The Incomparable Countess. Mary Nichols
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to give herself something to do with her hands. ‘Stanmore House is said to be a very fine example of a London house,’ she said, doing her best to retrieve the situation with an easy smile. ‘I am told the staircase is unique and the decoration of the reception rooms superb.’
‘Yes, but old-fashioned. My late wife did not like London and never came, so it has remained as it was in my mother’s time.’
She longed to ask why the Duchess had not liked London, but that would be as personal a question as asking her about her childlessness and she would not give him the satisfaction of pointing that out to her.
‘My daughter has never been to the capital,’ he said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘And until now I did not feel she needed to, but next year she will be seventeen and must make her mark on Society if she is to take well.’
‘Surely there is plenty of time for that? I think seventeen is far too young for any young lady to make up her mind about marriage. Why, they are still only schoolgirls at that age and given to all manner of fits and fancies.’ That is one for you to think on, she thought, as she watched his face for a sign that he understood what she was saying; that she had been fanciful at that age and had recovered from it. But the years had taught him to mask his feelings and not for a second did his expression reveal that the barb had gone home.
‘I have no wish to saddle her with marriage before she is ready for it,’ he said, evenly. ‘But she must make her bow at court and I would not like it said she lacked polish.’
‘You propose to polish her, my lord?’ She spoke with the hint of a teasing smile which jerked him back seventeen years—the young Fanny Randall had had a finely tuned sense of humour—and made him stand up and go to look out of the window. The view was no different from the one he had been looking at earlier, but it was an excuse to keep his face turned from her until he had brought himself back under control. This was a business meeting and he must not allow emotion to gain the upper hand.
‘No, that would be foolish in me. I shall employ others to do it.’ He turned back suddenly. ‘You, for one, if you agree.’
‘Me?’ She could not hide the surprise and dismay in her voice. ‘I am persuaded you are jesting.’
‘Not at all. I am told one of the accomplishments a young lady needs, besides being able to sew a fine seam, play a musical instrument and dance the latest steps, is the ability to draw and paint and I can think of no one more suited to teach Lavinia that.’
He sat down beside her on the sofa, which did nothing for her hard-won control. He was so close, she could almost feel the warmth emanating from a body which was still lithe and muscular. Her own body seemed to want to lean towards his, to feel again the contact of thigh against thigh, his arms about her, lips on lips. Shocked to the core, she stood up and went to pull the bell for the maid to remove the tray.
Because she was on her feet, etiquette demanded he should rise too. She sat down abruptly and motioned him to the other chair. He sat down again, far enough away to allow her to breathe more easily. ‘It is true I have a certain facility, but…’
‘You are far too modest, Countess. You have an incomparable reputation…’
‘Fustian!’ She smiled, remembering those were the words that Lady Willoughby had used; she had probably repeated them in his hearing. ‘You have seen my work for yourself, at Lady Willoughby’s. And criticised it too.’
‘I would not presume to do so, my lady. I simply made a comment that you had flattered your subject.’ He smiled suddenly and his amber eyes lit up in the way she remembered; it made his somewhat sombre face come alive, the light in his eyes giving depth to his expression. ‘And considering your subject, you should take that as a compliment.’
‘People do not pay to see the truth, your Grace.’
‘And it is important they should pay,’ he murmured softly.
‘Yes, it is,’ she said bluntly.
‘I shall pay. I shall pay handsomely.’
‘I have a set fee for pupils who join my class.’
‘I do not want Vinny to join a class. I expect her to receive your undivided attention.’
‘I am not sure I have the time for that.’
The maid came in answer to the summons and removed the tray. He waited until she had gone and closed the door before speaking again. ‘Two hours twice a week—surely you can manage that, especially for twenty pounds every time she comes.’
‘Now you are being ridiculous,’ she snapped, taken aback by the amount. ‘No one is worth that much.’
‘Oh, do not underrate yourself, Countess, it will be worth every groat of it to have my daughter properly taught.’
‘And what if she shows no aptitude?’ She was feeling very confused. What was he up to? She ought to refuse to do as he asked, ring for a footman to show him out, but in the back of her mind she was doing sums. Twenty pounds twice a week, that would pay for all the food, clothes and hired help at the orphanage. It might even help to furnish the new home, once they had bought it. She would be mad to turn it down.
‘Drawing can be taught, can it not?’ he countered.
‘Up to a certain level, perhaps, but if the talent is not there, then…’ She shrugged her shoulders, lifting her breasts within the bodice of her gown, so that he felt a sharp surge of desire, which he quickly stifled. ‘I do not make a practice of attempting to teach what cannot be taught.’
‘I do not wish to make a genius of her, nor even an artist, dependent on patronage for a living. I wish her to have a modicum of competence, no more.’
‘Mediocrity is not something to aim for, my lord, whatever one’s station in life and whatever one is doing,’ Frances said, with some asperity. ‘You would not subscribe to that for yourself—as I recall, you were always the perfectionist—so why think that a daughter should not excel? It does not preclude her from making a good marriage.’
He laughed suddenly. ‘Blunt as ever, my lady. But you are right, of course. So what do you say? Will you take Lavinia on? She is a delightful child but, without a mother to guide her since my wife died two years ago, she has been let run a little wild and I can think of no one more suited to become her mentor than the incomparable Countess of Corringham.’
She refused to smile, though it was difficult when he was so blatantly trying to gammon her. ‘So, I am to provide the polish, am I?’
‘Why not?’ He grinned at her and the hard lines of his face softened, so that he looked years younger and less overbearing. If she agreed with his outrageous suggestion, did that mean she would be often in his company? Could she bear that if, as now, he was smiling at her, trying to win her over? ‘You have it in abundance. While you are instructing her, she might learn a little polite conversation, a way to conduct herself in company.’
‘Twice a week. How much polish can be applied in so short a time?’
‘Enough, for now. I am expecting my sister from Ireland; she is married to Lord Felmore, you know. I hope to prevail upon her to take Lavinia in hand and bring her up to the mark for her come-out next year.’
‘Then why do you need me?’
‘Oh, I need you,’ he said softly and she wished she had not spoken, but if he thought that his flummery would have her eating out of his hand, he would have to think again. She would not be caught out a second time, but then he showed how wrong she was in that assumption when he added in a far more practical tone, ‘Besides, I have business to deal with and I do not have the time to be continually taking her out and about.’
‘So, I am to keep her out of mischief.’
‘And be paid well for doing so.’
He would not bring his daughter himself, she decided; he would send her in the carriage with her governess and a footman, so