Page 26 of The Governess and the Rogue (Somerset Stories #6)

Chapter Twenty-Two

“W ould you like to come to our tea party, Miss Layton?”

Bea stopped at the top of the stairs, her footsteps arrested by the tiny voice behind her. Turning, she came face to face with Lord and Lady St. Clare’s youngest daughter, Charlotte.

The little girl stood outside the closed door of one of the rooms along the hall, dressed in a frilly white frock, with an overlarge matron’s cap haphazardly perched atop her auburn curls.

Bea suppressed a smile. When she and Jack had returned from their rendezvous by the stream, they’d breakfasted with the family before repairing to the drawing room where Jack had dispersed his trunkful of gifts. Among them had been a miniature tea set for the girls.

“I would be delighted,” she said. “You must let me know when?—”

“Now,” Charlotte said.

“Oh!” Bea cast a glance down the staircase. No one was waiting for her there. Not Jack, anyway. After giving his gifts, he’d gone off with his brother for another of their talks.

Bea had spent what remained of the morning in company with Hannah—and what seemed to be an ever-expanding pack of dogs—being given a tour of the house and grounds.

“My husband and Jack have much to catch up on,” Hannah had explained. “Estate matters and so forth. It needn’t trouble you.”

Bea hadn’t been so sure of that. Indeed, she suspected, just as she had last night, that she was the chief topic of conversation between the brothers.

Hannah, for her part, had done her best to dispel Bea’s worries, keeping her busy in the house’s picture gallery, music room, and library, and tramping through the uncommonly beautiful (if somewhat muddy) rose gardens.

Bea had only come upstairs to change her gown before the other Beresfords arrived. According to Hannah, they were due any moment.

“I’m not sure your mother can spare me,” Bea said to Charlotte.

“Mama can certainly spare you,” Charlotte replied with all the airy certainty of a seasoned society hostess. “I would invite her, but we already have too many guests.”

Another smile curved Bea’s lips. “Do you, indeed?”

“Agatha is pouring. And there’s Frances, Wilhelmina, and Gertrude.” Charlotte set her hand on the doorknob. “If you want anything to eat, you must come now. Wilhelmina has already had two of the sandwiches.”

Bea came to a decision. It wasn’t a difficult one, given the inducement. “Very well,” she said. “After you.”

Charlotte beamed. She opened the door a crack and, angling her body sideways, slipped into the room.

Bea followed via the same method into what appeared to be the children’s nursery.

It was the size of two large rooms put together, decorated in shades of pale pink, with rosebud-patterned paper hangings and diaphanous ruffled curtains.

The furnishings were all child sized, including the linen-draped table by the window.

Charlotte’s new tea service was arrayed there, along with an iced ring cake, a plate of sandwiches, and a tiered tray of petit fours.

Agatha stood beside the table, filling the cups from the dainty painted porcelain teapot.

But it wasn’t that which startled a laugh out of Bea.

It was the sight of the three small dogs milling near the table—a fawn pug, a black terrier, and a curly-tailed ball of brown fluff—each of whom wore a cap similar to the ones worn by Charlotte and her sister.

Agatha shot a severe look in Bea’s direction. “Don’t laugh at them. You’ll hurt their feelings.”

“They don’t like their caps,” Charlotte explained. She hurried forward to adjust the one on the pug’s broad brow. “Except for Frances. She loves to dress up. Don’t you, Frances?”

The pug cheerfully licked Charlotte’s cheek.

“Forgive me,” Bea said. “I didn’t mean to offend them.”

“Mama says we mustn’t remark on people’s appearances,” Agatha said. “Except to compliment them.”

“Wise advice.” Bea joined them at the table. The curly-tailed dog jumped up on her skirts, giving a bark of greeting. Bea reached to pet its head. “Will you not introduce us?” she asked the girls.

“That’s Gertrude,” Charlotte said. “And this is Wilhelmina. She doesn’t like to be petted. She only attends for the cakes. See?” She offered one of the petit fours to the terrier. The small dog snapped it up, narrowly missing the little girl’s fingers.

“Goodness!” Bea exclaimed. “Do be careful!”

“Papa says Wilhelmina’s manners are atrocious,” Charlotte said. “But Mama and Grandmama say we must be patient with her.”

“Do you have any other dogs I should be aware of?” Bea asked. “I thought I’d seen all of them.”

There had been the three large dogs last night. And then, during her tour of the house and grounds, Bea had met two more.

“We have eight house dogs,” Agatha informed her. “But there are more on the estate.”

“Our steward has two sheepdogs,” Charlotte volunteered. “And the stablemaster has a great big mastiff.”

Agatha directed Bea to a diminutive chair. “You may sit down.”

Bea obliged her, though she didn’t entirely trust that the chair would hold her weight. Gertrude continued to dance around her hem, while Frances panted and Wilhelmina eyed the ring cake.

“I shall pour,” Agatha said imperiously. She addressed Charlotte: “You may serve the sandwiches.”

* * *

“Where is this mysterious fiancée of yours?” Kate demanded the moment she stepped down from her carriage.

“I’m dying to meet her.” She embraced Jack with characteristic exuberance, only mildly inhibited by the growing protrusion of her belly.

She and her husband, Charles, were expecting their fourth child in the summer.

Jack hugged her in return. It had been three years since he’d seen his little sister.

Neither time nor motherhood had altered her.

With her glossy mink tresses and stubbornly cleft little chin, she was still the same firebrand who had, in childhood, been his frequent collaborator in various foolhardy endeavors.

“Miss Layton is here somewhere,” he said.

Jack had left her midmorning to go off with James. An unavoidable inconvenience. It was James who had been managing Marston Priory in Jack’s absence. The two of them had much to discuss. They’d be talking still if James hadn’t seen the Heywoods’ carriage approaching through his study window.

“She went upstairs to change,” Hannah said. “She’ll be down directly.” Standing on the gravel drive, along with her husband, she was attempting to corral the children—both the Heywood’s and her own.

Nicholas and Arthur had run out to meet their cousins the moment they’d arrived, hailing the Heywood brood with whoops and shrieks.

The three Heywood children—Edward, Felicity, and Delphia—were slightly better behaved.

But only slightly. They were all chattering at once, vying for Jack’s attention and each other’s.

“Are Agatha and Charlotte not at home?” Felicity asked Nicholas.

“They’re in the nursery,” Nicholas said.

“Having one of their silly tea parties,” Arthur added. “Edward! Come and see the bow and arrow that Uncle Jack brought me.”

“What about our gifts, Uncle Jack?” Delphia asked. “You did bring us something, didn’t you?”

“Your gifts are forthcoming,” Jack told the little Heywoods. “I have them in one of my trunks.”

A cheer went up.

“Come into the house, children,” Hannah said, urging them forward. “Mrs. Kirby has a surprise for you in the kitchens.”

Old Mrs. Kirby, who had been the housekeeper at Beasley Park since Jack was a lad, awaited the children at the top of the steps. “This way, my dears,” she encouraged them. “Cook has made something special for you.”

Amid all the chaos, Jack turned to greet Charles Heywood.

The tall, raven-haired former naval captain was as solemn as his wife and children were spirited.

At first glance, one wouldn’t think that he and Kate had anything in common, yet the two of them had fallen deeply in love when they’d met.

And they were still in love, as far as Jack was aware.

“You’d think they hadn’t seen each other in years,” Charles said, flashing a bemused smile at the departing children.

James chuckled. “As opposed to at least once every fortnight.”

“The benefits of living so close to one another,” Kate said. She linked her arm through Jack’s as they all made their way to the house. “Benefits that Jack and Miss Layton can now share. When they have children?—”

“Kate,” Jack objected. “I’m not even married yet. Perhaps you might refrain from organizing the social calendars of my nonexistent children?”

“Nonexistent now ,” Kate conceded. “But not for long. Not if your marriage is indeed a love match like Hannah and Meg suspect.”

Jack’s jaw tightened imperceptibly. He loved his sisters-in-law, but how in blazes would either of them know how he felt about Bea? Meg hadn’t even met her yet. And Hannah had only made her acquaintance last night.

It was all just supposition on their parts, based on the suddenness of his engagement. In incidences of haste, or inequalities in social standing, love was generally the operating force.

Either that or scandal.

“Besides,” Kate went on. “You must indulge me in my condition.” She called to her husband: “Isn’t that right, my love?”

“It’s certainly become my motto,” Charles replied dutifully.

“A wise man,” James remarked. He set his hand at Hannah’s waist, exchanging a warm glance with her as they ascended the stone steps after the still-chattering children.

Theirs was another love match, the embers of which were still burning brightly, even after four children and over a decade of marriage.

Once, Jack might have been jealous. Just as he’d sometimes been jealous of Kate’s and Ivo’s blissful unions. They had fallen in love when they were young, with marriage and children coming soon after.

Jack’s own life had followed a different pattern. He hadn’t met the girl he wanted to marry in his youth. Hadn’t ever fallen in love. Until quite recently, he’d begun to believe he never would.