“Yes,” she managed. “Please come in.”
She took his hat and hung it beside her father’s more battered tricorne before leading him into the parlour. She tried to be brisk, though for some reason her knees were shaking.
Her father rose from his winged chair, looking baffled but pleased by the prospect of company.
“Papa, you remember Mr. Durward who saw off the robbers so capably last night and accompanied us home.”
Quite clearly, Papa recalled no such thing or person, but he greeted the younger man affably and begged him to sit. Carina, who had not yet poured her own tea, poured it for Mr. Durward instead and fled the room. She cleared the table of the luncheon dishes and washed up, hoping the mundanity of the task would calm her foolish nerves.
Then she took off her apron and went upstairs to change into her second-best gown for going to the manor house.
When she put her head around the parlour door, Mr. Durward was still there, lounging gracefully in the other chair, listening to Papa’s funny stories about life on the high seas. There was no sign of a bottle. Carina dared to hope.
Durward rose to his feet at once. His smile did strange things to her insides.
“I’m just going out for a little,” she managed. “Is there anything you need before I leave?”
“No, no,” said Papa amiably. “Go and enjoy yourself. Though you might bring in a decent sherry on your way home.”
With what?“I shan’t be long,” she said evasively and curtsied to the stranger. “Mr. Durward.”
As she walked past the parlour window, it was quite an effort not to glance inside. For once though, she was glad of the twitching curtains at the other houses. At least they would see that she went out, leaving their male visitor with her father. It would take only one more whisper against her to break her reputation and deprive her even of the pittance Lady Mansel paid for her services...
The weather was warm for such brisk walking, but she had to hurry to be sure of reaching the manor house by two. She would just have to appear red and breathless. After all, it wasn’t as if Lady Mansel would ever notice her. And if her unladylike appearance gave Sir Hugh a disgust of her, then that was all to the good.
Providing he didn’t forbid his wife to employ her anymore. When had life become such a tightrope?
Although she knew some of the Mansel servants muttered about her never using the back door, she clung to her status as a captain’s daughter and rang the bell at the front. She was directed immediately into the morning room, where an encouragingly large heap of correspondence was piled on the spindly-legged desk.
She knew better than to touch them without Lady Mansel’s consent, even to put them in order of their dates. She had to kick her heels for ten minutes before her ladyship appeared, which was annoying because the woman only paid her from the momentshearrived.
“Ah, there you are, Miss Jasper,” Lady Mansel said, breezing in as though Carina had kept her waiting an inordinately long time. “We have much to do this afternoon, so let us get on.” She sat down and Carina, who had already brought a chair to the other side, did likewise. “Now where is that letter from Lady Bradshaw...? Here it is. You will accept her invitation and say everything that is proper. Answer my sister’s letter with the news that I’ll be meeting Lady Bradshaw at the appointed time and will try to remember her requests. Remind her it is Charlotte’s birthday in September...”
Familiarity had inured Carina to the difficulties of working with Lady Mansel, who constantly issued fresh instructions and talked through everything Carina tried to read and write. Sometimes she had to refresh her ladyship’s memory by reading some letters aloud and then answer specific points. Other remarks had to be ignored, such as her good friend’s “boast” of attending Lady Grandison’s house party before moving on to Lady Hawthorn’s. Lady Mansel, who had been invited to neither, was clearly jealous.
“But you will mention that Lord Durward comes for tea.”
Carina’s pen paused. Durward?LordDurward? “Today?” she blurted.
Lady Mansel frowned, her train of thought clearly interrupted. “What? No, tomorrow, but what will Emily Carlisle care for that? You need not mention that he’s fleeing the law either. She will know that. Everyone does. Why else would he come anywhere near Harwich?”
And I left him alone with Papa...
Even Lady Mansel must have seen something in Carina’s face for she said irritably. “Don’t be missish, Miss Jasper,” she snapped. “He may be wild to a fault, but he is perfectly good ton and his friends arenoticed.”
Lady Mansel was nothing if not socially ambitious. Married only a year, it was her plan to go to London for the Season next spring and “cut a dash,” as she put it. She seemed to imagine this would somehow win her and Sir Hugh importance and influence among the powerful.
She might have been right. Carina knew nothing about such matters and cared rather less.
“Have you got that down?” Lady Mansel demanded. “Mrs. Carlisle will immediately write back to inquire about Durward. Don’t labour it, Miss Jasper, just the bare hint will do.”
Carina had been scribing for Lady Mansel for several months, almost since the older woman’s marriage to Sir Hugh, so she understood what was expected of her. It was how she had made herself indispensable. Lady Mansel was far from illiterate. She was just undisciplined in her thoughts and lazy by nature. Plus, she liked the distinction of having a secretary and Carina cost her very little. A short sentence inserted Lord Durward into Lady Mansel’s life before an inquiry into the health of Mrs. Carlisle’s children, and the letter was ready to be signed with Lady Mansel’s usual flourish.
“What is next?” Lady Mansel demanded.
“A note from the vicar’s wife.”
“Agree with everything. I’ll get out of it later if I want to. Ah, now that is Mrs. Eldridge’s hand, is it not? She moves in quite the first circles! Express interest in everything she has written, inquire about her stay at Grand Court, and mention Lord Durward’s coming to tea. And Emily Carlisle’s anxiety over her wretched babies.”
