Chapter Five
The following two months were a whirlwind of activity.
Bridget inspected every room in the villa, noting chairs, sofas, and cushions that needed reupholstering, curtains that wanted mending, and carpets and wallpaper that required cleaning or replacing.
A few of the dressers and wardrobes were in desperate need of a carpenter’s skilled hands.
Moreover, she would need to order extra beds, linen sheets, blankets, and pillows from Yorkshire, amongst other necessities.
Finally, every room in the house would have to be scrubbed.
They certainly did not have enough staff at Villa De Lacey for such an enormous task, so a few new housemaids would need to be employed.
Once Nate approved the list of necessary repairs and purchases, it was time to get started.
From the beginning, Bridget involved her aunt, who’d been quite reluctant about the plan to transform Villa De Lacey.
But a trip to Yorkshire to buy fabric for the reupholstery of the furniture cheered her and seemed to change her attitude.
Next, Bridget put her aunt in charge of hiring the new housemaids, as despite Eliza’s many years of experience at Villa De Lacey, she was far too reserved to manage a large staff.
The arrangement worked well, as it gave Aunt Marianne a purpose, and very soon, she’d become the lady of the house again, administering orders and taking pride in her family home.
Soon, the villa teemed with seamstresses, maids, carpenters, and chimney sweeps, who worked for weeks to ensure that Villa De Lacey sparkled as bright as Versailles.
Then it was time for Nate to write to his friends in London. The end of the London Season was approaching when most of the ton would be preparing to retreat to their estates in the country. It was Nate’s job to convince them to spend part of their off-season in the Lake District.
Still, Bridget knew the length of the journey wouldn’t be a deterrent to the ton if the idea of the Lake District as the most fashionable place to holiday had indeed caught on.
Reportedly, the latest edition of Mr. Wordsworth’s guidebook was selling like hot meat pies on a cold rainy day, and if that were indeed the case, it would do half the work for them.
Waiting for replies to Nate’s letters was agony, and had induced Bridget to handwringing.
Then, one morning, as Bridget stood admiring the newly upholstered pale-blue sofa and chairs in the drawing room that had been paired with a blue-and-gold floral rug and matching curtains, Nate strode inside and announced, “Our first visitors will be arriving in a fortnight!”
Bridget’s heart leapt as she spun around to face Nate. “Who is it? Who will our first guest be?”
“Our first guests will be my dear friends, Lord Frederick, Lord Dodsworth, and Mr. Jefferson. They have all accepted their invitations.”
“Your friends?” Bridget’s heart sank at the way Nate had said “friends.” He sounded like an excited schoolboy.
“They are not paying guests, then?” she asked, feeling a little deflated.
She didn’t like the idea of Villa De Lacey becoming Nate’s playground for his friends.
She wanted it to be a proper, respectable establishment for high society.
“Well, no, they’re not paying guests. But they are working hard on our behalf. They are spreading the word about our exclusive inn around London as we speak. Frederick and Dodsworth are both peers, so their word will travel far.”
“How exciting,” Bridget said, feeling somewhat more optimistic and silently pleased that Nate had referred to Villa De Lacey as “our inn.” They’d grown closer during the past few months while they’d worked tirelessly to get Villa De Lacey ready for guests.
And although Bridget missed her father dearly, Nate had proved to be good company.
Both he and the work had eased her pain considerably.
Nate grinned. “My brother tried to banish me from London, so I brought London to the Lake District. And it’s all because of you.” He strode toward Bridget, picked her up around the waist, and twirled her about the room. “You’re a genius! An absolute genius!”
“Put me down!” Bridget gasped, both shocked and elated by Nate’s forwardness.
The thrill that passed through her upon feeling his hands on her body took her by surprise.
She recalled seeing him standing fully unclothed in the window that first day after his arrival, and the memory set her cheeks aflame with—not shame—but an excitement she’d never felt before.
“What is going on here?” Aunt Marianne’s voice sobered Bridget and caused Nate to set her down and step back.
“We were celebrating, Aunt. Did you hear? We have our first guests coming in a fortnight.”
Aunt Marianne, who’d been glaring at Nate, turned wide-eyed to Bridget. “A fortnight, did you say?”
“Yes, Aunt. And there will be many more coming, I am sure.”
“Well then”—Aunt Marianne squared her shoulders like a soldier ordered to report to duty—“there is much to plan—breakfast, dinner, and tea menus. Oh my, I’d best get started,” she said and bustled out of the room.
Bridget let out a sigh of relief. What had Nate been thinking twirling me around like that?
*
Nate did his best to keep himself busy and avoid being alone with Bridget in the following weeks.
When they did interact, he kept a polite distance.
But it had been tricky. She was attractive and clever, and he enjoyed her company.
Yet knew it wouldn’t do to engage in a dalliance.
He didn’t want to insult or injure her reputation, and furthermore, a dalliance would make for a very uncomfortable partnership.
In truth, he certainly could not make the inn work without her.
She was going to be a charming and knowledgeable hostess.
However, he would have to warn his friends—especially that rake Frederick—to keep their distance.
He didn’t want them pestering her with unwanted attention.
Nate stopped in the foyer, where Aunt Marianne had the three housemaids, and the footman lined up like army recruits. She was enjoying herself, taking on the role of an officer as she strode up and down her line of “soldiers” and inspected everything from their clothing to their nails.
Abigail, a young lass from Yorkshire and the newest addition to the staff, smiled at Nate as he came up behind Aunt Marianne. She was a lovely creature with red curls, green eyes, and a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. He returned the smile.
“Mr. Squires,” Aunt Marianne turned and greeted him coldly. She’d never warmed to him the way Bridget had done. “Is there something we can do for you?”
“Merely checking all is in order. Our first guests should be arriving any minute now.”
Suddenly, Bijou came racing down the stairs, yapping madly. He was followed by Bridget.
“Why is that dog making such a racket?” Aunt Marianne cried, putting her hands over her ears.
“I think he hears the carriage,” Nate said, peering out the glass that paneled the pale-blue front door and seeing a yellow chaise snake up the curved pathway.
“Maids, take your places in the kitchen until you are called,” Aunt Marianne said. “And James, stand at the ready to help our guests with their luggage when I direct them to their rooms.”
“Oh, you needn’t bother with all the formalities,” Nate said, yanking open the door. “It’s only Frederick.”
“Bridget, pick up that dog! We can’t have him yapping at our guests’ heels.
” Aunt Marianne’s sharp voice sounded behind Nate as he strode outside to meet his friend.
Despite the order, Bijou dashed after Nate and ran circles around the parked carriage, barking as though he’d explode from excitement.
Nate thought he might burst from happiness himself as his friend stepped out of his chaise.
“Squires, old boy, how we’ve missed you in London.”
“Believe me, I have missed London and all of you too.” He opened his arms to embrace his friend but took a step back when he saw a woman climbing out of Frederick’s carriage.
She wore a peacock-blue dress, high-waisted and low cut in the neckline to reveal her ample bosom, and had a noticeable amount of makeup on her face—a pretty face to be sure—but not one that exuded innocence.
She’d arranged her light-brown curls in a sort of hive atop her head, and faux diamond earrings dangled from her ears.
“May I introduce Miss Bouffant?” Frederick said.
Nate bowed in greeting. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said through gritted teeth. Miss Bouffant was no guest. He knew a courtesan when he saw one.
“Mr. Squires.” Aunt Marianne strode forward, holding her list of guests. “May we show our guests to their rooms? They must be tired after their journey. Let’s see”—she consulted her list—“who do we have here?”
“Lord John Frederick, madam.” He removed his hat and bowed, which seemed to please Aunt Marianne. She gave him a tight smile and nodded.
“Ah, yes. Your room is ready, sir.” Then she looked expectantly at his companion. “Is this Lady Frederick?” she asked coldly.
“This is Miss Bouffant,” Frederick said.
“How do you do, madam.” The courtesan nodded in greeting.
Aunt Marianne frowned as she studied her list. “No, I don’t see her as being invited to stay.”
“That’s because I invited her,” Frederick said.
Aunt Marianne blinked. “Well, I…” She turned, stony-faced, to Nate.
“You don’t mind, do you, Squires, old chap?” Frederick slapped Nate on the back.
He wanted to wring Frederick’s neck, but he forced a smile and turned to Aunt Marianne. “Surely, we have an extra room for a last-minute guest,” he said, even though he knew full well they were nowhere near full capacity and had plenty of extra space.
“That’s not possible. We don’t have—”
“She can stay with me if there’s a lack of rooms,” Frederick suggested.
Aunt Marianne stiffened. “This way, Miss Bouffant,” she said. “I’m sure we can find something suitable for you.”
Miss Bouffant grinned at Frederick and followed Aunt Marianne.
“What on earth do you think you’re doing bringing a courtesan with you?” Nate hissed when the women were out of earshot.
“She’s not a courtesan. She’s an actress.”
Nate folded his arms. “Do you take me for an idiot?”
“Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud. I only came here to cheer you up and inject some life into your country exile.”
“Is that so? I daresay I’m flattered.”
“To be honest, it was Dodsworth who badgered me into coming—he kept carrying on about how peaceful and lovely it would be—waving his copy of Wordsworth’s latest guidebook in my face.
I only agreed because I wanted to shut him up and see you, of course.
But you can’t begrudge me an actress or two for company.
I wouldn’t have come if I’d known two months in the land of the poets would turn you into a sap. ”
“It’s not a sap to want one’s home to be respected,” Nate said. “You wouldn’t bring a courtesan to someone’s country estate, would you?” He shook his head. “Never mind. Of course, you would.”
“But this isn’t a country estate,” Frederick objected. “It’s an inn, and people pay to stay here.”
“An exclusive inn,” Nate said, “for peers, gentry, and their families.”
“What’s gotten into you?” Frederick frowned.
Nate folded his arms and looked at his friend, refusing to relent. In truth, he was worried that the courtesan would upset Bridget, which he loathed to do. But he wouldn’t admit as much to Frederick.
“Maybe you have a point.” Frederick sighed, patting Nate on the back. “Perhaps it was a bad idea to bring her along. But she’s here now, so let’s not argue about it any longer.” His friend lifted his gaze and said, “I say, who might that exquisite creature be?”
Nate turned to see Bridget walking toward them. “She’s the inn’s hostess, so don’t even consider it,” he warned.
“Why? Are the two of you lovers?”
“Heavens, no! She’s a respectable lady.”
“Betrothed, then?”
“No! For goodness’ sake.”
“Are you telling me that you live platonically in this secluded villa with that gorgeous creature?”
“We don’t live alone. She has an aunt. Besides that, I’ve only known her a few months, and she’s in mourning for her father.”
“Aah, hence the black. So, her father was the felo de se? The man who took his own life after your brother ruined him?”
“Be quiet,” Nate snapped, “here she comes.” The idea that Edward was partially responsible for Mr. De Lacey’s death filled him with shame. He hated to think that his brother was the cause of Bridget’s pain.
“Do you know, Squires—” Frederick folded his arms and looked at his friend—“I think you have a soft spot for that young lady.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m the same man who left London two months ago.”
“You never fooled anyone with your rakish act.” Frederick patted his friend on the back again. “We all know you’re a romantic at heart. Don’t you think it’s time you put Miss Morley behind you, and find someone new? It’s been two years.”
Nate stiffened at the mention of the woman who’d once been his betrothed. “You’re wrong, Frederick. I’m not the marrying kind. Helen Morley did me the favor of a lifetime.” Nate said the words, but they didn’t sound convincing, even to himself.