Anna Campbell: A Scoundrel By Moonlight

Whatever she was up to, he was in favor if it lent her this spark. “Do tell.”

She rang the bell on the side table. The door to the dressing room opened and a neat, fair-haired young woman entered, head lowered and hands linked decorously at her waist.

Leath’s gut tightened with a premonition that the alignment of his planets changed forever. Of course, the girl was the mysterious Miss Trim who had kept him restless and intrigued past dawn.

“My lady?” The girl’s curtsy conveyed considerably more respect than she’d granted him a few hours ago, Leath was piqued to note.

“Nell, let me show you off to my son.” The fondness in his mother’s voice troubled him, although only moments ago, he’d been grateful for whatever had brought about this positive change in her. His mother turned to him as if she presented a huge treat. “James, Miss Trim is my companion.”

The girl poised in the doorway. She wore the same plain gray gown and her hair was still wrenched back. She looked biddable and competent. Why, then, was he so convinced that she was up to no good?

During his sleepless hours, he’d wondered if his imagination exaggerated her attractions. Daylight didn’t lessen her physical impact. There was nothing flashy about Miss Trim, nothing vulgar. The purity of her features struck him even more strongly now than in candlelight. And that miracle of a mouth still made his skin itch with unwilling sexual response.

“Good morning, Miss Trim,” he said calmly.

Her gaze shot up to meet his. With a satisfaction completely out of kilter with the fact, he noticed that her eyes were a coppery brown, striking against her pale hair. “Welcome home, my lord.”

“Thank you.”

What the devil was she playing at, calling herself a housemaid? What the devil had she been playing at in his library at three this morning? The revelation of Miss Trim’s position in the household raised more questions than it answered.

“Nell has become indispensable.” His mother’s voice was warm with affection. Which made him uneasy on so many levels.

“I’m sure.” Leath mustn’t have contained the irony in his tone because his mother cast him a puzzled glance.

“She’s transformed my life,” his mother said, in answer to his unspoken criticism.

“You’re too kind, my lady.” Miss Trim’s voice was low and melodic, like a cello.

“You didn’t mention Miss Trim in your letters,” Leath said neutrally. Given his mother wrote most days, the omission had to be deliberate.

“I wasn’t sure you’d approve,” his mother said.

“I’m not sure I do,” he said. “When I’ve offered to arrange a companion, you’ve always declined.”

His mother grimaced. “You’d saddle me with some destitute relative. Bores, every one.”

“A little harsh.”

“But only a little.” His mother reached for Miss Trim who, blast her, took her hand. “Nell does me perfectly, especially since Sophie left. I need someone young and bright to talk to.”

Leath had no right to resent the implication that he wasn’t young and bright. Miss Trim cast him a nervous glance under thick lashes, dark like her brows. She must expect him to betray her midnight wanderings. He wondered why the hell he didn’t.

“Perhaps. But I would have liked to help you find someone suitable.”

The girl’s lips flattened. His mother looked equally unimpressed. He realized that he’d handled this as badly as a parliamentary novice with an unpopular petition. He must be wearier than he’d thought. Or Miss Trim’s silent and subtly hostile presence unsettled him.

“Nell is completely suitable. You’ll see.”

He’d see something, that was sure. He wasn’t letting the manipulative Miss Trim out of his sight.

“My lady, perhaps it would be better if I finished ordering those embroidery patterns.” The girl shifted uncomfortably. Obscurely it galled him that her manners proved better than his. He and his mother should hold this discussion in private.

“If I’m going to quarrel with my son, perhaps you should,” his mother said.

“No, stay. I want to talk to you, Miss Trim.”

“Bully her, you mean,” his mother sniped.

Leath ignored the gibe and focused on his mother. “Where did you discover this paragon?”

“In the kitchen, my lord,” Miss Trim said with a hint of challenge.

“Nell, don’t bait my son. He doesn’t like to be crossed,” his mother said as if describing a fractious toddler. “James, Nell came to us in July as a housemaid. I was suffering … megrims and she was drafted into my care. It was immediately apparent that her talents extended beyond dusting and scrubbing.”

Leath fumed under his parent’s tolerant glance, even as guilt assailed him. He well knew his mother’s courage. “Megrims” meant she’d been prostrate with pain. And he’d been in London and ignorant of her suffering. While this encroaching maidservant took advantage. “A housemaid is no apt companion for the Marchioness of Leath.”

“She is when the marchioness so decides,” his mother snapped. “If I can no longer choose who serves me, it’s time I moved to the dower house.”

Leath endured a meaningful glance from Miss Trim, as if to remind him that his mother’s health was poor and this disagreement must try her nerves. Damn it, he knew that. In frustration, he ran a hand through his hair. If they ever allowed women into parliament, every man there was doomed.

“Mamma, this is your home. There’s no need for this.”

“If it’s my home, I should be allowed to select my servants,” she said stalwartly.

Miss Trim shifted to a table covered with bottles and vials and poured a cordial for his mother. “Your ladyship, perhaps I should return to my former place in the household.”

Leath’s eyes narrowed on her. “Capital suggestion.”

His mother accepted the small crystal glass with a grateful smile. He couldn’t help noticing the glitter in her eyes. She didn’t look ill. In fact, she looked better than she’d looked in recent memory. But the doctors had insisted that too much excitement could exhaust her.

“I will not countenance you dismissing Nell just because you’ve got some bee in your bonnet.” She handed the half-empty glass to Miss Trim, who returned it to the table without glancing at him.

He sighed. “It’s a pity to start our reunion with an argument.”

His mother regarded him with a less militant light in her fine gray eyes. “Perhaps I should have told you in a letter.”

He doubted that would have changed his mind about Miss Trim’s suitability, although he might have had a clue about the identity of last night’s moonlit wraith. “I’m willing to give the girl a chance.”

He waited for his mother to insist that he had no say in the matter, but it seemed she too regretted their disagreement. “You’ll soon see how good she is for me and you’ll be as grateful as I am that she came to us.”

Somehow he doubted that. “I would still appreciate the chance to interview her.”

Miss Trim glanced up quickly and he saw that she was as reluctant to be interviewed as his mother was to allow the interview to take place. Too bad. He was master here and it was time he took control. His mother had always been an excellent judge of character and he had a large and capable staff. But even so, things at Alloway Chase were not as he wished.

“Don’t let him browbeat you, Nell,” his mother said with an encouraging smile.

“For heaven’s sake, Mamma, you make me sound like a tyrant.”

His mother arched her eyebrows. “If your guilty conscience prompts that thought, perhaps you should examine your behavior.”