hardly children, as you’ve had a chance to ascertain. Petra and Eva are of ages where they should have a say in the direction of their destinies, and, while Annie is young, I must inform you that my father’s death and all the changes of the past year have been most unsettling to her.’
Peyton’s eyes flicked to the Count. ‘And Count Androvich? Is he to remain as well?’ Brimley had not suggested one of the Russian delegation would attach themselves so intimately to the Branscombe household. This was an unforeseen development and one Peyton didn’t like in the least. He wanted Count Androvich dislodged. Hunting for the list would be difficult enough without the Count around. The man’s presence begged the question of his motives. Was he here as a friend? He did seem quite protective of Miss Branscombe. Or was he using his association with the family to search for the list?
Thankfully, Miss Branscombe recognised he was giving her a victory by allowing her sisters to remain. She knew what she had to do to secure that victory. She nodded her angel’s head at the Count. ‘Sergei, we’ve taken up enough of your time today. I thank you for your escort to the market. I will not take up any more of your time. I can talk with Lord Dursley on my own.’ Miss Branscombe rose and offered the Count her hand. Peyton silently congratulated her on the smoothness of her actions. There was no way the Count could refuse her polite invitation to exit the conversation without looking either obtuse or rude.
Miss Branscombe saw the Count to the door and returned shortly, smoothing her demure skirts about her as she sat. ‘Now, my lord, we can discuss your business.’
All four pairs of Branscombe-blue eyes fixed on him, waiting. Peyton brought out the papers and began. ‘I have been informed that guardianship has passed to me upon your father’s demise. That guardianship will last until each girl marries or turns twenty-five, at which point your trust funds shall be given into your individual care.’
Miss Branscombe assessed him shrewdly. ‘You mentioned this permission was granted to you through a codicil to my father’s will. But I assure you there was no codicil or mention of one in the will. I was there when it was read, we all were.’ Her sisters nodded in affirmation.
Miss Branscombe continued, ‘I have no reason to believe you and I certainly will not turn over control of my family and their modest fortunes to a man I do not know simply because he shows up on my doorstep with papers and a title.’
‘It is regrettable that the codicil became separated from the other documents. It is fortunate that it’s been recovered and placed in the right hands.’ Peyton struggled for patience. He told himself he’d have been disappointed if the brassy Miss Branscombe had not been astute enough to see the possible flaws in his claim. He should appreciate that she was not easily hoodwinked. But the truth was, he didn’t appreciate it in the least. It had been a long time since anyone had countermanded the Earl of Dursley. He’d quite forgotten what it was like.
‘I understand your misgivings, Miss Branscombe. I assure you that I am the Earl of Dursley and I am, in the absence of any close living relations in your family, the man assigned to guide you and watch over you all. I have the most honourable of intentions.’ And he did have honourable intentions for England—just not necessarily for the girls.
‘I’ve never met you,’ Miss Branscombe challenged. ‘I am hard pressed to believe my father would have selected a guardian that we’ve never met. Quite frankly, it seems unlikely that he would have picked a man we didn’t even know existed until this afternoon.’
Peyton nodded. ‘I met your father on a few occasions in Vienna, but I never had the chance to journey north to St Petersburg.’ At least this wasn’t a lie, although the implications it hinted at—those of a relationship with Ralph Branscombe—were non-existent.
Peyton pushed the papers towards Miss Branscombe, since she hadn’t moved to take them from the table. ‘If you look at the papers, Miss Branscombe, you will see that they are in order. There is a letter of introduction that vouches for me. The codicil is there, as well as an outline of how my guardianship is to be managed.’
Forced to acknowledge the papers, Miss Branscombe picked them up and began to read. And read. A weighty silence fell. Peyton could hear the mantel clock ticking off the minutes. The muffled sound of a passing carriage could be heard from the street and still Miss Branscombe read. At last, she looked up. Peyton thought he saw her hands tremble slightly, but she adroitly folded them and hid them in the lap of her skirt and he couldn’t be sure.
‘What do the papers say, Tess?’ Petra asked in a quiet voice.
Miss Branscombe reached for Petra’s hand. She was all calmness; the angel quality Peyton had seen in her earlier had returned. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about, dear. Now, I need to speak with the Earl privately. Please take the girls upstairs.’
Anne whimpered next to Miss Branscombe and she bent to whisper reassurances to the little girl, gently nudging her towards Petra’s outstretched arms. ‘Annie, your dollies will be missing you. Perhaps you and Eva can try on the new dresses she made them,’ Miss Branscombe cajoled. ‘I’ll be up in a while to see how they look and we can have a tea party.’
Peyton watched Miss Branscombe walk the three girls to the door, Petra shooting a last glance at her older sister, clearly worried. The scene was hard to take in. Seeing the sisters together reminded him all too acutely of life after his father had passed away, leaving him an earldom and two brothers to care for. But that was years past and he’d locked the feelings associated with those difficult days away deep inside himself long ago. He didn’t want them resurrected. Nothing could come of them. They were best left alone, unexamined and unexplored.
When Miss Branscombe turned back to him, the angel was gone. She was all fire and rage. ‘I will not stand for you or anyone splitting up this family. I have worked too hard keeping us together, too hard trying to give them stability.’
Peyton rose, since Miss Branscombe had no intention of sitting down. He strode to the window and drew back a lace panel to view the street below. ‘I imagine the life of a diplomat is often trying for a woman. Moving about, making new friends, learning new customs must be an overwhelming task.’
‘It is a difficult task for anyone,’ Miss Branscombe promptly corrected. ‘I have done it admirably and now I deserve my reward.’
‘Which is what?’ Peyton turned from his study of the street to watch Miss Branscombe.
‘To be left alone with my sisters, to raise them where they will be safe,’ she retorted sharply.
That got Peyton’s attention. He veiled his reaction carefully. ‘Were they not safe in St Petersburg?’ Miss Branscombe seemed to hesitate. Interesting.
‘Diplomacy in general is not always the safest of fields,’ she answered vaguely.
Peyton nodded. He wondered—did she know about the list? Had something happened in St Petersburg to give her reason to fear for her own personal safety and that of her sisters? He couldn’t ask her now. Such probing would seem too nosy. He’d have to file this away and remember to pursue it when the timing was better.
‘I assure you, Miss Branscombe, that your fears are understandable and misplaced. I have no intention of swindling your fortunes out from under you. You are welcome to do a financial check on me. My solicitor has been instructed to be at your disposal. Additionally, I am not proposing that the family be split up. The girls are welcome to stay in London with you for the Season.’ If he couldn’t convince her of his reassurances, he’d be off to an awkward start in gaining her trust.
‘We
