Page 17 of A Hint of Scandal

Chapter Nine

In the chilly hallway, Max watched Serafina as she donned a shabby pelisse and bonnet, brought to her by a middle-aged woman whose black outfit gave her a rather austere appearance. This must be the aforementioned Roberts. It dawned on him that the maid was possessed of what appeared to be a newer dress than her charge—no doubt because she received remuneration for her services and Serafina did not. What was this strange feeling of protectiveness that was inching its way over him since he’d encountered her in the summerhouse last night? Most uncharacteristic.

And what sort of household didn’t provide a young lady of Serafina’s age, who was a member of their family, with a maid of her own? He’d done a little of his own surreptitious research, and had discovered further information about the Gilbert family. More than Maria had been able to tell him last night, anyway. Not that he would have enquired further of her, anyway, as that would only have aroused her hopes for him.

He’d discovered Serafina was the daughter of the previous baronet, and only half-sister to the portly man he’d seen her standing with, and that this was the first time the family had come to Town for the Season. His informant, an older acquaintance he’d known in Spain and whom he’d bumped into at the ball, had told him that the present baronet, Sir Ogden, rarely frequented London and when he did, he stayed at his club as he was renowned for his tight-fistedness. Something Max could have guessed from the appearance of the baronet’s sister.

The fellow, an ex-cavalry officer, on being casually questioned, had proved quite forthcoming. “Sir George Gilbert was a friend of my father’s. A good sort, but that son of his is nothing like him, I’m afraid to say. I remember meeting him as a boy and thinking he would not make a good lord of the manor at Milford. I pity his tenants.”

Max, uninterested in Sir Ogden’s unfortunate tenants, had steered his friend towards talking about the family. He seemed quite happy to oblige. “Well, I met that stick of a wife of his when she was a debutante. Must be nearly twenty years ago.” He frowned. “All I can say about her is that they’re well-matched. And as for their daughter… I suspect she’s rather a selfish young woman from what I’ve seen of her tonight. I’d steer well clear of them if I were you. If that woman gets you in her sights she’ll be determined to have you for the girl. You being third in line to an earldom.” Although Max itched to enquire about Serafina, he held himself in check, content to have discovered the composition of their household.

However, he hadn’t missed the way Lady Gilbert had looked at her niece, as though she were less, even, than one of the servants. One thing he couldn’t abide was anyone who treated their servants as though they were lesser mortals. The army had done that for him. And for someone to treat a relative even worse than they treated their staff made the blood rise in his veins. A cold anger he was unused to experiencing coursed through his body, accompanied by an absurd inclination to snatch Serafina away from her family and into safety. An inclination he really ought to curb. Unless…

Serafina pulled on a pair of faded gloves, the fingertips betraying where they’d been carefully darned, and smiled up at him as though her shabby ensemble meant nothing. Her whole face shone with an anticipation that rendered her beautiful. How had he ever made the mistake of thinking her plain? “There. I’m ready.”

He held out his arm as the footman opened the front door for them, and Roberts hastened in their wake. Outside, any vestiges of the morning’s London fog had cleared, and the afternoon promised to be fair, with even a hint here and there of blue in the sky. Max’s spirits rose, and he pushed the anger he felt at Serafina’s poor treatment to the back of his mind. Today was for giving her some pure enjoyment. And for relishing her reactions. He couldn’t deny to himself that if she were happy, then he would be too. And no, he wasn’t about to analyze the reasons for this.

He looked down at her. “I thought we would walk, as the museum can’t be above a mile distant, and the day bids to be a good one for late February. I hope that suits you.”

Her candid gray eyes met his. “Very much so. I have a fondness for walking and do it often when we are home at Milford House. The countryside in Berkshire is most beautiful.”

Probably that sour-faced sister-in-law of hers didn’t allow her the luxury of travelling in a carriage. Nor even the lowliest of pony carts. Max was happy to mentally accuse the woman of all sorts of crimes against Serafina. But it was good to be in the company of a girl who liked exercise. He matched his stride to hers, and found she set a good pace.

They walked in silence for a short while, Max watching Serafina as she gazed about herself in wonder at the streets they were passing through, drinking in the vendors on street corners hawking hot chestnuts, gingerbread, matches, pies, and suchlike. Had she not been out in the streets before today? Did her family keep her immured within the house in Great Titchfield Street, at their beck and call?

Perhaps he should tell her a little about where they were going. He cleared his throat. “The British Museum stands in Great Russell Street in what was once called Montagu House.” Good heavens, he sounded like a guidebook.

She nodded. “I know. As I already said, I’ve done my research. I believe a new gallery has been opened there quite recently—the Townley Gallery?”

His turn to nod. “You’re well informed. I’ve heard it houses Charles Townley’s excellent collection of classical sculptures. Something I’m anxious to see for myself.” Keeping the conversation to what they both hoped to see seemed easiest. He wasn’t used to making polite conversation with gently bred young ladies. The mess room or a tent on campaign with his fellow officers was more his cup of tea.

“As am I. But I have to confess that I’m deriving almost as much pleasure just from being out walking along the streets of this great city. I’ve peered out of the windows, of course, and watched what goes on in Great Titchfield Street, but it’s nothing compared with being amongst the throng of people, breathing in the life of the city. I really must thank you for taking pity on me and taking me out, although you must think me a terrible country bumpkin.”

Max’s heart swelled with something he couldn’t identify. “Nonsense. It’s my pleasure to be able to initiate you to the wonders of London.” And he meant every word of it.

She laughed, a throaty chuckle, rather than the sort of girlish giggle that would have annoyed him. “You can have no concept of the joy I’m feeling to be able to explore these streets. I’ve grown quite fed up with being inside all the time and, as this is my first ever visit to London, I’ve been itching to get out and see it for myself. The carriage ride last night to the ball was simply not enough.”

How refreshingly honest she was. “Is it that bad at home?” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and he could have kicked himself for his audacity.

Her brow puckered in a frown. “Please don’t take my words to mean I’m ungrateful to my brother and his wife. They took me in when I was an orphan of barely six-years-old, and I’m beholden to them for that. I had no other relations in the world, and they have been most…kind… in providing me with a home all this time. I owe them a great deal.”

He noted her hesitation over the right word to use to describe their behavior towards her. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have implied I thought anything of the sort. It was very impolite of me. I’m sure you’re very lucky to have had their care.” Did he mean that? No. Of course not. She was anything but lucky to have fallen prey to such heartless people. His dander well and truly up, he could have cheerfully drawn Sir Ogden’s cork right now if he’d popped up in front of them. Only one arm or not.

She seemed to accept his words, and a small frown settled between her eyes. “I have not been the easiest of charges for them. My sister-in-law has been very patient with me. And I love my nieces and nephews with all my heart. Being with them and being able to help them gives me great joy.”

They walked on a few more steps while Max digested this. That behind her words lurked something unspoken, that he’d suspected from the start, went without doubt. But he wasn’t going to get her to admit this, at least not while he remained a stranger.

“I myself have four nieces and nephews,” he said, by way of lightening their conversation. “And two step-nephews—at least that’s what I suppose one would call them. They’re not a lot younger than I am, but are inclined to behave like a pair of schoolboys still. And I think you might have seen my oldest niece, Arabella, at the ball, as she seems to have made a friend of your niece.”

“The pretty girl with the lovely green gown?”

“The very one. She and your niece are a well matched pair—the belles of last night’s ball. I know Arabella was expecting a number of young gentlemen to call on her today. I was glad to be out of the house before that occurred. I can’t bear the niceties of socializing with people I don’t much care for.” Again, that last just popped out, as though her easy company had provoked him to speak his mind. Had he gone too far in his honesty?

Serafina laughed again. “A wise move, I think. I, too, am not fond of having to make polite conversation with people I don’t know. And Letty, my niece, was expecting a similar experience this afternoon. I believe her mama, Lady Gilbert, was a little put out that our first caller was here for me.” She’d disguised her own satisfaction well, but he caught a small hint of it in her voice. The petulant expression on young Letitia Gilbert’s face at her aunt having beaten her to having the first caller leapt into his head.

“In that case, I’m glad I was the first to call. And it shouldn’t be a surprise to Lady Gilbert that gentlemen should wish to call on you.”

Color surged up her cheeks, and her grip on his arm stiffened for a moment. “It is very kind of you to say so, Captain Aubrey, but I fear Lady Gilbert is correct. I’m not here in London expecting any kind of romantic interest. I’m here merely to assist Letty and assure myself that she makes no mistakes. My future lies at Milford, caring for my nieces and nephews, and eventually, I hope, for their children. I believe I shall live my life out in deepest Berkshire.”