The Impossible Earl
She said, “On the contrary, my lord, I am prepared to buy out your lease. It must be quite immaterial to you where you reside. There must be many more convenient places in Bath.”
“But I have established a business in these rooms, madam.”
Leonora’s eyebrows rose. “Business, my lord? I had not imagined that a gentleman of your rank would indulge in trade!”
“Trade, Miss Vincent?” His haughty tone could not have been more chilling. “You mistake. I have established an exclusive Gentleman’s Club on these premises. Even now, if you will listen, you will hear a party of members being admitted. You must see how inconvenient it would be for you to have such an activity taking place on the floors beneath you.”
Her hands had begun to tremble. She clasped them tightly in her lap, on top of her reticule. “What activity?” she demanded. “Drinking? Gambling?”
He smiled. The devil had the most fascinating smile she had seen in a man. Creases radiated from his eyes, which sparked with wicked amusement, and bracketed his mouth, which had assumed the most alluring of curves.
She fought down a desire to smile back. Her hands gripped each other harder. She would not be seduced by his charm.
“Both of those things, Miss Vincent. But I also provide a Reading Room and serve food as well as drink in the Dining Room. Only two of the rooms are given over to cards and gaming.”
Leonora’s lips compressed. “You are operating a gambling hell in my house,” she accused.
The chilly hauteur returned. Eyes which normally looked upon the world with audacious challenge became cold and repressive. “If you say so, madam.” He would not deign to argue with the prudish creature. “I collect that, since you so obviously disapprove of my activities, you will have changed your mind about taking up residence here yourself?”
To his surprise she smiled. Pleats curled round her perfect mouth. Unexpectedly, his body reacted in an all-too-familiar way.
Her eyes challenged his. “On the contrary, my lord. If it would not inconvenience you too much—” the irony did not escape him “—I will have our boxes carried up the main stairs to my rooms. It will be easier for the servants to carry them up that way, rather than being compelled to negotiate what I imagine are the much narrower service stairs.”
He stirred. He had not expected her to outface him and his annoyance grew. Would nothing deter her? He smiled on a sudden thought. “You have not yet seen the accommodation, Miss Vincent,” he reminded her.
“Nor have I inspected your gambling hell,” she returned with patently false affability. “At what hour do you close?”
“At three in the morning, Miss Vincent. And I open again to serve breakfasts at ten. If you are interested, I shall be pleased to show you round one day before we open.” He raised his quizzing glass and inspected her through it with undisguised challenge, though his lips twitched with quite irrepressible amusement. “You are determined to stay? It would be highly improper in you to do so.”
She chose to ignore his last inconvenient remark. “It is my right to live in and to inspect my property, Lord Kelsey. I shall move in immediately and you may expect me down here at nine tomorrow morning to look over your rooms.”
“Very well.” Devil take it, he could scarcely have the aggravating female thrown out. “Meanwhile, pray consider my offer to purchase the property, Miss Vincent. Or alternatively, I would be prepared to take over the lease of the entire house. The rent I would pay you would enable you to command more suitable premises for your own use.”
Leonora rose. “Your proposition, my lord, would no doubt sound tempting had I no desire to live in the property left me by my uncle. However it is, in my opinion, ideally suited to my needs. I warn you that, having taken up immediate residence in the rooms my uncle used, I fully intend to consult my lawyer over the possibility of terminating your lease. And now, if you will be so kind as to allow my luggage to be carried upstairs?”
He rose when she did, as was polite. They were on their way to the door when Leonora stopped. She was not short herself, but she had a long way to look up to meet Lord Kelsey’s dark, inscrutable eyes. “About the kitchen facilities. I understand that my uncle shared them with you. I shall need to do the same. And my maid will need accommodation in the attics.”
“Madam,” said his lordship with the utmost civility, “you may, of course, share the kitchen, provided only that you can come to terms with my cook, Monsieur André. I should point out that Charles—Mr Vincent—was used to order meals to be sent up from the kitchen. I rendered him an account at the end of each month.”
“Astronomical, no doubt,” said Leonora acidly.
“But, no, madam. He paid only the cost of the food. The services of Monsieur André were taken account of in the rent I agreed to pay.”
Leonora eyed him, not certain whether to do the same or not. In the end, “I will try it for a month,” she decided.
In a month, with luck, he would be gone.
“I will inform Monsieur André of your decision, Miss Vincent. Your maid will, of course, collect the food when it is ready. There are just the two of you?”
“No, my lord. I have with me a companion, a friend and chaperon. Otherwise I could not have taken up residence here without causing a scandal.” She gave him a smile to match his own. “The presence of Miss Worth, a clergyman’s daughter, will quieten the gossips. You do have gossips in Bath?”
He was impelled to laugh. “The ton is here, Miss Vincent, the scandalmongers included. The situation will no doubt give rise to speculation, but if you are discreet you should avoid the loss of your reputation.”
Fire sparkled in her eyes. “I shall inform everyone I meet of my abhorrence of your activities, my lord, and of my intention to see you off the premises as soon as may be.”
“I think you will find, madam, that your intention will fail. If you wish to avoid the stigma of living above a gambling hell, you will find it necessary to move out yourself.”
Leonora lifted that delightful, stubborn chin. “Never!” she declared as she walked into the hall.
Clarissa stirred at sight of her, an enquiring look on her rather plain face. Leonora glanced back to the man following her.
“My lord, I name to you Miss Worth, my companion. Clarissa, this is my tenant, Lord Kelsey.”
Clarissa rose, her colour high, and the two made slight acknowledgement of the introduction.
Leonora said, “Excuse me,” and walked back to the front door to tell Matthew and Dolly that the luggage was to be taken upstairs through the front door.
“When it is all unloaded, Matthew, you may see to the carriage. You know what to do, and have funds to meet any expenses?”
“Aye, miss. Mr Farling were generous, miss.”
“Capital! Thank you for your services on the way here.”
A coin changed hands. Leonora turned back to the Earl.
“Someone, no doubt, will show us the way up?”
“I will escort you myself, Miss Vincent. This once. After this, you must, I fear, use the service stairs and enter and leave by the back basement entrance at all times when the Club is open.”
They had begun to mount the curving staircase, arranged round a small, circular, open well. Leonora snorted.
“You mean that I shall not be allowed to use my own front door? I do not see that you can prevent me, my lord!”
“The lease expressly forbids it,” said Kelsey complacently. “Naturally, as a member of the Club, your uncle was able to come and go by these stairs whenever he wished.”
He cut off to greet two gentlemen passing them on the landing. Leonora realised that they were more than a little foxed and their bold scrutiny offended her. She tossed her head and trod silently up the next, much narrower flight until she came to the landing and found a screen and a door barring her path.
“You will appreciate the danger of meeting strange gentlemen on the stairs should you insist upon using them,” murmured Kelsey as he leaned past her, uncomfortably near, to unfasten the door. “Though you need not fear intrusion provided you keep this door locked,” he went on smoothly, handing her the key.
Leonora walked through into a small lobby with some half dozen doors leading off it. The apartment was larger than she had anticipated and her spirits rose. Secure behind her locked door she could ignore what went on downstairs while she made her plans.
“Charles—Mr Vincent,” went on the Earl, “had old-fashioned tastes. No doubt you will require to redecorate and refurnish in your own fashion.” He flung open the door to a room at the front of the house. “This was his parlour.”
Leonora entered, curious to see how her uncle had lived. She took in the double window with its brown drapes, the comfortable leather armchair, the writing desk and the shelves of books.
“It looks extremely comfortable to me,” she said, shuddering inwardly at the dinginess of the place. But the furniture was good and the books looked interesting. She could soon change the soft furnishings. “I shall be quite content living here,” she informed his lordship with conviction.
He could see that she meant it. Of course, she would. The decorations would suit a drab, narrow-minded governess to perfection.
Damnation. He had absolutely no desire to conduct his business with a highly critical female, who was, intolerably, his new landlord, installed above him.
Chapter Two
The Earl departed as the luggage came up, causing confusion on the spiralling stairs.
Anything large, Leonora could see, would have to be hoisted in through the windows. She looked forward to causing a different kind of confusion when she changed some of the furniture. For although she had said, and believed, that she could be comfortable surrounded by her late uncle’s things, her ideas on furnishing were rather different to his. Were she to be here long, changes would have to be made.
“The apartments are quite spacious,” remarked Clarissa as they went from room to room together.
Once the Earl had left, they had taken a good look round the front parlour and the rear dining room before inspecting the front bedroom, which Leonora would use despite its masculine decorations, because it was big and had a door through to a dressing room.
“Morris House is nothing like Thornestone Park, of course,” went on Clarissa as they moved on, “or as grand as what you were used to as a child, I collect.”
“No.” Leonora opened the last door and looked around approvingly at the smaller bedroom at the back of the house, which must have been used by Mr Vincent’s valet. “This should suit you, Clarissa, if we brighten it up a bit. The bed and rest of the furniture look adequate. It seems my uncle did not scruple to make his man comfortable.”
“Indeed, yes! It is larger than my room at home in the Rectory and look, there is a splendid washstand, and a writing table—even a mirror!” Clarissa’s normally rather sallow complexion had taken on a faint glow of excitement. “But what of Dolly?”
“She will sleep upstairs in one of the rooms in the attic. I’d better go down and arrange it with this Monsieur André. Meanwhile, you could begin to unpack your things.”
“Would you like me to see to yours first?”
“No. Dolly can do it after she has been downstairs with me. You make yourself comfortable.”
The back stairs were discovered behind the main staircase, at the end of a short passage accessed through a narrow door opening from the lobby. Dolly, her boots clattering on the bare boards, followed her mistress down to the basement. A comfortingly warm, aromatic and steamy atmosphere drew them to the kitchen.
Dinner was over, though sounds of washing up came from the adjoining scullery, through which Leonora dimly glimpsed the back area and steps.
In the kitchen itself, pots and pans, mostly iron but some copper, hung from hooks and sat on shelves, shadowy in the light cast by oil lamps and candles. A huge dresser held an assortment of crockery and jars. Beyond the long scrubbed table that occupied the centre of the room, a large range stretched along the opposite wall. A clockwork spit turned a couple of chickens over the glowing fire, which largely accounted for the mouth-watering aromas filling the kitchen, and a couple of pots simmered gently on the hob.
Mixed in with the smell of roasting meat were echoes of coffee, of baking bread, of spices and herbs. Leonora’s stomach rumbled. They had not stopped to take more than a light nuncheon on the way.
A small man in a tall, crumpled white hat aimed an excited stream of fractured English at those working about the table chopping, beating and blending. As the door opened he paused in mid-flow to exclaim in scandalised tones, “What ees eet? What you do ’ere, madame? What you want?”
Everyone in the room stopped work.
Leonora swept forward with a gracious smile. “Monsieur André?”
“Zat ees me, oui.”
“And you are the cook.” It was a statement. He could be no one else.
“Le chef de cuisine, madame,” he corrected her stiffly, with a small bow.
“I am delighted to make your acquaintance, monsieur,” said Leonora. “Allow me to introduce myself, since there is no one here to do it for me. I am Miss Vincent, now the owner of these premises. I have spoken with my tenant, Lord Kelsey, who informs me that, through him, you are contracted to supply any meals I might order.”
The cook’s stiff manner changed into one of open curiosity as he made a deep, deferential bow. “Madame! Enchanté, madame! Hees lordship, ’ee ’as tolded me you come. And you ’ave chose to stay?”
“I have, monsieur. I find the house quite charming. This,” she said, pulling her reluctant servant forward, “is my maid, Dolly. She will bring down my orders and collect the dishes when they are ready.” Dolly dipped a clumsy curtsy and Monsieur André acknowledged her presence with a nod. “And perhaps she may be allowed to use your kitchen to make me a pot of tea or some other drink or snack occasionally?”
He eyed the girl, who stood awkwardly beside Leonora, her face as red as her work-worn hands. “Zere will be nossing of any difficulty, madame.”
“Thank you. Dolly will need to occupy a servant’s room in the attic. Perhaps someone could show her up?”
“Zee ’ousekeeper will arrange zat, madame. She is in ’er chamber.”
“Housekeeper?” murmured Leonora, momentarily brought up short. Lord Kelsey had not mentioned a housekeeper, though of course he would need one.
“Mrs Parkes, madame, une veuve—’ ow you say? A vidow? She ’as zee room in front next zee servants’ room. I ’ave zee one next ma cuisine.”
“Then perhaps you will introduce us?”
The housekeeper’s room had a large chunk cut out of it for a store-room, but otherwise it was the same size as her own drawing room upstairs, plenty big enough to accommodate table, chairs and bed. The fast-fading daylight barely allowed her to see the basement wall, some three yards from the window. As she looked up she glimpsed the railings etched against the flickering light cast on the feet of a man by the torch he carried. The grass and trees beyond were quite out of sight.
The housekeeper herself was of ample proportions and looked middle-aged. Her gown was of dark stuff and a frilly black cap touched by white hid her hair. She rose from a chair drawn up before a bright fire, while candles flickered above on its mantel. Her curtsy was made without fuss and a neutral smile appeared on her smooth-cheeked face.
“Of course there’s room for the lass,” she said comfortably and the smile she turned on Dolly was motherly. “You’ll find company up there, my girl.” To Leonora she said, “I’ll be up in a minute to show her where to go. Have you ordered your supper, madam?”
Leonora, surprised by the way the woman spoke, shook her head. “Not yet. I have a companion to live with me. There are therefore three of us, with Dolly.”
“Dolly can eat in the Servants’ Hall, with the others, if that suits. I shall order a meal for you and your companion, madam. Leave it to me. Monsieur André is an exceptional cook, which makes the Club’s dining room popular, and I shall see that you are provided with the best.”
“Thank you, Mrs Parkes. When will supper be served?”
“Dinner is between two and five o’clock and supper between eight and midnight.” The excellent Mrs Parkes, plainly a superior woman of some education, glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It is only a half after five. Would you like a snack while you wait?”
“Thank you, I would appreciate that. And supper early, at eight, tonight. We have had a tiring day. I am obliged to you, Mrs Parkes.”
The spiral stairs seemed to rise up forever. Following Dolly now, Leonora wondered if she would ever be able to mount them from bottom to top without losing her breath. But of course she would! She was comparatively young, and fit, and she would not allow the inconvenience of having to climb innumerable narrow, winding stairs to reach her rooms daunt her. It would please his lordship too much if she did.
She was out of breath by the time she reached her floor, but managed to recover it quickly by inhaling deeply a couple of times.
“Come, Dolly,” she ordered the youngster. “While you are waiting for Mrs Parkes, you may as well begin to unpack my things.”
Her bedroom was large enough to double as her boudoir, she thought, looking around with more attention than she had given it before. With pretty striped drapes at the windows and new bed curtains and cover, it would be both comfortable and pleasant on the eye.
A mahogany chest of drawers and a cupboard with shelves stood in the dressing room, with a wash stand and close stool. Her clothes would all be kept in there. She would buy a cheval mirror or two and replace the gentleman’s chest in the bedroom with a dressing table and perhaps buy a chaise-longue.
She would show the intolerable Earl downstairs that she was no wilting lily to be frightened off by his desecration of her premises. What had her uncle been thinking of, to allow him to set up a gambling hell below?
The answer came to her without her even having to think. He had been a man, probably a gambler and had belonged to the Club. Of course he had seen no reason to object!
Apart from the interminable stairs she must climb to reach it, she would have been well satisfied with her accommodation. That she must use the servants’ entrance and back stairs was an insult entirely caused by the disobliging presence of Lord Kelsey pursuing his dubious activities beneath her.
Tomorrow, she decided as she consumed the cold ham, fresh bread and butter and pot of tea Mrs Parkes had sent up after showing Dolly her quarters, she would confront Mr Coggan in his chambers and demand that the lease be terminated. After she had inspected the premises downstairs.
Tomorrow promised to be an interesting day.
Sharp on nine the following morning, refreshed by a night of deep and untroubled slumber, Leonora trod down the main staircase to beard Lord Kelsey in his den. She took the precaution of taking Clarissa with her. After all, she was flouting convention by visiting a gentleman in his rooms, even although it was on business. Besides, there was something about the Earl she did not—quite—trust.
The doors on the middle landing were ajar and sounds of cleaning could be heard. They passed straight down to the ground floor and Leonora, seeing no functionary to stop her, led the way to the office she had been in yesterday.
Most of the doors down here, to private rooms occupied by the Earl and his manager, were firmly closed against intrusion. The office door, however, was ajar. She rapped on the panel and entered on a brisk invitation so to do.
She had not noticed, yesterday, that the room was more than an office. It was, in most respects, equipped as a study, with armchairs by the fire and a reading desk near the single window. The other window, this one’s twin, had been cut off to create an inner room, the use of which was not immediately obvious.
The Earl, however, had risen from the same large desk he had been using yesterday. Its surface was strewn mostly with bills and ledgers. He was not making the entries but checking someone else’s work, the scanty daylight augmented by the light from a branch of candles.
“You are punctual, Miss Vincent,” he greeted her, having bowed and received their curtsies in return.
“In business, my lord, it pays to abide by one’s promises,” Leonora said. “I am ready to make my inspection, and have brought Miss Worth with me to take down any necessary notes.”
Clarissa held a pad of paper and a pencil clutched to her breast. She was gazing at his lordship with bright, interested eyes and faintly flushed cheeks. Yesterday, realised Leonora, Clarissa had not had much chance to take in Kelsey’s splendid physique and the excellent tailoring which displayed it to full advantage. Neither had she been treated to a smile which conveyed both welcome and a degree of conspiratorial sympathy. As though she, Leonora, was some harridan to be placated!
She looked about her with an austerely critical gaze.
“This room appears to be in satisfactory order—except for that patch of damp by the window.” She walked over and looked up, peering as closely as possible at the stained wallpaper. “Why have you not had it repaired?”
Kelsey spoke in the resigned tone of one dealing with a fractious infant. “Because, Miss Vincent, the trouble is outside, in the stonework, for which the owner is responsible. Mr Vincent was intending to have a repair effected before he so unfortunately died. He also expected to bear the cost of having the wall redecorated internally.”
“I shall consult a stonemason,” declared Leonora briskly, hiding her discomfort under a businesslike manner. Dear Lord, how much would that cost her? She had not even considered that repairs might be necessary to the fabric, for which she would be responsible. “Clarissa, make a note.” She indicated the closed door to the inner room. “What is in there?”
“I had that room formed, with Mr Vincent’s permission, to accommodate my valet. It seemed the most convenient place since my dressing room is little more than a cupboard and has no window.”
He opened the door and Leonora took a brief glance around the small but tidy bedroom.
“Very well. Shall we move on?”
Kelsey closed the door again as they withdrew and strolled across to the office door to hold that open for them, looking indolently tolerant. Leonora seethed. He had certainly had the best of that exchange.
As they passed through she glanced about the hall but could not fault the polished floorboards, the strip of patterned carpet leading to the stairs, the cream walls and brown paintwork or the blue and gold tasselled decorations. Tasteful, mildly opulent yet dignified, it was tilted towards the masculine, of course, but she could scarcely complain about that.
A wreath-like decoration affixed to the wall near the front door caught her attention. She had not noticed it before, or the words it contained.
“‘Welcome to the Vitus Club,”’ she read aloud. “Is that what you call your gambling den?”
“The Vitus Club is known throughout Bath, Miss Vincent.”
“I’m certain it is. Do your members all suffer from nervous twitches?”
He laughed, but his tone patronised when he spoke. “Fortunately, no, Miss Vincent. My family name is Dancer. St Vitus is the patron saint of dancers. I thought the name appropriate.”
“Prodigiously so. If your clients are not twitching from some nervous disease, they will be from gambling fever or despair,” Leonora scoffed.
The dark brows lifted. Now his tone held an undercurrent of scornful disbelief. “Do I infer that you disapprove of gambling, Miss Vincent? That you never wager on a hand of cards?”
Leonora flushed. She had allowed herself to fall into the trap of appearing a prude. “Not at all, sir,” she contradicted him. “Like everyone else, I gamble in moderation when in card-playing company. I do not disagree with gambling in principle but fear the hold it gains on some people—” like her father, though she would not mention him. Her hand tightened on the handle of her reticule “—and despise those who trade on their weakness,” she concluded quickly.