Daring Deception Read online

  “I’d rather remain unwed to my dying day than be bound to a man I can’t love or respect,” his sister retorted, her eyes glinting. “And despite what you say, Thomas, no man who would betroth himself to a lady sight unseen can be all that he should be. If he were as sought after as you say, why should he do so? I’ll discover something to his discredit, never fear! And I shall hold you to your promise when I do.” Her face set, Frederica strode from the room.

  Sir Thomas watched her go, a slight frown creasing his handsome brow. All in all, the interview had gone better than he had expected. At least she had not refused outright, as he had feared. If she had, he doubted he could have forced her to the match. Still, he could not recall Frederica ever failing at a task she set her mind to, and she had looked uncommonly determined this time. Could he possibly have misjudged Lord Seabrooke?

  His brow cleared and he shrugged. If he had, no doubt Frederica would discover it for him. He had decided years ago that there was never any point in worrying about things one could not change, particularly if they were unpleasant. Accordingly, Sir Thomas put the entire matter from his mind and sat down to consume the remainder of Frederica’s abandoned tea and cakes.

  CHAPTER 2

  Frederica went straight to the study to pull pen and paper from her desk. She knew Thomas had only made that promise because he thought she could have no way of finding out anything of substance about his precious Lord Seabrooke, but she had a secret weapon that he had doubtless overlooked—her old governess, Miss Milliken.

  In the more than ten years Frederica had known her, Miss Milliken had gradually moved from the position of governess to that of friend and confidante. She and Frederica had enjoyed an unusually close relationship based on a similarity of tastes and a sincere affection for each other, and it was only upon the death of Miss Milliken’s mother a year ago that the woman had left Maple Hill to keep house for her father on the outskirts of London.

  It was to Miss Milliken that Frederica owed a large part of her purposeful, organized approach to life’s setbacks and challenges. A lifelong student of ancient military campaigns, Miss Milliken believed strongly that a carefully planned strategy could overcome any problem, from knotted embroidery thread to a fire in the stables. In addition, Frederica had discovered over the years that her governess was possessed of a vast network of friends and acquaintances in Town and elsewhere, whose varying experiences and expertise were occasionally sought, through letters, to clarify some point in her charge’s education. Frederica suspected that if anyone could assist her in her present quest, Miss Milliken could. Quickly, she penned her letter.

  * * *

  To Frederica’s surprise, Thomas really did seem intent during the next few days on learning the workings of the estate. Instead of growing bored and changing the subject as he had whenever their father had attempted to instruct him, he asked numerous questions and demanded to be taken over every farm and holding. Frederica, ignorant of the fact that guilt and the bad scare he had received in London had motivated the sudden change, supposed that he must finally be growing up.

  “Here is the school I’ve been telling you about,” she said as they approached the long, low building at one end of the village, on yet another tour during his first week at home. “I’m really very proud of it. In the two years since I opened it, nearly a dozen girls have learned to read, write and sew, substantially broadening their prospects. One has even obtained a position as a shop-girl in Broadgate.”

  “You teach them yourself?” asked Thomas in amazement.

  “No, I’ve managed to find a schoolmistress, though I did so at the outset. I still try to spend some time here every week, teaching drawing to a few of the more talented girls and helping out with some of the youngest ones. Two of the older girls have started a nursery of sorts to allow their mothers a respite at home.”

  They entered the rear of the building as she spoke, and several children ranging in age from two to six ran forward to greet her with hugs and kisses.

  “Good morning, Sarah! How are you today, Mary? Jane, is your cold better?” She greeted each child warmly while Sir Thomas looked on in bemusement. Rising after a moment, she spoke briefly to one of the young women in charge of the youngsters before opening a door to the main room of the schoolhouse.

  “We won’t go in and disturb the lessons, but I wanted you to have a peek,” she said in an undertone to her brother. He looked over her shoulder at the dozen or more girls seated at small wooden desks, listening attentively to a matronly, bespectacled woman at the front of the room. Closing the door again, she turned to him. “I feel this school has truly made a difference in the lives of these girls and their families. It’s been extremely rewarding.” She let her voice and expression convey the challenge she was presenting him.

  Thomas led her back outdoors before replying. “I had no idea, Freddie,” he said, shaking his head. “But I promise to beep the school running if...when...well, you know.”

  Frederica smiled, but grimly. “That’s very comforting, to be sure, but I fully intend to see to it myself.” It was the closest they had come to discussing her betrothal since that first conversation. “I’ve not forgotten your promise, Thomas.”

  “Yes, well, I have been rethinking the matter, Freddie,” he said slowly.

  “Yes?” She felt a surge of triumph. He was going to call it off!

  “I think you should come to Town with me for the Little Season at the end of September. Meet Seabrooke yourself. Who knows, you may discover you like him well enough after all.”

  Frederica glared at him. “So that he may turn on his charm to bamboozle me as he evidently has you? No, thank you. The face he’ll show me as his wife will doubtless be quite different from the one he puts on for Society. Meeting him at a ball or a musicale will prove nothing.”

  Thomas let out a gusty sigh. “It was just a thought. Have it your own way, then—but I warn you, Freddie, you cannot take forever to prove your silly theory. Seabrooke and I discussed a Christmas wedding.”

  “Christmas? This Christmas?” Frederica was appalled. “That’s scarcely four months away!”

  “Well, if he’s the blackguard you think, no doubt you can discover it in half that time,” said Thomas loftily, though his gaze shifted guiltily away. “Now, weren’t you going to show me the drainage ditches?”

  To Frederica’s vast relief there was a letter awaiting her from Miss Milliken upon her return to the house an hour later. She tore it open eagerly, scanned its brief contents and went at once in search of her brother.

  “Thomas,” she said when she found him in the stables looking over the carriage horses, “I’ve just had a letter from Miss Milliken. You know, my old governess,” she reminded him when he looked blank. “She has asked me to visit her, and I mean to go. I believe I shall find her a soothing influence—something I stand in need of just now.” She kept her eyes wide and guileless, assuming a long-suffering look.

  “That sounds a capital idea, Freddie,” her brother replied cheerfully. “If I remember her rightly, she’ll be just the one to talk some sense into you. Didn’t she go to her father in the country somewhere?”

  “Yes,” said Frederica, not feeling it necessary to disclose the precise location of the house. “I thought I would leave on the morrow. ’Tis less than half a day’s drive.”

  “I’ll be up to see you off. Write to me if you change your mind about the Little Season so that I may make preparations.”

  “Of course I shall.”

  Frederica turned back to the house to make the necessary arrangements for her first-ever prolonged absence from Maple Hill, telling herself that it would do Thomas good to have the sole running of it for a bit. Humming a stirring march under her breath, she thought over what she hoped to accomplish. Never inform the enemy of your intentions, that was what Miss Milliken had always said.

  * * *

  Before teatime the next day Frederica’s carriage drew up in front of the Millikens’ small, n
eat cottage. As she was giving the manservant directions about her trunks and caged pets—mice and peacock only, for the goats would have been most impractical to transport—her old friend appeared in the doorway. Frederica hurried forward to embrace her. “Milly, you look just the same as ever. I am so glad to see you”

  “And I you, Frederica,” she replied in the low, melodious voice Frederica remembered so well. At forty, Miss Milliken still possessed fine, aristocratic features and a striking style, though she could never have been precisely beautiful. “You mentioned a problem in your letter, and I can see that you have been worrying of late. I suggest you come inside and tell me about it at once.” She led the way to a tiny, immaculate parlour.

  As always, Milly’s mere presence helped Frederica to focus and marshal her thoughts. It was a practice Miss Milliken had encouraged from the time her young charge was eight years old. “Thomas has done the most dreadful thing,” Frederica began after sitting down and taking the requisite three deep breaths. “Between us, I hope that we may undo it.”

  She went on to relate the entire situation as her brother had presented it. Her old governess listened in silence, merely nodding once or twice. When Frederica concluded, Miss Milliken fixed sharp brown eyes upon her.

  “Do you wish to marry?”

  Frederica blinked in surprise. “No! That is, well, I suppose I rather expected that I would marry someday. I had envisioned a gentleman with whom I would share mutual interests, a growing attraction, perhaps even love. Someone like Papa, perhaps, with estates that I could help to manage, who would be a good father to any children we might have.” She paused thoughtfully. “I would like to have children, I must admit. The girls at the village school are very dear to me, but that is not quite the same.” She gave a wistful sigh.

  “And yet you have never made the slightest effort to meet such a gentleman,” Miss Milliken pointed out. “You refused every suggestion that you have a London Season.”

  Frederica grimaced. “You have told me enough about the Season for me to know that I would dislike it excessively. To be thrust into a whirl of balls and routs, paraded before countless gentlemen and then chosen by one like a prize calf…that is not what I had in mind at all. Besides, who would manage Maple Hill were I to leave for two or three months at a time? It took me hours with Mrs. Gresham and Mr. Bridges to prepare even for this visit.”

  “Then it would appear that Sir Thomas has come up with a perfect solution. You can scarcely expect all the eligible gentlemen in England to come to Maple Hill to be picked over at your leisure. By marrying Lord Seabrooke, you need not subject yourself to the anathema of parties and balls to find a husband.” Miss Milliken’s eyes were twinkling now.

  “That is not what I meant and well you know it, Milly!” said Frederica with a reluctant smile. “It is simply that I should like to have a say in whom I marry—to choose someone with whom I can be comfortable, not have him thrust upon me. I know nothing about Lord Seabrooke beyond what Thomas has told me. He sounds little better than a rake, a do-nothing man about town. And for all I know, he could be much worse than that!” She shuddered involuntarily.

  Miss Milliken regarded her steadily, her expression again serious. “The unknown is always frightening,” she said perceptively. “However, I must agree that it was extremely ill-advised of Sir Thomas to make such a commitment on your behalf without your consent. I would like to think that he has your best interests at heart, and indeed it may turn out so, but you dare not leave something so important as your future to chance, or to your brother’s whims. Sir Thomas has not always shown the best of judgment. We ourselves must undertake to discover everything there is to know about Lord Seabrooke,” she concluded decisively.

  “Oh, Milly, I knew I could count on you!” exclaimed Frederica, vastly relieved. “Where shall we start? You still have numerous acquaintances in Town, do you not?”

  “I do. I shall write at once to Mrs. Pomfrey, as well as to two or three others who are not so highly placed but who may be in better positions to ferret out the type of information we require. I should have some news for you in a day or two. Once we have more facts, we can decide what our next line of attack will be.”

  Frederica smiled at her friend’s phrasing. “I doubt not your connections will uncover something about Lord Seabrooke that will force Thomas to change his mind. There must be something havey-cavey about him or he would never have agreed to this betrothal.”

  Miss Milliken nodded thoughtfully. “You are very likely right. That did strike me as peculiar, particularly if the man is so popular as Sir Thomas says.” She stood then and said briskly, “Now, I shall show you to your room so that you may tidy yourself before tea is brought in.”

  Falling easily into her old habit of obedience, Frederica followed Miss Milliken out of the room, her step far lighter than it had been when she entered.

  * * *

  For Frederica, staying at the Milliken cottage was like being on holiday, free of her myriad duties and responsibilities at home. She suspected that over an extended period of time she would become bored with such a life of leisure, but for a day or two it was pleasant, indeed.

  Miss Milliken’s father was a kindly old man who appeared to take in little of what went on about him. Although he was delighted at his introduction to Frederica at dinner her first evening there, she had to be presented to him all over again in the morning.

  “Ah, yes, Charlotte has told me all about you, Miss Chesterton,” he said, exactly as he had the night before. “I am delighted that you have come to pay us a visit. Do not hesitate to make yourself perfectly at home here.”

  Frederica responded with polite expressions of gratitude, wondering privately how many times this same conversation was destined to be repeated.

  The day was spent pleasantly, in long conversations with her old friend and in painting and reading, two interests the women shared but which Frederica rarely had time to indulge at Maple Hill. Late in the afternoon, as they were companionably washing out their brushes together, a note was delivered for Miss Milliken.

  Frederica watched her impatiently as she read its contents. “Is it a response to one of your enquiries, Milly?” she asked eagerly when she finished.

  “Yes, dear, it is, but I fear that it is little to our purpose,” replied her companion with a frown at the sheet before her. “Mrs. Pomfrey has nothing but good to say about Lord Seabrooke, and goes on at length about how handsome he is, and how good-natured. She does rather confirm his reputation as a rake, for the ladies all love him, it would seem—even the married ones.” Frederica made an outraged sound and Miss Milliken regarded her sympathetically. “That will hardly be enough to dissuade Sir Thomas, I fear, for you say he implied as much himself.”

  Frederica opened her mouth to retort, but at that moment the bell rang again and a woman in fashionable attire was shown in.

  “Ah, Becky!” exclaimed Miss Milliken with a smile. “Frederica, this is my friend, Becky Long. She is abigail to the Duchess of Westover. Becky, this is Miss Frederica Chesterton, the young lady I mentioned in my letter.”

  Mrs. Long, a tall, thin woman with a clever face, nodded politely in Frederica’s direction before turning back to Miss Milliken. “I spoke to several of my sources, as you requested, and you may well be right about Lord Seabrooke,” she said without preamble. “There’s something more than a little odd going on at Seabrooke House.”

  “Ah!” said Miss Milliken in evident satisfaction. “Please elaborate.”

  Frederica moved to the edge of her chair.

  “It seems that he’s been interviewing for an assistant housekeeper. Leah Perkins, Lady Rochester’s woman, told me her niece applied for the post.”

  Frederica sat back in disappointment. “What is so unusual about that?” she asked.

  Miss Milliken directed a stem glance her way to silence her. “Pray go on, Becky.”

  “Well, it seems he’s doing the interviewing himself instead of having the housekeep
er do it, which is strange enough. But he also asked Miss Butler some very odd questions that seemed to have little to do with the duties of the post.” Mrs. Long’s nose twitched with disapproval.

  “Such as?”

  “He had her read several pages of a book aloud, for one thing, then wanted to know where she had been schooled. He also wanted to know whether she had any younger brothers or sisters.”

  “Perhaps he is merely looking to fill another post at the same time, such as that of stable-boy or scullery maid, and prefers to keep families together,” suggested Miss Milliken. “Did he hire Miss Butler?”

  “No, she apparently wasn’t what he was looking for,” replied Mrs. Long with another twitch. “What’s more, she discovered that he has been interviewing for this post for several days now, and has turned away women with far more housekeeping experience than she has. My guess is it’s a different post entirely that he is looking to fill, if you take my meaning.”

  “Yes, er, well.” Miss Milliken stood up quickly. “Thank you so much, Becky. This information may prove very useful. I appreciate your taking the time to come and tell me in person.”

  “My sister lives in this direction and I had planned to call on her today, in any event,” said Mrs. Long. “I must be on my way, for she is expecting me.”

  “I don’t see how that news can help me very much,” said Frederica gloomily when Mrs. Long had gone. “The fact that Lord Seabrooke is choosy about his servants is not likely to carry much weight in persuading Thomas.”

  “Perhaps not,” agreed Miss Milliken, “but we may be able to use the situation to our advantage nonetheless. I have been thinking over various campaigns we might employ to achieve your purpose, and I believe our best strategy in this case is espionage. What we need is a spy.”