Page 2 of Miss Davis and the Architect (Dazzling Debutantes #4)

Chapter One

"A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of."

Jane Austen

* * *

J ane Davis stood at the window, watching the guests arriving. The Earl of Saunton was hosting a grand house party at his Somerset country seat, and many of the guests were young gentlemen earmarked to meet Jane. Despite the impending festivities, she was feeling rather melancholy as she observed the hive of servants, guests, carriages, and trunks, all bathed in the sunshine that filtered through a bank of distant clouds.

“I cannot believe you are married and leaving us.”

Her older sister, Emma, came to stand next to her by the window. “You encouraged me to accept him.”

Jane sniffed. “I merely informed you that Peregrine Balfour was your Darcy.”

“How strange that I am now married to the brother of the earl. You should have been there when Perry and his friends serenaded me. I shall never forget his proposal as long as I live.”

“Perry truly sings that poorly?”

Emma smiled lovingly, looking down on her groom who was assisting the earl to greet his guests. Perry and Emma had been married a few days earlier and were eager to leave for their new home. Shepton Abbey was a fine country estate, and her sister was elated to assist with managing it. “He promised to never sing again.”

Jane huffed a quick laugh. “To think our entire family was there to witness it except for me.”

“And Ethan.”

Jane nodded. “And Ethan.”

The Davis family was connected to the earl in an unusual manner. A few years earlier, during the time the earl had been a notorious rake, he had dallied with their cousin, Kitty, who had been in service.

Kitty, being with child as a consequence, had retreated to the Davises’ tenant farm where she had died in childbirth and left Ethan in their care. No one had known who his father was until the earl had begun a crusade to make amends for his past earlier this year and unexpectedly learned about Ethan. Lord Richard Balfour had claimed his four-year-old son, gifting their father with a small country estate in gratitude for taking care of his first child.

A few weeks earlier, wanting Emma’s assistance with settling Ethan into his new household, the earl had invited Emma and Jane for a Season in London. Perry had acted as their tutor to prepare them for entry into high society, but Emma and he had quickly fallen in love.

Both of their families had just gathered at Saunton Park for the wedding in the chapel a few days earlier, before bidding the Davis family farewell when they had returned to nearby Rose Ash to make room for arriving guests.

Perry and Emma had delayed their own departure for Shepton Abbey because Perry was to meet a very important guest who was arriving today—a brother who had just been discovered by the earl.

Jane was grateful for the additional time with Emma. Her sister was a year older than her own eighteen years, but infinitely wiser. A bluestocking who had raised Ethan. And now she was leaving. Embarking on a new adventure while Jane tried to sort through her thoughts of what she wanted from her own life.

“Have you thought about what we talked about?” It was as if Emma were reading her thoughts aloud.

Jane drew a deep breath. “I do not know what I want my future to hold. If you were anyone else, you would accept my first answer. That a young landowner would likely suffice.”

“The husband you choose will greatly influence your future. Please assure me you will not follow society’s dictates on what a successful match consists of and that you will think on what your own desires are.”

“How will I know when I meet the right man?”

Emma sighed. “You must know your own heart, your own dreams. Then you will know if the gentleman will make the appropriate partner.”

“I have no dreams beyond a happy family with lots of children.”

Emma snorted. “One moment I am impressed with your maturity and the next you sound like a silly child once more.”

“Why?”

“You answer my question as if you have no thoughts of your own. You like to write. Your prospective husband should support that. Not so many years ago you spoke of traveling, of seeing the length and breadth of our fine kingdom, and perhaps voyaging to parts of the Continent. You appreciate fashion plates, and family, and you wish to have children. And you plan to spend time with your children and not relegate them to a nursery as some of those fops plan to do.” Emma waved her hand at the arriving guests below.

“Hmm … you make it sound as if I have a mind of my own.”

Emma tilted her head back to look up at her with thoughtful coal-black eyes. Jane’s sister might be older than her, but she was diminutive in stature. “You do! I have seen many gentlemen gravitate towards you, but you have not yet shown interest in any of them.”

“They seem so dull. I am looking for a gent who engages my mind, as you have with your Perry.”

Her sister beamed. “Excellent. Keep that in mind and you should be fine.”

Jane yawned, shaking her head to invigorate her thoughts.

“You still do not sleep?”

“I am just too excited. Just think, the next time we meet, it could be for my own wedding. How can one sleep with so much to consider?”

Emma frowned. “I wish you would see the earl’s physician to discuss what might be causing you to stay awake all night.”

Jane shrugged. “I am young and in good health. It is the excitement of this unexpected Season.”

“If it persists, will you at least consult a herbalist? There should be one nearby.”

Jane bent forward to embrace her sister. “I shall be lost without you. You are my dearest friend.”

“I shall miss you so much, Jane!”

“Nonsense! You have a handsome husband and a new estate to manage. You will barely think of me while I am left bereft to meet all these strangers.”

They both turned to the window once more. Another carriage had arrived, and Jane watched as an intriguing man descended from its depths.

He was tall, the same height as the earl, who hurried over to greet him, but he appeared taller because he was so slim. There was not an ounce of extra flesh anywhere on his form. A very fine form at that, with shining black Hessians covering his lower legs, buckskins stretched over long, muscular thighs, and a black coat draped over wide shoulders and a lean torso. The coat was in an unusual choice of color but suited his black waves of hair, which he wore a little too long. He had a close-cropped beard and a strong, narrow face.

Jane found her attention riveted by the sense of energy and purpose he exuded, wondering who he was as he thrust out a large hand to greet the earl. Was this one of the gents whom Richard intended for her to meet?

Beyond them, the clipped yews and broad lawn glistened in the soft morning light, a curving gravel lane sweeping away toward a hedge-framed garden path. The house party was truly underway.

A pang of disappointment followed when the man turned to assist an elegant woman from the carriage. Her jet-black hair and olive skin suggested an Italian or Spanish heritage. This must be his wife. As if to confirm her assumption, he reached into the carriage and turned back with a little girl in his arms. The only oddity was that the child had thick, silver-blonde hair. Perhaps this was a child from an earlier marriage?

Jane yawned again and turned away from the window. Walking across the room, she leaned over and breathed deeply of the coffee aroma wafting from the tray. Taking a seat, she poured a cup, adding cream and sugar before settling back to drink, her fingers brushing the worn brocade arm of the chair where she had curled many a night with a book.

Emma came over and joined her, pouring a cup of tea. “I cannot believe that you have taken up drinking that foul beverage, Jane. I do not know why Perry agreed to let you try it.”

“It awakens me, especially when I have not slept until the early hours.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I still think it is a mistake. Not least because it is noxious.”

Jane did not comment. Draining her cup, she put it down and crossed the room to pick up the gift she had made for her sister. “I wanted to give you this … for your new life at Shepton Abbey.”

“What is it?”

“Some needlework to celebrate your nuptials.”

Emma came over, and Jane handed her the embroidered cloth. Her sister stretched it out, gasping in surprise. “Jane! It is beautiful. I swear you are a veritable artiste with the floss! When did you find time to do it?”

Jane smiled. “I am not sleeping, Emma. I have plenty of time on my hands.”

They both gazed at the embroidered scene. It depicted a towering oak tree surrounded by a field of colorful wildflowers— wildflower was a private sobriquet she had overheard Perry calling her sister since their wedding ceremony. “May your marriage grow strong while allowing you the freedom to follow your own way, sister.”

Emma reached over to embrace her sister once more. “Thank you.”

* * *

Barclay tilted his head back to view the grand Palladian manor that Tsar had completed building in early 1787, glimpsing two women standing at a window in what would be the family block to the left of the main house.

The house had been completed the year Barclay was conceived, when a seventeen-year-old Aurora Thompson had been seduced by the then-owner, the late Earl of Saunton.

Or Satan , as the current earl had referred to our sire.

A rusticated lower level was crowned by a towering upper level, perfectly cut, symmetrical planes soaring into the deep blue vaults of the Somerset sky. The many windowpanes shimmered in the light, reflecting the bucolic lawns and the great oaks that rolled outward across the parkland to where the earth and firmament met—a marriage of the solid and the ethereal.

High above them, classically inspired statues stood as silent sentinels, while twin majestic staircases converged on a landing in front of the Corinthian columns beneath their feet. Sunlight played across the pale stone, casting sharp shadows that emphasized the grandeur of the facade. It was one of Tsar’s finest works, a testament to his talent, but until this day Barclay had only seen it in his grandfather’s architectural plans.

His newly discovered brother, Richard, had walked away to fetch someone for Barclay to meet, while he gazed up with fascination at the monumental house. This building was the legacy Tsar would leave behind, and his grandfather’s creation impressed Barclay.

Tatiana gazed up with him. “Grandpapa built this?”

“He did. Or rather he designed it, and then supervised the master builder who built it over the next fifteen years.”

“It is beautiful,” she said reverently.

Barclay smiled down at his daughter, her small hand clasped in his. “As are you.”

At that moment, a servant approached them. Barclay assumed it was the butler, based on his rigid decorum and immaculate attire.

“Mr. Thompson, one of the maids will escort your daughter to the nursery.”

Barclay narrowed his eyes. “Nursery?”

The ginger-haired servant straightened up, looking down his hawkish nose with the utmost dignity. “Indeed, sir. The nursery.”

Barclay’s lips thinned as he thought. The Thompson family was inseparable, and Tatiana had never been sequestered on a different floor, with only servants to interact with. Not only that, but his child had struggled with night terrors since her mother died, and he frequently attended her at night. When he was traveling, his mother took his place in comforting her.

Barclay shot a perturbed look at Aurora, who held up her hands in question. They had failed to think about what the arrangements for his young daughter would be at such a country house, but Barclay should have predicted these circumstances as a man who drew plans of these homes for the wealthy. However, he personally had never subscribed to the notion that children should be kept separate from the family.

He frowned. Agreeing to attend the house party was a mistake. He should have insisted they remain in London. Now Tsar was handling his work for him, which was more than the old man should deal with, and his daughter was peering up in fright at the servant.

“Papa?” Her voice quavered.

“It will not do.”

The butler tensed, clearly uncertain how to respond. “Sir, I assure you that the nursery is well-attended and there are several children already arrived. We set aside a place of honor for your daughter?—”

“It will not do.” Barclay ensured his voice was firm but low. He did not want to alarm Tatiana any more than she already was. “Do not worry, Tatiana. We will return home if we must.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw the earl rushing over. His new brother must have noticed the stiffness of the interaction, as he appeared mildly alarmed.

“Is there an issue?”

“Your butler wishes to remove my daughter to the attics, like some sort of prisoner. I know how the peerage treat their children, and it will not be tolerated in the Thompson family.”

Richard bit his lip. “Barclay, I assure you we are not a traditional family of the nobility. My son, Ethan, joins me for breakfast each morning before we ride together. Then he goes to the lovely and well-equipped nursery for lessons and whatnot before coming back downstairs for family time.”

Barclay straightened to his full height, satisfied to discover he was a good inch taller than his younger brother. “I thought you married earlier this year?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“You are a young man. The countess must be your first wife?”

Richard’s expression reflected strain. “Yes.”

His new brother was turning out to be no better than his debauched sire, who had ruined his mother. Barclay struck without sympathy. “How do you have a son old enough to breakfast with you?”

“An astute question,” a velvet voice drawled from behind his shoulder, but Barclay did not react. He merely listened while firming his jaw to glare at the earl. “I thought the entire kingdom knew my brother had sired a son on the wrong side of the blanket.”

Barclay narrowed his eyes into an accusing stare. The earl fidgeted uncomfortably with his cravat, a telling gesture. “It is not what you think. I did not know about Ethan … I mean …”

“Calm yourself, brother.” The voice moved as a man stepped around into Barclay’s view to reveal the earl’s apparent twin, who bowed. “Good afternoon, Barclay. I am Peregrine Balfour. Your younger brother.” The gentleman’s sable locks, square jaw, and emerald eyes were a mirror of his older brother’s. “I assure you that my brother claimed Ethan as his own the moment he learned of him. Subsequently, he posed that perhaps our father had sired children we did not know of and set his men to finding you. There is little resemblance between him and the late Earl of Satan.”

Barclay sized up the newcomer carefully. “You just married?”

Peregrine inclined his head in acknowledgment. “I did. I married Ethan’s cousin, Emma Davis. The entire Davis family has just departed for their estate, which my brother gifted them. As I said—no resemblance. My brother is a good man with a notorious past, which he has taken pains to set right.”

Richard closed his eyes. When he reopened them, he appeared more composed, his cravat only slightly crumpled. “I apologize for not explaining the circumstances before your visit. It was difficult to inform you, considering your circumstances. I had hoped to discuss it in my study before Ethan came down to play chess with the family this afternoon.”

Barclay sighed in capitulation, relaxing his stance. “I appreciate that this is an awkward situation we find ourselves in. However, my daughter is accustomed to being close to her family.”

The men turned to acknowledge Aurora, who had joined them and appeared disconcerted by the two brothers, her eyes darting from one to the other. Barclay wondered if they resembled the late Earl of Satan in their coloring, their features and height being similar to his own. Was it a strain for her to return to the site of her social ruin after these many years?

Stepping forward, the earl took up her hand, bowing solemnly. “Miss Thompson, it is our great pleasure to host you. Please allow me to introduce my brother, Peregrine Balfour.” Perry stepped forward, bowing deeply.

Barclay’s mother responded with a dignified curtsy. “My lord. The pleasure is mine, I assure you.” Then she moved her head to the side to pout at Tatiana, who giggled in response, hiding behind Barclay.

“I am afraid both the family wing and the guest wing are fully occupied. There are no rooms left for Tatiana.”

She smiled graciously. “Then Tatiana will sleep in my room. In the guest wing.”

Richard’s tension visibly eased. “If that is acceptable …” He glanced at Barclay for confirmation, who inclined his head. “… then we shall have a cot brought to your room. But, Miss Thompson, we have situated you and Barclay in the family wing.”

Barclay’s mother was a woman well accustomed to keeping her composure under trying circumstances. She had been forced to acquire the skill when she had kept her natural-born son despite society’s censure of her as an unwed mother. At the news she was to stay in the family wing of Saunton Park as an honored relation of the earl, Aurora threw a hand over her mouth in consternation. “My lord … that is not necessary.”

To Barclay’s ear, it sounded like his mother might be overcome with emotion, her words quavering and tight. Was she fighting back tears?

The earl bowed deeply. “I assure you … it is long overdue.” Then he turned to drop a bow to Tatiana, who was peeking around Barclay’s elbow at the scene. “Welcome, Miss Tatiana. It will be the great honor of the Balfour family to host you in our family rooms.”

Tatiana blinked her big blue eyes, then stepped forward to curtsy, craning her neck up to address the tall nobleman. “Thank you, milord.”

Richard delivered an exaggerated wink. “I am your Uncle Richard.” The earl glanced over to Barclay, as if seeking permission to continue. Barclay gave a brief nod, and Richard turned back to Tatiana. “Here, come meet your Uncle Perry.”

As Barclay observed the introductions, he wondered what more surprises lay in store for him on this unanticipated jaunt to the country.