered. “My father married an actress against Grandfather’s wishes. She dropped me in his arms, took Grandfather’s settlement offer and sailed for the Continent. My father became a scholar at Oxford. When I was expelled from Eton for dueling, he sent me to live with Uncle.”

“I like your first story better,” Samantha said.

Vaughn cocked a smile. “So do I.”

Adele glanced between the two men. Mouths curled fondly, muscular bodies leaned in repose, but she could not believe they were so unmoved by their stories. Each of the Everards had borne the pain of abandonment and loss of one sort or another. Small wonder they cleaved to each other.

Do they expect Samantha to join them, Lord? Do they have any idea what it means to shepherd a young girl through her first Season? Are they ready to accept the responsibility?

“Your pasts have been difficult,” she ventured into the companionable silence. “And I applaud your tenacity. But perhaps we should talk of the future. We have a number of questions about the upcoming Season.”

Samantha waved her hand. “We can talk about my Season later. Right now, I want to know how my father died.”

Jerome’s gaze dropped to the fine china before him. Vaughn’s fingers wrapped around his fork as if taking comfort from the cool metal. Adele met Samantha’s gaze, sure more bad news was coming.

“A tragic accident,” Jerome said at last, picking up his own fork again and spearing the last of the mutton. “No need to go into details.”

Adele let out a breath. That he refused to answer could only mean Samantha’s father had died in some horrid fashion. Samantha must have thought so, as well, for she frowned.

So did Vaughn. “You’re mollycoddling her,” he said to Jerome. “If I can’t make up stories, why should you?”

The room seemed to have darkened. Adele glanced between them again and knew Samantha was doing the same. Jerome sat stiffly, eyes narrowed at Vaughn. A tic was working in the swordsman’s lean jaw. This was no time for such posturing. Couldn’t they see that?

“Your cousin is sixteen years old,” Adele reminded them, “and in mourning for her father. Perhaps that is sufficient reality for now.”

Vaughn returned to his food and said no more. Adele thought Jerome agreed with her, because his mouth turned up at one corner.

“I imagine we’ve given our new cousin quite enough to think about,” he said.

“Well, yes,” Samantha admitted with a dispirited sigh. “But I do hope you’ll be more forthcoming soon.”

“I’ll do all I can,” he promised. “And Miss Walcott, I have not forgotten about that tour you promised me.”

That charming smile was back, dimple and all, raising butterflies in her stomach. But she thought it was panic rather than delight that moved her. “I believe I provided you with an alternative, Mr. Everard.”

Samantha was watching her and even Vaughn seemed interested in his reply. Jerome’s smile only deepened. “And I believe I refused that alternative. As far as I can see, only your services will do for this task.”

Adele smiled with what she hoped was just as much charm. “Nonsense, Mr. Everard. No one is indispensable.”

“Miss Walcott is,” Samantha piped up, and now she, too, was smiling. “She’s the best governess any girl could wish.”

Adele felt her cheeks heating. “Thank you, Samantha.”

Samantha turned to Jerome. “So, if you need help, Cousin, she’s just the person to ask.”

“I’m delighted you concur,” Jerome said with a chuckle. “Then you won’t mind if I borrow her for a short time.”

“Not at all,” Samantha assured him with a wave of her hand. “I’m so glad that the two of you are getting on so well.”

Adele stared at her. Her charge cocked her head and fluttered her lashes, looking every bit the demure miss. A shame Adele could see the thoughts stirring feverishly behind those big, brown eyes.

“Then we are agreed,” Jerome said, spreading his hands. “Perhaps we could start after dinner, Miss Walcott.”

Adele smiled politely at him. “But Samantha will want to show you her skills on the pianoforte this evening, like a good hostess. She’s practiced for years. I’m certain she wouldn’t want you to do more than relax and listen tonight after journeying so far to meet her. Isn’t that right, Samantha?”

Her look was so pointed even Samantha could not gainsay her. The girl straightened dutifully in her chair. “Of course, Miss Walcott. I can play that new piece Lord Kendrick brought back from London.”

“Kendrick?” Jerome asked. His tone was polite, but Adele could see that his look had sharpened again.

“The Earl of Kendrick,” Samantha supplied. “He has the estate next to ours. You must meet his grandson, Jamie.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I vow he is the sweetest thing! He will break hearts some day, you mark my words.”

Just as his uncle broke mine.

Adele shoved away the memory, but, against all odds, she felt tears pricking. Deaths, worries, memories—suddenly she’d had enough of them all. She bowed her head and focused on her food while Samantha nattered on about riding with Jamie and the local assemblies and any manner of diversions her new cousins might enjoy while they visited. The girl was so enthralled, she’d obviously forgotten that her father’s death could put a hold on such activities. If Jerome insisted on strictest mourning, Samantha would soon be gowned in black and constrained from doing more than attending church services for months.

Oh, Lord, why now? It was time for her to start her life, to find a proper husband. Those things were denied me. Please don’t let Samantha suffer the same fate!

“You cannot hide so easily,” Jerome murmured, bending closer to offer her the last of the mutton.

Could he see the worries that flocked about her tonight like ravens intent on a dying swallow? He certainly had the power to banish those concerns. “I’m not hiding, Mr. Everard. Just thoughtful. You must agree that’s reasonable, given the circumstances.”

“Certainly,” he said as she shook her head to refuse the savory meat. “And you must agree that my request is reasonable, too, given the circumstances. I will concede the battle but not the war. Be in the library at ten tomorrow for our tour.”

“And if I should find myself too busy?” Adele said, daring to glance up at him.

“Then I would of course be forced to come fetch you. I am told I can be charming when I put my mind to it.” His smile said he knew just how charming.

“I doubt you need to overly exert yourself, Mr. Everard,” Adele replied. “I will see if I can find time among my other duties.”

She was thankful he let it go at that.

Not long after, they all retired to the withdrawing room for the evening. This was the most feminine room in the manor outside of Samantha’s. Here the fair Rosamunde had held court, surrounded by the pale pink walls, the dainty gilt-edged furniture and the gauzy fabric that draped the windows. It was a room for sipping the finest tea, for chatting about the latest fashions. Adele sometimes thought she caught the scent of the lady’s signature rose perfume still lingering.

Tonight, however, the memory of Samantha’s mother seemed farther away than usual. As promised, Samantha played the pianoforte with her usual passion, and Adele couldn’t help noticing that the girl’s cousin Vaughn watched her the entire time. She’d once seen a falcon with such a fixed look, hunting for food.

Lord, help me keep an eye on this fellow.

On the other hand, Adele was all too aware that Jerome kept an eye on her. He sat in the chair nearest hers, tapping a finger along the gilded arm in time to the music, and murmured praise for Samantha’s accomplishments and Adele’s instruction. He even picked up Adele’s paisley wool shawl when it slipped from her shoulders, tucking it back in place with the gentlest of touches and setting her to trembling.

Why was he being so attentive? She ought to see only kindness, but it felt like so much more. Yet how could it be more when she was only the governess?

Her feelings remained conflicted as the Everard gentlemen bid her and Samantha good-night, and she and the girl climbed the grand staircase for the chamber story. Samantha’s steps were just as light as they’d been that morning before she’d heard of her father’s death, and she hummed the last tune she had played.

“What do you think of my cousins?” she asked suddenly as they turned the corner for the longer corridor and her bedchamber.

Adele felt hot again, but she kept her tone polite. “They seem to be presentable gentlemen.”

Samantha rolled her eyes. “That response is not very helpful.”

“And are you grading my responses now, miss?” Adele challenged with a smile as she opened the door and ushered the girl into the room.

Samantha went to sit in front of her dressing table with a rustle of her emerald skirts. “Of course not, but I was hoping for more. Do you think they’re handsome? Do you find them charming?”

“Neither of which a governess should answer about her employer,” Adele replied, trying to keep her face appropriately stern as she joined her charge.

“Well, I like them,” Samantha said, facing her reflection. “Cousin Vaughn is a lot like Papa, very free with his feelings.” Her brows drew down as if she didn’t like the picture she saw in the looking glass. “It’s a little strange, in fact, how much he resembles Papa.”

The sorrow trembled in her voice. Adele laid a hand on her shoulder. “You will likely miss him for some time, dear.”

Samantha nodded, face puckering further. “And Cousin Jerome won’t even tell me how he died.” She swiveled on the stool to meet Adele’s gaze. “Maybe you could ask him. He likes you. I could tell.”

It was on the tip of Adele’s tongue to ask how Samantha could be so certain, but she pulled the words back before they were spoken. She could not encourage the girl to discuss the chance of an attraction that served no one. “Does it truly matter how your father died? He is gone, my love, and you must consider your future.”

Instead of looking comforted, as most young women might have done in remembering that the future might be brighter, Samantha put her back to Adele and bowed her head. “How can I? What point is there to having a Season? Papa won’t even be there to see me. I might as well stay in Cumberland and marry an old farmer.”

Adele raised her brows at the petulant tone. “I suspect we might be able to find a sufficiently aged one to meet your qualifications.”

That won a smile from the girl. “Well,” she acknowledged, “maybe a young farmer. A young, handsome farmer with a sporty barouche and four matched horses to pull it.”

Adele laughed as she reached for the brush. “That’s more like it. Oh, Samantha, you’ll have such a marvelous time in London, meeting girls your own age, going to balls and parties. It’s the very best I could hope for you, a chance to meet the perfect gentleman, to have a life of your own beyond this house. Surely your father wished that, too. Now we just need to convince your new cousins to see about the arrangements, and we can be off.”

“You convince them,” Samantha said, wincing as Adele began to pull the brush through her tousled curls. “Start with Cousin Jerome. In fact, I think you should spend as much time as you like with him.”

The light was shining in those dark eyes again. Little matchmaker!

“How very thoughtful of you,” Adele said, giving the brush an extra tug, “but, as I told your cousin earlier, my first thought is for you. Mr. Jerome Everard will simply have to wait.”