What Happens in Piccadilly Page 7

  She ducked her head. “You are a good student, my lord.”

  “Apparently, I have a good teacher,” he said. “Enjoy your meal. I shall see you on the morrow.”

  Chapter Six

  “I don’t know why I have to go shopping. I don’t like shopping!” William groused as he bounced on the opposite seat of the carriage and kicked his legs.

  “Do you like trousers that are too short and coats that are too tight?” Callie asked him pointedly. They’d spent the morning at lessons and the afternoon, by mutual agreement between herself and her employer, was to see the children properly outfitted. It was the beginning of December, after all, and it was already too cold for what the children currently possessed.

  “No!”

  “William, I do not like shopping either, but there are times in a man’s life when he must do things he does not wish to. More often than not, it’s shopping,” Lord Montgomery said.

  Callie gifted him with a baleful stare and he simply turned away to look out the window of the swaying coach. There was little enough room to do anything else. With the earl, Callie, three children and a maid for propriety’s sake, they were packed in rather tightly.

  “We must shop, William, because you and your sisters are not equipped for an English winter. It also seems that you’ve all grown quite a bit since you last had new clothes.”

  “We’ve never had new clothes,” Charlotte said and then immediately went back to playing with the doll her uncle had gifted her.

  “You must have!” Callie said.

  “No, Claudia is wearing dresses of Mama’s that had been cut down and I’m wearing Claudia’s old dresses that she can’t wear anymore because she’s too big!” Charlotte finished proudly.

  “Well, you will all have new clothes now,” the earl said firmly. “They will be yours and yours alone and they will be made to your measurements as befits proper English gentlemen and ladies.”

  William looked a little more pleased by that. “Do gentlemen climb trees, Uncle?”

  The earl turned to face him, clearly biting back a grin at the boy’s concerned question. “When the occasion calls for it.”

  “What occasions call for it?” William asked.

  The earl looked back at Callie and she felt the full weight of his stare. For that split second of time, it was as if there were no one else in the coach with them. He looked at her and she looked at him, and the whole world simply fell away. Oh, that was not good at all. That, she would daresay, was utterly disastrous.

  Finally, he spoke and the spell, momentary as it was, had been broken. “What is tomorrow, Miss St. James?”

  “Tomorrow will be Wednesday, my lord,” she answered, trying to ignore the slight tremor in her voice and the fact that it suddenly felt as if her stays were too tight.

  “Wednesdays are such an occasion. I daresay, barring rain and snow, every Wednesday is an occasion to climb trees,” he proclaimed.

  William let out a whoop of delight. “Can we go back to the park tomorrow so I can climb that big’un, Miss St. James?”

  “That big one,” she corrected. “And if you’re willing to spend at least part of the morning learning the names of the trees you wish to climb, we certainly may.”

  “All right,” he agreed.

  The carriage slowed and Lord Montgomery stepped out of it first. He lifted out Charlotte first, then Claudia and William jumped down on his own. He reached back for Callie’s hand and helped her down carefully. But he did not linger. As soon as her feet were firmly on the paving stones, he stepped back, putting not an insignificant amount of space between them. The maid followed, assisted by one of the footmen who’d had to cling to the back of the carriage for dear life as they made their way to the shopping district.

  “I shall take William with me to the tailor and you may take the girls, along with Maisey, to the dressmaker’s, if that plan suits you, Miss St. James,” the earl offered.

  “It does, my lord. After the dressmaker, we must also go to the milliner and to the cobbler. The girls will both need shoes and, I daresay, William will as well.”

  “He will not go to a mere cobbler,” the earl said, as if offended by the suggestion. “That is all well and good for dancing slippers and women’s half boots. No, Miss St. James, he will go to Hoby’s and will be fitted for proper boots as any gentleman should.”

  “Proper boots… to climb trees?” she asked pointedly.

  The earl would not be swayed. “I’m certain Hoby has a sensible solution to making boots sturdy enough for the active life of a young boy. If there are any problems, please send for me at once.”

  “We shouldn’t have any problems, my lord,” Callie replied. “I have your letter of credit. And I promise, we will not buy out the shops.”

  “Buy them out if it’s needed. Make sure they have everything they require… and that not all of it is terribly functional. They should have a few things just because they are pretty and fun. Don’t you think?”

  Callie bit back a smile. “I’m glad we’re in agreement. I’d planned to do so anyway.”

  He laughed. “Of course, you did. It dawns on me, Miss St. James, that we’ve never discussed the specific terms of your salary.”

  “You’ll get a bill, my lord,” she said. “Let us hope you are still feeling so generous then. Come along, girls. We have much to do.”

  Ushering Claudia and Charlotte into one of the more fashionable shops located in the Burlington Arcade, Callie prepared herself for the worst. She fully anticipated that the modiste would be unkind, high in the instep, and very much affronted by having to wait on a mere governess. Luckily, she was pleasantly surprised by the woman who greeted them, a Madame de Beauchamps. The woman looked at Callie with curiosity.

  “My dear, you are very familiar to me. Have we met? Perhaps I have dressed you before?” Madame de Beauchamps asked.

  “Oh, hardly. I’m a governess to these young ladies… they are wards of their uncle, the Earl of Montgomery. They have only recently arrived in England and, sadly, their Spanish wardrobes are hardly up to snuff for our chilly winters,” Callie said with all the friendliness she could muster.

  Madame de Beauchamps looked from Claudia to Charlotte. “My goodness! What pretty young girls. It will be like dressing dolls! Come, I have some fabrics. Soft and very warm… if we are lucky enough to see snow this year, you will be able to play in it all day long.”

  The girls followed Madame de Beauchamps toward a large room filled to overflowing with fabric samples and fashion plates. Several books of fashion plates were placed before them and Callie began looking through them to find sturdy but pretty day dresses for the girls along with a few prettier frocks.

  “Can I have a dress for my doll that matches my own?” Charlotte asked.

  “Silly,” Claudia scolded in a way that sounded very parental, “she makes dresses for ladies and not for dolls!”

  “Nonsense,” Madame de Beauchamps said. “I have made many dresses for dolls. When I was a little girl, that is how I learned to sew… to make pretty things. I took fabric scraps and made dresses for my own doll, though I do not think she was as pretty as yours.”

  “She’s new. My uncle gave her to me,” Charlotte said with a shy smile.

  Callie bit back a smile of her own. Of course, he had. He’d seen a little girl without a doll and he’d given her one because that’s what kind men did. “Did you get a doll, Claudia?” Callie asked her.

  “I did. She’s very pretty. I leave her at home though so she doesn’t get dirty or get her face all cracked,” Claudia said, sparing a warning glance at her younger sister.

  “I’m careful,” Charlotte insisted, stamping her little foot.

  “Girls, Madame de Beauchamps is very busy and she does not need us taking up more of her valuable time by arguing. Now, I’ve picked out some patterns here that I think you might like. Take a look at them and tell me what you think,” Callie said.

  Charlotte ran over to her, barreling
into Callie’s side. She looked at the fashion plates and grinned. “They’re pretty!” The word came out “pwetty” as she’d once more tucked her thumb into her mouth. It was utterly charming.

  “I like them,” Claudia agreed but with much greater reservation. She bit her lip worriedly and added, “Is it too much? We’ve never had so many dresses! If we get too many, he’ll be angry!”

  “You’ve never lived in a house with an earl. I think we might be erring on the side of caution and ordering too little, but you all are growing quickly so it’s probably just as well,” Callie said as she rose from the settee, selections in hand. She turned to find Madame de Beauchamps staring at her again.

  “Forgive me, but I really do feel as if I know you… that I have seen you somewhere before,” the modiste insisted.

  “I am a governess, Madame de Beauchamps. I could hardly afford to patronize your shop and even if I could, in my line of work, it would be terribly impractical.”

  “Work…” Madame de Beauchamps murmured. “Yes. It was something to do with work. I think—it’s terribly indelicate and I mean no offense at all in asking, but I must ask, Miss, did you have a mother or sister who was in the theater? I worked there for many years as a dresser.”

  “I have no siblings that I know of, Madame, and my mother is unknown to me, as well,” Callie answered. “I am sorry I cannot solve your riddle for you.”

  Madame de Beauchamps sighed sadly. “Alas, it is my curse that I never forget a face and yet rarely remember a name. Let us choose the fabrics for each of these dresses, no?”

  *

  They’d left Hoby’s shop after William had been measured for boots and any other footwear he might need. They were walking back up Piccadilly toward the Arcade where Miss St. James had taken the girls. William walked beside him. He didn’t hold on to the boy, but he did keep a close eye on him. Had he never realized how dangerous a London street could be? Horses, carts, costermongers—there were hazards in every direction. Every loud noise had him fighting the urge to snatch the child up lest he dart in front of an oncoming carriage or get trampled under the feet of the crowd.

  “Montgomery!”

  Winn heard his name and dared take his gaze off William long enough to identify the source. Burney. A curse bubbled inside him, but he wisely held it in check. The last thing he wanted was to get into another argument with Burney about his bloody scheme. He liked the fellow, but investing in Burney’s less than upstanding cousin was a surefire way to lose money and sour friendships.

  “Hello, Burney,” Winn replied.

  “Who’s this?” Burney asked, gesturing toward William.

  “My name is William and I can speak perfectly well,” the boy replied.

  Winn gave him a warning glower. “Burney, this is my nephew, William. He has only recently arrived from Spain.”

  “Wills’ son? I’ll be dam—delighted to make your acquaintance, young man,” Burney corrected quickly. “I knew your father quite well. I was at school with him. Will you be off to Eton, then? You’re almost of an age!”

  “William’s education has been somewhat unorthodox, living in Spain as it were,” Winn replied. “I’ve hired an excellent governess for the children and once William is properly prepared, then we will discuss school. For now, I think I’d like to keep the children closer to home until they, and I, feel more settled with our current arrangement.”

  “Children?” Burney guffawed. “There’s more than one? You need to get yourself a wife, Montgomery! Best way to handle children is to let a woman take care of them for you! Children, indeed!”

  “You could marry Miss St. James,” William offered helpfully.

  Winn felt his blood run cold. The last thing he needed was Burney, who was likely still trying to get in the good graces of Averston after that last debacle, to become curious about his governess who—he was almost entirely certain—was the rightful heir to the Averston fortune. If Burney ever saw Miss St. James and put two and two together, it would be disastrous and possibly even deadly for her. It was certainly a long shot in Burney’s case, given that he was not the swiftest of fellows. But as the saying went, even a broken clock was right twice a day. “I cannot marry Miss St. James, William. She is your governess.”

  Burney chortled. “Many a gentleman has made a worse choice than just a governess! At least she’s respectable. Of course, most governesses of my acquaintance don’t inspire men to make them unrespectable, do they? Plain, if they’re lucky, and uglier than a mud fence if they’re not!”

  William took a step forward. “I don’t like you. You laugh very loud and I think you’re talking about Miss St. James in a manner that isn’t very nice.”

  Burney blinked at that, then laughed harder. “I say, he’s a right knight in shining armor!”

  And that was when William kicked him. He drew his foot back, let it fly forward and caught Burney right in the shin. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if Burney had been wearing boots. But he wasn’t. He was wearing trousers and a pair of leather slippers which meant that kick was felt and heard by everyone around them.

  Burney howled in agony, William balled his fists up ready to leap to the defense of his governess and all Winn wanted to do was not have anyone, anywhere wondering about who and what Miss St. James was in order to create such a stir. “Time to go, William. My apologies, Burney,” Winn said and then hoisted William under his arm and took off at a brisk pace.

  He could hear Burney calling after him, “Blast him!”

  “I don’t like him,” William said. “Put me down.”

  “I’ll put you down if—if—you promise not to kick him again,” Winn said.

  “He deserved to be kicked!”

  “Possibly, but you don’t need to defend Miss St. James that way. Drawing more attention to his curiosity is not the way to preserve her reputation,” Winn admonished as he settled the boy on the ground.

  They’d just reached the entrance to the Arcade and had ducked inside when Miss St. James emerged from a shop, the maid behind her carrying several packages, and the footman as well, and one each balanced in Claudia’s and Charlotte’s hands.

  “I’m sorry, Miss St. James. Our outing has been cut short. I’ve recalled an important business matter I must take care of,” Winn said. To the footman, he added, “I’ll take those, Maisey, while you go and let the coachman know we need to leave. Immediately.”

  “Is something wrong, my lord?” Miss St. James asked. It was clear from her rather dubious expression that he was fooling no one.

  “Just an urgent matter,” he said.

  “We met a very bad man, Miss St. James,” William offered. “He was very loud and very rude and I kicked him.”

  Miss St. James’ eyes widened with alarm. “Oh, dear. Oh, dear, no. Oh, William, you mustn’t simply kick people. Why, it just isn’t done!”

  “He wasn’t nice,” William insisted. “You shouldn’t have to be nice to not nice people!”

  Miss St. James stooped down until she was eye to eye with William. “I know that sometimes it seems like being violent is the only way to make people to listen to you, especially when you’re small or young. But not nice people will never learn to be nice if we only ever respond to them in kind. You must be nice so that they can learn by observing you.”

  William ducked his head. The footman scurried off to retrieve the coachman and carriage and Winn was breathing a sigh of relief. “If there is anything else the children require, we’ll have tradesmen come to the house.”

  Miss St. James smiled. “Did shopping with William prove too much for you, my lord?”

  As that excuse was far more palatable than the truth, and far less dangerous, he smiled in agreement. “Certainly. Tell me, Miss St. James, what else will these children require?”

  “Claudia needs music lessons. I know the girl who works as a governess next door. I’m certain that their music teacher would take Claudia on, assuming he has availability.”

  “See that it’s
done,” he said. “And if he doesn’t have availability, we will pay him enough that he will be inclined to make room.”

  Winn was breathing easier, thinking for the moment that they had averted disaster, that they were home free. That perhaps, just perhaps, things would go his way for the moment. Then he heard it. That booming, overly jovial voice that sounded like a death knell.

  “There you are! I was wondering where you’d gotten off to so quickly!” Burney all but shouted as he came up behind them.

  “Burney,” Winn said. “I’ve got to get the children and their governess home. I’ll meet you at the club later.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t get to the club… otherwise engaged! A million things to do before my sister’s debut. I say, you are coming to the ball Saturday night, aren’t you? Mother will be over the moon to have an earl in attendance!”

  Winn grimaced. It was no secret that Burney’s mother was hoping for a match between Winn and her young daughter. It was not going to happen. “Yes, yes. I’ll be there.”

  “Children, I have the distinct feeling that your uncle and this man need to have a word in private,” Miss St. James said. “We shall walk down to the Arcade entrance and await you there, my lord.”

  And that was it. That moment, when she spoke in those lovely dulcet tones that were cultured, genteel and yet utterly pragmatic, that was the moment Burney looked at her and recognition flared in his gaze. “I say, you look terribly familiar!”

  Miss St. James smiled. “That seems to be the theme of the day. You are the second person to comment on it. Good day to you, sir.”

  With that, she took the children and strolled toward the end of the row of shops and waited. Burney looked back at Winn. “Where do I know her from?”

  “She’s a governess, Burney. You can’t know her from anywhere.”

  “But I do. I’ve seen her somewhere before.”

  “She just has one of those faces,” Winn lied.

  Burney guffawed. “There’s not more than one face like that in all of England. She’s a prime’un!”