He’d still hate it.
Mariah asked, “What kind of fees does Rob charge? I can’t even guess.”
“For this sort of work, it’s a daily fee plus expenses incurred.” Adam had a brief, horrific vision of Mariah and Richard dead in a pool of blood. He’d see that in nightmares for a long, long time. “I believe the compensation should suit the service.” And in this case, the service of both Sarah and Rob had been immense.
The intriguing story of the new Earl of Kellington took half a day longer to reach London. At the law firm of Booth and Harlow, the family lawyer, Nicholas Booth, stared at the letter, unsure whether it was good or bad news that the family black sheep was alive and in possession of the Kellington estate. Either way, Booth’s duty was to start the process for letters of patent and gazetting, and to gather financial records for the new earl.
Their first meeting would not be a happy occasion.
Jeremiah Harvey read the note from his friend and employer with mild surprise. Not because Rob was safely back in England after rescuing the young lady—he was very good at that sort of thing. But becoming a bloody earl? Rob damned well wouldn’t like that.
Harvey didn’t need to pack. He always had a bag of essentials ready to go.
James, Lord Kirkland, co-owner of the most fashionable gambling club in London, Scottish shipping merchant, and British spymaster, frowned over Rob’s note. He had information for Rob, and he suspected that Rob would have information for him.
He reached for pen and paper. Before he consulted his files, he’d send a note to Lady Agnes Westerfield. She’d be interested in this news.
The news broke swiftly in society circles. The late Lord Kellington had a younger brother? One who’d never moved in good society? How delicious!
Several men and women among the well off and well born had had occasion to use Rob Carmichael’s services, and to be grateful for his discretion. He’d do.
Matchmaking mamas and ambitious young ladies welcomed the news that there was a new young earl who was unmarried and in need of an heiress. One female in particular read the notice with great interest. Why wait for him to come to London when she had a perfect excuse to seek him out?
She began to pack.
The young man about town hadn’t quit the card table till dawn, so he slept until dusk. He read of the new earl over coffee as he tried to wake up. He’d better hustle to get his claim in before it was too late.
Politicians speculated about which party the new earl would support. The Tories rather complacently reminded themselves that the earls of Kellington had always been Tories. Whig leaders said hopefully that since nothing was known of the fellow, perhaps he could be recruited for the Whig cause. Those men who actually knew Rob Carmichael guessed he’d be a prickly independent rather than a follower of either party.
Lady Agnes Westerfield laid Kirkland’s note aside as she remembered her first meeting with a young and very angry Rob Carmichael. Yet he hadn’t turned out to be one of her more difficult boys. He’d responded well to kindness and fair treatment.
He would not be happy with this inheritance, not at first. But Rob had proved to be remarkably adaptable to life’s circumstances. He’d sailed before the mast, thrived in India, become a Runner, and was one of Kirkland’s most valuable resources. He’d adapt to being an earl equally well. Perhaps someday he’d even get pleasure from the rank.
Some would say it was pure chance that a newspaper with the story of the new earl ended up in that particular Dublin coffeehouse. Since Patrick Cassidy didn’t live in Dublin and seldom bothered reading London newspapers when he did visit the city, it might have been weeks until he learned the news that the Honorable Robert Cassidy Carmichael had become the fifth Earl of Kellington.
But Father Patrick didn’t believe in chance. When his gaze fell on the news item, he called it the hand of God.
Chapter 24
Francie had located and hemmed a morning gown for Sarah’s use. It was outdated and the faded gray flannel was not flattering, but after a long day in a heavy riding habit that didn’t fit, Sarah welcomed the gown. She’d be glad when she had her own wardrobe back, though.
After Francie fastened the gown in the back, the maid said, “I borrowed some clothing from my youngest sister for Miss Bree. I’ll take it to her now.”
“I’ll go with you.” Sarah wrapped a warm paisley shawl around her shoulders. “I want to see how she’s doing. This must all be so strange to her!”
“Strange,” Francie agreed, “but in a good way. Easier to get used to comfort than to being poor and miserable.”
“I suggested to his lordship that you take charge of Miss Bree.” Sarah checked her appearance in the mirror, glad her voice sounded so calm. “She needs a woman to care for her and help her adapt to a new life. Someone who is more than a maid. You’ve been so good to me that I know you’ll be an excellent choice, if you’re willing.”
“Of course I am.” Francie’s face softened. “Would his lordship mind if I brought my youngest sister here to have tea with Miss Bree? They’re near the same age.”
Sarah thought of the varied circles Rob moved in and almost smiled. “I’m sure he and Bree will both be pleased.”
Together they left Sarah’s room and moved to Bree’s. Sarah tapped on the door. “Bree, it’s Sarah and Francie, who is going to look after you. Francie has clothing and I can guide you to the breakfast room.”
The door opened to reveal Bree, wearing her nightgown and with a blanket wrapped around her. Her dark hair was even wilder than the day before. “Do you have a comb?” the girl asked. “I look like a bloody bird nested in my hair.”
“Right here.” Francie dug into her canvas bag and produced a tortoiseshell comb.
As Bree eagerly accepted the comb and began working knots out of her hair, Sarah said, “I’m also going to give you a lesson in language. Words like ‘bloody’ and ‘bugger’ and ‘old bawd’ are considered unsuitable in polite society.”
Bree frowned. “Owens always talked like that.”
“Would you consider him polite society?”
“He bloody well wasn’t!” Bree exclaimed. Then she bit her lip. “How can I say that in ways that won’t shock everyone?”
Sarah laughed. “You could say that he was a vulgar fellow. You’re not like him, Bree. You’re a young lady and will be raised as one.”
“I’m really going to stay in Kellington Castle? His lordship didn’t change his mind last night?”
“He was very clear that you are his daughter and belong under his roof.” Thinking caution was appropriate, Sarah added, “The estate has many debts and the future is uncertain. But no matter what, your father will want you with him.”
Bree stopped combing. “Rich lords can lose their homes?” she asked incredulously.
“Not all are rich. The same men that kept your father from marrying your mother were also notorious spendthrifts. But your father will sort matters out as best he can.”
Bree glanced around the room. “This is bigger than my bl—vulgar grandpa’s whole cottage.”
“And much nicer, I’m sure!” Francie shook out a blue morning dress. “This should fit you. I hope you don’t mind that it’s from my youngest sister, Molly.”
Bree stroked the fabric. “It’s better ’n anything I’ve had since me mum died.”
“Molly would like to meet you.” Francie glanced at Sarah. “Perhaps I can invite her this afternoon? You can play together in the nursery and take tea.”
Bree’s face lit up. “Yes, ma’am! I’d like that.” She scooped up the garments Francie offered and retreated behind the screen to dress, but her voice carried over. “How can I learn to look like a bloody lady, Miss Sarah?” There was a stricken pause. “Can I say ‘like a blasted lady’?”
Sarah grinned. “ ‘How can I learn to look like a lady?’ will do.”
Bree sighed. “I don’t talk nice like you, I don’t know how to dress, I don’t know nothin’.”
<
br /> “Which is why you have Miss Francie,” Sarah said. “You’re a clever girl, and you’ll learn quickly. A year from now no one will believe that you didn’t grow up in a manor house.”
“I hope you’re right.” Bree emerged from behind the screen, looking striking in the blue dress. She would be a real beauty. She looked in the mirror and involuntarily smiled with pleasure. “Thank Molly for me, and please, I’d really fancy meeting her.”
Francie asked, “Miss Sarah, is it all right if I nip home and invite Molly while you’re eating breakfast?”
“Please do.” Sarah smiled at Bree. “Now we find our way down to the breakfast parlor.”
The girl frowned. “I thought you knew the way.”
“I guess well.” Sarah handed Bree a shawl. “You’ll need this.”
Francie chuckled. “I’ll take you down. This place is a right maze and it’s easy to get lost.”
It was, too. Sarah was glad for Francie’s guidance.
She wouldn’t be here long enough to learn her way around.
Rob stood when Bree and Sarah entered the breakfast room. Two beautiful females, and almost the same height. Bree would be tall, like both her parents.
Sarah was golden and bright, like sunshine walking. At first he couldn’t tear his gaze away.
Her eyes showed grave yearning, but it wasn’t evident in her voice when she said, “Good morning, Rob. Bree, would you like tea?”
He wrenched his attention to Bree, who didn’t answer Sarah because she was staring so hard at Rob. He stared back just as hard, hungry to learn everything about this unexpected daughter. She was so beautiful, so full of promise. So like her mother. He swallowed hard. “Are you comfortable, Bree? Has everything been satisfactory?”
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir! It’s been bloody wonderful.” Then she shot a stricken look at Sarah. “It’s been wonderful. Sir.”
Rob suppressed a smile. “I see that you’re already learning the ways of society. You’ll make mistakes at first, but with practice, you’ll know to save swearing for situations when it’s called for.”
“I can swear sometimes?” she asked, her brows knit.
“Some situations call for nothing less,” he said gravely. “Just remember that the fewer times you swear, the more effect it will have when you do.”
Bree absorbed his advice, then gave a sharp little nod. “Aye, sir.”
When her gaze went to the covered dishes on the sideboard, Rob said, “Have some breakfast. You must be hungry.”
Bree didn’t have to be asked a second time. She scooped a large spoonful of scrambled eggs onto her plate and was reaching for a second when she suddenly gasped and sent a frightened look to Rob.
Seeing the fear, he said soothingly, “You may have as much as you want.”
The girl relaxed. “When I took too much food, the old bugger would beat me.”
Rob winced, and not at the language. No wonder she was so thin. “And of course, you didn’t know how much was too much until he got angry.”
She nodded, looking older than her years. He wondered when her birthday was. “I don’t ever want you to be afraid of me, Bree,” he said firmly. “Also, when is your birthday? You must be almost twelve now.”
“Yes, sir. On April twenty-fifth.” Bree took a careful half spoonful of eggs, then added sliced ham and toast. Sarah poured tea for them, then collected her own breakfast.
Bree fell on her food like a starved wolf, using both fork and fingers, while Rob and Sarah watched in fascination and some concern at how hungry she was. Table manners could wait for another day, when she wasn’t so hungry. Rob guessed it would be a while before she would be able to relax and eat slowly.
He waited until they’d all finished eating before he said to Bree, “I was educated at the Westerfield Academy, a school for boys of ‘good birth and bad behavior.’ ”
Bree looked startled. “You were bad?”
“Often, but I learned not to be bad without a good reason.” Rob regarded his daughter gravely. “I’m going to ask you the two questions the headmistress asked when she was deciding whether or not to accept me as a student. First, she wanted to know what I loved and had to have, and what I hated and refused to have any part of. Will you answer those two questions?”
Bree frowned. “Will you throw me out if you don’t like the answers?”
“No, I’m your father, not your headmistress,” he replied. “But I would like to know what’s important to you.”
She chewed on her lip. “I can say anything?”
“You can.”
“I want . . . I want a pony,” she said in a rush. “A real pony just for me!”
He thought about the massive debts on the estate, but ponies didn’t cost much. “Yes, you can have a pony. Do you ride now?”
“A little.” Her expression suggested that she was exaggerating.
“You can start riding lessons tomorrow. When you’ve had time to practice, we’ll choose a good pony for you.”
She beamed. “A pony!” She turned to Sarah. “Did you hear? My father is going to give me a pony!”
Sarah smiled back. “I spent half my childhood on a pony.”
After Bree had had time to absorb some of her bliss, Rob asked, “The second question is what you hate.”
This answer came quickly. “I hate being hit. If I were bigger, I’d’ve killed the old bugger!” Bree said fiercely.
“I will not beat you. I swear it. Is there anything else?”
This answer came almost as quickly. “Don’t say nasty things about me mum, and don’t lie to me.”
“These are easy,” Rob said. “Your mother was wonderful and I could think all week and not come up with anything nasty to say about her.”
Bree bit her lip. “She was the best mum in the world.”
“My mother died when I was about your age,” Rob said softly. “I still miss her.” She would have loved this granddaughter. Voice normal, he continued, “I don’t like lying so I won’t lie to you, but I’d like you to promise that you won’t lie to me, either. Tell me the truth, no matter how appalling. I won’t hit you.”
She blinked at him. “I won’t lie to you. I swear it.”
Then she smiled at him, and his heart twisted in his chest. No matter how great a burden the earldom was, it was worth returning to Kellington to discover his daughter.
Bree bit her lip again, but this time it was thoughtful, not distressed. “Can I have my first riding lesson this morning?”
Rob hesitated. She’d probably love riding astride, but at this point, she needed training in ladylike behavior. “Sarah, might there be a riding habit Bree’s size?”
“Bree could wear the one I used yesterday,” Sarah replied. “It will be loose and long on her, but there’s lots of padding if she falls off the pony.”
Bree’s eyes were shining. “Sir—Papa—could you teach me?”
Rob felt startled, and absurdly pleased. “I don’t know if I’d be a good teacher, but we can try and see how it works.” He glanced out the window. “Since the sun is out, we don’t want to waste it.”
“The lesson would need to be this morning,” Sarah said. “This afternoon Francie’s sister Molly is coming to have tea with Bree.”
Still more reason to be grateful to Sarah for all she was doing to make Bree feel welcome. “Then we’ll have the lesson as soon as Bree has changed into the habit. Sarah, do you have plans for the day? You could join us for the riding lesson.”
She shook her head. “I thought I’d explore the house. There’s plenty of it.”
“Leave a trail of bread crumbs,” Rob advised. “It’s easy to get lost.”
She laughed and got to her feet. “I’ll bear that in mind. Until later.”
Then she left, and the room lost most of its sunshine.
Chapter 25
Rob was approaching the house after his riding lesson with Bree when he met Sarah emerging from the side door. The sunlight transformed her hair
to gold, and the sight made him smile. “Are you going for a walk? I can show you around the grounds.”
She smiled back. “Thank you. I’d like to see more before I go.”
He hated knowing that she was going to leave. But all the more reason to enjoy her company while he could. He offered his arm. “Would you like to see the original castle? I’m curious how much has fallen into the sea.”
Sarah’s warm hand tucked inside his elbow. “I gather the castle was built too close to the cliff.”
As they strolled through the formal gardens, he said, “It probably seemed a reasonable distance in the fourteenth century, but for the last hundred years or so, bits have taken to falling off.”
“A good thing the present house is well back. Speaking of falling off, how did the riding lesson go? I hope Bree wasn’t falling off!”
He grinned. “I’m not sure she was ever on a horse’s back before today, but she’s a natural. Jonas produced a very gentle old mare and Bree did well. It won’t be long before she’s ready for a pony of her own.”
“Did you enjoy spending time with her?” Sarah’s tone was casual, but she watched him closely.
“I really did. I’ve not had much experience with children, but knowing she’s my daughter . . .” He shook his head. “I’m going to be like butter in her hands. All she has to do is call me Papa and I want to give her anything she asks for.”
Sarah laughed. “How quickly the steel-hard Bow Street Runner melts! But I’m sure you’ll learn to discipline her as needed after you become used to fatherhood.”
“I hope so.” After another dozen steps, he said intensely, “I want to get this right, Sarah. But I’m amazingly ignorant. What does she need? How do little girls want to be treated?”
Without missing a step, Sarah asked, “What do men need? How do men want to be treated?”