‘I…I beg your pardon, m’lady. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I knew I should be on hand in case-’
Beth cut off the excuse with a wave of her hand. ‘We will not discuss Miss Mountjoy’s insinuations about my… er…state of health.’ She swallowed hard, determined to master her emotions, even though only Hetty was there to see. ‘But her comments about you are another matter.’
Hetty reddened and stared at the floor.
‘Hetty?’ When the maid did not reply, Beth began to suspect there was something more at work than Miss Mountjoy’s vitriolic tongue. ‘We have been here less than a day. What has happened to upset you?’
Hetty did not move or look up. At last, she whispered, ‘Countess Alicia had a very superior French dresser, according to the housekeeper.’
‘I see. And she implies that you are not equal to the task?’
‘Not in so many words, m’lady. No one does. There are just…er…looks and whispers. And I might have imagined those.’
Beth was fairly sure that Hetty had not been mistaken. And if the servants were gossiping behind Hetty’s back about the new mistress’s choice of maid, what were they saying about the mistress herself? For Hetty’s sake, Beth would find out the truth of all this. And then she would nip such rebellious behaviour in the bud.
‘Ignore them, Hetty. Remember that you are maid to the mistress of the house, if you please. For now, it’s probably best for you to remain rather aloof. Just as a superior French maid would do.’ Beth smiled encouragingly down at her maid.
‘I’ll do just as you say, m’lady. Your ladyship chose me to serve you and I am proud of the fact, no matter what Miss Mountjoy may say.’
‘Miss Mountjoy? Has she been sowing mischief below stairs? But how? She is not a servant.’
‘She used to be, after a fashion. She were Countess Alicia’s paid companion for more than ten years, so I were told, m’lady. Now she lives in a fine cottage in the village. His lordship gave it to her, they say.’
‘Whatever they
Hetty blushed an even fierier red than before. ‘No, m’lady. Begging yer pardon, m’lady.’ At Beth’s nod of dismissal, she fled back into the bedchamber.
Beth began to pace up and down the sitting room. Jon had bought a cottage for his late wife’s companion? Why on earth would he do that? She was clearly a mischief-maker of the first order. Sly, too. No doubt the mean backstairs gossip about Hetty had started with her. Beth would have to find a way of countering that.
But in the meantime, she had to understand about Miss Mountjoy and Jon. Years ago, before he went to Spain, the woman might have been an attractive armful for a man with a roving eye. Had she and Jon been lovers, perhaps? Jon was a passionate man. If he could not bed the wife he hated, would he bed her companion instead? Was the cottage given by way of compensation?
It was a hateful thought. Had Jon thought to resume his liaison with her on his return from the wars? Even if that had been his intention, surely he would not pursue it now that he had remarried?
But Miss Mountjoy had a proprietorial air that disturbed Beth a great deal. As if she had power in this house. As if she knew secrets.
Chapter Thirteen
The Dowager smiled complacently. ‘The first guests should arrive tomorrow, Jon.’
He was struck by a sudden uncomfortable thought. ‘I take it they do not include the young ladies from your summer party, Mama?’
Her haughtily raised eyebrows were eloquent. No duke would allow his unmarried daughter to attend a house party where there were no eligible male guests. George, even if he deigned to attend, was far from eligible, for he was only an impecunious younger son, and had a reputation as a rake, besides.
‘Beg pardon, ma’am. I should have known better than to ask.’
Mollified, his mother began to list names, while Jon made mental notes of what he needed to say to Beth about her house guests. Some of them, sadly, were much too high in the instep to be good company.
The butler appeared in the doorway. ‘Your ladyship asked to be informed when the countess returned from her drive.’
‘Ask her ladyship if she will be good enough to join us.’
Before Goodrite could bow in response to the Dowager’s instruction, Jon was on his feet and making for the door. ‘No need. I will do it,’ he said curtly.
In the entrance hall, Beth was in the process of removing her heavy pelisse and bonnet. She turned at the sound of his step. Her cheeks were flushed from the chill wind, but her eyes were sparkling. He had clearly been right to send her out to take the air, to restore her bloom after several days of sitting at the Dowager’s feet, being tutored in her new role.
She smiled up at him. ‘Good afternoon, my lord,’ she said formally, though there was nothing in the least formal about the way her gaze softened when she looked at him. It reminded Jon, much too forcefully, of the way her eyes locked with his when they were making love.
One unwary memory, and desire was thrumming through him. He tried to say something innocuous, but he could not find the words. To cover his confusion, he took her hand and bowed over it, hoping that his extravagant gesture would make up for the words of polite greeting he could not utter.
She must have sensed something, for she ran her middle finger across his palm in a teasing caress. The unexpected touch rippled through his whole body. What on earth was she doing? It was the middle of the afternoon, and they were standing in the hallway, watched by the butler and two footmen. He dropped her hand like a hot coal and hurriedly stepped back.
‘That will be all, Hetty,’ she said, calmly nodding dismissal to her maid. ‘You wanted something of me, my lord?’
Shocked by his own reactions, Jon assumed the haughty manner he always adopted when he was at risk of betraying his inner feelings. ‘My lady mother is waiting for us in the saloon. Will you join us, ma’am?’ As custom required, he offered Beth his arm, willing his flesh to remain totally numb. He was determined that there would be nothing for the servants to remark upon.
There was something very knowing about the way she smiled and laid her hand on his arm to be escorted to the saloon. For a woman who was only lately wed, she had learned extremely quickly how to drive a man to madness. Was that what it was? Or was he imagining it all?
‘How well you look, my dear.’ Jon’s mother smiled in welcome and waved them to the seats opposite her. Behind them, the butler closed the door without a sound.
Jon led Beth to the seat opposite his mother, but he did not take his place beside her. Better to observe her from a distance, he decided, throwing himself on to the far end of the Dowager’s sofa and trying to appear more relaxed than he felt.
Beth held out her hands to the blazing fire. ‘We had a delightful drive, ma’am. There was a sharp wind, to be sure, but the sun was shining and the sky was absolutely clear. The park was quite beautiful, even though the trees were bare.’ She turned to Jon, raising her eyebrows a fraction. ‘Perhaps, when your business is less pressing, my lord, you might be able to join me, to show me more of the estate? I should so like to know about all the features here. At one point, I thought I saw an old stone building, half hidden by trees. Do you have a folly here, too?’
Minx! Her confidence was clearly growing by the day. She was roasting him. And in front of his mother, too! He ought to be cross with her, but he was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain his austere mask. In truth, he wanted to laugh aloud. And then to kiss her till she begged for mercy. He was going to have some very strong words with the new Countess of Portbury. Later, when they were safely alone.
‘Jon and I have been discussing the arrangements for the house guests,’ the Dowager put in tartly. ‘If the weather continues fine, Jon will be able to entertain the gentlemen with outdoor pursuits. I imagine some of the ladies might like to join them. I recall that some of the younger ones are excellent horsewomen.’ She turned to Jon,
