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Yet another question at Dallsten Manor. Perhaps he could get answers over dinner.
Adele had Samantha at the dining room door promptly at six, gowned in the darkest evening dress the girl owned, an emerald silk with blond lace along the gentle neckline and cap sleeves. Adele had barely found time to change, as well. She’d managed to send a short note via Daisy to her mother and received an elaborately worded response, which still managed to convey her mother’s extreme displeasure at being left out.
Mrs. Linton had been similarly displeased, grumbling through the discussion with Adele while banging spoons against the pots she stirred before agreeing that dinner would be served as usual.
To top things off, none of Adele’s old mourning clothes still fit, so she’d donned the brown velvet gown she generally reserved for more formal occasions. It was embroidered with royal blue medallions along the hem and modest neck, and the skirts brushed the carpet when she moved. With her paisley shawl draped about her shoulders, she felt poised and elegant and nothing like the stern governess others insisted on seeing when they looked at her.
After her encounters with Jerome Everard, she wasn’t sure what to expect from this meeting. She was tempted to put him down as nothing but a flirt, yet there seemed to be more to him, something deeper, that called to her. Perhaps it was the intelligence in his voice. Perhaps it was the smile of private humor she caught from time to time. All she knew was when she’d found him looking into Samantha’s room, eyes shadowed, face tight, she’d seen someone far more complex, even vulnerable, than his façade indicated.
He and a platinum-haired fellow, whom Mrs. Linton had confirmed was his cousin, were standing near the ivory silk-papered walls, just inside the door of the dining room, when Adele and Samantha entered, and both offered them bows.
Samantha curtsied. “I thought there were three of you,” she said as she rose.
Adele grimaced at the blunt comment, but Jerome merely motioned them into the room. Rather presumptuous. Immediately Adele chided herself. He wasn’t a guest; he now owned their home. And he certainly looked the part of lord of the manor, dressed all in black, with a coat of fine wool, satin-striped waistcoat and breeches tied at the knees.
“Alas, my brother Richard was detained,” he explained. “You’ll meet him shortly. May I introduce our cousin, Mr. Vaughn Everard? Vaughn, our new cousin Samantha Everard and her governess, Miss Adele Walcott.”
In a black, double-breasted coat with velvet lapels and large, gold buttons, Vaughn Everard looked only slightly less flamboyant than he had with a sword in his hand. He swept them both a deep bow, as if meeting royalty. “A pleasure, dear cousin, Miss Walcott.”
Samantha frowned as he straightened, but she went to sit on one of the cherry-wood chairs at Jerome’s right as he claimed the chair at the head of the damask-draped table. Vaughn took his place beside Samantha, leaving Adele to sit on Jerome’s left.
She was thankful to be spared conversation for the next few minutes as Todd carried in silver tureens of steaming curry soup thick with veal, and fricassee of turnips in a cream sauce, followed by a joint of mutton and boiled potatoes. As soon as he had placed the dishes on the table alongside the gilt-edged best china, Adele folded her hands and bowed her head, waiting for Jerome to say the blessing.
“Cousin?” she heard Vaughn say with a frown in his voice. She glanced up to find Samantha’s head bowed and hands folded as well. The girl cast her new cousin a quick glance before closing her eyes in expectation.
Jerome, at least, knew what to do. “Heavenly Father,” he began in his rich baritone, “thank You for this opportunity to come together in Your name and partake of Your bounty. May it be a blessing to all here. Amen.”
“Amen,” Adele chorused with Samantha, raising her head. Vaughn Everard’s mouth was cocked to one side as if the entire process amused him. Jerome, however, looked more pensive and offered Adele a smile before turning toward the food.
But no sooner had he begun slicing into the meat than Samantha raised her voice again. “My father never spoke of you.”
Tomorrow they would have to practice table conversation. Adele eyed the girl sternly. “I’m sure what Miss Everard meant to say was that she was delighted to learn she had three cousins.”
Across the table, Samantha had the good grace to look abashed. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant.”
Vaughn peered at her from under ivory brows. “So your father never told you about your family?” His gaze darted to Jerome, and Adele was certain he received the barest of nods in return. They seemed to have expected Samantha to know nothing about them. Why?
Disappointment bit sharply. She’d feared Jerome Everard might be too much like his uncle, but she was surprised to find how very much she wanted him to be a reliable gentleman, someone she and Samantha could count on. For how could she protect Samantha and herself if he turned out to be a rogue?
Chapter Five
Luckily, dinner proved to be enlightening, for Adele learned things about Samantha’s family she’d never known. Jerome was adept at keeping the conversation flowing, inquiring about Samantha’s pastimes, her acquaintances and her preferences in literature and fashion, and somehow managing to make Adele feel like an honored guest instead of the governess. He also took the opportunity to express his condolences.
“I wish we could have met under happier circumstances.” His long fingers toyed with his silver fork. “I’m sure I speak for all of us, dear cousin, when I say we share your sorrow.”
Compassion echoed in his warm voice, and Adele nodded her support across the table to her charge.
Samantha smiled bravely, her own dinner long forgotten. “You knew my father well?”
“Well?” Vaughn shook his head, light from the silver candelabra in the center of the table glinting on his platinum hair. “Can the acorn know the oak? The husk of wheat the rippling field?”
Adele raised a brow.
“Cousin Vaughn was particularly close to your father,” Jerome drawled, although Adele thought she saw him flash the fellow a look of warning. “Uncle helped raise all of us.”
“Don’t you have parents of your own?” Samantha asked.
“We did, or do in Vaughn’s case,” Jerome replied easily enough, as Adele tried not to look too eager to hear more. “But if you are interested in your family history, perhaps I should start with the first Lord Everard, our grandfather.”
Vaughn set down the crystal goblet from which he’d been drinking. “You have no sense of the dramatic,” he told Jerome, then leaned closer to Samantha. “Once, in the Grand Age before we were born, our grandfather was master of the seas.”
“He was a privateer,” Jerome explained to Adele.
That certainly made sense. She found it all too easy to imagine the three of them swinging from lines and grappling with pirates.
Vaughn ignored Jerome, obviously intent on his tale. “Legend has it he braved death to rescue a certain lady who’d been held for ransom on the high seas. His Majesty the King was so grateful, he graciously granted the old fellow a barony and an estate to support it.”
So that was how Samantha’s father came to be titled, through his own father. Adele had often wondered. Like his swordsman nephew, the former Lord Everard had seemed more dashing rogue than polished courtier.
“Regardless,” Jerome continued, brow raised as if annoyed to find himself upstaged by his colorful cousin, “he parlayed his riches into a considerable fortune, for which we can all be grateful. He also had three sons. Arthur, Samantha’s father, was the oldest. My father, Lancelot, was second.”
Samantha giggled. “Lancelot?”
Adele held back her own smile. “A great many gentlemen have romantic names,” she advised Samantha. “None appreciate being snickered at.”
Samantha wrinkled her nose, but Vaughn obviously didn’t mind laughing at the name, for he grinned at Samantha. “You think that’s tiresome? My father’s named Galahad.”
Samantha snorted and picked up her napkin to hide her grin, but her dark eyes crinkled at the corners.
“Grandfather named all his children after one knight or other from the days of King Arthur,” Vaughn explained. “And like the knights of old, they all distinguished themselves. Your father was our leader.”
“When it pleased him,” Jerome said, taking back control of the conversation with a wink to Adele. “My father managed the estates, even after Grandfather died and Uncle inherited the title. My parents were on a tour of the estates when they were killed in a carriage accident. I was thirteen, Richard ten. At that time, we all thought Uncle had sworn off marriage, making me the heir presumptive, so everyone agreed Richard and I should go live with him.”
Adele frowned. Then he’d known he was the heir before Samantha was even born. He would have been groomed for the role. Small wonder he looked pensive at times.
Across from her, Samantha sobered. “I’m sorry for your loss. My mother died when I was young, as well.”
Oh, no. They would not discuss Samantha’s mother if Adele had anything to say in the matter. She smiled at Jerome. “And did you and your brother take after your father, Mr. Everard, in managing the estates?”
“I did,” he replied with a smile that could only be called proud. “Richard preferred to look after our ships.”
“We have ships?” Samantha asked eagerly.
“A veritable fleet,” Vaughn assured her. “Cousin Richard took command immediately.”
“My brother rose to the rank of captain quickly,” Jerome agreed with far more humility in his voice.
“Tragically, he lost his one true love along the way,” Vaughn continued. “Lady Claire promised to wait until he returned, fortune made, but she proved fickle and gave her heart to another. It nearly destroyed him.”
“How sad,” Adele murmured. Even dashing privateers, it seemed, were prone to sorrow, just like far less dashing governesses.
“My brother prefers not to dwell on the past,” Jerome said to Adele, then he turned to his cousin and tipped up his chin. “However, I’m certain you’d prefer to take up the rest of the story.”
Vaughn shook back his white-gold hair and straightened in his seat. As if to be sure of his audience, his dark gaze traveled from Adele to Jerome to Samantha, who sat spellbound.
“My father was the youngest,” he said, voice low as if moved by emotion. “He was a dreamy lad, head always in the clouds. No one was surprised when he ran away from home to join a traveling caravan, journeying to the farthest parts of the world and partaking of all its riches. There he fell passionately in love with a gypsy princess. When she bore me, she begged him to return to his family so that I might be raised with the rights and privileges due an Everard.”
My word. That explained a great deal. Samantha blinked, obviously just as fascinated.
Jerome slowly clapped. “Well done. That story gets better each time you tell it. But I suggest you offer her the truth.”
Vaughn’s dark eyes glittered. “My father married an actress against Grandfather’s wishes. She dropped me in his arms, took Grandfather’s settlement offer and sailed for the Continent. My father became a scholar at Oxford. When I was expelled from Eton for dueling, he sent me to live with Uncle.”
“I like your first story better,” Samantha said.
Vaughn cocked a smile. “So do I.”
Adele glanced between the two men. Mouths curled fondly, muscular bodies leaned in repose, but she could not believe they were so unmoved by their stories. Each of the Everards had borne the pain of abandonment and loss of one sort or another. Small wonder they cleaved to each other.
Do they expect Samantha to join them, Lord? Do they have any idea what it means to shepherd a young girl through her first Season? Are they ready to accept the responsibility?
“Your pasts have been difficult,” she ventured into the companionable silence. “And I applaud your tenacity. But perhaps we should talk of the future. We have a number of questions about the upcoming Season.”
Samantha waved her hand. “We can talk about my Season later. Right now, I want to know how my father died.”
Jerome’s gaze dropped to the fine china before him. Vaughn’s fingers wrapped around his fork as if taking comfort from the cool metal. Adele met Samantha’s gaze, sure more bad news was coming.
“A tragic accident,” Jerome said at last, picking up his own fork again and spearing the last of the mutton. “No need to go into details.”
Adele let out a breath. That he refused to answer could only mean Samantha’s father had died in some horrid fashion. Samantha must have thought so, as well, for she frowned.
So did Vaughn. “You’re mollycoddling her,” he said to Jerome. “If I can’t make up stories, why should you?”
The room seemed to have darkened. Adele glanced between them again and knew Samantha was doing the same. Jerome sat stiffly, eyes narrowed at Vaughn. A tic was working in the swordsman’s lean jaw. This was no time for such posturing. Couldn’t they see that?
“Your cousin is sixteen years old,” Adele reminded them, “and in mourning for her father. Perhaps that is sufficient reality for now.”
Vaughn returned to his food and said no more. Adele thought Jerome agreed with her, because his mouth turned up at one corner.
“I imagine we’ve given our new cousin quite enough to think about,” he said.
“Well, yes,” Samantha admitted with a dispirited sigh. “But I do hope you’ll be more forthcoming soon.”
“I’ll do all I can,” he promised. “And Miss Walcott, I have not forgotten about that tour you promised me.”
That charming smile was back, dimple and all, raising butterflies in her stomach. But she thought it was panic rather than delight that moved her. “I believe I provided you with an alternative, Mr. Everard.”
Samantha was watching her and even Vaughn seemed interested in his reply. Jerome’s smile only deepened. “And I believe I refused that alternative. As far as I can see, only your services will do for this task.”
Adele smiled with what she hoped was just as much charm. “Nonsense, Mr. Everard. No one is indispensable.”
“Miss Walcott is,” Samantha piped up, and now she, too, was smiling. “She’s the best governess any girl could wish.”
Adele felt her cheeks heating. “Thank you, Samantha.”
Samantha turned to Jerome. “So, if you need help, Cousin, she’s just the person to ask.”
“I’m delighted you concur,” Jerome said with a chuckle. “Then you won’t mind if I borrow her for a short time.”
“Not at all,” Samantha assured him with a wave of her hand. “I’m so glad that the two of you are getting on so well.”
Adele stared at her. Her charge cocked her head and fluttered her lashes, looking every bit the demure miss. A shame Adele could see the thoughts stirring feverishly behind those big, brown eyes.
“Then we are agreed,” Jerome said, spreading his hands. “Perhaps we could start after dinner, Miss Walcott.”
Adele smiled politely at him. “But Samantha will want to show you her skills on the pianoforte this evening, like a good hostess. She’s practiced for years. I’m certain she wouldn’t want you to do more than relax and listen tonight after journeying so far to meet her. Isn’t that right, Samantha?”
Her look was so pointed even Samantha could not gainsay her. The girl straightened dutifully in her chair. “Of course, Miss Walcott. I can play that new piece Lord Kendrick brought back from London.”
“Kendrick?” Jerome asked. His tone was polite, but Adele could see that his look had sharpened again.
“The Earl of Kendrick,” Samantha supplied. “He has the estate next to ours. You must meet his grandson, Jamie.” She rolled her eyes heavenward. “I vow he is the sweetest thing! He will break hearts some day, you mark my words.”
Just as his uncle broke mine.
Adele shoved away the memory, but, against all odds, she felt tears pricking. Deaths, worries, memories—suddenly she’d had enough of them all. She bowed her head and focused on her food while Samantha nattered on about riding with Jamie and the local assemblies and any manner of diversions her new cousins might enjoy while they visited. The girl was so enthralled, she’d obviously forgotten that her father’s death could put a hold on such activities. If Jerome insisted on strictest mourning, Samantha would soon be gowned in black and constrained from doing more than attending church services for months.
Oh, Lord, why now? It was time for her to start her life, to find a proper husband. Those things were denied me. Please don’t let Samantha suffer the same fate!
“You cannot hide so easily,” Jerome murmured, bending closer to offer her the last of the mutton.
Could he see the worries that flocked about her tonight like ravens intent on a dying swallow? He certainly had the power to banish those concerns. “I’m not hiding, Mr. Everard. Just thoughtful. You must agree that’s reasonable, given the circumstances.”
“Certainly,” he said as she shook her head to refuse the savory meat. “And you must agree that my request is reasonable, too, given the circumstances. I will concede the battle but not the war. Be in the library at ten tomorrow for our tour.”
“And if I should find myself too busy?” Adele said, daring to glance up at him.
“Then I would of course be forced to come fetch you. I am told I can be charming when I put my mind to it.” His smile said he knew just how charming.
“I doubt you need to overly exert yourself, Mr. Everard,” Adele replied. “I will see if I can find time among my other duties.”
She was thankful he let it go at that.
Not long after, they all retired to the withdrawing room for the evening. This was the most feminine room in the manor outside of Samantha’s. Here the fair Rosamunde had held court, surrounded by the pale pink walls, the dainty gilt-edged furniture and the gauzy fabric that draped the windows. It was a room for sipping the finest tea, for chatting about the latest fashions. Adele sometimes thought she caught the scent of the lady’s signature rose perfume still lingering.
Tonight, however, the memory of Samantha’s mother seemed farther away than usual. As promised, Samantha played the pianoforte with her usual passion, and Adele couldn’t help noticing that the girl’s cousin Vaughn watched her the entire time. She’d once seen a falcon with such a fixed look, hunting for food.
Lord, help me keep an eye on this fellow.
