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| Henry |
Stephen Carlton, the
Duke of Cantin, had always been Henry’s best friend. Through long years at
Eton, and then Cambridge,
to the night Stephen was his second in the duel with Reginald Leighton over
Olivia. Throughout the decades of Henry’s absence, Stephen’s quarterly correspondence
kept Henry abreast of news with stories of home and their wretched acquaintance
as Stephen liked to call them.
At Cantin House, Edwards,
the butler, showed Henry to the library. “The Marquess of Dunbury, Your Grace,”
Edwards intoned.
Stephen rose from
his chair. “Good God, Henry, I never thought to see the day.” He walked around
the desk and enveloped Henry in a great hug. “When they told me you were on
your way home, I could scarce believe it. The indefatigable Henry Wade, finally
returning from the wars.”
Henry smiled. “Yes,
here I am. Home at last. How’ve you been, old man?” Henry walked across the
room as if he’d done it a thousand times before, and flung himself into a chair
by the window.
“Very well.” Stephen
walked to the side table and poured two glasses of brandy. “The house is quiet
with the children grown and married.” He handed Henry a g
lass. “Except for
Robert.”
Henry glanced at
the glass Stephen offered. “Stephen, it is barely ten o’clock in the morning.”
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| Stepehen |
Stephen winked.
“Yes, but somewhere it is half past four.” He raised his glass. “To you, Henry
Wade, for coming home in one piece.”
Henry slugged the
brandy. He’d love to spend the afternoon drinking with Stephen catching up, but
he would refuse any more. He didn’t wish to be addle-pated in front of the
girls later on.
Stephen sat in the
opposite chair. “So what are you doing? When did you get in? Where are you
staying? Out at the manor?”
“We, my secretary
and I, arrived last night around eleven. We attempted to sneak into the Hall,
but the girls had decided to reside there whilst cleaning it for my homecoming.
Gave them and the housekeeper a hell of a scare.”
Stephen smiled.
“Where are they now?”
“I sent them to the
Manor. I’m going to reside in London.
I do not think it is in any of our best interests for me to reside with them.
Honestly, I would rather face the French with a battalion of untrained lads
than live with the girls.”
Stephen bellowed
with laughter. “Nonsense, the ladies are all very charming creatures. My Joanna
cannot seem to say enough about them. Especially to Robbie.”
Henry smiled. “Oh,
does she have any one in particular she wishes him to marry?”
“I think any of
them would do, although Mercy is her particular favorite. Robbie claims he does
not wish to marry. A broken engagement when he was younger has sworn him off
the fairer sex. A shame too. I would like to see the heir before I am in my
dotage.”
Henry smiled. “If
he’s anything like you, Stephen, perhaps Robert needs to find himself in a
compromising position.”
“You may be right.”
Stephen leaned back in his chair. “Unfortunately, he’s too smart to be
compromised. Believe me, a few have tried.”
Henry placed the
empty glass on the side table and leaned forward in his chair. “The Marquisate
is drained, Stephen. I need to find some fast funds.”
Stephen furrowed
his brows. “What do you mean? I thought your nieces brought money with them.”
“Yes, so did I.
Brinkley told me the right of it. They have been living off the Marquisate. The
girls have nothing. I have twenty thousand, but will need five times that
amount if I am to make something of them.” He leaned back into the chair and
grunted. “The great hero returns.”
“What about the
house in Essex? Surely, you could sell that if
needs be.”
“Highly unlikely.
It was a festering sinkhole when I was a lad. It has probably crumbled into the
ground by now.”
Stephen snorted. “Doubtful.
I heard your groomsman made tremendous repairs when the girls were there this
last summer.”
Henry rose from his
chair, stood in front of the windows, and looked out to the garden. “Who is
this damn groom I hear so much about? He seems to own more than one occupation
at Dunbury.”
“He does.” Stephen
cocked his head. “You’re lucky to have him. He takes good care of your estate.”
“And of my nieces? Which
one of the girls do you think he wants to marry?” Could he marry
one of them off to a stable-man?
Stephen shook his
head. “None as far as I know. I’ve never heard a word about him other than to
extol the virtue of his brute strength and home maintenance mastery.” Stephen
raised his empty glass. “Another?”
“No,” Henry said.
“I need to ride out to the manor.”
Stephen rose from
the chair and walked to the tantalus.
“Who is Lady
Gantry?” Henry asked.
“Have you met her
yet?” Stephen asked.
“No. She is away to
her sister Mary.”
Stephen rolled his
eyes. “Could never abide that woman. Always sniffling, complaining of an ague.
Lady Gantry on the other hand, is quite the thing. An odd combination of mysterious
refinement. She is cousin to both Olivia and I from our mother’s side. Bit of a
bluestocking. Married a Captain on his way to Bombay to secure the unrest in ‘88. Said he
would send for her.” Stephen shook his head. “He was killed a short time later.
In the years since, Lady Gantry has acted as governess for several families.
They say she has a knack for marrying them off.”
“Then why hasn’t
she done so for my brood.”
“Henry, are you
daft? You should have remained home when poor Harold died.”
Henry held up his
hand. “Yes, Stephen, I know, but I cannot erase the past. What else do you know
about her…Lady Gantry? What is her first name?”
“Catherine.
Catherine Churchill Gantry. She is part of the Churchill-Spencer clan, younger
than the rest of us, and still keeps some acquaintance with friends amongst
Society. Although, I have never seen her in my sphere at parties. I must say,
she is ever charming, and quite fine-looking for an old thing. I have met her
on several occasions when Joanna has her at-homes. Catherine Gantry has the
girls well in hand, each one turned out beautifully. You should thank her.
She’s done a wonderful job.”
Henry cleared his
throat. “I heard Olivia placed her there.”
Stephen raised a
brow. “Since Caymore’s death, Olivia has been a frequent visitor to Dunbury
Manor. When Harold died, she took a fancy to Mercy, felt badly for her. And
rightly so now with your sisters’ gone and the other girls at the Manor. It is
my understanding the girls needed a governess.”
Henry shrugged. “I
suppose.”
“Well, ‘tis no
matter now. Once the girls have made their come-out, you should have no trouble
marrying them off.”
“Yes, my solicitor
said as much, which brings me to my current state of affairs. Stephen, are
there any solid investments I could make quickly?”
“How quick?”
Stephen asked.
“A few months. Six
on the outside. It is November. I presume the girls are looking forward to next
Season. Gowns, shoes, petticoats, and whatever else they need. They have been
told to practice economy for years. Now that I am returned, I think they
believe they will now have everything they ever wished for. How am I to tell
them there is barely anything for their dowries? My sisters both made pathetic
matches, and my brother could not even think to add his own daughter to his
will. What am I going to do?”
Stephen took a sip
from his fresh brandy. “Let me make you a loan.”
“Absolutely not. ‘Tis
the surest way to ruin our friendship.”
“Henry, I will
insist,” Stephen said.
“And I must refuse.
I will think of something. However, there is one thing you can do for me.”
“Anything,” Stephen
said.
“Would you have a
horse I could borrow for a few weeks? My own is residing in Plymouth until he gains his land legs back.
I’m afraid the sea voyage took its toll.”
“Of course.”
Stephen strode to the door. “Edwards!” he yelled. “He will take you down to the
mews.”
Henry held out his
hand. “Thank you, my friend.”
Stephen shook it.
“I’m glad you’re home.”
“Yes, as am I.”
Henry left with
Edwards and went to the mews. Stephen certainly had a fine stable; something he
hoped to acquire. Someday.
After saddling his
mount, Henry rode down Brook
Street to Grand, taking a left on St. James.
Dunbury Hall stood behind a few pretty trees and an iron gate. A hired hackney
sat in front of his house, the boot open.
Henry rode to the
back of the house and left the horse in the garden. Once inside, he found Stone
in the kitchen copying across two different pieces of paper. “Who is here?”
“Here?” Stone
asked.
“Yes, the carriage
out front?”
“Oh, ‘tis Lady
Gantry, sir. She is upstairs clearing out your bedchamber.”
Henry strode
through the dining room to the foyer. Loud thumps from the second floor had him
running up the stairs two at a time. At the end of the hall, the doors to the
master’s bedchamber stood open. Two trunks sat in the hall.
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| Catherine now |
Movement from
behind the door—a swish of lavender. Thump. Thump. An old man heaved a trunk
across the floor. He looked as if he would fall over.
“Wait,” Henry
cried. “Leave it. I will attend the trunk.”
The lady in the lavender
gown stepped from behind the door. “And you are?”
Henry sucked in a
breath. Olivia! Could it be? No, the woman’s eyes were green. Olivia’s were
brown. Yet the similarity was remarkable—as if she were the older version of the
Olivia he had left
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| Olivia then |
so long ago. “Henry Wade. Marquess of Dunbury.”
Her eyes widened. She
held out her hand instead of curtseying. “Catherine Gantry. I am the ladies’
governess.” She stood tall and proud and her eyes never wavered from his. She
also had not smiled.
Henry shook her
hand. Stephen was right. She was beautiful for an old thing—could be no
more than forty. She looked down at her hand still wrapped in his.
Henry dropped her
hand and took a step back. “I have heard nothing but the kindest words spoken
of you.”
“Thank you, my
lord.” The left side of her lips twitched upward.
Her voice reminded
him of the desert—breathy, scratchy, steamy. He needed to focus. “The girls are
at the Manor.”
“Yes, Gray informed
me. And that you were returned.” She waved her hand around the room. “Please forgive
the chaos. I had not expected you so early.”
Henry glanced at
the empty armoire to the filled trunks. “You certainly have a lot of gowns,
Lady Gantry. Tell me, do you have the girls gadding about like Mayflies?”
She appraised him
with a haughty stare. “My lord, the ladies and I do not gad about. The
gowns from the armoire belong to them. I was using this room for storage, as
the manor has no extra closets. Now that you are returned, and will obviously reside
here, I am packing them up.” She flounced toward the bed. Shawls, pelisses, and
capes, lay draped over the coverlet.
“What are these
things?”
“Part of the girls’
trousseau.”
“Where did you get
them? Brinkley told me there is no money.”
“They are reworked
gowns I received from friends. The girls know they are here, are fully aware of
what I’m doing.” She placed her hands on her hips.
“I see.”
She wrinkled her
nose. “No, my lord, I’m afraid you do not. As their governess, I expected some
form of communication over the course of the last several years for the girls’
direction. I had hoped you would have at least given me a portion of the
household money to ensure the girls are properly attired when we do step out. I’ve
spoken with Mr. Brinkley on several occasions—I know how dire the straits are.
Still I hoped.”
Lady Gantry eyed
him like a second field captain awaiting the command to engage in mortal combat
with a sworn enemy. And it looked as though he was that enemy. Unfortunately, Catherine
Gantry knew more about his finances than he liked.
But Lord, she was
beautiful. Honey-colored hair hung down her back in a lush braid. Two small
tendrils curled at her temples. Deep green eyes, the color of English ivy,
stared at him through long lashes. Damn, if she didn’t remind him of Olivia. He
noticed the lace at her collar wore thin. And the ribbon around her hem.
“Perhaps you would
like …” he began.
“My lord, could you
not have spared leaving Mrs. Partridge? How am I to have anything finished
before nightfall with only Gray to help me?” Her tone demanded an explanation.
Spoiled wench!
Feisty, and in a fine fettle. “Forgive me, Lady Gantry.” Henry wanted to bow mockingly
at her outrage. “I had no idea you were to arrive today from your sister Mary’s.
I am on my way to the Manor now. I will return Mrs. Partridge with all due
haste.” Fine looking Catherine Gantry might be, but with the attitude of a
termagant. Henry would stay as far away from her as possible.
All Rights Reserved
Anne Gallagher (c) 2016
Shore Road Publishing
