Page 38 of An Amiable Foe
She turned with Sarah to go, running through the conversation in her mind. What a surprising turn this was. She didn’t know if she could trust Miss Belford, but she supposed that it didn’t matter anyway. It was highly unlikely that she would actually visit.
CHAPTEREIGHTEEN
After Lord Steere had expounded on the dangers of frequenting the society of women with no education in the arts of young ladies, he thankfully left the subject alone and was taken by the work Perry had effected on the inside of the castle. He was particularly struck by the wisdom of Perry’s using his resources to replace the rotting beams in the northern part of the castle, and dismissed his worry that the tiles had not yet been replaced because they were waiting for an order to come through. In the meantime, the masons had put the old tiles back in place with temporary plaster in the holes and cracks as a stopgap to keep water from pouring in until the tiles could be replaced with new. His uncle was delighted with his industriousness, and Perry had to own that such praise coming from an uncle he respected was a source of pleasure.
He could not wait to see Marianne at dinner. He hoped she would come down, despite the humiliating encounter from earlier that afternoon. Her face had not revealed much when she was made aware of their presence, but as he was coming to know her, he was sure she had suffered embarrassment over the event.
It had pained him that his uncle had seen her at her worst and frustrated him that his uncle had already formed his opinion in her regard. But it had not changed Perry’s own feelings for Marianne. Knowing she might be incapable of placing her best foot forward at all times due to shyness or pure maladroit touched a tender chord in him and made him want to defend her. She had been on the outskirts of society for too long.
When the dinner hour came, Marianne presented herself in the room adjacent to the dining room, wearing the same dress she had worn when they first met. It was the faded gown with blue trim, which he thought suited her, but one glance at his uncle let him know that he did not feel the same way. It was not the first stare of fashion—far from it. It was not even the second stare of Cliff’s End.
He quickly strode over and held out his hand so he could bow over hers. His uncle would learn that he esteemed her despite the warnings. As he did so, he faced away from his uncle, who was most likely frowning, but was rewarded with a smile from Marianne.
“Shall we go in?”
He turned when he heard a commotion in the hallway, which proved to be Miss Fife being carried in a chair between Charlie and Albinus.Ah, yes.He had conveniently forgotten about Marianne’s companion. At least this should prove that everything was aboveboard with her staying at Brindale. The introductions were made, and they followed Miss Fife’s chair into the dining room.
When the first course had been served, his uncle led the conversation. “So you’ve grown up at Brindale, Miss Edgewood.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes, my lord,” she replied. She was back to eating like a bird. No wonder she was so petite.
Miss Fife picked up her spoon. “Marianne’s father inherited it from his godmother, and when he died, it was bequeathed to his brother. The Edgewoods were relations of mine. Second cousins, to be exact. I have always thought…”
The spinster, having launched into the conversation, continued in this strain, to Lord Steere’s growing astonishment. Perry wanted to laugh. His uncle had apparently led a life sheltered from such females and could not quite credit his ears that a lady’s companion should take the reins of a conversation in such a way and gallop off with it.
When there was a pause for breath, Lord Steere turned back to Marianne. “And what have you done for education?”
She opened her mouth to reply, but Miss Fife was too quick. “I have been teaching her the art of conversation, my lord, and other matters that are pertinent to the daughter of a gentleman.”
She took a bite of soup, prepared to charge back in, but Lord Steere was not an innocent maiden, subject to a garrulous companion from whom she could not escape. Nor was he a young society buck who would flee from it. He glared at Miss Fife and came as close to a bellow the dinner table would allow.
“Woman, if you speak out of turn again, I will have you bodily removed from this room and ban you from entering it again. Mind, I gave this castle to Peregrine and I can take it back again. Do not think I have to put up with your inanities.”
Although the former statement was not precisely true—Perry hoped—he had to admire the deft way his uncle had dealt with her. Miss Fife turned red, opened and shut her mouth a couple of times, then set her spoon down, her brows almost meeting in the center of her forehead. Lord Steere turned back to Marianne.
“I asked about your education. I have yet to hear your reply.”
Marianne glanced at Miss Fife. “I have had little education as a lady, my lord.” She stopped when Miss Fife gave an angry huff. “I am well read, and I am a woman of honor. Those are my qualifications.”
“Sewing? Dancing?” Lord Steere fixed her with his gaze. She shook her head. “French? Pianoforte?”
“None of those.” Marianne lifted her chin, and Perry was proud of her. A woman of honor trumped all. His uncle was blinded by society’s dictates.
Perry had been of the same ilk until he’d arrived at Brindale. He could not put his finger on what had changed him in the meantime. It must not be what, but rather who.
When Marianne and her companion were finished with dinner, she murmured an excuse about needing to pack her things for her return to the cottage the next day. Miss Fife bid Perry good night with great distinction, then sniffed and looked away rather than address Lord Steere. He was wholly unmoved. At Perry’s command, Charlie and Albinus removed Miss Fife in a chair then brought the port and two glasses, setting one in front of each of them.
Lord Steere took out a box of snuff and helped himself to some of it before directing his gaze Perry’s way. “You said Miss Edgewood was gently bred. You said she had the training of a lady.”
Perry had been prepared for this. “In character, she is genteel in every way.”
“Herding swine and sharing their filth?”
His uncle’s irony was cutting, and it sent a rip of rebellion through Perry. He was not a religious man, but an unexpected memory of a biblical studies class at Oxford came to his rescue.
“Does Proverbs not speak of a wife”—he caught himself—“awomanof noble character as seeing that her trading is profitable and working from dawn until dusk? Miss Edgewood has kept Brindale running for ten years, starting from when she was a girl. And if she was herding the pig, it was because no one else is capable of doing it, and she didn’t want to have one of Brindale’s commodities threatened. It says such a woman is worth far more than rubies.”
“Don’t quote your biblical jargon to me, boy. That won’t bring credit to the Steere name when you are baron one day. Tell me truthfully. Are you considering taking a foolish step in her regard?”
