Page 129 of The Ladies Least Likely
“Lots of women do, Joseph.”
“Not gentlewomen, and not my sister,” he said, frowning. “Besides, you’ll love Susannah as much as I do. We’ll find a nicelittle cottage somewhere, and I’ll—” His face went wooden, and he bolted to his feet. “Grey.”
Amaranthe sensed when he entered the room, though her back was to the library door. Strange how another person could change the very atmosphere; she’d never noticed that before. Perhaps it was his scent she’d picked up on, something dark and smoky, like old papers that had acquired the odor of tobacco. And beneath that something sharp and darker yet, as pungent and striking as the oak gall in her ink, a scent she associated with absolute pleasure and freedom.
She rose and faced him. The most ridiculous sensation suffused her at the sight of him, tall, big, Malden. “You’re in time for tea.”
“I’d say I’m too late. The boys haven’t left a crumb.” His gaze raked her, the gleam in his pale blue eyes turning sharp. “What’s upset you?”
“Nothing of import. Joseph and I were simply discussing his—situation. And how we might help you.”
She was surprised he’d noticed her distress. Joseph only noticed her emotions when they smacked him across the face. Malden Grey seemed unusually attuned to the feelings of those around him, understanding more than their words. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
Or perhaps he was watching her for signs of wrongdoing. She couldn’t shake the fear that struck her in the bookshop, that he knew she was a liar and a thief. Shefelthis awareness of her, if such a thing were possible.
“Mr. Grey.” Joseph’s tone was cool. Her brother didn’t like the other man, and Amaranthe wondered why. “I have no excuse and no explanation for the appalling situation that was unfolding, it seems, beneath my very nose. If you demand my resignation, I’m willing to give it.”
“Resignation? By no means.” Grey’s eyes widened in alarm. “You’d put me to the fuss of having to hire another tutor, on top of everything else. I think not.”
Joseph exhaled in relief. “Thank you—sir.”
Ah. Amaranthe guessed the rub. Joseph knew of Grey’s parentage. He would show superficial courtesy to Malden Grey, as the children’s guardian and now the employer in charge of his salary. But he didn’t see the other man as worthy of his respect.
She couldn’t account for that attitude. Their father the rector had been the most tolerant of Christians, a man who felt God’s love embraced everyone, sinners and non-believers alike. But Joseph borrowed more from Reuben’s hierarchy of social caste and worth, which deemed a man of irregular birth inferior, no matter how high-born his sire.
Amaranthe felt indignant on Grey’s behalf. It wasn’t his fault he was born on the wrong side of the blanket, and it wasn’t fair to punish natural children for their circumstances. Grey was already denied the inheritance that would have otherwise gone to him, and who knows what other obstacles his bastardy had put in his path.
Recalling the dismissive words of the Bencher they’d met in the bookshop, and Grey’s stunned reaction to the man, she could guess why the dilemma of the Delaval children had escaped his notice for so long. Grey had been pouring everything he had into his studies and his ambitions to become a barrister, only to find out that what barred his advancement—again—had nothing to do with his efforts and everything to do with his circumstances.
“You can’t sack Mr. Joseph!” Ned brought the last of his slice of cake with him as he barreled across the room. “He lets us read travel stories as part of our geography lessons.”
“Indeed, Grey, we must retain him,” the young duke chimed in. “His grasp of Latin declensions is so much better than our last tutor’s.”
Amaranthe smiled to herself. So that was why Joseph asked her to drill him on Latin cases and had been heard muttering word endings to himself as he exited the house on his way to lessons. Would Susannah Pettigrew be able to help him in his work?
Oh, unfair. Miss Pettigrew’s appeal was obviously based on factors which had nothing to do with her grasp of Latin. Whereas Amaranthe, who could not politely be called anything but plain, had learned to rely on her intellect. But men like Joseph—men like Grey—noticed women for their more outward charms. Prized them for it, in fact.
She picked uneasily at a ruffle on her billowing skirt. When had she decided she wished to interest Malden Grey? That way lay thorny paths and dragons.
Keep to the straight and narrow, old girl.
“I’ve no intentions of sacking Mr. Illingworth,” Grey told the boys. “Unless he doesn’t set you directly back to lessons and give you something useful to do. Did you devourallthe cakes, you ravening beasts?”
“Miss Illingworth!” Camilla charged in the door and ran straight to Amaranthe, slipping her tiny hand in hers. The contact surprised Amaranthe, and she cautiously curled her fingers around the girl’s.
“Mr. Illingworth.” Camilla gave Joseph a polite curtsy and regarded him with wide eyes. “How was the Quaker meeting? Did you bring me any more pamphlets?”
Joseph coughed. “I’ve no literature, I’m afraid, Lady Camilla, and perhaps we might discuss the Quaker meeting at some other time. It was quite, quite different from our Anglican tradition.”
Camilla gave Amaranthe an adoring look. “I’m ready to begin our lessons. Oh, hullo, Grey.”
“Thank you for acknowledging me, Millie,” Grey said. “It appears we all want Miss Illingworth. I’ve a letter for her thatwas brought to our door.” He met her eyes as he handed her a folded sheet with an address scribbled across the front. “A boy brought it just now. The woman at your house sent him over with it.”
Amaranthe stared at the address, too stunned to speak. Joseph looked over her shoulder and read the name that froze her, his astonishment equal to her own.
“Penwellen! We’ve not heard from Cousin Reuben in an eon. I wonder what he wants?”
“How did he find us?” Amaranthe whispered, her lips as numb as her fingers.
