Page 36 of My Fair Lord

She grimaced more openly.

“He’s coming in the late afternoon and staying overnight. Then the following day we’re going to go on a picnic so the men can go fishing. His sister will be accompanying him. You’ll join us for everything, won’t you? It will be the perfect opportunity to practise dining formally in the evening and will make the numbers right.”

“Your suitor won’t be coming to the fair?” Ned asked.

She shook her head vigorously. “No, I have asked Lord Griggs not to invite them to arrive too early. I intend to enjoy myself there.”

“Don’t you think you’ll enjoy yourself if he’s there?” Ned asked curiously. Finding a suitor was the whole purpose behind her visit after all.

“I have no idea, but I don’t want to risk it. He’s not somebody I particularly care about knowing, and inviting him was not my idea. I’ll do it under sufferance because that’s what my father expects me to do.” She turned to Ned and took him by the hand.

“Will you join us for everything? I need a friendly face.”

She really did look apprehensive, so he ignored the faux pas. Besides, her fingers intertwining with his, coupled with the entreaty in her eyes, made him feel rather giddy.

“Of course. I will be delighted to. Does this suitor have a name?” he asked.

“Oh yes. He’s called Viscount Stretford. Robert Erskyn I believe is his name. His sister is the Honourable Minerva Erskyn.”

Ned’s chest tightened as the planned visit became altogether more complicated. He took a deep breath, consciously trying to relieve the pressure. He knew Stuffy and Minerva Erskyn. More crucially, they knew him.

Extricating Stuffy from an embarrassing entanglement with a music hall performer had been one of Ned’s first successes years ago when he had first started out in this role. They were pleasant enough individuals, though neither was particularly overburdened with brains in any way. Despite that, even with a smart new suit of clothes and a fashionable Devil-may-care haircut, there was no way Ned could spend even ten minutes in their company without them claiming recognition. The entire deception would be revealed, but more crucially, they knew Ned by his real name and what he was running from.

He had two days to think of how to get out of it without revealing anything to anyone. It was going to take quite some thinking.

Miss Wakechild was still staring at him with an expectant look on her face.

“That all sounds perfectly wonderful,” Ned managed to say, even sounding like he meant it.

“I’m so pleased you feel that way,” Miss Wakechild said, and Ned immediately curled up inside at the thought of disappointing her. He escorted her as far as the entrance hall then bade her farewell.

He was still feeling restless after dinner and it wasn’t raining hard enough to put him off walking out again. He’d grown up in Yorkshire after all, where the rain lashed the cliffs and hardy men went about their business. He let himself out into the grounds and paced back and forth.

The night was quiet except for the occasional voice from the village. He walked to the pub and bought a pint which he nursed in the corner while he mused.

He had two days to think of a way of avoiding the visitors. Perhaps an urgent summons back to Liverpool or elsewhere that would see him called away, while expressing his regret at missing such a delightful opportunity to showcase his newfound gentility. No, that would never do. No one knew he was here. A sudden illness, perhaps?

He wasn’t overly concerned. Something would occur to him. Something usually did.

* * *

Florence looked at her list and after some consideration struck a light line throughIntroductions.

The aborted afternoon lesson and Mr Blake’s gentle mockery still played on her mind and would do so every time she thought about repeating the activity. He’d made a valid point anyway, that as long as he knew how to respond using the correct forms, he did not have to make the choice of when and to whom he would be introduced. Her father was the only one whose opinion mattered.

All in all, it had been a productive afternoon and Mr Blake looked eager to join her at the fair and help entertain Viscount Stretford. She bit her lip. She drummed her fingers on the edge of the writing desk. He had seemed less eager to do the latter, and thinking about it, the reason was obvious to her. His confidence was lacking. She would have to find a way of convincing him that he was well on the way to proving he could pass in society. Why, their walk through the gardens and into the village had been most pleasurable and she doubted the time spent with Lord Stretford would be any more so.

Tomorrow’s lesson would be on topics that must never be discussed in polite company and useful ones to start conversations after a lull. Being armed with ideas of how to converse would ease his mind. She decided to retire to bed with the book on etiquette.Manners and Ruleshad become her curriculum and Bible in all things concerning the wager. She should probably offer it to Mr Blake so he could study it himself, though she enjoyed being the one to instruct and impart knowledge.

She had let Dottie retire to her own room once she had helped Florence out of her stays and into her nightgown so all she had to do was go to the window to draw the drapes herself. It was still light outside even though it was now after half-past nine at night. It seemed a shame to cut out the remaining light but once she got into bed with her book, she would read until she fell asleep. Going to sleep in the light was very different from being woken at six.

Her room looked out over the gardens. She smiled to herself. The walk with Blake had been very pleasant and she imagined she could still smell the scent of the rose he had picked for her though it now lay on the dressing table at the other end of the room. Perhaps she would press it like she had done when she was a child. Cordelia was bound to have a press somewhere.

She looked down and spotted a figure walking purposefully through the gardens. At first, her nerves flickered at the thought that it was an intruder, but then she recognised Mr Blake. How odd to be going out at that time. She drew back behind the heavy drapes so that if he happened to look up, he would not see her and think she was spying on him. He walked the path that they had taken earlier in the day. Perhaps he was going to see Alfie again as the stable boys were quartered in rooms above the stables, but he turned towards the gate that led to the village. Florence narrowed her eyes. What could he be doing out there at this time of night?

The realisation struck her that she did not know much about him and had no real idea whether or not he was trustworthy other than his word, which could easily be false. Possibly he intended to try to find work in the village. Her frown deepened. She was paying him well for his time as well as his board and lodgings, plus if they won the bet, she had promised him twenty pounds from her winnings. He had no need to be finding extra ways to make money.

She drew the drapes together sharply and retired to bed. She should try find out more about him.