Chapter 8
Meredith was exhausted by the time the last of her callers left, of which there had been seven by the time the morning calls were over.
She slumped down on the settee in the drawing room, heaving a sigh.
Even when Darius re-entered the drawing room, having just seen the last of the men out, she didn’t move from her spot.
“I didn’t realize these calls would be this exhausting,” she confessed as he spotted her. “You don’t often call on ladies like this?”
He laughed. “Christ no. But I’ve never pursued anyone with the intent of marriage. I thought they would never leave. Then again, you were terribly entertaining to be around.” Darius came over to where she lay lengthwise on the settee. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all. I’m afraid I can’t move…simply too tired,” she stifled a yawn.
“Not to worry.” Darius bent, gently moving Meredith’s legs so he could sit next to her, then placed her legs across his lap, allowing her to continue her repose. His head fell back on the settee, and his hands rested lightly on her shins.
It was an entirely inappropriate position for them, but it was undeniably comfortable and Meredith had no desire to move. Darius stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles before he closed his eyes. Meredith wondered if perhaps he was already asleep, but then he spoke.
“Mrs. Petersham will be here in an hour for her interview. Suzannah won’t be able to attend, she has a prior engagement.”
Darius stroked her shins with his fingertips. Her skirts were pulled down, covering her body, but she could feel the little caress, sweet and soothing through her petticoats and the dress itself. She should pull away, but she couldn’t muster the will or desire.
Meredith yawned. “Could I rest until she arrives? If I had but a short time, I’m sure I could recover myself.”
“Yes, that’s a splendid idea.” Darius yawned as well. “We’ll just rest… here…”
And that was how Mr. Chelsea found them an hour later, both fast asleep.
Meredith came awake at a gentle touch on her shoulder, and she realized she and Darius were still on the couch, her legs in his lap.
Her face flamed as she realized how it must look to the butler to see them sleeping like this.
In any other situation, it would have ruined her completely to be discovered alone with him like this, their bodies partially entwined, but in the sanctuary of Darius’s home, it was only embarrassing.
Darius stirred. “What time is it?” He groaned as he sat up.
“Half past four, Your Grace,” said Mr. Chelsea. “Mrs. Petersham is waiting in the hall. I thought it wise to give you a few minutes to collect yourselves.” The butler’s head nodded toward Meredith’s legs on Darius’s lap.
“Oh… Oh yes!” Meredith pulled her legs away and stood, rushing to the gilded mirror hanging on one wall to fix her hair and smooth out the wrinkles in her dress. Darius, blast the man, had no need to fix anything about himself. He simply stood and nodded once they were ready.
“Send her in, Chelsea.”
Meredith stood at Darius’s side so they could face her potential chaperone together, a hoard of butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Mr. Chelsea opened the door and announced Mrs. Petersham.
A middle-aged woman with auburn hair and pale blue eyes swept into the room.
Her promenade gown was a rich bishop’s blue, covered with a dark gold military-style spencer.
She didn’t look at all like what Meredith expected.
She looked friendly, even warm, and Meredith developed an instant liking for the woman.
She hoped her instincts were true and that this woman would work well as her chaperone.
“Mrs. Petersham.” Darius stepped forward and bowed. “I am Darius St. John, the Duke Tiverton. This is my ward, Miss Meredith Montague.”
Mrs. Petersham gave Meredith a warm smile, and her gaze turned respectfully back to Darius. She did not look matronly, and for that, Meredith was glad.
“Thank you, Your Grace. You may call me Frances if you like.”
“Would you like some tea, Frances?” Meredith asked.
“Yes, thank you.”
Darius showed her to a seat by the tea table. “Thank you for responding to our inquiry.” He waited for Meredith to finish pouring tea, and then sat down.
“Of course. I am most curious to hear about what brings you to need a chaperone.”
Meredith exchanged a glance with Darius, and he nodded at her. So she told Frances the tale of her upbringing, all the way to the events after Uncle Ben’s death.
Frances sipped her tea and listened politely until she had finished. “So marriage is the desire?”
“Yes,” Meredith said.
“To a kind, good and decent man, of course,” Daruis added. “We will be attending the theater, balls and dinners and other social engagements. Would you be willing to accompany us on these outings so that no one can raise concerns about Meredith’s reputation?”
“Of course,” Frances assured him.
“Wonderful. Now, about your salary…” Darius offered Frances an amount that made Meredith’s eyes widen.
“Oh no, that much won’t be necessary. I will insist on taking twenty percent less than that.
My husband, Mr. Petersham, left me well off.
I don’t wish to waste away of boredom in my widow’s weeds or lose myself in grief.
My husband, Daniel, would not have wanted that.
” Frances’s gaze softened as she spoke about her late husband.
“I understand,” Darius said. “Would you be able to move in this evening? We shall be dining here with a few of my friends, if you would like to join us.”
“If you could send a coach for my things, I could be back in time for dinner.”
“Mr. Chelsea will arrange that for you,” Darius said. “I shall speak to him now.”
When Darius left them alone, Frances reached out and patted Meredith’s hand.
“You need not be shy, dear,” Frances said with a twinkle in her eye.
“I came from circumstances much like yours. I was the natural daughter of no one knows who and worked as a seamstress for nearly ten years. Then Daniel Petersham found me working in a shop in Cornwall and swept me off my feet. The next thing I know we’d married and moved to London. ”
“Thank you, Frances.” Meredith relaxed. “London has been quite a change for me. I fear I’m still adjusting to it.”
“I felt much the same when I first moved here. But do not worry, you are young and the city has so much to offer.”
“Well, you should have nothing to fear. The duke is a fine guardian to have. I asked about him when I received his reply to my advertisement. Only good things were spoken in regard to him.”
“Oh yes, Darius is a fine man, a wonderful man,” she agreed.
“Then do not worry. We shall find you the perfect husband. Now, tell me, what are you reading lately? I was thinking we could visit a few circulating libraries this week if that would suit you? That way we could see a bit of the city, which would allow you to feel more at home here.”
“Oh, that would be more than lovely.” As she and Frances spoke of their mutual love of books over tea, Meredith knew she had found a new friend in her chaperone.
* * *
Warren checked the time on his pocket watch as he lingered just inside the doorway of a coaching inn an hour outside of London.
The taproom of the inn was filled with travelers, and the courtyard was crowded with coaches.
Warren had trailed Mr. Crell from his townhouse that afternoon to this inn on horseback.
So far, the man had been alone, and had spoken to no one other than the innkeeper.
There was no sign of traveling with his wife which meant Warren was in for a wait and possibly another day of tailing Crell to his country house to see if his wife arrived there or was perhaps even already there waiting on Crell.
The fellow, Crell, now sat in a chair finishing his supper. Warren was bored. Why the devil had Darius sent him on such a mission? The man wasn’t doing anything the least bit interesting. Wouldn’t a man who might have possibly harmed his wife be looking more…guilty or at the least furtive?
Suddenly, Crell checked the time on the clock by the fireplace at the far end of the taproom and stood up.
A new crowd of people flowed into the taproom as several coaches stopped outside.
Crell searched the newcomers with clear interest. Warren straightened slightly, his vision sharpening on the latest arrivals to the inn.
A woman in a dark blue carriage dress and a large poke bonnet that somewhat shielded her face was amongst the latest passengers to enter with a servant on her heels.
The moment Crell spotted her, Crell came toward the woman and held out his arms. He embraced the woman and led her upstairs after he spoke with the footman that had been traveling with her.
Warren cocked his head, watching the two climb the rickety set of stairs. Wasn’t Mrs. Crell supposed to be an invalid? She certainly wasn’t having any difficulty with the stairs. If anything, that woman had a spring to her steps.
The servant went back outside. Warren casually followed him, as though he was in need of a bit of fresh air.
Warren smiled politely at the footman. “Long day ahead for you?”
“Oh yes. Another two hours by coach tomorrow,” the man said as he retrieved a trunk from the back of the coach. “And this bloody trunk hasn’t made the job easy
“Let me help you.” Warren grabbed the other handle of the trunk and helped the footman carry it to a storage area for the night. It did weigh rather heavy.
“Your master packing stones in this?” Warren teased.
“I have no idea. I do not know the man well. I’ve only been hired for this journey and then I’m to return to London.”
“Ahh,” Warren replied, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.
“What about you?” the man asked as they headed back to the taproom.
“Oh, I’ll be headed back to London in an hour,” Warren said with a grin. He had what he’d come to find. A source of information. “Care for a drink? My treat, old boy.”