Thomasina Read online

  “Yes, yes, as if you retained any of yours.” She waved a bony hand at him. “You must be very careful to do nothing that will alter his lordship’s intent in this affair.” She wagged her head.

  “To think I despaired of her first season,” the high-pitched voice continued. “I cannot recall a single instance when Longeton gave Dianna more than a passing glance. Why, ‘pon my soul, he never bothered with any of the green girls.”

  “That does not matter now,” the Baron interposed. “Think what having him for a son-in-law will do for us. It ensures Parker will travel in elite circles when he comes of age.”

  The Baroness agreed, “Yes, he will be quite a feather in our caps.

  “If only we knew the reason he has chosen Dianna,” she minced. “He has not been out of mourning for more than a week. Why would he be so abrupt in this? He must be infatuated with her.”

  “This is not a settled fact yet, my dear. Keep that daughter of yours in hand. He will not want a wife who will prove forward.”

  “There will be no problem with her. I have gone over her deportment lessons, and she is quite as excited about this opportunity as we are. Think—the Marchioness of Thornhill. No one will be able to snub me again if we achieve this match.”

  “Now, my dear—” began the Baron, hoping to forestall one of his wife’s tirades on that subject.

  “And it may be just the answer for Thomasina,” interrupted Lady Augusta.

  “You are quite correct. How brilliant for you to hit upon it. Dianna can sponsor Thomasina for her season,” complimented the Baron, relieved that her thoughts had been diverted.

  “What?! I had no such thought in mind. The girl does not desire a season. It is unthinkable at her age. Why, she wishes me to find her a post as governess when Parker goes to school.

  “No, she can be a companion for Dianna, and in only a short time there should be use for her as a nanny,” Lady Augusta ended concisely.

  Baron Buckley frowned but did not object. Over twenty years of marriage had taught him the futility of that.

  “Now I must see to the selection of Dianna’s gown for this evening and, of course, have Thomasina instructed that she and Parker will sup in the schoolroom. I believe the wisest course is to keep Parker away from his lordship until the matter is settled; the boy is so unpredictable.”

  “Yes, my dear, whatever you think best,” Buckley replied, paging once more through an open book before him.

  “Must you dawdle all your time away on books?” Lady Augusta rebuked him before sailing from the room.

  The Baron closed the book with a sigh as his wife’s back disappeared from view. It was not oft that his thoughts turned to his family, but now they did so. He was proud that he had achieved the possibility of such a grand match for his daughter; then his pride winced as he thought of his niece, Thomasina.

  When word of her plight—father and mother gone and the cottage she called home a victim of the gaming tables had reached him, his wife had responded with unusual compassion. She had urged him to write and invite Thomasina to make her home with them, saying what a good companion the older girl would be for Dianna.

  Her intent, however, became clear as soon as the girl arrived. Thomasina was given the governess’s chamber in the schoolroom and assigned the care of Parker, whom six previous governesses had not been able to endure. Lady Augusta and Dianna treated her as little better than a servant, and excuses were soon found for her not to accompany them on social calls or to travel to London for the season.

  All these injustices goaded him and he decided that once Dianna’s betrothal was announced, he would ask Longeton’s help in making a match for Thomasina. He would make up as best he could for all she had endured under his roof.

  With his conscience placated for the moment, he dismissed the matter.

  * * * *

  On the third floor of Buckley House, Parker and Thomasina were working on the day’s lessons. Both were so relieved to have succeeded in making their way back to the schoolroom unobserved that they were plying the books with thankful concentration.

  “Beggin’ your pardon, miss,” Lisa interrupted.

  Thomasina’s eyes swung up, encountering the tray-filled arms of the young serving maid. She cleared a space among the books and papers for her. Lisa had been one of the few in the household who had shown any amount of friendliness to her.

  As she sat the tea and biscuits from the tray, Lisa babbled excitedly. “His lordship’s come—the one they’ve been expectin’. The one they say is to marry with Miss Dianna. Oh, he’s tall, but his looks are lost in that sombre grimace he carries with him. Mr. Gill took him to that grand blue suite, and he’s not showed himself since.”

  Parker kept his head glued to his papers, and Thomasina tried to temper a frown.

  “Now ain’t you a fine pair!” Lisa teased lightly. “The whole household has been in an uproar, what with all the scrubbin’ and shinin’ and waxin’ we’ve been doin’ for what seems like weeks on end. Now neither of you can even ask who his lordship is.”

  “Did he come by way of the wood’s path?” burst from Parker.

  “Aye. I know because Mr. Gill was sayin’ to Mrs. Brown how odd it was for his lordship to come alone and in the saddle. His coach is not to arrive until later this evenin’.”

  “Who is he?” the boy asked, despite Thomasina’s glare.

  “Ah, one grander than I’d have ever thought would take to the likes of Miss Dianna—” Lisa clasped her hand to her mouth “—beggin’ your pardon, miss.”

  “What is his name?” insisted Parker.

  “Well,” said Lisa importantly, “he is a true blue blood—a marquess.”

  Thomasina felt her stomach fall. There was only one marquess she had ever heard any talk of, the one who had taken her home. But reason said it could not be the same man.

  “The Marquess of Thornhill, Lord Longeton, himself,” Lisa concluded. “To think Miss Dianna will be a marchioness,” she sighed.

  “Longeton,” was all Thomasina said.

  Lisa looked at her, thinking her behaviour odd, for usually Thomasina was the merriest one in the house. “I’ll be back for the tray as usual, miss.” She bobbed a curtsy. “Oh, I was to tell you—you and Master Parker will be dining in the schoolroom this eve.”

  A long sigh of relief came from Thomasina, while a look of disappointment marked Parker’s face as the door closed behind the maid.

  I will at least be spared meeting the man, thought Thomasina, but for how long?

  That it was he, the one who had caused all she loved best to be lost, was nearly incomprehensible. How could she meet him civilly?

  Parker misread her perturbation. “I meant it when I promised I would not tell anyone what happened, Tommi. No one will ever learn it from me.”

  The boy’s words brought the demanding movement of Longeton’s lips to Thomasina’s mind, and she raised a hand to hers. Lowering it quickly, she forced a weak smile. “I do not doubt it, Parker. Let us have our tea and then you can finish the last of your lesson.”

  The steady hand that poured the tea belied the agitation swirling through her being.

  Chapter Three

  Conversation at the Buckley supper table was dull, strained, and sporadic. Lord Longeton was not proving a talkative guest, and Lady Augusta was about to despair of the situation.

  Dianna, overawed by his lordship’s title and brooding demeanour, had done little but stare at the space of table before her and devour whatever was placed upon her plate ever since they had seated themselves.

  Silence reigned as the last course was served; even Lady Augusta for once was wordless. Longeton watched as Dianna attacked the serving before her and wondered how he could ever have let himself be convinced that this was the girl for whose hand he should apply. She had not uttered more than four syllables all evening and those four were interspersed with girlish giggles. His lordship’s mind quaked at the thought of a lifetime shackled to a non-speaking, steadi
ly eating wife. There was nothing for him to do but make his apologies and leave in the morning before the subject of his letter could be broached.

  “I apologize for the lack of company this evening, Lord Longeton,” Lady Augusta began in her strident nasal tones. “The table will be much improved tomorrow with the addition of several of our neighbours. There are among their number members of Parliament and, of course, Lord Sherrad. His land borders ours on the west, you know. I am certain all would welcome the opportunity to visit with someone recently come from London.” Concluding, she threw a prodding glance at her husband.

  “I say, Longeton, do you hunt?” the Baron rushed to say. “I dare say we could have the servants raise something, even at this time of year. Sherrad and his sons have good hunters and, I dare say, mine are capital.”

  Searching his mind for a properly phrased refusal, Longeton began to feign a sudden relish for the dish before him.

  The silence, once more ensconced in the room, was broken by a shrill, boyish scream for help.

  The call struck a cord of recognition in Lord Longeton. He glanced at the other three seated at the table with him; all were intent upon their plates.

  “Perhaps we should see what the trouble is,” he noted, filled with an excitement foreign to him.

  “It is nothing, I am sure, your lordship. Certainly nothing you should trouble yourself with,” Lady Augusta managed smoothly, despite the dull red tinge of her cheeks. “The servants will see to it.”

  “Help!” echoed clearly through the open doors at the end of the dining room once more.

  Pain announced a vicious kick to his shin to the Baron. Question covered his features until he saw his wife’s face. Pushing back his chair he excused himself. “Will only take a moment,” he muttered as he laboured around the table favouring his offended leg and made for the open doors.

  “I will join you. Excuse me, Lady Buckley, Miss Dianna,” Longeton said, laying his napkin down and rising in one smooth motion.

  He and the Baron were through the doors before Lady Augusta recovered herself enough to object.

  “Thomasina has spoiled it all,” whined Dianna.

  “Shut up,” snapped her mother. “You have done little better, sitting there like a ... like a bird being stuffed.”

  Dianna winced and tears came to the fore. “Now is no time for that foolishness,” commanded her mother sternly. “You know how crying affects your appearance.

  “Of course, Thomasina is at fault and she shall be called to attention for it. Straighten yourself, child, and think—think of what you can say to his lordship.”

  Dusk had not completely vanished as the Baron and Lord Longeton emerged onto the terrace from the dining room. A faint rose-coloured light was lying over the gardens before them.

  Both men stood still listening intently. A scuffling sound behind and above them turned Longeton’s head. He caught only a brief glimpse of a young boy being hauled through an open window, but the mop of copper curls atop the one assisting the boy was unmistakable. A glimmer of a smile lit his features.

  The Baron’s eyes had followed Longeton’s and had seen his son being pulled through the window. Hesitantly, he turned towards the Marquess and was encouraged by what he saw. Mistaking the reason for the smile, he chuckled weakly saying, “We all recall our boyhood days ... have all misbehaved at one time or another. Parker is a bit more active than most boys his age...” He halted as he saw the question rise in Longeton’s eyes.

  “Parker is my son and Thomasina does have trouble handling him at times,” he explained. “Not that I hold her responsible, after all.”

  Looking back to the now empty window, Longeton asked, “Thomasina?”

  “She is not to be blamed for Parker’s misdeeds—my niece, you know. Lost her parents a little more than a year ago. Shortly before your brother passed away, God rest his soul, come to think of it.” Longeton’s suddenly darkening brow at the mention of his brother led the Baron to drop the subject.

  “Perhaps it would be best if we go back and let the matter—” he tilted his head towards the window “—remain with us.”

  “You have beautifully arranged gardens,” Longeton said obtusely. “How fortunate the call bid us forth—” he paused “—even though there was no one or nothing to be seen.”

  The Baron raised his brows appreciatively.

  “You will have to show me the gardens tomorrow and of course, I will have to give one of your hunters a go,” continued Longeton as he took the Baron’s elbow and led the way back into the dining room.

  “Lady Augusta, what excellent taste has been shown in your gardens. Dianna and yourself must take me on a tour of them tomorrow.”

  These words had the desired effect of making the two ladies forget the interruption and the meal was concluded to everyone’s satisfaction.

  “It is the same man,” Parker whispered as he stood planted firmly against the wall of the schoolroom next to the window where Thomasina had thumped him moments before.

  Words from below came faintly through the window; there were steps, then silence. Thomasina slowly relaxed and Parker, daring to move forward, found his shoulder in a tight grasp.

  “I only wanted to see if it was the same man, Tommi. You know mother will not allow us to meet him.”

  “For which we should be thankful! He is not the kind of man who would let me forget the incident along the path. He would relish my humiliation and your punishment,” Thomasina declared vehemently.

  “You are only angry because he kissed you,” retorted Parker.

  “No!”

  The tone of Thomasina’s voice and her unnatural harshness of expression silenced the boy. “Very well,” he said slowly. “Do not be angry with me, Tommi. Please?”

  Thomasina’s shoulders sagged as if under a great weight. “I am not, Parker. Only fatigued. Go fetch your nanny and have her ready you for bed. I will tuck you in when you are ready.”

  “Yes, Tommi,” answered Parker as he went to the door. Looking back at Thomasina he hesitated, but left without further words.

  With her hand to her brow, Thomasina walked slowly to the open window through which she had so recently jerked Parker to safety. The thought of the danger he had been in, in trying to climb down the wall to peek through the dining room doors, was lost to her as she looked down on the empty terrace below.

  A soft glow flickered a short distance from the open doors of the dining room, wavering as it attempted to pierce the darkness.

  Looking down into the blackening backdrop, Thomasina’s mind saw his angular visage once more—and recalled the deep emerald of his eyes. She lowered her hand slowly to her heart. It was her hatred of him that caused such a vivid recollection of his features and such a rapid beat of her heart, she assured herself, nothing more.

  Chapter Four

  Lord Longeton’s valet, Gideon, watched his master with dimly concealed interest. Noting his lordship was taking unusual pains with his appearance this morn, Gideon could only presume that Lord Longeton had proven human at last.

  Gideon’s thoughts were not an indication of disrespect, for there was no man living for whom he had more respect, but he and his lordship’s history together was long and he had the desire (common to all men) to see a man perceived as less than human to be proven more than human.

  The valet’s admiration for the as yet unseen Miss Buckley grew with each new cravat that he handed the Marquess. At last the desired effect was achieved and Lord Longeton departed his rooms.

  Gill encountered Lord Longeton in the upper hall and directed him to the breakfast room. There the Marquess found Baron Buckley, generously heaping his plate from the abundant sources on the sideboard. Neither spoke until both had made their choices and seated themselves.

  Encouraged by Longeton’s friendly demeanour, the Baron began. “Slept well, I take it—looking very fit this morn,” he gabbled on between mouthfuls.

  Longeton nodded affirmation and asked, “Will we take break
fast alone, or will your family join us—your wife, perhaps?”

  “I dare say I hope not,’ said the Baron, his fork frozen in the air midway to his mouth. “Augusta—Lady Buckley, is quite ... er ... quite a late riser,” he finished as he chomped onto his forkful of meat. “And Dianna never... Well, I mean, Thomasina will have been ordered... Yes, we dine alone,” he concluded firmly, hoping the subject done.

  “Your niece,” Longeton asked casually, “does she take all her meals in the schoolroom then?”

  The opening of the door interrupted them and both men stood as a surprised Thomasina halted her entry in mid-step.

  “Come in, child, we will not eat you—you can see there is plenty else,” laughed the Baron.

  “Your pardon, Uncle,” stammered Thomasina. “I did not think his lordship would be about...” She waved her hand as if to clear her momentary confusion and took a step backwards.

  “I regret that my presence disconcerts you, Miss—” Longeton looked to the Baron, realizing he had not been told Thomasina’s family name.

  “Oh, balderdash. Tommi, come in here this instant,” blustered the Baron. “How am I to make a proper introduction with you having one foot in and one foot out? One would think you were ready to bolt from an ogre.

  “You must not mind her, Longeton—not used to society, you know.”

  Thomasina’s faint blush darkened at her uncle’s words, but she saw no way to escape. Deciding that to deter was to worsen her fate, she raised her gaze proudly, albeit somewhat belligerently, at Lord Longeton and entered the room.

  “That is better. Lord Longeton, may I present my niece, Miss Thomasina Thait. Tommi, this is Lord Brutus Longeton, the Marquess of Thornhill.”

  As Thomasina forced herself into the slightest of curtsies, she was startled by his lordship moving from his stance by the table to her side.

  He means to tell Uncle, she thought wildly and was even more astounded when he held out his hand before her expectantly.

  As if mesmerized, she placed her hand lightly in his to find it firmly captured as her mind ordered it released.