A Lady's Virture Read online

  “I heard a rumor about you tonight.” Miles leaned forward and lowered his voice.

  A knot tightened in Anthony’s gut. “Only one?”

  “They are saying that you’ve hired an Everton lady.”

  “And is that so terrible?” If he had to defend every decision he made, it was going to be a long life among the ton.

  Miles ran his hand through his shock of red hair and grinned. “You know, my sister, Phoebe, was with the Everton Domestic Society for a while. She did very well there. It got her away from my brother and mother when she needed it. I was proud of her for venturing out on her own. It seems a cruel fate for a girl past her prime, by society’s standards, to be forced to wither away doing nothing for the rest of her life. I think the Society is a brilliant idea.”

  “But your sister didn’t remain at the Society. She married, and quite well, to the Viscount of Devonrose.” The idea of Sylvia remaining alone her entire life, even as an Everton lady, churned something inside him. It was all March’s fault, yet the idea of her ending up as that idiot’s wife was no better comfort.

  “Phoebe’s situation was unique from what I know. Most of the ladies have fine careers with the Society, and some retire with a nice pension or become escorts to younger ladies when the rigors of service become too taxing.” Miles put his empty glass on the table. “What have you hired your Everton lady for?”

  It warmed Anthony from the inside out to think of Sylvia as his Everton lady. “She is going to help with some changes at Collington House and act as hostess for a few events. In fact, you should be getting an invitation to a dinner party shortly.”

  “Excellent. I love a good party, especially if there is good food, and lovely ladies to flirt with.”

  Anthony laughed at Miles’s enthusiasm. “I’m sure both will be available.”

  “Am I permitted to ask who the lady is?”

  Unable to think of a reason to lie, when Miles would know in a few days when he arrived at the dinner party, he said, “Sylvia Dowder.”

  Frowning, Miles made fists. “March is a cad. That girl waited over three years for him to propose, and then two years with a contract. I know she claims to have cried off, but I don’t believe it for a moment. He’s just the type to cast off a lady when it suited him, and it was too late for her to recover.”

  “I hardly think it’s too late. She’s still lovely and not old.” Anthony’s temper flared.

  Raising an eyebrow, Miles smiled. “You like Miss Dowder?”

  “No. I just believe her family life forced her hand, and she might regret not attempting another season. She’s hardly old enough to be on the shelf.”

  Miles laughed. “I can see your interest is small. If I’m correct, Miss Sylvia Dowder is near to turning twenty-five. Her sister is making a last attempt, and it is unlikely her family has time or funds for them both to have yet another season after March’s abominable behavior. Still, if you like her, maybe all hope is not lost.”

  “I didn’t say that I liked her. I don’t like her. I just need her to help with a few events.” It came out in a rush and he was powerless to control it.

  “Yes…your interest is mild at best.” Miles’s words dripped with sarcasm. When the footman came with their brandy, they decided to have the drinks brought to the dining room.

  Anthony was glad for the distraction and change of subject.

  Chapter 5

  Yet another letter from her mother had arrived explaining how Sylvia should come to her senses and return home. She sat at her desk and penned a return letter, but the old argument would fall on deaf ears.

  “Am I disturbing you, Miss Dowder?” Lady Jane asked from the threshold.

  Happy to put the letter writing aside, Sylvia turned toward her employer. “You know Serena was born three minutes before me, and all my life I have been Miss Sylvia and she Miss Dowder. I rather like the change as an Everton lady.”

  A hint of a smile lifted Jane’s lips. “It is an honor well deserved. I should tell you that your sister is in the front parlor and seems quite out of sorts.”

  “Oh, no.” Sylvia stood. “Are there tears? I hate it when she cries. In fact, she can talk me into almost anything when she sheds those giant tears of hers.”

  Hiding a laugh behind her hand, Jane said, “None when I left her. Just a lot of hand wringing and pacing.”

  Sylvia drew a deep breath. “Well then, I had better go down and see what brings a fine young lady into Everton House in such a state. Surely Mother has put her up to something and she is distressed.”

  “I’m certain you will handle the situation with your usual grace, Miss Dowder.”

  “Thank you, my lady. I will do my best.” On the way down the stairs, a few scenarios played out in Sylvia’s head. Her sister might have come to beg her to return home. Perhaps Hunter had come to his senses and wanted her back. Well, she wouldn’t have him. She pulled her shoulders back and pushed through the parlor door.

  Serena stood in the center of the room, a deep crease between her eyes, and her back straight and rigid. At the sight of Sylvia, the air went out of her and she rushed toward her. “Sylvie, thank God you are here.”

  “Where else would I be? What on earth is wrong?”

  “Mother and Sir Henry have been talking about me without my knowledge. I think she intends to marry me off without my consent.” Serena blurted out the information in one breath then drew another. “I don’t know what to do. He is not terrible, but I was just starting to like Lord Stansfield.”

  The idea that Mother would go behind Serena’s back to secure a husband was repugnant. “Why would she do such a thing? What does Father have to say on the subject?”

  She tugged Sylvia’s arm, and they sat on the brown divan. Plucking at the cuff of her glove, she sighed. “Father would not listen to me. He said that Mother would do what was best for my future.”

  “Do you think Stansfield will offer if given enough time?” Perhaps Mother knew or saw something Serena didn’t.

  She shrugged. “He likes me, and I liked that he was not put off by your occupation. We spoke of the theater and books. He is very well read and not nearly as stuffy as I first thought. His eyes are kind.”

  It was nice to see some warm regard from Serena. Clearly, it was not all about finding a rich husband. She wanted one who she could care for and would care for her. “When do you see Sir Henry again?”

  She made a sour face. “We are to attend a play in four days. I had to beg Mother to let me go to your dinner party. She said it would not get me married, since Henry would not be there. She’s gone marriage mad, Sylvie. She thinks Stansfield will not offer because he is above me and I will end up in your situation if I pursue a man so far above my station.”

  “You are a daughter of a gentleman. Besides, either one of them would be lucky to have you. You are the sweetest, kindest person I know.” She hugged her sister and kissed her cheek.

  “Thank you, but I think as my twin, you are required to think so.” Serena laughed and took Sylvia’s hand. “The problem is I have not had enough time with Lord Stansfield to know if he might wish to offer. I think him a little shy, and that is what I mistook for stuffiness at first. Each time I see him, he is more appealing.”

  Sylvia had already sent out the invitations to Anthony’s dinner party, and it was not her place to add to the list. Perhaps she could ask a favor though. “Let me see if I can help put you and Lord Stansfield in the same room. I can’t promise you anything, but I will do my best.”

  Smiling as bright as the sun, Serena was a vision. She squeezed Sylvia’s hand. “I knew you would make me feel better, Sylvie. You are always the kind voice in my head that tells me everything will be all right.”

  “And everything will. Mother cannot make you marry anyone you do not wish to marry. Do not let her bully you.” Hating the idea of her sister being
trapped in a marriage without affection forced her voice into a stern tone.

  Taking a breath, Serena pulled her shoulders back. “I will be more like you and cleverer than Mother.”

  “Good girl.”

  The clock struck eleven, and Serena jumped up. “She will wonder where I am. I must get home. I told her I was going for a walk in the park. Jenny promised to keep my secret.”

  Serena rushed into the foyer, and Jenny, the girls’ maid, appeared from the servants’ stairs, ready to rush after her mistress.

  “Hello, Jenny,” Sylvia said.

  Stopping, Jenny tucked her wild red hair under her cap and made a hasty curtsy. “Oh, miss, it’s good to see you. You look fine.”

  Gray held the door, and Serena stood half outside with the same worried look she’d had when she arrived. “Jenny, we must get home.”

  Sylvia watched them rush down the steps and into the carriage before Gray closed the door. “Gray, can you ask if the carriage is available for an hour or so? I have an errand to run.”

  “Yes, miss.” He ambled down the stairs.

  * * * *

  What had seemed like a great idea an hour earlier left her stomach churning as she stood outside Anthony’s townhouse. “Mrs. Horthorn, this might have been a mistake.”

  “Hardly, my dear. I think it is very sensible to help your sister while still attaining the goals for which you were hired within the Everton Domestic Society. There are no rules against it, and if his lordship doesn’t mind, I see no conflict.” She tugged on her white cap and plastered a serene expression on her face as the door opened.

  Wells glared an instant longer than was polite before saying, “Miss Dowder, we were not expecting you today.”

  “I know, Wells. Is his lordship at home? I would like to speak to him.” She hated the hesitation in her voice and cleared her throat.

  Mrs. Horthorn huffed. “I would like to be allowed entry, so we don’t look like a pair of vagabonds standing on the stoop.”

  Despite Wells’s calm demeanor, the house was in an unusual frenzy.

  Footmen and other men of questionable background were hollering and carrying rugs and other goods from room to room. Sylvia had never seen such chaos. “What on earth? That rug you are holding, young man, should go into his lordship’s dining room. Peter, you have the desk for his study. How in the world did you end up with that? It should have been delivered tomorrow by the furniture maker.”

  Pete put down the desk, reached back to rub his lower back, then pulled his hat off and blushed. “Miss, I can’t tell you how it happened, only that the rug was wrong, and the old desk is still in place. I was told to put it in the grand parlor, but I’ve not found a door marked as such. In fact, I have no idea what rooms are what.”

  Sylvia hid her amusement behind a gloved hand. “Leave it there for now. In fact, Wells, have everyone stop moving about like mice looking for a cube of cheese. Where did all these people come from?”

  Perspiration dotting his forehead, Anthony rushed down the stairs. “Miss Dowder. Thank all that is good you are here. I am at a loss. Rugs, curtains, a desk. I don’t know what plan you had in mind.”

  “I had planned for it to arrive tomorrow and the next day at the earliest. I’m sorry, my lord. If you will gather the men, I will take over. The old rugs and your desk must be taken out first.”

  “Stay here,” he commanded. “Wells, see that the ladies are secure. I will gather our resources.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Wells stood in front of them, practically backing them into the front door, while they waited for Anthony to call all the footmen and delivery men into the foyer with their wares.

  Once he had them all there, he narrowed his gaze. “This is Miss Dowder. She will oversee this transition. I expect each of you to treat her with the utmost respect.”

  A chorus of “Yes, my lord” sounded.

  Sylvia stepped around Wells. As she spoke, she pointed to the different rooms. “You may all put down whatever you have here. Now if two or three of you would load his lordship’s current desk onto the carriage that brought all of this, that would be a help. Peter, the rugs in the master’s chamber, dining room, and two parlors should also be loaded and taken for storage. His lordship can decide what to do with them later. Perhaps a donation or sale.”

  With an awkward bow, Peter said, “Yes, miss.”

  The footmen carried the great desk out through the back door, and men went to do her bidding. If she were honest, she found great satisfaction in ordering burly men about the house. Hiding her thrill, she waited while Wells made sure no damage came to anything else while rugs were rolled and carried here and there.

  Anthony eased into the space next to her. “You look pleased with yourself, Sylvie.”

  “I admit it, this is fun.” She fought the tug on her lips.

  “I’m relieved you are here, but I was not expecting you today. Is there anything amiss?”

  The knot of worry returned in her chest. “I have a favor or request, but it can wait until we have this all sorted out.”

  Mrs. Colms rushed up, tugging her cap. “Oh miss, the divan and chairs you had recovered for his lordship have just arrived as well. It is all too much.”

  “Do not panic, madam. Just have them wait at the back, and when we get the new rugs down, they can carry them in. I suggest a small gratuity for their patience.” The old furnishings had been in place so long, none of the staff was used to so much change. Sylvia should have prepared better and been ready for the early delivery.

  Harried, Mrs. Colms nodded and rushed back toward the servants’ entrance at the back of the house.

  “Wells, can you tell our driver to come back for us in three hours? I cannot take up the Everton carriage indefinitely, and this will take some time.”

  Before the butler could comment, Anthony said, “I will see you home.”

  “I would not wish to inconvenience you, my lord.” If her request was not well received, the ride home could be most awkward.

  “It is nothing,” he said before nodding to Wells in silent communication.

  With no other choice, Sylvia allowed her carriage to be sent away.

  Pete returned after having all the rugs removed. “What’s next, miss?”

  She pointed to the largest rug. “This one goes in the study.”

  He and one of the Grafton footmen lifted the rug and walked through the double doors.

  Sylvia followed and told them where to place the cream-and-blue rug. She did the same in each room, placed every piece of furniture as she imagined it when she first saw the rooms. It was nearly the dinner hour by the time the last was put in place. Standing in the middle of Anthony’s bedroom, she admired the warm golds of the rug and how well they would look when the new curtains of a slightly lighter shade arrived for the bed. She’d decided to leave the deep red curtains on the windows. Once the rest was changed, they would look rich and luxurious.

  It was a good view, overlooking the garden and the city beyond. A light breeze tickled her skin, and she had a fleeting thought of jumping out and running away. It wouldn’t do. It was a fine day in London, and the birds sang out happily before the sun went down. She was no coward, and it was only a small favor. The worst that could happen was that he would say no. Or perhaps he would think her impertinent and vulgar. It shouldn’t matter what Anthony Braighton thought of her, but her chest hurt at the notion of his bad opinion. There was no one else in the room when she voiced her anxiety, “Perhaps I shouldn’t have come.”

  “Why not?” His deep, warm voice filled the room behind her.

  She spun toward his voice, and he stole her breath. His dark hair was tousled from running his fingers through it. Bright golden eyes captured hers and held her in their depths. He filled the doorway, his head nearly touching the header. He had not been this stunning when they had first met
at a ball nearly four years earlier, but those years had turned a lanky youth into a fearsome giant of a man.

  His question hung between them.

  Drawing a full breath, Sylvia lifted her chin. “I only meant that the favor I wish to ask is not that important.”

  Those full lips of his drew down in displeasure. “Where is Mrs. Horthorn?”

  She stayed near the window, but the breeze no longer cooled her. Heat bloomed in places she rarely thought about. “She’s having a cup of tea with Mrs. Colms.”

  Narrowing his eyes, he nodded and stepped inside. “Why shouldn’t you have come, Sylvie?”

  “My lord…”

  “Tony. You call me Tony. Remember?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  She sat on the windowsill. “You are not obligated to grant me any favors.”

  “What could you possibly ask that I would deny?” He crossed the room and reached out for her hand.

  Having removed her gloves to keep them clean while she worked, the skin-on-skin contact spread warmth through her like a forest fire. “It’s about my sister.”

  He stared a long time at where their skin met before capturing her gaze again. “She is coming to our dinner party?”

  “Yes.”

  They were too close. His breath grazed her forehead, and she had to tip her head back to meet his gaze. The world faded into nothing, and there was only the two of them. “Can your favor wait a moment, Sylvie?”

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to kiss you.”

  It was impossible to breathe. He took up all the air, and her heart pounded in her ears. “Is that wise?”

  “Not in the least.” Leaning down, he captured her lips with his.

  Soft, tender, but strong all at once, he didn’t just kiss her, he made love to her lips. Every nerve sang out for more, and she touched his coat at the chest. A long sigh escaped her as she melted into his embrace. Her body trembled, and she was powerless to stop it, didn’t want to stop the rush of sensation that flooded her. More was all she could think. She wanted more.