“Quiet,” the duke murmured reverently. “That must be refreshing.”
“Oh, dear,” Fanny consoled as she rubbed his arm. “Has Rebecca visited home recently?”
Nicolas had a handful of adult children, some of which had presented him with grandchildren too. Most of them were unruly, and the noise when they gathered together frequently sent him running for his library for peace and quiet. At the moment, he had left behind his second eldest daughter, Mrs. Rebecca Warner, at the family estate with his youngest daughter Jessica. Just thinking of going back to listen t
o them squabble made him long to stay in London far beyond his needs.
“She arrived last week and intends to stay another after my return,” he said with a heavy sigh. “With a few of her closest friends in tow too,” the duke complained.
“Oh, poor Jessica,” Fanny said, wincing at her youngest sister’s company for good reason. Rebecca’s friends would put ideas in her head. Ideas and dreams he did not care to think about. “You should have brought Jessica with you to London.”
His youngest daughter Jessica was not out yet but had acted as mistress of the ducal country seat for a number of years. She was extremely capable, much to Rebecca’s chagrin.
“Jessica wouldn’t hear of coming with me and I much rather she stay at home until she comes out anyway. She’s always happier in the country.”
“You mean you’re happier with Jessica in the country,” Fanny chided sternly. “She’s almost of an age to come out, Father. Next year she will have her season. You cannot keep Jessica a little girl for much longer.”
“I can try,” he promised, trying not to say it through gritted teeth.
Fanny gave him a look that suggested she saw through him. “The society around Stapleton is not diverse enough, and you know it,” she chided. “She has to experience something of the world if she is to make the right choices for her future. She needs to meet young men too.”
Nicolas believed himself a good father which meant no one was ever good enough to marry his daughters. He hadn’t particularly liked Fanny’s late husband, but he’d tolerated the match because Fanny had been smitten with the man.
He looked around the pretty room, ready to return to the topic of conversation that had brought him here in the first place. “So where is the governess you took in now? I trust you found her a better position than she had.”
Fanny gave a guilty shrug. “We were upstairs before your knock at the door. Her name is Mrs. Gillian Thorpe, she’s been widowed many an unhappy year.”
The woman was still here? Damn, but he had hoped this was not another overstepping servant Nicolas might have to give their marching orders to. He was in quite the mood already and he’d use his title to protect his daughter today. “Well? Trot her out. Lets take a look at this supposed paragon of female virtue.”
Fanny punched her hands to her hips. “She has not pulled the wool over my eyes, Papa.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he insisted with a grim expression. “I won’t tolerate any nonsense or delays this time round.”
“Father! Quiet she might hear you,” Fanny complained.
The last woman Fanny had taken in had stayed half a year before Nicolas had learned about her, accepting all manner of gifts from Fanny as if it were her right. Nicolas had found her a position four counties away with a family that rarely came to London but once a year.
“I hardly care for the sensibilities of a woman who would allow herself to be spoiled undeservedly. I knew the last one was trouble the first moment I met her,” he said. “I will not allow you to be used again by anyone.”
“All right, but remember to curb your tongue and be polite,” Fanny pleaded. “She makes me laugh like no one else can. I like her very much.”
“You like everyone at first sight,” he grumbled, and they moved to the hall together. “It’s only later that you notice their true colors and grasping ways.”
Fanny rushed to get ahead of him. “She’s this way.”
A few steps along the hall Nicolas paused and head cocked to the side. A woman was complaining, quite loudly, to someone else.
“No! Absolutely not! Take them back,” the woman cried.
There was a mumbled response he could not quite catch but suspected it was Fanny’s maid speaking back to whoever it was.
“No! I don’t care what Lady Rivers told you to do,” the stranger continued. “Oh, give them here, and I will hang them back in her wardrobe myself.”
“I thought you said she was quiet?” Nicolas hurried toward the voices immediately.
As he reached the hall near Fanny’s bedchamber, he saw the stranger marching through the house. He stopped, bracing one arm against the wall as the scene between the woman and Fanny’s ladies maid played out before him.
“She will not dismiss you over this you silly girl,” the woman insisted, unaware of her audience, before marching into Fanny’s bedchamber carrying a mountain of clothing. “I certainly don’t need six more gowns,” she insisted in a loud, clear voice. “I have enough as it is.”