As she headed for her bedchamber, the housekeeper had just exited. She bobbed a slight curtsy. “Welcome back, ma’am. Your rooms are prepared for you. Thank you for sending word of your return. Cook has ensured that a tea tray with some light refreshment was prepared as well.”
Ada smiled. “You are both worth your weight in gold.”
The wrinkles in the housekeeper’s face deepened at the compliment. “Thank you, ma’am.”
She walked away and Ada entered her chamber. The curtains had been pulled back to let in the bright, afternoon sun. The gilt-edged frames on the wall caught the glare and offered a welcoming glint. Dust motes floated on the air, looking like stars shining in the sun’s rays.
It should have been a cheery scene, but Ada only felt despondent. She sank down on the bed and set her reticule beside her. The ticking of the clock sounded like a death knell in the ominous silence.
She snatched her purse and headed back downstairs.
Brandt had been almost desperate to see Ada for the past seven days, but he’d forced himself to stay away. His mother had told him that absence made the heart grow fonder, and if he had anything to say about it, the proverb was absolutely accurate. He’d had to keep himself busy in other ways, just so he wouldn’t ride hell-for-leather back to the Manor and fall on his knees like some sort of pitiful swain, begging for a morsel of her attention.
He might yearn to have her as his own, but he did have some dignity.
Thus, he’d been forced to cool his heels in other ways. He did a lot of riding in the mornings when there were few people about and he could give the horse his head. In the afternoons, his mother and Arabella would take a ride through Hyde Park and sometimes he was inclined to join them. Although he cared little for the approval of society, he knew that eventually, his daughter would need an easy entrée into the world he’d been born into. Although she had grown up with limited means, if the solicitor had been telling the truth, she was quickly starting to understand what it meant to act with a certain amount of decorum. But only when it suited her. She still had the stubborn nature of a four-year-old and it was difficult to curb her selfish tendencies to get what she wanted.
Just as they finished their ride, she turned to his mother with a demand. “I want a sweet ice.”
His mother had patted her gloved hand and said, “Not today, Arabella.”
Her little face had scrunched into a pout. “Why not?”
“Because you were told no. That is a sufficient reason,” his mother said firmly.
“No, it’s not.”
Brandt decided it was time to intercede. Although his mother was enjoying having a grandchild about that she could spoil, at times Arabella tested her patience. “How about if we go tomorrow, Bella? That shall give you something to look forward to—”
“No!” she nearly screamed. “I want to go now!”
“Arabella Lorraine!” his mother chided as she put a hand to her chest. “That is certainly not the correct way for a young lady to behave!”
“I don’t care! I want a sweet ice!”
At this point, tears were streaming down her face. Brandt didn’t know what to do. As her father, he didn’t know how to properly calm her down when she was having one of her tantrums. And, at the moment, his mother appeared at a loss as well. She attempted to coddle the child, but that only made her more upset. With a heavy sigh, his mother looked at him and said, “It may be time to hire a governess.”
He frowned. “She’s too young.”
“That may be, but she needs a strong hand to keep her in line, and I fear I don’t have the energy to do it.”
Brandt sat back against the cushions. “I will consider it,” he said, as his attention went beyond the window. His breath caught, and he rapped on the roof of the carriage. “Driver, stop!”
His mother went on alert, and even some of Arabella’s cries silenced for a moment. “What is it?”
Instead of replying, Brandt climbed out of the carriage as it rolled to a stop. He caught up with his quarry as she walked steadily down the walk. “Mrs. Givens.”
She halted and spun toward him in surprise. “Mr. Clarke.”
He heard the breathless quality to her voice, and his smile deepened. “What are you doing in London?” he asked.
“I just returned home today. It is time for a new matron to take over my duties.” She hesitated. “We have something of a routine,” she offered.
“I see. Will you be here long? Perhaps we might take a ride in my curricle some afternoon.”
By the way she looked at him, he could tell she was about to refuse him. But when Arabella started to renew her wails from the carriage, he knew he couldn’t tarry overlong. “Forgive me, but Arabella isn’t in very good spirits today.”
He started to return to the carriage, but she surprised him by saying, “Might I be of some assistance?” His brows lifted, prompting her to explain, “My eldest sister had a child who suffered from various outbursts. While I can’t promise that I will be of any help, I would be willing to try.”
