The Perfect Rose Read online

  The housekeeper merely nodded to Torie as she passed on her way to the kitchen, but must have relayed some sort of message for a platter of kidney pies, sausage links, and poached eggs magically appeared, along with tea and hot chocolate. Torie realized she was famished and who knew where her next meal would be coming from?

  She ate leisurely, savoring each mouthful. Soon it would be cold sinkers and watery gravy. Or a heel of bread, if she could not locate another post in the very near future. Maybe she would have to leave the country. Maybe even go to Erin, the land of fables. She would miss the boys. Not so Lord Lairdscroft; he was a cold fish if ever she saw one. She did not doubt he would lose no sleep over her dismissal. Pleading would do no good and neither would Torie lower herself to that standard!

  When she was sated, she pushed back her chair. Might as well go on up and pack while waiting for her summons of doom, she thought dramatically. She would hold out for a reference. It was mandatory if she even entertained the slightest thought of another post. Besides, it was her due! For no matter what might be said of her deceit, there was nothing untoward in her teaching of his lordship's sons. She'd done a first rate job and she knew it. Yes, she'd get her reference, she vowed.

  As she passed through the hall, the front door was flung open without reserve and Justin and Brodie scrambled in, shrieking with buoyant laughter. Lord Lairdscroft followed more sedately, a faint smile bending his lip upward. Torie could not help but stare at the well-formed figure for he cut a dashing swath in his Hessians, buff-colored breeches and tailored frock coat toned in hunter green to match his waistcoat and intricately tied, snowy white cravat. His features did not betray a late night, though Torie knew the ball had gone on till the wee hours of dawn. His brilliant, dark blue eyes betrayed nothing and this bothered Torie all the more.

  He himself stopped at the sight of her. But if he was as admiring of her form as she of his; he made no indication and simply bowed stiffly. “Good day Miss Beauclaire. I would have a word with you in my study, when it is convenient."

  No time like the present, Torie thought. But respectfully replied, “As soon as your lordship prefers."

  His lordship gave orders. “Boys, go on up and find Nanny Ada. See that you stay under her watchful eyes.” Did his eyes twinkle at the hidden joke? But if they did there was no sign of jest as he waited for Torie to precede him into the study and closed the door behind him.

  It was Torie's turn to wait as he sat behind a large desk elaborately carved on its sides, but so strewn with papers of estates and politics it was impossible to see one inch of the wood grain beneath. He motioned for her to take a seat directly in front of the desk. It was an uncomfortable position and made one feel as if they were on trial. Torie could not help but wonder if his lordship had anticipated the interview and had placed the chair so.

  He cleared his throat, bringing Torie back to attention. She turned her eyes to his and found they were narrowed in speculation. He seemed to see through her attempts to modify her looks. Her hair pulled severely back and this time secured with pins to prevent any strands from escaping flirtatiously, was no threat. Certainly, her reddened and shadowed eyes would not captivate him. But then, the Torie of last night had not brought any admiration from his lips either. Torie had the feeling if she sat naked before him he would not blink one way or the other. She blushed at her immodest thoughts and lowered her eyes.

  Lord Lairdscroft tilted back in his chair, no easy feat as the chair was heavy and leaded to sit balanced. “Miss Beauclaire, in light of last night's escapade I am of a mind to weigh the options of your employment. Deceit is not a trait I desire taught in my house."

  Torie would not defend her behavior. She merely meant to reply, 'Yes, sir'. But his lordship raised a silencing hand; “Gossip is a part of life. And as a widower, I am subject to it whether warranted or not. I'd say in this case warranted is a light phrase and is neither here nor there, as it does not apply. I've spoken to the children and while your behavior is erratic, they have defended you and your character beyond childish protest. Brodie seems genuinely fond of you, which is understandable as he is young and attaches himself like a puppy. Justin is another matter. He is older and remembers his mother. His moods have been sporadic, ranging from docilely pliant, to outright belligerent rebellion."

  "He is a good boy at heart.” Torie could not help defending her charge.

  "Do not lecture me on my sons. I know them well.” He chided her outburst, but did not seem genuinely displeased by it. “Therefore, by putting last night's behavior aside, and your vain eccentricity of your looks since you arrived, I find myself able to examine your abilities as a teacher for my sons, impartially. After all, I did hire you for just that task."

  Torie bit her lip. Vain eccentricities? Had the man no clue as to what curse her looks were? Did he not have eyes?

  His voice carried on, “I am pleased with Brodie's grasp of reading. He had shown no interest in the past. But it could be his age is now more conducive to paying attention. Justin however, once again is another matter. He has before taken a bellicose stance on his studies. Barely opening a book, nonetheless reciting a rousing, brief version of Macbeth. I am quite pleased with his progress. I don't mind saying, not just a few of my comrades last night were congratulating me on his fine, superlative narration."

  His lordship's preening brought a smile to Torie's lips. But his next sentence brought her eyes to his with a snap. “Therefore, I do not feel it would be in the best interest of the children to dismiss you.” As if ordering breakfast he finished, “That will be all. You may go."

  Torie sat in a daze. Not dismissed? She realized he was waiting for her to follow orders and depart from the room. She rose and dizzily walked towards the door. His voice followed, “Be warned Miss Beauclaire, I will tolerate no more of these episodes. You will appear downstairs for meals. You will accompany the boys everywhere I instruct, day or evening. And no more sneaking about the house in the dead of night. If you want a book from the library, by god ask for it! Be a woman, not a mouse!"

  Torie's cheeks burned and not entirely from embarrassment. Anger was close to the surface and if she were not dependent on this man for her livelihood, she would be inclined to give him a verbal lashing! He knew nothing of her past. He did not know how she had suffered. He was a pompous, arrogant, heartless ignoramus!

  Chapter Four

  The flowers began arriving that afternoon. Torie ignored their presence along with the personal missive that accompanied each delivery. Roses by the hundreds. Red roses, white roses, yellow roses. Each day, for a full week, they arrived. Every vase in the house was filled, and when it became apparent the flow would not stop, the fragrant petals were plucked from new arrivals and placed in rooms throughout the house, as potpourri. There were rose petals in the bedrooms, rose petals on the stair well, rose petals in the dining room and even some unfortunate servant thought it prudent to sprinkle a handful in his lordship's haven, his study.

  It was exactly a week from her last visit, that Torie was summoned to the study and gestured to sit; as she thought it, in 'her chair.’ His lordship looked even less amused than on her last visit and Torie remembered his warning words, 'I will tolerate no further escapades.'

  But was this her fault? Not directly. Not any more than anything else that had happened due to Torie's looks in the past. But it was always she who paid the price. She had complied with all Lord Lairdscroft's requests. She had accompanied the boys down to meals even visiting the library in broad daylight. The servants stared, but they seemed to be growing accustomed to her presence and nodded respectfully as she passed. Her drab wardrobe did not draw comment, only sympathy that such a comely lass should be bereft of means. In their own way they respected her choice of career. Many a woman of one-fourth her beauty had turned to the oldest profession to earn her keep. She could have been the mistress of a wealthy man. No, she was a woman of self-esteem and morals and she was an impoverished governess for her beliefs.
/>   But Torie did not feel like the martyr in Rhionne McLairdin's presence. Rather, she sat stiffly, her red trimmed, once rich Devonshire brown gown; now weak ochre, waiting for this arrogant judge to pronounce sentence. Was she guilty or innocent? She did not know herself anymore.

  His lordship sat relaxed. He'd discarded his frock coat and rolled up the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt. His satin brocade waistcoat was unbuttoned and his hair, usually tied back, hung loose, though it's thickness kept it contained.

  Unlike Torie who used a ribbon, tied simply, to confine her long tresses; a frayed ribbon that was wearing thin allowing strands to straggle free. Nervously she tucked these errant fibers behind her ears, trying not to stare at the mat of hair on Rhionne McLairdin's arm. It was only an arm, after all. But she could not help watching it, wondering at the power in the muscles defined by the muted light.

  Her eyes were drawn away by the flutter of embossed white paper dangling from his lordship's fingertips. The writing was as familiar as the roses that had arrived this past week. His lordship raised his brows a fraction. “It seems one of the servants mistakenly delivered this missive to me. While I am fond of Everett Gaunlin, the Duke and I do not share protestations of love for one another."

  He passed the note to Torie. Their fingertips brushed briefly and Torie wondered if Rhionne McLairdin felt any of the tingling she herself experienced with the slight contact. Of course not! She chided her fanciful notion. He was a cold fish and his next words confirmed this.

  "You have given the Duke some encouragement? Perhaps you have exchanged notes?"

  "No sir. I have not seen the Duke since the ball."

  His lordship glanced at the note in her hand. “You do not wish to read the note? Perhaps the attachment is one-sided?"

  Torie did not need to read the note. It was the same note that arrived daily with the roses.

  His lordship continued. “He vows the roses will continue until you forgive him. It appears he is besotted with you. I don't know what he begs forgiveness for, but please grant his request. I am sick to death of the flowers. My room reeks of them and my study smells more like a woman's boudoir than a place of business. It is intolerable!"

  "I am sorry milord. I did not answer the missive for fear of displeasing you. I need my post and did not wish to encourage the Duke."

  "Well then, do not encourage him. Simply forgive him and forget him."

  "I cannot do so."

  His lordship frowned. “The feelings he expresses are reciprocated?"

  "Nay! I scarce know the man enough to form any attachment. But I cannot forgive his low opinion of my character."

  "Oh, come now. I was present at the ball and did not hear of any slight to your person. Did he misbede you in some way? Perhaps ridicule your shoes?"

  Torie gasped at his audacity to assume it was something so trivial. Nonetheless she tucked her feet beneath her gown. If his lordship was so observant to peruse her footwear the night of the ball, was he really so swell-headed not to remember the Duke's accusation? It was almost too much to bear. “He made the assumption I was your mistress!” She blurted, as if the suggestion was vile.

  "Come now. It was a logical assumption.” The furrow was back on his brow. “I set that to rights after your abrupt departure from the ballroom. I explained to all, you were the children's governess, albeit a high-strung one."

  He acted as if being his mistress was a privileged honor. An honor she did not qualify for! Torie could not contain her anger. “High-strung? You sit as judge and jury, passing sentence over me? You know nothing about me! You assume I have encouraged the Duke in some way. I tell you I have done nothing, and I will not justify the matter with an answer to his lovesick prose!"

  His lordship snapped to attention. “You are overwrought. This matter has upset you. We will conclude this interview. And I am sure your ignoring the Duke will cool his ardor. How goes the boys’ studies?"

  He was maddeningly civil. Torie gave the necessary replies, trying to regain composure and answer in an even tone.

  * * * *

  But as it turned out, the Duke's ardor did not cool. If anything, Torie's indifference fueled the fire in his heart. When the roses ran dry, lilies and orchids arrived. When Torie did not answer the accompanying missives more elaborate gifts came. There was a gold filigree brooch with her name 'Victoria' engraved on the underside. This she admired but knew she could not keep. A gown of lace-trimmed, red velvet arrived, direct from an exclusive dressmaker in the city. Torie wished she could retain it, but regretfully put it with the brooch. The final straw was a very expensive diamond necklace, so magnificent it brought tears to Torie's eyes. She would have to reply now. The flowers were one thing but the gifts would have to stop!

  She carefully drafted a proper, 'Thank you, but it is not appropriate to accept such gifts', on a plain piece of white paper from the schoolroom. She could have asked his lordship for the embossed stationary of Lairdscroft, but she wanted the Duke to realize she was a common governess and not an object for his affection.

  Of course his lordship would have to be notified of her intent. She needed his permission to send one of the staff on the errand of delivery. The note, any of the stable boys could have delivered. But the gifts, especially the diamond necklace, required a trusted servant and Torie scarcely knew their names, nonetheless length of service and loyalty.

  She gathered the gifts in her arms and with firm resolve made her way down the stairs to the study. The door was closed; denoting his lordship was within. Torie's knock was decisive and bold. Even the annoyed call of 'Enter.' would not weaken her resolve.

  Lord Lairdscroft wore spectacles as he sat at the heavy desk, perusing a sheet of paper. When he looked up to see it was Torie who intruded, he hastily removed the spectacles and tucked them beneath a stack of deeds.

  Torie would have smiled had her mind not been so preoccupied. Vanity indeed! Wordlessly she held out the brooch and necklace, displayed against the backdrop of the gown's red velvet.

  His lordship let his guard down enough to whistle at the necklace. Torie thrust the handwritten note at him. He read it quickly and nodded approvingly. “Excellent! I see we are of one mind on this issue."

  Torie decided to go right to the heart of the matter. “I was hoping you could appoint a servant to return these with the message to the Duke."

  His lordship looked pained. “I am afraid it has gone too far for a simple note.” He waved the paper he'd been reading when she had come into the room in the air. “You are quite sure you have not given the man any encouragement? Extraordinary! All this culminating from one dance! Just imagine. Many a maiden would set her cap and spend the whole season plotting with her mother to snare the Duke, while you in one night illicit the ultimate proposal."

  Torie would have made an unladylike grab for the sheet of paper, but his lordship held it out of reach. She could see the wax seal facsimile of the Gaunlin coat of arms broken by Rhionne McLairdin's curious fingers.

  His lordship shook his head condescendingly. “It is addressed to me, but I will tell you of its contents. My friend the Duke, having spent much of his young life searching, vows he has found the woman of his dreams and begs me to release her from her contract as governess so that he may make her his legal wife. In short Miss Beauclaire this is a proposal of marriage, albeit the Duke is asking through me. Quite extraordinary!"

  Torie wasn't sure what he found so unusual—the situation of his acting as mediator, or the Duke finding her a suitable mate. She suspected the second.

  His next words confirmed this. “It is of course unacceptable. The Gaunlin family would not allow it. They are a blue-blooded lot and well ... quite frankly my dear, you are not of their kind."

  Torie knew it was useless to argue. What did it matter? She was not going to marry the Duke anyhow. Her energy would be better served teaching the boys equations than trying to change the mind of the narrow-minded Rhionne McLairdin! She exercised great control of her temper.
“Please send my note, along with the gifts back to the Duke."

  "Nay. Were you not listening? Or were you so besotted by the proposal you missed my meaning? A proposal of marriage, no matter how inappropriate, deserves an answer face to face. Therefore, I will invite Everett, the young Duke, over for tea. You may have privacy enough to deliver your message and return the gifts. I will act as chaperon, as I've known Everett since he was in leading strings and he is impulsive enough to compromise your virtue to gain his objective."

  Torie saw a smile quirk his lips. Was he enjoying her misery? For the prospect of meeting the Duke face to face was not a happy one. Especially if he was as impulsive as Lord Lairdscroft made him out to be. She did not like the thought of having to fend off a suitor, not in light of similar situations in the past. The thought of Rhionne McLairdin defending her virtue was not unpleasant, though. Bah! What was wrong with her? The man had just insulted her and it was not the first time! She would be better off with the Duke's ardor than with the cool arrogance of her employer. Nonetheless, she was at his mercy.

  "It is settled then?” He took her silence for acquiescence. “Good. I will issue the invitation and will let you know his reply."

  * * * *

  The Duke's eagerness showed in his response. There was no pretense of more urgent matters. No aloof dallying. The Duke replied as soon as the message was delivered with a quick, scrawled note. The next afternoon was looked forward to with great enthusiasm. Of course he was enrapt with the knowledge a governess, albeit a beautiful one, could not refuse his offer. It was understandable she could not have acquiesced sooner. It would not have been seemly for her to appear so eager, but of course in the long run she would accept. After all, he was a Duke.

  Lord Lairdscroft did not bother to summon Torie with the announcement. He simply sent a note via a maid, to the schoolroom where Torie was trying without success to get Brodie to recite his letters. It seemed Justin had told Brodie the faster he learned, the sooner Torie would have to leave and they would be sent away to school.