interesting to watch the duke blink and recover.
Imogen, of course, never paid any mind to the effect she had on men because she was in love. She did smile at the duke, though, and gave a pretty curtsy. When their father had a bit of money, he usually remembered to hire a governess for a time, at least, and so they all could put on dandified manners when required.
‘This is Annabel,’ Tess said, putting a hand on Annabel’s arm. ‘Annabel is the eldest after me; she is twenty-two.’ If Imogen paid no heed to men, Annabel must have toddled out of her nurse’s arms knowing how to flirt. Now she gave the duke a rosy-lipped smile that spoke of innocence and something else; she pitched her voice to the tune of an unheavenly appreciation. Her simple greeting sounded like honey with an edge of lemon.
The duke showed no sign of turning weak at the knees.
‘Miss Annabel,’ he said, bringing her hand to his lips. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘And Josephine,’ Tess said. ‘Josie is fifteen, and still in the schoolroom.’
Tess noticed that the duke was already smiling at Josie, which was a sign of his good manners. She loathed it when men acted as if they were stuck by glue to Annabel’s side and only gave Josie the scantest glance.
‘I’d rather you didn’t kiss my hand,’ Josie said briskly.
‘May I introduce a friend of mine?’ the duke said, acting as if he didn’t hear Josie’s comment, although he made no effort to kiss her hand. ‘Garret Langham, the Earl of Mayne.’
Annabel gave Mayne a blithely appreciative smile, as if she were a four-year-old being handed a piece of birthday cake. There was nothing more to Annabel’s taste than a man in possession of all his limbs and a title.
Mayne smiled back with something of the same admiration, although Tess thought that his emotion likely had little to do with Annabel’s forefathers.
The gentlemen completed their greetings, and the duke turned back to her. ‘Miss Essex, since none of you are likely to have interest in these -’ he waved his hand ‘- these playthings, shall we retire to the public rooms? I’m afraid that my housekeeper will likely need a short period of time to ready bedchambers for you, but I imagine your maids will assist.’
Tess felt a blush rising up her collarbone. ‘We haven’t brought any maids with us.’
‘In that case,’ her guardian said without even blinking, we can employ these four young women for the purpose, if that would be acceptable.’ He indicated the four nursemaids, still lined up against the wall, their eyes wide as ha’pennies. ‘I’m certain the housekeeper can train them in their duties readily enough.’
‘You’re in need of a chaperone,’ Mayne put in, with a slanting glance at the duke. ‘Now that you’re no longer running a nursery. Tonight, Rafe.’
Clearly the thought hadn’t crossed their guardian’s mind. ‘Dammit, I’ll have to write a note to Lady Clarice,’ he said, running a hand through his wild hair, ‘and ask her to pay me a visit. That’s if she’ll come after last time; I think I was a trifle rude to her.’
‘In your cups, were you?’ Mayne asked.
A wry grimace curled their guardian’s mouth. ‘I threw her out, with luck not bodily. Can’t really remember.’ He suddenly realised that Tess and the girls were all staring at him and gave them a smile that hadn’t a whit of remorse in it. ‘Now my wards will think I’m a sot.’
‘To know you is to love you,’ the earl said, throwing him a sarcastic grin. ‘My dear Misses Essex, the evening when your guardian isn’t clutching a bumper of brandy will be the day hell blooms with roses.’
‘Lady Clarice’s land runs parallel to ours,’ Holbrook said to Tess, ignoring his friend’s comment. ‘I daresay if I send a pretty enough note, she’ll forgive me since we are in desperate circumstances. You can’t possibly spend the night under my roof without a chaperone.’
But Mayne wasn’t to be silenced. ‘The lady’s a widow, and she has an eye for your guardian,’ he told the girls. ‘I do believe she’s hoping that one day she’ll find him so deep in his cups that he doesn’t notice that she’s calling the banns. It’s too bad for her that Rafe doesn’t show his liquor.’
‘Nonsense,’ the duke said gruffly, sweeping his hair about so that he looked even more of a lunatic.
‘Doesn’t bother her that she has ten years on Rafe,’ Mayne continued blithely. ‘Lady Clarice has an optimistic soul, for all that her own son is almost Rafe’s own age.’
‘Maitland is considerably younger than I,’ the duke said rather curtly.
‘He’s in his twenties,’ Mayne said, ‘and that makes Lady Clarice at least five years older than you.’
Tess felt rather than heard an agitated little sound from Imogen, at the same second that her own heart sunk. They were hoping to wean Imogen from her hopeless adoration of Lord Maitland, and finding him next door wasn’t the best start. ‘Are you by any chance referring to Draven Maitland, Your Grace?’ she asked, obedient to an imploring glance from Imogen.
‘So you know Maitland, do you?’ It didn’t look to Tess as if their guardian thought much more of Lord Maitland than she did. ‘Likely he’ll accompany his mother then. I’ll ask them both to join us for supper. Perhaps you and your sisters would like to take a short rest before the evening meal?’
‘That would be pleasant,’ Tess said. Imogen was grinning like a fool. Tess saw the duke’s eyes take in her grin, but he said nothing.
‘The rose suite will do until your chambers are readied.’ Holbrook held out his arm, and Tess took it, rather awkwardly.
The Englishmen were so unlike what she had expected! They were – formidable. But Englishmen weren’t supposed to be formidable. Everything she’d ever heard about English gentlemen suggested that they were willowy creatures, liable to sneeze and blow away. Oh, there were exceptions, of course. Lord Maitland, for one, had a sturdy enough figure.
Their new guardian didn’t fit the mould either. He was not ducal in the least. He wasn’t dressed in satin or velvet. Instead, he was wearing trousers so old that she could see the seams on the side, especially where they strained over his belly, and a white shirt that didn’t have a bit of satin on it. Its sleeves were even turned up, as if he were about to set to work in the stables.
There was nothing aristocratic about his voice, either. It was nice enough, but gruff and brusque. And he had lines around his eyes, for all he couldn’t be more than thirty-five. Dissipated, that’s what he looked. Not a womaniser: Tess could spot one of those a mile off, and though he looked at all of them with interest, there wasn’t a spark of appreciation of their womanhood in his eyes.
And yet, for all that wild hair and dissipated face and ancient clothing, for all of that — he wasn’t frightening.
Tess felt a hard knot in her chest begin to loosen, just a trifle.
This burly man who had hired four nursemaids for four little girls and was never without a bumper of brandy … he wasn’t someone to fear.
Tess looked down at the worn linen of his shirtsleeve
