Gypsy Legacy: The Earl, page 9
"I'm going to marry a gypsy when I grow up,” she announced.
Her mother merely glanced at her, her large blue eyes slightly saddened. “Perhaps,” she replied. “But whomever you marry, you must make sure you truly love him."
"I will. I'm going to marry JoJo,” she declared. “Nona said he was my very own prince."
Her mother laughed. “And how will you find him, darling Katie?"
"Nona said he would find me,” she responded with all the confidence of a child. “She said my kitty would help him find me."
"That's nice,” her mother said absently. “I hope someday he does."
Amanda opened her eyes and looked up at the blue sky overhead. “He's found me, Mama.” She sighed. “Only I'm not sure he knows it yet."
A short time later she was again distracted, this time by the arrival of her brothers.
"Mandy!” George squealed and launched himself at her. Picking up the sturdy little boy, she returned his enthusiastic hug, then looked up for the others she knew would be with him.
Nicky followed his brother down the path, and was, in turn, followed by their governess, Miss Byrnes. Amanda looked up and smiled at Nicky, who glanced down at her book and asked, “What'cha readin'?"
"Homer's Odyssey. Would you like me to read you one of the stories?"
"Does it have soldiers in it?” George asked.
"Sort of. But there's lots of fighting."
"Oooooh,” George exclaimed with the excitement of a four-year-old who played incessantly with his toy soldiers. “I wanna listen too."
"I will read to you both, if it is all right with Miss Byrnes."
Both boys turned to look up at their governess.
"It's all right with you, Bernie, isn't it?” Nicky asked, his dark eyes imploring.
Amanda nearly laughed out loud as she watched Miss Byrnes soften under that puppy-like stare. At seven, Nicky was already a charmer. The woman smiled and ruffled Nicky's sandy curls.
"You may stay,” she said. “I'm sure you will love spending some time with your sister. I will return for you at tea time."
Amanda smiled at her. “Thank you. I will try not to excite them too much."
The woman acknowledged her words with a smile. Then she turned and headed back up the path while Nicky picked up her panther to seat himself beside her, keeping the statuette balanced on his knees. George had already made himself comfortable in her lap. Picking up the book, she translated as she read the story of Odysseus’ return to his palace after many years away, his subsequent reunion with his wife, and how he and his son slew all the many suitors who had been plaguing poor Penelope.
When the governess returned to collect her charges, Amanda hugged both of them and sent them on their way. Nicky put her panther in her lap as he left, and now she ran her hand over it as her thoughts returned to the night before.
She wished she knew what Jon was thinking ... or feeling. So far, nothing in his manners or actions indicated he looked upon her as anyone other than his sister's friend. Of course, there was the explanation and kiss last night. There was more to the aftermath of the kiss three years ago than Jon had told her—of that she was certain. How important it was for her to know, she wasn't sure.
Knowing she would be spending more time with him, she wondered if she dared to ask. Perhaps later, when she felt more comfortable in his company. For now, it was enough that she could speak to him without becoming too self-conscious. Rising from the bench, she shook out her skirts, picked up her book and panther and headed for the house. Eliza would probably have tea served in the drawing room.
"Have you been matchmaking again?"
The dowager countess looked up from her teacup, a puzzled look in her eyes. “Again? And for whom?"
Jon watched her carefully. He wasn't sure she wouldn't disclaim all knowledge of Lady Rampton's machinations, but he needed to know.
"I was all but accosted by Lady Rampton last evening."
"Ah.” His grandmother put a world of feeling in that one syllable, not all of it positive. “Margaret is a peagoose. Thankfully, her children take after their father and have better heads on their shoulders."
"You were fond of her sister?” He was opening old wounds, he knew, but he couldn't help himself. Despite having danced with and kissed Amanda, Sophie's words returned to haunt him later in the evening.
"Yes,” she sighed.
They both knew this conversation would get them nowhere. It never did. Ignoring it was the best thing to do, but sometimes it needed to come out. He could not forget that his grandmother had refused to acknowledge his mother and tried to deny him his inheritance. They had made their peace with each other, but occasionally the past reared its ugly head.
"There is little use in denying it. We have trod this path before, and I suspect we will venture down it again before I breathe my last. There is nothing more to say that hasn't already been said."
Jon knew she was right. She had already expressed her apologies for her neglect and bitterness. And she had done everything she could to dispel the rumors of a feud within the family. In addition, she had been invaluable when it came to pulling off Felicia's wedding three years ago. So, why did he continue to punish her? It didn't say much for his character, that he couldn't forgive one frail, old woman.
Taking another sip of her tea, she put the cup down and looked directly at him. “Despite my own bias, I think young Sophie wouldn't have you at any rate."
Jon grimaced. He'd asked, but she might have softened the blow a bit. He'd told himself he didn't want her either, but that was before Felicia told him she was the same Sophie on his list. Now he had a dilemma on his hands.
He admitted to himself that his great-grandmother had been wily enough that Sophie might just be the person with the statuette. A remote connection who knew the family history. Her blue eyes and darker blonde hair didn't quite match the description he'd been given, but colors change slightly and she could have been a child when Nona gave her the statue.
Of course, he didn't know anything for sure because he hadn't asked Sophie about a panther. He'd been too amused by her forthright declaration that she didn't want to marry him to consider anything else. Unfortunately, she might just be Fate's idea of a joke.
Someone who didn't want him, but was supposed to be his destiny.
Jon joined Amanda and his grandmother later that week as they conducted interviews. Governesses all looked the same, he thought. From the top of her severely styled head to the toes of her serviceable black half-boots, Miss Addams looked no different than the three other women who had occupied the same chair during the previous two hours.
The dowager signaled the end of the interview and he heard Amanda sigh as he escorted the woman from the room. It had been his grandmother's idea to interview out-of-work governesses as possible teachers and a headmistress for the school, but so far, none seemed to be what Amanda was looking for.
When he returned, Amanda looked up at him. He knew she had not expected to see him when she arrived earlier, but he was certain her eyes had lit up for a moment at the sight of him.
For the past few days he had paid her more attention than he had ever paid anyone else. He wondered if he had finally crossed the line to courting her. So far, no one seemed notice his interest, and he hoped to keep it that way. Just two mornings ago, he'd visited the school. He'd deliberately arrived at the time he knew she would be leaving in order to escort her home. After a tour of the premises and an introduction to Mr. Cooper, he understood her feelings.
"Are there any more?” he asked his grandmother.
"Two more,” she replied, consulting the sheet in her lap. “The next one is due in ten minutes."
Jon seated himself in the chair the last woman had just vacated and allowed himself the luxury of looking at Amanda as she and his grandmother discussed the last candidate. Dressed in a morning gown of periwinkle blue, her golden curls framing her face, she was a sight for sore eyes. Just watching her made his temperature rise, and reminded him of how well she fit in his arms.
"We haven't found anyone yet who would do,” Amanda said. “Not one of those women could handle a whole classroom full of girls. One or two at a time, maybe, but not a whole class full."
"Perhaps,” he interrupted. “But how can you tell?"
Amanda started. When she looked at him, surprise filled her eyes. “How do I know?” She cocked her head to one side, thinking. “I'm not sure. Intuition perhaps? Supposition? A feeling? I don't really know, except that I just know.” She shrugged eloquently.
"I see."
Smithers interrupted with the next young woman. Jon vacated the seat to resume his position near the window, and continue his currently favorite pastime of watching Amanda.
Miss Marianne Dalrymple was the most interesting young woman to come in the door yet. Like the other applicants, her red hair was styled in a knot at the back of her head, but she had softened the effect by releasing a few curls around her face. Dark eyes, intense and alert, sparkled above a pug nose and wide mouth. She had a low, yet strong voice he had no doubt could be heard above a noisy classroom.
As the interview proceeded, he noted she was well-read and intelligent. Her references, referred to by his grandmother, were excellent. She agreed with Amanda on the breadth of an education girls should have, and made sympathetic noises when informed of the orphanage. She had been orphaned at an early age herself.
He could see she was nearly exactly what Amanda was looking for, but then she did something none of the other candidates had done. She smiled. It was not just any smile, it was a smile full of warmth and compassion. And right then he knew what Amanda was looking for. She was looking for someone who would love the girls as much as she did.
Someone who would make the effort to get to know the girls. Someone who would understand when one of them was upset or unwell. Someone who wasn't angry at the rest of society for her place in it. Someone who knew what it was like to have no one, but still make something of herself. In short, Amanda wanted someone who would encourage the girls, understanding the obstacles they would eventually face. Someone who had faced some of the same obstacles and made it past them.
Before she left, Amanda gave her a card with the address of the school on it, instructing her to show up there the next morning at ten o'clock sharp.
The last woman was also an improvement on the first four, but not in the same class as Miss Dalrymple. Amanda, however, saw something in her as well and she, too, was given a card and instructions to appear at the school in two days time.
By the time the last one left, it was time for tea. As Smithers and a maid set up the tea near the dowager's chair, Amanda approached.
"What did you think of the last two?” she asked.
"I thought the red-haired one—Miss Dalrymple, was it?—was probably the best, but the last one—Miss Gaines?—was quite good too. She won't be as optimistic, though, but she'll do well."
"Hmmm. I was thinking the same thing. At least Miss Dalrymple had a pleasant disposition. The first ones looked as if they had never smiled in their lives."
He chuckled. “Somehow, I'd guessed that the dourness of the first few had discouraged you. So, what do you plan to do when Miss Dalrymple and Miss Gaines arrive at the school?"
"I thought I'd have them observe for a while, then invite them to participate. I think Miss Dalrymple will make an excellent teacher, and Miss Gaines might be best suited as a headmistress. All I need to do now is get rid of Mr. Cooper."
"Neither of them is as well educated as you."
Amanda stilled before turning to look up at him with wide, suspicious eyes. “How do you know?"
Jon noticed the sudden reticence and wondered if he had ventured into forbidden territory. It occurred to him that he'd never seen her reading, never gotten the impression she was interested in anything other than the normal female pursuits. Had she deliberately hidden that side of herself?
The dowager called to them from across the room and he was saved from replying.
Over tea, the three discussed family. No longer moving in society, the dowager was eager to hear of the latest goings on. Jon noticed she was more alert today than she had been when he visited her two days ago. And she did not seem to be in as much pain. He wondered if her doctor had followed his suggestion and changed what she was taking for her painful joints.
"Those three scamps were everywhere,” the dowager was saying to Amanda, laughter in her voice. “You should have seen them."
"I didn't have to,” she replied. “I have seen them before. And you are right."
He had only been half listening to the conversation, but now he joined in.
"To which three scamps are you referring?"
Amanda burst into laughter, her soft chuckles sending pleasant sensations throughout his body. “I take it you haven't made the acquaintance yet of your nephews and nieces?"
"I have, of course, but there are four of them, not three."
"Shana could never be classed with the other three,” his grandmother said, referring to Tina's five-year-old daughter. “The other three, however...” She let the sentence hang, as if the ending were understood.
"Andrew and the twins?” he asked.
"Two-year-olds are the worst,” Amanda told him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “They are nearly as aggravating as full grown men. They don't take direction, they are often hard of hearing, and they never tell you what's wrong when they're out of sorts."
Jon's eyebrows rose. “I think I've been insulted. Either that or Andrew, Michael and Caroline have."
"Probably the latter.” This from his grandmother, but she was laughing all the same.
Jon was tempted to agree. At two, Brand and Felicia's twins, Michael and Caroline, and Tina and Jay's son, Andrew, were perpetual motion machines. How their nannies kept up with them was a mystery to him. The last time he had been at Felicia's the twins had been loose in the garden. The gardener, she'd informed him with sparkling eyes, had already threatened to quit twice that day.
Just before taking their leave, he asked after his grandmother's health. “I am doing better these days,” she told him. “This new stuff tastes horrible, doesn't make me as sleepy as the laudanum did, and seems to work better. Thank you."
He smiled in acknowledgment and bent to kiss her cheek. “You're welcome,” was all he said before escorting Amanda out.
Three nights later Jon stood at the top of the stairs leading down into Lord and Lady Carmichael's ballroom, scanning the crowd. The air was thick and stuffy, stale with the scent of unwashed bodies, perfume and flowers. Lady Carmichael was apparently one of those matrons who eschewed fresh air, for none of the terrace doors or windows stood open, despite that the evening was balmy with only a slight breeze. There was no sign of Amanda. Descending the stairs, he was met at the bottom by none other than Charity Bascomb.
Manners prevented him from brushing past the red-haired beauty, but he did not want to be saddled with her when he found Amanda. He'd noted her interest over the last week, but had made his own disinterest clear. That she continued to connive for his attention had begun to make him wary. Just two nights ago she'd managed to trap him into dancing a waltz with her. Remembering that, he took the opportunity afforded by the musicians, and danced a quadrille. She had not expected him to ask her to dance so soon. He saw it in the widening of her eyes when he requested the set, but she had no choice but to accept. If she turned him down, he would not ask her again. On the other hand, if she danced with him, he would not ask her again without eyebrows raising. Even though he'd recently paid marked attention to Amanda, he made a point never to dance with her more than once in an evening.
Returning Charity to her mother's side, he bowed and made his escape. Quartering the room, he finally found Felicia speaking with one of the dowagers in a corner. She glanced up at him as he approached then excused herself to join him. She got right to the point.
"Amanda's not here."
Jon did not answer. Felicia had actually answered two questions at once. Yes, he wanted to know where Amanda was, but he wondered whether she'd noticed his interest. Now he knew, and wondered whether she'd say something about the statuette. She didn't.
He glanced around the crowded room. He still had two young women on his list he hadn't spoken to—as well as Sophie. He grimaced. He did not want to speak to her again, but if he was correct, he could continue to pay attention to Amanda without guilt. He noticed one of the young women on his list across the room. She was one he had not been formally introduced to. He wasn't sure he wanted to ask Felicia to introduce them, but it was either she or Tina, and he hadn't seen Tina yet tonight.
Felicia stared at him in surprise when he requested she introduce him. For a moment, he was sure she was about to say something, then suppressed the comment and did as he asked.
MaryAnne Lester was a dangerous combination—beautiful and devious. He wondered if Felicia's reaction to his request for an introduction had anything to do with Miss Lester's character, but he consoled himself with the thought that Felicia had put her on the list.
Her conversation was desultory, but filled with sexual innuendo he would not have expected a young woman her age to be aware of. Looking down into eyes a shade lighter than his own, he noted that she appraised him openly. It was an uncomfortable feeling. As if she was weighing his physical possibilities as well as his bank account.
"I don't suppose you've ever seen a panther?” he asked at one point.
She batted artificially darkened lashes. “That depends, my lord."
"Depends on what?"
"On why you want to know?” Then she laughed at her own apparent witticism.
Jon gritted his teeth. He'd told her the same story he had told Amanda about the non-existent menagerie in Rome.
He supposed her high-pitched laugh might have been pleasing to some, but it grated on his nerves. As the music came to a close, he escorted her from the floor and headed back in the direction of her chaperone. Her fragrance, a sickly, sweet scent, assaulted his nose.
