The Virtuous Ward

CHAPTER Nine

"Some punch, Honoria?" Max asked as they strolled off the dance floor.

"That would be splendid," she admitted, waving her fan before her face. "I must admit that it is warm in here this evening. You would think Theresa would know better than to have such a squeeze this late in the season."

After a glass of punch, they wandered around talking to friends until they reached the open doors to the terrace. By mutual consent they stepped outside where the temperature was somewhat cooler. Max inhaled deeply, refreshed by the clean air, not heavy with the scent of mingling perfume as the stale atmosphere inside.

"You must feel quite carefree this evening. Where are Lady Grassmere and your little ward?"

It amused Max that Honoria had taken to calling Amity his "little" ward, since the girl was a good head taller than she. When he had arranged for Honoria to mentor Amity he had hoped that they would become good friends. He still did not understand quite what had gone wrong in their relationship but he suspected that neither woman liked the other. In his presence there had been nothing except the most polite of exchanges, however the general lack of warmth and intimacy between them convinced him of the true state of their feelings.

In truth, Amity had never said an unkind word about Honoria. Granted she had not been fulsome in her praises and that was a fair indication of the extent of her friendship with the older woman. Amity was nothing if not enthusiastic about her friends and was more inclined to discuss her relationship with her abigail Betta than any commerce she had with Honoria.

"Cousin Hester was feeling unwell and Amity thought they might both benefit from an evening at home," Max replied. "I have been pleased that her come out has been such a success."

"Yes, most have accepted her without question, thanks to your sponsorship of the child. I saw her last night at the Duchess of Landglower's affair. Amity looked quite charming."

"She has gained some sophistication since her arrival in London, my dear," Max said, his eyes alight with pleasure. “I owe much of this polish to your credit for being such an example of the ideal in feminine perfection."

"Why thank you, Max," Honoria said, fluttering her eyes above her fan. "I have, of course, tried to help the sweet child where I could. One can see the enormous amount of money she has spent on her wardrobe by the elegant gown she was wearing last evening. Perhaps it may have been a trifle sophisticated for a girl of her age but I am sure no one will think that she is too fast."

Max cocked an eyebrow at the comment but when he glanced at Honoria, she raised guileless eyes to him. He turned the words over in his mind and wondered if she was being intentionally critical. He led her down the stone steps to the formal garden his mind busy with the puzzle.

As he looked back over the past weeks he had to admit that Honoria had made many such comments about Amity. They were always disguised as compliments but there was a knife edge of disparagement implied. Now that he thought about it, although Amity had never said a word against her, Honoria had been critical of his ward. It was born in on him that it was almost as if she was the one who had taken a dislike to Amity and she was doing all she could to denigrate her in Max's eyes. He found it difficult to believe this since he had always thought of Honoria as the epitome of gracious, ladylike behavior.

Max was oblivious to the moonlight playing on the garden paths. He walked beside Honoria, his mind intent on his confusion until he was reminded of her presence by a gentle tug on his sleeve.

"Would you mind if we sat for a moment, Max? My poor feet are quite worn from dancing."

"My apologies, my dear," Max said.

He was contrite that he should have been so little aware of her discomfort. Taking out his handkerchief, he rubbed it over the stone bench and then held her hand as she positioned herself on the seat. Staring down at her, he was conscious of her beauty. The moonlight gave a metallic sheen to the blond curls and a softness to her white skin. Tonight he was less affected by her loveliness than usual, perhaps because his mind had been questioning whether he knew her as well as he assumed. Troubled by his disloyal thoughts, he sat down on the bench and turned to gaze at her.

"Do you like Amity?" he asked, surprised at his own words.

"Why, Max, what a question," Honoria said, waving her fan as an indication of her discomposure. "Of course, I am fond of your little ward."

"I have wondered and felt some disquiet." Max pursed his lips, debating how he could find an answer to his confusion. "I suspect a coolness between you and I am concerned that Amity has given you reason to feel hostility toward her."

"Hostility, Max? Why I don't know what to make of your words," Honoria said. She stared at him with injured eyes, then lowered her lids and bent her head. She closed her fan with a brittle snap and tapped the sticks against the palm of her hands. She was silent for several moments then spoke, her words barely audible in the quiet night air. "Oh, Max, it is only that sometimes I worry others may take advantage of your goodness of spirit."

Max felt a tug of amusement at her words. He had never considered that he had a goodness of spirit, quite the contrary in fact. He arranged things so that he was put to the least amount of disorder in his life.

"Come now, my dear," he said. "No one has taken advantage of my goodwill."

"If you say so," she said, sounding not at all convinced.

His forehead wrinkled at her tone and he narrowed his eyes in contemplation of her still bent head. "I can see you are troubled about something, Honoria. Please do me the courtesy of telling me your thoughts so that I may persuade you that there is nothing to worry about." As she remained silent, Max felt annoyance at her reticence. "Is it Amity? Has she committed some unpardonable breach of propriety?"

Honoria raised her head and her eyes were wide with apprehension. He smiled as she batted her lashes in a pretty picture of hesitation. At his encouragement, she brushed out her skirts and then crossed her hands in her lap and straightened her shoulders.

"I have been so hesitant to speak," she began.

"Do you see me as some kind of ogre?" he chided her.

"Of course not, Max. You know how much I regard you. It is difficult sometimes to know when to tell tales. I would not say a word now, except for my concern for darling Amity."

"I appreciate your situation, Honoria. Please continue."

"It was several weeks ago when I chanced to see your ward. I was driving with Percy to see our man of business. The street was crowded and our carriage had come to a stop when I looked up and saw Amity, all alone, in conversation with a man."

"She was alone?" Max asked in surprise.

Honoria swallowed as if hesitant to answer. "Well, yes, except for her abigail. I assumed Lady Grassmere would be nearby but though I searched the street I could find no evidence of her presence."

"I see. So Amity and this young man were in conversation." At Honoria's nod, he asked, "Who was the gentleman?"

"It was no one of my acquaintance." She hesitated for a moment and then blurted out, "In fact, the man was no gentleman at all. He was a soldier."

"A soldier!" Max snapped out the words, his mind recalling the references of the servants to a soldier.

"Oh, Max, I would have spoken sooner if I had thought there was anything unusual going on. Amity is forever speaking to people, persons quite beneath notice in most cases. But of course it is her habit and although I have spoken to her many times, she has refused to change her ways. But in any case I assumed it was a chance meeting between the handsome young man and your ward."

"He was young?" Max asked, his brow furrowed in mounting anger.

"Yes. About the same age as Amity. A very muscular sort of man with a dark tanned face. I can well imagine how a young girl might be caught under the spell of a man in uniform. It would seem most romantic to an untutored girl such as Amity."

"A chance meeting does not a romance make," Max cautioned. "I shall speak to her on this point of etiquette. I am well aware of her penchant for talking to everyone. She is so very trusting, you know and has little knowledge of the evils of the city."

"That is why I have been so concerned," Honoria said, her voice unctuous. "I was intending to speak to her again on that very subject but I quite forgot. I would have thought no more about the incident except on Tuesday last I was astonished to discover Amity in the park with the very same young man."

"What?" Max shouted, leaping to his feet in his astonishment.

"La, my dear. I am sure you would not want this contretemps common knowledge." she patted the bench and he reseated himself, holding his temper under tight rein.

"Honoria, I do not mean to sound censorious but I feel you should have spoken to me earlier about this matter."

"Please don't be angry with me, Max." She fumbled in her reticule for a lacy handkerchief and raised it to her eyes in her distress. "I was torn between my duty to you and my friendship with your little ward."

"I beg of you, my dear, not to become distressed. I should never have spoken so to you. You are in no way at fault. Just tell me what you saw." In truth, Max wanted to shake the information out of his companion and was appalled that he should be so little caring of her sensibilities. Fury at Amity's behavior and concern for her welfare vied for precedence in his mind. He waited with little patience for Honoria to continue.

"I was walking in the park near your townhouse with Roger Danforth when I looked up and to my astonishment your ward was sitting on a bench talking to her soldier. He was no longer in uniform but I recognized him immediately. Amity was so deep in conversation that she did not see me but I almost wish she had. Then I might have had an opportunity to warn her concerning such behavior." She reached out and patted Max on the arm. "I know what hopes you have for the girl in regard to Bancroft Paige. Both he and his sister are high sticklers for all the niceties of etiquette. If word came to their ears concerning Amity's indiscreet meeting with a young man in a public park, I cannot imagine what might happen."

"I can. It would put paid to her chances," Max answered. "Entre nous, my dear, Amity and Bancroft have reached an understanding. Not an official betrothal mind. They feel they must wait for Ophelia's approval."

"Oh, Max, that is splendid news!" Honoria cried. Her face wore a smile of unusual warmth and she reached for his hand, squeezing it in her excitement. "I am so thrilled for dear little Amity. She must be over the moon with elation at her good fortune."

"I suppose so," Max said. "I was assuming all would be successful but with this new start one wonders if she has lost her wits entirely. A soldier," he snorted in disgust.

"You mustn't be too harsh with the child," Honoria said, her voice soft with appeal. "She is new to the ways of society and has much to learn. I am just pleased that you now will have an opportunity to warn her. Ever since I saw her with the young man I have been in a quandary over what action to take to protect her from her own folly."

"Telling me was the proper action, my dear. I shall get to the bottom of this." Max's tight lips and grim features indicated that the subject was closed and his ward would have much to answer for her actions. Returning to the ballroom, he noted the bouncing step of Honoria and realized she was relieved to have confessed her guilty secrets. Amity must be made aware of how good a friend she had in Honoria. Thank heaven that he understood women, he thought in relief.

When Max returned home it was late and both Lady Grassmere and Amity had retired. He debated waking the girl but he was so angry with her that he knew he was not in the proper frame of mind to deal with the situation. The thought that she had been participating in secret meetings with some unknown soldier quite infuriated him. How could she be so stupid as to risk her reputation in some light flirtation?

He entered the library and poured himself a large brandy, sipping the liquor without conscious awareness of its fine quality. Throwing himself into his high backed chair, he stretched out his legs, prying each shoe off with the toe of the other. He propped his feet up on a footstool and once more considered the problem of Amity.

Granted she was impetuous and childlike in her curiosity and enthusiasm, he had never felt she was either immodest or flirtatious. She was congenial to all the men who flocked around her but he had noticed that she never permitted any of the men to make advances to her. In fact he had heard her scold them when they praised her with the flowery compliments they were accustomed to use. She treated them all with the avuncular affection reserved for younger, and not necessarily brighter, brothers. It seemed out of character that this practical miss should have fallen foul of some soldier with immoral intentions; Amity was far too honorable to be involved in some tawdry liaison. Despite Honoria's interpretation, Max felt that there had to be some other explanation.

There was much going on in his household that he felt needed clarification. He was still chagrined that he had not been able to discover what a piglet was doing loose in his foyer and what had been going on in the garden storeroom. It had been several days before he was able to visit the area, since he wished to avoid any appearance that he was snooping in his own garden. When he went to the storeroom, the only evidence that he could discover of any animals' occupancy was a strong aroma of the barnyard and a chair minus several mouthfuls of stuffing.

Although this might have been enough to worry him he had noticed other peculiarities in the running of his household. Most of the servants employed on his various estates had been affiliated with his family for years. However over the past several weeks he had noticed an increasing number of new faces in and around the townhouse and the stables. Despite the fact he had never paid much attention to his household staff, he could swear there was an ever-changing supply of strange men in his employ.

Amity's arrival in his life had turned his well ordered bachelor existence topsy-turvy. Perhaps he might have been more zealous in his investigations but he had to admit that in some ways there were benefits to the reformation of his life. From one day to the next he had no way of predicting what novelty he would find in his household; instead of the boredom he had been prone to, he discovered he awakened in the morning with anticipation of what the day might offer. There was an atmosphere that pervaded the townhouse, a feeling of lightness and joy that had been absent before Amity flew into his life. It was apparent in the smiling faces of the servants and in an air of happiness that crept into each room like the bowls of flowers the girl was forever arranging.

However after his discussion with Honoria, Max knew that he would need to determine what the girl was up to. He could not close his eyes to the possibility that her impetuous nature might have catapulted her into some sort of trouble.

The first thing he needed was information. Although he could ask Putnam, he was not positive the starchy man would give him satisfactory answers to his questions. All of the servants had become slaves to Amity's slightest wish. They fair doted on the minx and despite the fact their first allegiance was to Max, he suspected they would protect her from his wrath if put to the test. Besides he would much prefer to find out on his own and deal with it himself.

In particular, Max was determined to communicate directly with Amity's soldier. If the man somehow were taking advantage of her trusting nature, Max intended to teach him a very painful lesson.

Putnam was not to be approached, so Max's next possibility for information was his own valet. The old man was always aware of the goings on in the household and, less astute than the butler, might not be aware of Max's gentle probing. Unfortunately he would have to wait until morning to question Wilberforce, since several years ago he had told the old man he was quite capable of finding his own way to bed. On that thought, he downed the last of his brandy and quitted the library for his bed.

After a good night's sleep, Max was awake on all counts when Wilberforce threw back the draperies to announce the arrival of the day.

"Tis a fine morning, your lordship," the little man chirped. "Did you have a good evening, sir?"

"It was the usual crush, but the wine at least was tolerable." Max's voice was muffled as he slipped the nightshirt over his head. "Was Lady Grassmere feeling better?"

"She had an early night of it, so's I should imagine she'll feel more the thing this morning. She's no longer young, milord, and she's been out quite a bit with Miss Amity."

"I assume Miss Amity retired early. I had hoped to have a few words with her last night," he said as he made his morning ablutions and returned to the bedroom.

"She read for some time in the library, but was not up much past ten of the clock. I think the fawn trousers, milord," Wilberforce said, indicating the clothes already laid out. "And perhaps a Waterfall?" he asked, holding up a snowy cravat hopefully.

"Just something simple," Max suggested, easing into the dark superfine jacket.

"As you say, milord."

Wilberforce sniffed his disapproval and busied himself straightening the room, his face wearing a look of injury. Timing his actions perfectly, he appeared at Max's side with the jewelry box just as his master completed the last of his dressing. Max extracted a garnet ring and a carved gold ring then busied himself with the alignment of his watch chain.

Keeping his head bent and his voice bored, Max asked abruptly, "Will Miss Fraser be meeting with the soldier today?"

"Aye, milord, tis Tuesday," Wilberforce answered without any sign that the question was unusual. He closed the jewelry box and returned it to the dressing room.

While the man was gone, Max congratulated himself on the inspired guess but composed his expression to one of disinterest. Luckily for the valet's peace of mind, he did not see the calculation in the green eyes of his master when he returned.

"The ivory walking stick, Wilberforce," Max requested. When his valet handed it to him, he tapped the knobby top against his cheek, his eyebrows furrowed in question. "I must be aging, old man. I have quite forgot what Miss Amity said as to time and place."

"Never say, milord. You're looking younger by the day," the valet argued. He scratched the sparse white hair on his head, then smiled in triumph. "As I recollect it's the park at half after one of the clock."

Max was afraid of putting the wind up the little man with any more questions. He assumed by the vaguely waving hand of the servant that the park in question was the one two blocks from the townhouse. He thanked the valet and strolled from the room, a wolfish smile on his face. Outside the townhouse his eyes took on the gleam of the hunter as he considered his plans. He would wander off to his club and later in the day take a much-needed bit of exercise.

Just after lunch Max strolled through the gates of the park, his eyes flickering around the area. If he knew his girl, she would be on the less frequented paths, hidden from eyes that might recognize her and report her activities. Pulling his beaver hat low over his eyes, Max moved to the first path that cut to the left along the more overgrown sections of the park. He appeared to stroll without purpose, his ivory walking stick swinging in his hand, but in actual fact he was quartering the area in search of his quarry. Soon his perseverance was rewarded.

Amity sat on a bench in the sun. She was wearing a mint green muslin dress and perched on her red curls was a straw hat with a darker green ribbon tied in a bow against her cheek. Beside her was her abigail and the ever-present Muffin was sprawled at her feet. Leaning against a tree not far from Amity, Max smiled at the pretty picture she made. He was not certain what he had expected to find but it was not this pastoral scene of contentment.

A quick glance at his watch told him he was in good time to observe his ward and he leaned against the trunk of a tree, satisfied for the moment in observing her. He felt no guilt in spying on her; after all he was responsible for her protection. His patience was rewarded for soon she was joined by a young man who walked with the jaunty air of a soldier.

Max's eyes focused on the darkly handsome face of the man and rage such as he had never felt, almost sent him catapulting out of the cover of trees. How dare he accost Amity! Max wanted nothing so much as to horsewhip the man who dared consider his ward a fit prospect for some shabby dalliance. A slight movement caught his eye and, at the sight of the empty sleeve pinned to his jacket, reason calmed the whirling tide of Max's anger.

Why hadn't Honoria mentioned the soldier had only one arm, instead of dwelling on the fact that the man was so handsome and muscular? Now that Max focused he was able to note that the quality of the clothing and the manner of the man was more suited to a servant than some besotted lover. In fact, it was apparent that the man was barely cognizant of Amity but was besotted by his ward's abigail. Honoria could have checked her suspicions before she accused Amity of a gross impropriety.

"Devil take all women!" Max muttered as he left the comfort of the tree to approach the little group. The threesome was much too deep in conversation to notice his arrival but the faithful Muffin raised his head and growled a semblance of a greeting. At the sound, Amity's eyes opened in astonishment.

"Max!" she called in surprise. Her face glowed with welcome, untinged by any sign of guilty distress.

"Greetings, poppet," Max said, bowing to the party.

"Come let me make you known to our good friend, Jason Conway." Amity made the introductions and smiled as her guardian shook hands with Jason, each man eyeing the other warily.

"I was looking for you, my dear," Max. "I thought we might sit in the sunshine and have a comfortable coze."

"What an excellent idea," she said. "Mr. Conway was just leaving but perhaps I might beg a favor and he could accompany Betta back to the townhouse."

"It would be my pleasure, miss," Jason said, jumping at the opportunity. With alacrity he helped the blushing abigail to her feet, then tipped his hat in a jaunty salute. "Your servant, Miss Fraser. Your lordship."

Max watched as the one armed man leaned over the little abigail as he led her back along the path. He turned to Amity and had to grin at her deep sigh of contentment as she followed the disappearing figures, her gaze misty with vicarious enjoyment. Max cleared his throat and she turned to face him, chagrined to have been so caught up in her romantic fancies.

"I'm sorry, Max," she said. "I was just pleased that Betta could have more of a chance to visit with her young man. She doesn't see as much of him as she would like."

"Don't tell me you're setting up as a matchmaker," Max drawled, sitting down on the bench beside the laughing girl.

"He's a wonderful man and just perfect for Betta. I think he will declare himself soon now that his prospects have improved," she answered.

"Perhaps you might enlighten me as to who this young man is and how you have become acquainted with him," Max said. His tone was light but Amity noticed the hint of purpose behind his words. "In fact, my charming baggage, you might consider telling me about the additional servants in the household, not to mention the goat and the ever-so-adorable piglets."

"Oh," said Amity, her eyes widening in surprise at the extent of his knowledge.

"Indeed, my dear." Max leaned against the back of the bench and folded his arms across his chest.

By his attitude, Amity was conscious that he was determined to wait until she had explained and, gulping once, she nodded, acknowledging that it was time to open her budget. She began with her meeting with Jason and the plan she and Betta had concocted to help the returning soldiers. He listened with attention, occasionally interjecting a question.

"You have been busy since your arrival in London. And all the time I thought you were gadding about shopping." Max shook his head in amazement. Amity was running some sort of charity rig to find jobs for returning soldiers while most fashionable ladies of the ton were unaware that there was even a need for such action.

"I did go shopping in the beginning, Max," she argued. "But once I gathered my wardrobe there was little to do. As you know I was involved in the running of Beech House and I had begun to feel useless here in town. Now I have much with which to occupy myself. There is always someone in need of a job, or...."

"Don't tell me," Max said, rolling his eyes to the heavens. "There is always someone who needs a home."

She giggled at his expression, then sobered and spoke quite seriously. "I am sorry to have caused you any concern, Max. I would have told you but I was afraid you might not have approved of my enterprise and I did so want to be useful."

"Never fear, poppet. I shouldn't approve but I have to admit it pleases me to find you have such a generous heart." He watched the flush of color rise in her cheeks at his words. He was used to the fact that she was a beauty but there was an almost incandescent glow to her skin that quite took his breath away. He shook his head to dispel the magic he felt in her presence. "I think I am aware of most of your startling machinations, but I would still like to understand what has been going on in my storeroom."

"I forgot that part," Amity admitted sheepishly. "It was Jason's idea. Not to use the garden storeroom. I fear that was something that I hit upon."

"Just give me the straight of it, girl, or we'll be here until winter sets in," Max said.

"Yes, sir. Jason mentioned that some of the soldiers wanted to start a farm. It would provide food for those in desperate need and a place for some of the injured to go. I suggested to him that he locate a likely property and when he had discovered one not too far from London I instructed Henderson, my man of business, to purchase it as an investment. The men agreed to the proposition once I was able to set up a system whereby they could pay off the loan and eventually own the farm themselves."

"Devil you say!" Max was stunned at the businesslike attitude of his ward. "It was my understanding that Henderson was the one making all the decisions on behalf of your estate. Now I begin to wonder."

"In the beginning that was true, Max, but as I grew older I began to take an active role in the management of the estate. Henderson trusts my judgment now and is more than willing to accept my orders."

"It has become apparent to me that the vast store of knowledge I had concerning women has been tested by my meeting with you," Max said. He shook his head in bewilderment and grimaced at his ward's tinkling laughter. "Continue if you please," he said.

"Well, after I purchased Lady Guinevere," she said, grinning in remembrance of the pathetic mare, "it occurred to me that I might keep my eyes open for other animals in need of a home. So when I chanced to discover a sow I bought her and placed her in the garden storeroom until Jason could send someone to retrieve her. I had not counted on the fact that she would litter and then of course I did not want her moved so soon after her confinement."

"Naturally not. It would offend her sensibilities, I am sure."

Amity's eyes sparkled with humor at his bantering words. "Mrs. Putnam didn't mind the ducks but was not best pleased when I bought the goat. I am afraid it damaged one of the chairs being stored there but I am quite willing to have the repairs taken out of my allowance."

"I suspect I can stand the expense as my part in this unorthodox project. Did you send all the animals to the farm?"

"Yes and I am happy to report they are thriving. Even Lady Guinevere has never looked better."

"There was no possibility, short of death, that she could have looked worse," Max drawled. Then in an abrupt change of subject. "How do you think Bancroft will react to your enterprise?"

For the first time in their discussion, Amity looked uneasy. "I don't know. I would hope that he would consider it a worthwhile cause. After all, the soldiers fought for the freedom of England, Max. It is only right that they not be left in desperate straits now that we no longer have use for them."

"I would agree, poppet, but then I am not the man you are to marry," he commented. "No need to look so grim, Amity. I have the feeling you could convince anyone of the rightness of your actions. Come along home. All this fresh air is exhausting."

Amity took his arm and tried to appear as usual but his words had left a feeling of gloom deep in her heart. She had not considered what would happen to the soldiers once she married. Although she hoped that Bancroft might look on her activities as worthy, she suspected he might not be well pleased. She had noticed that most of the fashionable set preferred their good works in the form of donations and disdained anything that might bring them personally into the sphere of those they wished to help.

For all the loneliness of her early life, Amity was quite used to doing much as she pleased. She had not considered the fact that once she married she would be responsible for her actions to another person, who might not have the same ideas that she did. In her dealings with Bancroft she had never found him unreasonable but then she had never challenged him. She knew he was a proper stickler for the proprieties and although he appeared easygoing, she suspected he might become quite angry if she did not conform to what he considered was genteel behavior. She considered her actions commensurate with the actions of a lady. But would Bancroft?