Chapter Six
Nate’s friend, Lord John Frederick, was tall and slim, with a pale complexion. He had a bushy head of brown hair connected to long sideburns, thick eyebrows that sheltered a pair of lovely chocolate-brown eyes, a Roman nose, and a rather charming cleft in his chin.
He gave Bridget a dazzling smile as she approached.
Nate made the introduction. “Miss De Lacey, allow me to introduce my dear friend, Lord Frederick.”
Lord Frederick gave a slight bow. He wore a white shirt and cravat with a light-brown waistcoat and trousers, an olive-green fitted tailcoat, and black knee-high boots. “I’m charmed to meet you, Miss De Lacey. I do hope we’ll be seeing a lot of each other during my stay here.”
“Pleased to meet you, Lord Frederick. My aunt has shown your companion to her room. Would you like to get settled in your quarters?”
“If you’d be so kind as to show me the way, certainly.”
Just then, a second coach entered the open gates of Villa De Lacey, passing by its two watchful gargoyles, and started its assent up the winding path to the house.
“That’s Doddy’s coach,” Frederick said. “He and Jefferson traveled together.”
As the carriage drew nearer, Bijou started yapping while spinning in a circle as he often did when excited, his short tail wagging madly.
“Bijou!” Bridget called. “Come here, boy.”
But the terrier was too excited and could not contain his frenzied barking.
Bridget would have liked to stay and meet Nate’s friends, as she was curious to learn more about him and his set, but Bijou’s needs came first. “Please excuse me,” she said as she stepped forward to scoop Bijou up in her arms. “I need to take him inside where he’ll be safe.
There’s far too much excitement here for him today. ”
“Yes, take him. And don’t worry, I’ll show Frederick to his room,” Nate said.
“It’s been a pleasure, Miss De Lacey.” Frederick gave her a lingering look and then bowed.
Nate only scowled, making Bridget wonder what Lord Frederick had done to annoy him.
She bid the men good day and took Bijou inside, almost colliding with Sarah and Abigail, two of the newest maidservants, who scurried out from behind the curtain, startling her like two mice underfoot.
Bijou, who’d also been startled, broke out in a fresh symphony of yapping.
“What is going on?” Bridget demanded.
“It’s Lord Frederick, miss,” Sarah said. She was a local lass, who had a round face, springy light-brown curls, and droopy blue eyes. “He’s arrived.”
“I know that. I just came from outside. But what are you two doing here?”
“We thought to come and help with the guests, miss,” Abigail said.
“Is that why you were hiding behind the curtain, spying on the arriving guests from the window?”
Sarah bit her lip and Abigail hung her head in mock penance.
“We wanted to see what he looked like,” Sarah said. “To see if he were as handsome and charming as Mr. Squires.”
Bridget pursed her lips to stop her smile from spreading.
They really should have done a better job of hiring maidservants, but with such short notice, they’d only been able to find a few inexperienced young ladies from nearby towns, so they’d chosen the best they could.
It would take some time to train them properly.
“Well, then, you are lucky Aunt Marianne wasn’t the one who caught you spying on the guests instead of tending to your work,” she said, not wanting to sound too harsh.
“But I’ll forget all about it if you take good care of Bijou for me.
” Bridget handed the terrier to Abigail.
“Take him down to Cook and tell her to give him some scraps. That ought to keep him out of the way while the guests are arriving.”
“But”—Abigail started to say as she strained to look behind Bridget—“more guests have arrived. Won’t Mr. Squires require our help?”
“No, those are his friends, and he wants to tend to them himself. All you need to do is make sure Bijou gets what he needs downstairs.”
Both maidservants frowned, and Abigail opened her mouth as if to protest again.
“Now, please,” Bridget said.
The maidservants nodded in unison, looking slightly sulky.
Bridget sighed. It was clear that these young women still had a lot to learn. She could only hope they wouldn’t cause any trouble in the meantime.
*
Bridget made for the stairs, intending to find her aunt, who had been gone longer than expected. But as she approached the staircase, she spotted Eliza motioning to her a few feet away. She turned and walked to her.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s Lord Frederick’s lady friend,” Eliza hissed. “She’s none too happy about bein’ placed in a room so far from the other guests. She wants to be closer to Lord Frederick, I expect.” Eliza’s eyes darkened a shade. “But your aunt is having none of it, an’ rightfully so.”
“Where did Aunt Marianne place her?”
“In one of the shuttered rooms toward the rear of the main floor, above the servant’s quarters. She’s asked me to fetch bedding to make up the old bed.”
“Heavens! That room is not fit for guests. It will be uncomfortable, not to mention out of the way.”
“But Mrs. Marianne is right to put her there. The woman’s a disgrace. She and Lord Frederick traveled together like man and wife when they are not wed. And Mrs. Marianne says she’s a—”
“Nonetheless, she’s still a guest here,” Bridget interjected, hastily cutting off Eliza’s words.
Eliza’s face hardened, indicating her deep disapproval.
This was the type of issue Bridget had not anticipated when proposing they turn Villa De Lacey into an inn.
It wasn’t anything she had experienced before.
But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t encounter similar guests in the future.
She needed to establish a decorum—now—for the servants, and her aunt, and herself, for the future.
“Why don’t you go and watch the front door in case more guests arrive while I sort out Miss Bouffant? ”
Eliza nodded stiffly and walked away without saying another word.
Bridget sighed and hurried to the rear of the house, passing the steps that led to the kitchen and servant’s quarters.
Then she turned and moved even farther to the left of the main floor.
As expected, she heard a commotion coming from one of the nearby rooms. Bridget turned in the direction of the raised voices.
Miss Bouffant stood in her appointed room with her hands on her hips, scowling at Aunt Marianne, who glared back at her with equal ferocity.
“I know what you are trying to do, putting me here so close to the servants. You’re hoping the other guests will take me for one of them. But I am a guest of Lord Frederick’s, so I demand to be—”
“I can assure you that is not the reason,” Bridget heard Aunt Marianne say. “This is simply the only room we have left. You were not on our guest list.”
Bridget inhaled and squared her shoulders before making her way to the room. “Miss Bouffant, you seem upset. May I help with anything?”
“Your housekeeper has had the cheek to put me in this back room like a servant. She’s ashamed I’ll embarrass your finer guests, but I came here with Lord Frederick, and I demand to be put upstairs with the other guests.”
Bridget silently cursed Nate. How could he be so stupid as to allow his friend to bring a courtesan to Villa De Lacey?
This was to be a respectable inn—a place for the wealthy to come and relax and unwind—not a bawdy house.
She needed Villa De Lacey to work. It was her only chance to remain in her home—it was her home—and she wouldn’t let this woman or anyone else take it from her.
Bridget forced a smile. “This is my aunt, Mrs. Marianne Brixton, nee De Lacey, not my housekeeper.”
“Aah, I see then why she is so bossy. A relation to the previous owner, now reduced to a living off charity.” The woman’s tone was sharp and condescending, though Bridget supposed she didn’t blame her. No doubt her aunt had spoken to her in a similar way.
Even now, her aunt declared, “My brother would turn in his grave if he knew his house was being populated by the likes of—”
“If I may interject,” Bridget said, silencing the two women.
“Miss Bouffant, there is no need to be rude to my aunt. She was quite right in thinking there are no open rooms and so did the best she could by you. However, I received notice by messenger of a cancellation,” Bridget lied, “so fortunately we now have a much larger room available for you. I shall be happy to move you in there. But you cannot share Lord Frederick’s room.
This is a respectable inn, and only married couples can share a room.
If you don’t like that arrangement or continue to make a fuss, I’m afraid you will have to leave. ”
The mention of a larger room seemed to calm Miss Bouffant, who surprised Bridget when she nodded in agreement. “Very well, I’ll be on my best behavior as long as you move me out of this dungeon immediately.”
“Exactly what room are we talking about?” Aunt Marianne asked.
“Number thirteen,” Bridget said. It was a suite her father had made up for himself on the ground floor two years prior after he’d injured his leg in a riding accident and found it difficult to walk up the stairs.
“Bridget, you cannot be thinking of—”
“It’s for the best, Aunt.” Bridget put a loving hand on her aunt’s arm.
“Trust me.” She turned back to Miss Bouffant.
“The room is still on the ground floor, but it is spacious and well-furnished. I think you will find it to your liking,” Bridget said, glancing at her aunt, whose jaw was set in a hard line.
Miss Bouffant seemed pleased with that explanation and willingly followed Bridget to her new room.
“Oh yes, much better,” she said as Bridget opened the door to the large room with its canopy bed, an elegant, carved dresser, and a seating area consisting of two plush blue-velvet chairs and a tea table.