Page 17 of Miss Davis and the Architect (Dazzling Debutantes #4)

Chapter Fourteen

"Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love."

Jane Austen

* * *

B arclay had not seen Jane except for dinner last evening, which was a small mercy. Instead, he had spent his time with Mrs. Gordon, even mildly enjoying their game of nine-pins under the afternoon sun. He had been regaling the widow with various anecdotes about his clients across the realm, and she had giggled and laughed in a gratifying manner for most of their game.

He had not been aware that he could be so amusing, but clearly, he had unplumbed depths of humor to share with a new wife.

As the afternoon progressed, they completed their game and walked with the other players back to the terrace. There they found refreshments awaiting them and took a seat at one of the tables. In the distance, he noted Jane arm in arm with the young Mr. Dunsford, and for a moment, he was distracted, before dutifully pulling his attention away to laugh at an anecdote Mrs. Gordon now told him about visiting one of the tenants’ homes at Saunton Park.

Apparently, the widow made a habit of visiting the various homes, seeing it as her duty, since until recently there had been no mistress at Saunton Park in many years.

Swallowing a dainty biscuit, Barclay reflected on how much he had changed since his arrival there. Here he was laughing and enjoying pleasant conversation instead of pursuing his wife’s ghost. Soon he might bring a new wife home with him. Tatiana would have a mother once more, who could sit with her and play the pianoforte on a Sunday afternoon, as Natalya had done.

He could well imagine this woman bending her head over his daughter as they learned a new piece of music together, and he watched from the comfort of his armchair. It was the small moments he missed the most. The joy of sharing a lazy afternoon with Aurora sewing, Tsar reading his news sheets, and him … just watching his wonderful family in a moment of quietude. He missed it like the blazes.

Mrs. Gordon was a mature woman who understood the implications of marrying someone like him. She believed her reputation would further improve his credibility, and her fascination with him had not flagged.

Aurora had confirmed that the widow had taken pains to join her for breakfast, so Mrs. Gordon was willing to do the work required to make their family whole.

Several times during their conversations, he had clarified that he lived with Tsar and Aurora in their family home, to ensure that the widow found this acceptable.

“Have you traveled much, Mrs. Gordon?”

“I have a little. I used to live in Canterbury, which is where I met Mr. Gordon. When he learned of his new post here in the village, he asked my father for my hand in marriage. So I am well familiar with Kent, as well as Surrey, where I attended a ladies’ seminary.”

Barclay blinked. “Surrey? So far from home? What age were you when you were sent away to school?”

“I first left home when I was seven years old. I personally think it was a little too young, but it all turned out for the best.”

He hesitated briefly before replying. The thought of sending Tatiana away two years ago would have been inconceivable to him as her father. More so because she had just suffered the loss of her mother, but even so, he could not imagine sending his daughter away at such a young age. Tatiana suffered from night terrors, and he was sure there would be no one to comfort her in the dormitories of a ladies’ seminary in a different county from their family home.

“You say it was for the best?” he ventured.

“Certainly. I learned all my accomplishments there. Sewing, watercolors, dancing. They had a talented French teacher, so I speak fluently. Not to mention, playing nine-pins and shuttlecock with the other girls was a pleasant way to pass the time.”

Barclay restrained himself from rolling his eyes. He hoped he could convince the widow to bowl in the future by offering her his personal tutelage in the game.

“You have had many opportunities to use your French, then?”

The widow frowned in an effort to recall. Finally, she admitted, “I cannot say that I have. There are few opportunities in such a small village, but it serves well when I attend events here at Saunton Park.”

“Because you have met French people here?”

“Well, no. The earl did not entertain prior to his marriage. But now that he has, I am sure I will have an opportunity to use it more! Or if I were to move to London.” The last was said in a beguiling tone as she laid a gloved hand over his for a fleeting moment of suggestive impropriety.

Barclay had not the heart to inform her that, outside of his work, he never used any of his French. She seemed quite hopeful on the matter.

If Mrs. Gordon were to take a place as his wife, she would instruct Tatiana on all the skills she had learned at the ladies’ seminary. He still had a difficult time understanding why the widow’s father had sent her away so young, but he supposed all that learning would be helpful for his own daughter.

He smiled, lifting another dainty biscuit to his lips while he considered the situation. Was he confident that Mrs. Gordon would be a good wife? Should he seek advice from his mother or his brother, or simply propose to the woman? She had shown her eagerness on many occasions. With the amount of time they had spent together, if they were in London, he would be required to propose by this stage of their acquaintanceship. Fortunately, he could think on the matter a little longer because the rules at a house party were considerably less de rigueur . He did not wish to marry for love again, and Mrs. Gordon seemed eminently suitable as a choice.

He noticed Tatiana had arrived, peering through the windows of the terrace door at him.

Lifting his watch fob, he recalled that he had promised her a game of chess. He bade farewell to the widow, who appeared disappointed at his departure. Barclay admitted his own vanity when he realized it was pleasing to have such an attractive woman seeking his company. He missed the feminine influence in his life, and his dream in the early hours suggested he missed other aspects of the marital union.

Brushing those thoughts aside, he strode over to join Tatiana, grasping her small hand in his to make their way to the library. It took a few minutes to reach it, the manor being a very large home to traverse. When they reached the room, he heard Ethan calling out victoriously, “Checkmate!”

Tatiana grimaced. “He practices far too much. I shall never catch up with him. How can a child be beating me so?”

Barclay hid a smile. She was a child herself, but he could recall how much relative ages had mattered to him as a small boy. Even half a year was something to brag about to younger children.

They had entered the doorway when Barclay’s smile was wiped from his face. Ethan’s opponent was Jane.

* * *

Ethan had easily outplayed her. Her head was thudding something terrible, and the effort to concentrate was more than could be borne. It set off fresh thudding, and she had to prevent herself from groaning from the agony of it. She had left Mr. Dunsford’s side earlier when the light had wreaked havoc, and she had been afraid she would reveal her discomposure, so she had joined Ethan for a game of chess.

Her cousin was far more tolerable company when she was this set upon. She could be herself and not behave with rigid propriety. Considering she hoped to make a match with the gentleman, it would not do to show any temper in his vicinity.

“You seem poorly, Jane. Are you not sleeping still?” Her cousin’s face twisted with fret.

“My sleep is slowly improving,” she admitted, “but I have a headache at the moment.”

“I thought you played poorly. It seemed too easy to corner your king.”

Jane smiled tremulously. Ethan had only begun playing within the past few months, after Emma had introduced him to the game, yet he sounded like a professional player now. He had really committed to learning its intricate strategies and was maturing before her very eyes, a little virtuoso in the making. When she sat back in her seat, she caught sight of Barclay and Tatiana standing hand in hand by the doorway. Her heart sank.

I shall consider that progress.

The last time she encountered the widower in the hall, she had practically leapt into his arms with joy before recalling he had rejected her. It was little consolation. She felt bereft in his presence. It had appeared to be progressing so well, and she had been certain she had found her Darcy. All that was needed was her patience with the man’s grieving, but then it suddenly all ended.

Now she knew there was no Darcy for her, and she needed to find whatever happiness she could. Fortunately, she no longer needed to reveal her coffee-drinking to Mr. Dunsford because she no longer drank the demon brew that was causing these megrims.

Jane slowly rose, while Ethan clamored to his feet and raced over to the pair at the door. “Uncle Bar-clee , I have not seen you since the grotto!” He held up his arms, and his uncle quickly raised him up.

She winced. The grotto was quickly becoming a painful memory, rather than the sheer joy it had been at the time. Picking up her shawl, she pulled it over her arms, jerky in her impatience to leave the library. Her fingers trembled as she hastily prepared the board for play, putting all the pieces in their place. She needed a moment to collect her wits and consider the best method to leave without revealing too much of her angst. One had to have some pride after such a rejection.

Jane had no ideas of how to feign any social graces in this moment. All she could think of was the need to escape as quickly as possible. If she was not battling with this coffee issue, she would collect herself and deal with all of … this. But she was dealing with the coffee issue, and it was incredibly uncomfortable. Her only solace was that Aurora said it would be over within a few days. Two had passed thus far.

Determinedly, she put the pieces back, but her fingers hesitated as she recalled the magic of being in Barclay’s arms.

Truly, she needed to get away from the Balfour homes. She was certain to see the architect regularly unless she married and moved on. Even if she returned home to Rose Ash Manor, her family would visit Ethan and she would have no excuses to not attend with them, and Barclay might attend, too.

She might be forced to attend his wedding to another woman, to watch his family grow, to remember her one kiss with him here in the library of Saunton Park when she thought that anything was possible. That love was possible.

Squaring her shoulders, she made for the door. When she reached the Thompsons, she paused for the briefest instant to acknowledge them for the sake of the children present. “Barclay. Tatiana.” She bobbed, then quickly exited before the disappointment in the little girl’s face could register on her already fragile state.

She knew not if Barclay had acknowledged her presence as she strode away as fast as her fatigued legs could carry her. Returning Ethan to his nanny was something she should do, but the gentleman was more than capable of doing so. She needed to get away.

* * *

Jane had appeared dejected when she had brushed past them. Not only that, she was pale and drawn. Ethan had been talking to her about a headache. And Tatiana had mentioned Jane having a headache earlier that morning. Evidently, it had not improved. Perhaps that was the reason she was disconsolate. That notion assuaged his conscience over disappointing the young woman.

Realizing that he now had possession of Ethan, he asked the boy where he was meant to be. Ethan told them he needed to be returned to the nursery, which was on the upper floor of the family wing. So Barclay and Tatiana accompanied him back.

When they came upon the nursery, Barclay was impressed. It was light and airy, unlike many noble houses. There was evidence of recent work. The drapes looked new, the walls were clad in rich colors, and the schoolroom was well stocked with toys and children’s books.

Richard had only discovered his son’s existence earlier that year, so he must have immediately ordered the changes in the nursery to have had them ready in time for this house party. Barclay now understood his brother’s dismay when Barclay had expressed his feeling of insult that the butler had presumed to take Tatiana to the nursery on their arrival at Saunton Park.

He had pictured something … gloomier.

Tatiana and he returned to the library in silence to play their game. His daughter was obsessed with improving her chess so she might beat her little cousin, and Barclay was amused at this hitherto unknown spirit of competition in her that had surfaced. With each year that passed, facets of his daughter’s personality made themselves known, and he wished her mother could be present to witness her transformation.

Once they were alone in the room of shelves and books, Tatiana sat in her seat across the table with the chessboard between them, but she did not begin playing. Instead, she watched him for long moments, causing Barclay to want to squirm in his own chair like an errant child caught in the act of some wrongdoing.

He knew what she was thinking about. He had been trying not to think about the same issue—a struggle the entire walk to and from the nursery. She was thinking about how Jane had hurried from the room.

When she failed to say something, he got up his nerve. “What is it, little one?”

Tatiana sighed and turned her head to stare out the window, a disappointed look on her face. “I always thought you were brave. I am sad to know … that you are not.”

Startled, he straightened in his chair. “What do you mean?”

“I saw how you were with Jane, and that is when I realized … that you were afraid. Afraid of her. Afraid to love. Because of what happened to Mama.”

“Tatiana, it is not that. There are things you do not understand. Adult … things.”

She shook her head. “I think that is why I have been losing these games with Ethan. I am afraid to take a risk. Then he swoops in and beats me. If I am to win, I shall have to … be brave.” With that, she leaned forward and moved a pawn.

Startled by her perception of the weakness in her chess, Barclay did not know what to make of what she had said. Instead, he studied the board and made his own move, allowing her to drop the subject.

Tatiana stuck to her newfound conviction, attempting offensive moves on the board that earned Barclay’s respect. He still won, but she had done much better, and there was a possibility she might corner Ethan the next time they played.

After their match was over, Tatiana joined her grandmother, and Barclay entered the billiard room.

He was to have a reprieve from thought, from debate, from feeling guilty for not being enough. Not doing enough to bring happiness to the women in his life.

And he would play a game that required skill.

Thankfully, there were no women in sight in this masculine retreat of mahogany and green baize. Inspecting the billiard table, he ran his fingertips over the intricately carved strapwork and eyed the well-formed legs. It was such a fine piece, Thomas Chippendale himself could have carved it.

Nodding to the assembled gentlemen in the room, he stretched his neck. Tension eased from his shoulders as he walked over to find a cue.

Mr. Ridley was at the table, setting the balls in place, while Lord Trafford and Mr. Dunsford selected their own cues. They were engaged in a discussion, which Barclay barely noted until their words caught his attention.

“So you plan to propose to the Davis girl, Dunsford?”

Barclay felt the tension in his shoulders return. He wanted Jane to be happy, only in the deepest recesses of his soul it was him she was to be happy with. Quickly, he reminded himself that this gentleman was an eminently more suitable prospect for the young woman than he was.

“That is the plan,” responded the young man with his mop of perfect curls on his head. There was no doubting the skill of the valet who attended him, to Barclay’s annoyance. Barclay had never obtained a manservant, although Tsar had offered the privilege. It had seemed an extravagance, although they could afford it. Until Natalya’s death, she had performed little tasks such as cutting his hair—an intimacy that he had quite enjoyed.

“So then you shall reside in the country at your father’s estate forevermore, like my good friend, Peregrine Balfour, who has made the inexplicable decision to take up estate management and leave the delights of London behind him.”

Dunsford chuckled in reproach. “I would not go so far as to say that. I have always enjoyed the … delights … of London.”

Barclay narrowed his eyes, not appreciating the implication. Jane was to find a good husband who would do right by her. Speaking without turning to look at the young fop, he joined in the conversation. “There are no current … delights … awaiting you in London, I trust?”

“What if there were? Proposing to Miss Davis surely does not preclude such a arrangement on the side?”

Ridley straightened up from the baize-covered table to frown across the room. “I would not recommend it, Dunsford. Saunton is protective of his family, especially his womenfolk, since his change of heart earlier this year. If he were to discover you were anything but loyal …”

“There is no reason for him to learn of my private matters!” interjected Dunsford. “Miss Davis would never learn of it. She will be happy rusticating at my family home with a babe to dote on. If she is anything like my mother, she will barely notice my absence. Tell him, Trafford. It is how things are done in polite society.”

Carefully, Barclay chalked the leather-tipped end of his cue. It was that or turn and break it over the young fop’s head. He was so angry, his hands trembled with his repressed emotion. Under any circumstances, he would dislike the views the spoiled dandy aired, but the thought of it being Jane in the loveless, societal marriage Dunsford described was too much to comprehend. She deserved the love of a good man.

Trafford threw his hands up in surrender. “I am not the ally you seek. I love women, but when I settle down, I do not plan to continue playing the field. It is difficult and fraught with the threat of disease if one makes a misstep with the wrong paramour.”

“What rot!” sputtered Dunsford. “It is practically our duty to sow our wild oats. If we do not, we would bother our wives with an excess of desires. No gentlewoman could handle such appetites.”

For the first time, Barclay was grateful the late earl had not married his mother. She might have lost her reputation, but at least she had held on to her independence in Tsar’s household.

His mother was a loyal, kind woman, and she would not have fared well with a treacherous lech for a husband. From what Richard had described, their own father was much worse than this little upstart. Aurora might be relatively traditional in her feminine pursuits, but she was single-minded about issues that were important to her. The Earl of Satan might have broken her spirit.

Ridley took his time responding. “I have enjoyed the company of many fine women of the upper classes. My experience is that their … appetites are the same as any other women.”

“You never met my mother, then!” exclaimed Dunsford.

Ridley and Trafford shook their heads, Ridley pressing his earlier argument. “Be that as it may, heed my warning when I say that Saunton will not like it, and he is not a man you should rouse to anger.”

Dunsford tensed, his next words demanding and cocksure. “And how will he know? Are you going to tell him?” It would have been amusing because of his medium stature, if Barclay were not seething with restrained anger.

Ridley shrugged. “Saunton need not be informed of such things. He would know. I would wager money that he will see through your ploy and turn down your proposal. The man knows what true love is, after all.”

“That is nonsense! This pretense that he is in love with the countess will last as long as it takes to confirm he has an heir before he reverts to his old ways. It is in his nature!”

Trafford frowned, considering this statement as he walked forward to take his place at the billiard table. “I am as cynical as any man who has sampled the delights of London, but I do not believe that is the case. The earl has sought out the women of his past to make amends. His actions are not ones of impermanence. I agree with Ridley. If it is your aim to dally, do not choose Miss Davis as your wife. You will invoke not only the earl’s wrath, but that of his younger brother who wed Miss Davis’s sister. The Balfour brothers are formidable alone, but paired up, they would wreak havoc on your existence for daring to toy with a relation under their protection.”

“The connection to Saunton is the very rationale for making the offer.”

Barclay wanted to thrust his cue through the man’s chest to stake Dunsford’s beating heart.

He restrained himself with an effort. Overreacting could start rumors about Jane, so he needed to temper his reaction lest he create a scandal for the young woman. Of all Jane’s fine qualities, her connection to Saunton was the least important. If he could trust himself to speak without flying into a rage, he would set the arrogant little toad right. He assured himself the benefit of staying silent was that he had learned the man’s true intentions, so he might take action.

Perhaps he must warn Jane? No, he did not have that right. He would inform Richard, who would refuse the match.

Ridley went to stand near Trafford, inspecting the shot Trafford had taken. “Then trust me, Dunsford. Do not make this decision lightly. If you wish to wed Miss Davis, you need to be fully committed when you approach the earl. Anything less and he will know. Saunton is not a fool.”

Dunsford came to stand by the table to await his turn to play. “I shall think on what you have advised.”

Barclay placed his cue down. “If you will excuse me, gentlemen, I find that I have an earlier engagement I forgot to attend to.”

Straightening his coat, Barclay departed the room. He would not take a chance on this. Jane was too important. He must find the earl to discuss the matter right away.

When he found Richard, Barclay would demand to know more about the reparations to the women of the earl’s past. Richard had failed to mention such, and it was not acceptable that Barclay learned of it in the presence of the sniveling ninny who planned to propose to his Jane—he grimaced—to Jane. Not his Jane. Just Jane.

Setting off to find the earl, he learned that both Richard and the duke had left Saunton Park for an undisclosed errand in Chatternwell and were expected back in the morning.

Barclay fumed in frustration, hoping that Dunsford would not approach Jane without the earl’s prior approval. He could not allow her to be disappointed if the earl had to veto the match after she had already accepted the proposal. Yet the young cad could not be trusted to submit to propriety if he was so shallow about matters of faithfulness. Dunsford might approach her without the earl’s approval.