The next morning, after she'd said goodbye to Jenny, Jacob, and the children, she stood in the street for a moment, undecided. She could go back to Bath, to Miss Hilversham, and forget this entire episode in London. Life would go on as usual, safe and sound. She could take on extra teaching hours and send whatever she could spare to Jenny and Jacob.
Or.
Or she could go back to Hanover Square Eleven.
Accept the baron's proposal.
And solve everyone's problems by pretending to be his wife.
CHAPTER FIVE
Edmund Graves, Baron Tewkbury, rose at his usual time the next day, which was about eleven. He had a hearty breakfast of beef and kedgeree before disappearing to his dressing rooms. He wore a banyan of bright red silk embroidered with oriental ornaments.
First, he was shaved.
As his valet sharpened the razor with a leather strop, Edmund leaned back and closed his eyes.
During this time, he liked to do something that he normally avoided during the remaining day, and that was to introspect. In other words, he pondered on the tedious business that lay ahead of him.
He needed to find a wife, urgently, since the woman yesterday had bolted after he'd suggested she marry him. Not that he could blame her; he supposed he'd sprung the proposition on her rather suddenly. But she'd left the child behind, who'd then looked up at him with bright, troubled eyes and planted his wet, sticky little hand in his. Edmund had not known what to do. So he'd told the housemaid to take the child upstairs to one of the bedrooms, and that she was to bathe him, and feed him soup with bread, followed by some biscuits.
"But only with a dollop of jam," he'd added, remembering that the woman had said the child shouldn't have too much sugar.
The child had gone willingly with the maid.
The child was one thing. He would have to deal with him later.
His lack of a wife was another.
Now that word had got out that he was supposedly married, he could no longer show his face in the clubs or on the streets until he had someone to show off.
But where would he find such a person?
Once again, he felt a pang of regret that the luscious redhead had run away. Schoolmistress or not, she'd have been perfect.
His valet, Lionel, dried his chin and flicked the towel away.
Now for the delicate business of combing his hair. His hair was thick and brown, and just the perfect length to sweep high on his forehead and back in a windswept Brutus style. He used a special pomade, mixed especially for him, to hold his hair in place.
Then he had to get dressed.
That usually took him a good two hours, sometimes three.
He had to focus his thoughts and concentrate, for it was a science.
For one did not just put on clothes.
One had to spend at least an hour carefully choosing which apparel to wear, judging not only the quality and fabric of the coat but also the colour. This was followed by another hour of actual dressing. Sometimes it took longer because he changed his mind in the middle of the process.
And tying the cravat was another matter entirely.
Getting dressed was a sacrosanct time not to be disturbed at any cost. The butler and footmen knew better than to interrupt him, for once Edmund had dismissed a footman who'd had the audacity to announce a visitor while he was amid the delicate process of tying his cravat.
"Today," he said to Lionel, "is a green day."
"Yes, my lord. May I suggest the jade-green cloak?" Lionel held out a coat.
Edmund raised his quizzing glass to his lips and considered the green. He waved it away. "No. It's too introspective a colour. The other one."
