Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
Julian chose to ignore the slender hand now held out to him as he heard the sound of cobbles beneath the carriage wheels. Announcing, he hoped, that they had reached the stables at Moreland Park.
A wish which proved to be correct after the carriage jolted to a halt seconds later and the door was immediately thrown open by his head groom.
“Shadow has arrived back unharmed,” the man instantly assured, knowing Julian well enough to realize this would be his first concern.
“He is now unsaddled and dry and settled in his stall.”
“Excellent.” He nodded his satisfaction with that outcome.
“I believe there is an unmanned St. Albans carriage rattling about in the dark somewhere along the coast, if you would care to send a couple of grooms out to look for it,” he instructed.
He turned back to place a hand on Georgiana Stapleton’s arm and help her step down from the carriage.
She accepted that assistance this time, perhaps because the shock of what had happened to her was starting to become a reality.
Minutes later, she had a blanket that smelled distinctly of equine wrapped about her shoulders, provided by one of the gawking grooms before he and his companions, along with the head groom, saddled horses so they could go off to look for the St. Albans carriage.
Leaving Julian and the young woman standing alone beneath the shelter of the stable overhang as the rain continued to fall heavily. She was at least a foot shorter than his own three inches over six feet tall, and she appeared to have generous curves beneath her clinging clothing.
In truth, Miss Stapleton was a pitiful sight, hence, no doubt, her earlier concern that he not be the Duke of Moreland.
Her navy pelisse and a light blue gown, which Julian believed might once have been that same beautiful color as her eyes, were now covered in brown mud and God knows what other unpleasant substances.
Her dark hair hung down in wet whisps, about what was obviously not only a female face, but also one that Julian considered far too youthful and beautiful to belong to his new secretary.
He recalled now that St. Albans had only ever referred to the new secretary he had hired for him as G. Stapleton.
Deliberately, so that Julian was at least forced to meet with her?
Deliberate or not, it had inevitably led Julian to the conclusion that G. Stapleton was a man.
And why wouldn’t he have made such an assumption when every previous secretary Julian had ever employed had been male? Every secretary he had ever heard of anyone employing had been a man. What the hell was St. Albans thinking of to send—
Julian tensed. “Stapleton?” he prompted. The surname was familiar to him, even if this young lady was not.
She released a heavy sigh. “I see no point in even attempting to avoid admitting that my father was the Earl of Shefford.”
Julian’s brows rose. “The gentleman who recently died?”
“The man who was recently murdered,” she corrected. “And he was an unpleasant man, not a gentleman,” she added scornfully.
Julian sensed some resentment behind that statement. “Then you are…”
“Lady Georgiana Stapleton, the eldest of his three daughters.” The announcement was made as a challenge.
Julian frowned. “And St. Albans thought that sending you to be my secretary was a good idea?”
Her chin rose at his incredulity. “The fact that he did so should be enough to tell you that he believed me capable of carrying out those duties.” It sounded as if even if you do not should have been added to the end of that statement.
It was not a question of whether Julian thought her capable of carrying out the duties of being his, or anyone else’s, secretary. Indeed, this no-nonsense young lady gave the impression she was capable of completing any task presented to her, and doing it well.
It was the fact that there was as much of a scandal attached to her father’s death as there was to the disappearance of the Duchess of Moreland.
Perhaps that was St. Albans’s reasoning in sending this woman here.
With the idea of putting two misfits together?
Julian knew the cruelty of London gossip only too well, having been on the receiving end of it two years ago and since.
The Stapleton ladies would obviously not be attending any of Society’s entertainments for the rest of the Season because they were in mourning for a husband and father.
But that did not mean that so-called “friends” would not call on them to offer their condolences and then gossip and speculate with their other friends after doing so.
Julian could not see the no-nonsense Georgiana Stapleton suffering through having to so much as listen to such false sympathy, let alone responding to it. Especially as it seemed as if there was no love lost between father and daughter.
Julien scowled. “Your mother has allowed you to travel to Norfolk unaccompanied?”
“My mother is far too distraught at her recent widowhood and the strain of moving into a new home to question me too deeply on the subject.”
Which answered that question, but not how St. Albans came to be acquainted with Georgiana Stapleton, a woman who was obviously so much younger than him, let alone how he had arranged for her to take up employment with one of his oldest male friends.
Unless… “Can you possibly be another one of the six young ladies whom I believe are the founder members of the Spinsters Alliance? Young ladies who have decreed they will not marry a gentleman of the ton if they do not love him or feel they are not loved in return?” Julian prompted curiously.
Her eyes widened. “The duke has discussed that private subject with you?”
St. Albans wrote to Julian every couple of weeks, primarily to urge him to rejoin Society, something Julian had no intention of ever doing.
He would rather live out the rest of his life in solitude than ever again suffer the speculation and quiet accusations of the members of Society.
But St. Albans also provided Julian with news of their mutual friends, as well as his daughter, Chloe, whom St. Albans loved very much and of whom he was immensely proud.
For example, St. Albans had written how horrified he was when he first learned of his daughter’s association with five other young Society ladies who intended to support each other in not giving in to the pressure to marry someone with whom they were not deeply in love.
Admittedly, St. Albans had since succumbed to the charms of one of those young ladies and was now totally obsessed with her. His daughter, Chloe Lord, was now also married because she had also fallen in love with a gentleman who was besotted with her.
“He did not so much discuss the subject as mention it,” Julian assured Georgiana Stapleton. “And he did so only in relation to his concerns for his daughter’s future happiness.”
“A daughter who is now happily married to the Duke of Hellsmere.”
“Yes,” Julian acknowledged, knowing that St. Albans could not have been happier with this outcome.
Hellsmere was also a friend of Julian’s, and he was pleased that both those gentlemen had found the woman they loved and wished to spend the rest of their lives with.
Both ladies, as it happened, were founder members of this Spinsters Alliance.
Georgiana glanced out from beneath the wooden canopy. “It looks as if the rain has slackened off somewhat,” she announced. “Might we go up to the house now so we can both hopefully get out of these wet clothes, possibly into a hot bath, and then into wearing something warm and dry?”
Julian took the latter for the reprimand that it undoubtedly was. Justifiably so, perhaps. But in his defense, he had been so caught up in their conversation that he had not realized the storm had tapered off so that they were now only plagued by a strong wind.
“Of course.” He indicated for her to precede him up the path to where the candlelight in the main house was visible through the trees.
“I will have my housekeeper prepare a bedchamber and for a bath and hot water to be brought up to you.” It was the least he could do, followed by a night’s rest in a comfortable bed, before he sent this young lady back to London.
“Did you not already have a bedchamber prepared in anticipation of the arrival of your new secretary?”
“Well…yes,” he acknowledged awkwardly. “But I do not consider those rooms to be suitable for the daughter of the Earl of Shefford.”
Two bright spots of angry color appeared in her cheeks. “I am here as your secretary, not the daughter of an earl.”
“One does not preclude the other.”
“It does as far as I am concerned.”
“Then we will have to agree to disagree,” he dismissed mildly.
* * *
Georgiana knew, as she thawed out in the warmth of the hipbath that had been brought up to this bedchamber—it’s pale lilac and white décor showing it was not the one meant for his male secretary—that the reason the Duke of Moreland was not about to get into an argument on the subject was because he intended sending her back to London at the earliest opportunity.
Probably first thing in the morning, and without even attempting to give Georgiana the chance to prove herself as his secretary.
Well, not if she had anything to say about it, Georgiana decided as she continued to languish in the heat of the bathwater.
Just as Moreland had promised, that bath was carried up by a footman who then placed it in front of the warmth of the fire, newly lit by a maid, before the tub was then filled with the hot water brought up by several more maids.
She had also been provided with a scented bar of soap to remove the mud and wash her hair, along with several thick and fluffy towels to wrap herself in when she stepped out.
One of the maids had offered to find a nightgown for her to wear, but Georgiana had refused the offer. The pelisse and thick gown she had worn for traveling meant that the petticoat beneath had remained clean and dry.
She would rather wear that to sleep in than one of the nightgowns possibly left behind by the missing, presumed dead, Duchess of Moreland.
The same maid had asked if she could assist Georgiana with her bath, but again, Georgiana had refused.
Her title might still be Lady Georgiana Stapleton, but without the Duke of St. Albans’s financial help, she was an impoverished version of that young lady. As such, she did not wish to have a maid or any other companion foisted upon her for propriety’s sake.
She could not afford to pay for her own maid; therefore, she would forego the convenience of one.
Georgiana had seen very little of the house after they entered and the duke began barking out orders for a bedchamber to be prepared for her, a fire lit there, and the hot bath provided. He had also instructed that hot tea, brandy, and biscuits be brought up to her once the bath was removed.
Then he had marched away, without a by-your-leave, a word of good night, or so much as another glance in Georgiana’s direction.
The housekeeper had not seemed at all surprised by his taciturn behavior, but Georgiana did not intend to be so lightly dismissed.
The Duke of St. Albans believed her to be more than capable of being a secretary, and Georgiana did not intend to allow Moreland to summarily dismiss her without at least giving her the opportunity to prove herself.
The duke’s handsome looks were of concern to her.
She was not one to let a pretty face or a courtly manner turn her head, which was why she was willing to help instigate the formation of the Spinsters Alliance.
But Moreland was not some insipid young gentleman of the ton.
Instead, he was harshly handsome, his face appearing as if carved out of granite, and his manners were blunt to the point of rudeness.
Much like those of his two friends, St. Albans and Hellsmere.
Almost against her will, Georgianna found herself feeling a liking for him.
He was a tall man, with a haughty bearing, and those carved-in-stone features would always remain handsome. His bluntness of manner would also ensure that a woman would always be challenged by and never bored in his company.
The Duke of Moreland was, in fact, the sort of gentleman for whom Georgiana knew she would happily relinquish her place in the Spinsters Alliance and take up the possible role of mistress or companion.
A complication Georgiana had not seen arising when she accepted this secretarial position in Norfolk.
But it was not one she intended to run away from either.