Her Rogue by Charlotte Russell
Chapter Five
Ben dutifully presented himself at Rutledge Manor the next day at noon and was escorted to the top of the house by a maid. He did not see Hattie, though he would have liked to have been reassured that she was all right after the turmoil of yesterday.
He’d spent the previous evening in the village tavern, cursing his decision to badger Hattie into helping him. He should have quizzed her more deeply about her circumstances before blithely telling her she owed him this favor. His only excuse, which was admittedly a weak one, was that he’d never expected to encounter someone he knew here in Hatherden. His entire plan had been upended since the moment he’d spied Hattie in the assembly room. He would have to do better or not only would he not succeed, but Hattie might get hurt in the process.
Now, as he entered the schoolroom, he shifted his focus to the three young girls awaiting him. They were, ostensibly, sitting primly in their miniature chairs but he noted as he greeted them in turn that Elizabeth was struggling to hold back a yawn, that Kitty’s toes tapped rhythmically against the floor, and that Lucy kept sneaking peeks at her sisters in order to faithfully copy their mannerisms.
Ben sat on the corner of the governess’s desk and smiled at the girls. “Ladies, today you will spend the first two hours of our time copying out sums. Does that sound agreeable?”
Elizabeth hesitated but politeness won out. “Yes, Mr. Fauntleroy.”
Little Lucy screwed up her forehead in bewilderment, but when she heard Elizabeth’s reply, she nodded vigorously.
Kitty’s tapping increased apace as misery dragged down the corners of her mouth. Ben waited on tenterhooks for her answer. Please be brave enough to answer me honestly, Kitty.
She glanced up at him. “No sir, that does not sound agreeable.” At Elizabeth’s shocked gasp, Kitty’s shoulders slumped, and she fixed her gaze on the wall behind Ben. “But if that’s what you want us to do...”
Ben hopped off the desk and stood in front of them. “I don’t, actually. Copying sums sounds horrid to me. Kitty, perhaps you can help me persuade your sisters into doing a different lesson. I was thinking we might focus on measurement today, which would necessitate a trip to the kitchen and the portrait gallery.”
Kitty hopped up. “Yes! This sounds like an excellent lesson, Mr. Fauntleroy.” She turned and glared at her sister. “Doesn’t it, Elizabeth?”
To Ben’s surprise, the older girl looked dubious. She pulled her lower lip in and refused to look at Ben. Meanwhile, Lucy had decided to copy Kitty this time. She was leaning across the table and chanting, “Yes, yes, yes!”
“Miss Rutledge, do you have some concerns I might address?”
Elizabeth folded her hands on top her desk. “My mother wishes us to learn mathematics, Mr. Fauntleroy. I believe we should focus on our lessons instead of playing.”
“Your education is of the utmost import to me, Miss Rutledge. I believe, however, that learning is best done while living. You will most likely use your mathematics in the running of a household. Why should you not learn them in a practical manner?”
She gave a small nod of agreement at that, but the crease in her brow suggested she wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Will you please give my methods a try? If you are not satisfied with them, I promise to bring you back here and set you to copying sums for the rest of the afternoon.”
Kitty groaned in protest. “Why do you even ask her, sir? Just tell her what to do and she must do it.”
Elizabeth bristled as she turned to her sister. “No one asked for your opinion!”
Kitty fisted her hands on her hips. “Have you been sucking lemons again? Because your sourness ruins everything!”
Neither of them noticed Lucy bursting into tears, but Ben heard her cry of pain. She slipped off her chair and came to him, holding a reddened finger high. This, at least, he was equipped to deal with. While the older two continued to bicker, he crouched down beside Lucy.
“What happened?”
Through her sniffles he just made out the words ‘pinched it on the table leg.’
“Stick your finger in your mouth for a second.” She dutifully complied and then when she popped it back out, Ben took her hand in his and blew on the injured finger.
A smile broke through Lucy’s tears. “That’s what my mama does! How’d you know?”
Ben smiled back. “A very knowledgeable lady taught me that trick.”
Hattie had nursed countless injuries he and James had suffered over the years, some at the hand of the other. She’d always been kind while patching them up but hadn’t hesitated in ringing a peal over their heads afterward, if they’d deserved it.
Not that long ago Ben might have thought Hattie had it easy now, mothering three girls and just one little boy, but as Elizabeth and Kitty’s snipping continued to escalate, he decided that thought might need revising.
With a sigh he wiped Lucy’s tears away with his thumb and then stood to face the other two. “Ladies, it’s time we made our way to the kitchen.”
They ignored him. Kitty was leaning over the desk, her blue eyes shooting daggers at her sister, as she hurled another insult. Elizabeth had risen and crossed her arms as if to shield herself from Kitty’s words. Her cheeks darkened to a dull red as she opened her mouth for a retort.
Ben was decidedly out of his depth here. By now, as youngsters he and James would have resorted to fisticuffs and once that dust settled, they would have gone back to being best mates. The cutting remarks hurled by Elizabeth and Kitty could be far more damaging than a punch to the ribs. He must do something.
Planting himself at the front of the table, between the two girls, he drew himself up to his full height and narrowed his eyes at them. He felt like a fraud but clearly neither a nursery maid nor the governess was going to burst through the door and be the adult that was needed.
“Enough.” The sharpness of his voice silenced both.
Elizabeth looked up at his face and took a step back. Kitty huffed out a breath, seemingly annoyed with his interference.
“You may argue all you like on your own time, but I will not have you taking up valuable lesson time with your squabbles. We will now proceed to the kitchen. The two of you will lead the way and Lucy and I will follow.”
He watched in amazement as they silently, albeit sullenly, obeyed his order. As he fell in behind them, Lucy slipped her hand into his and skipped along beside him. He squeezed her hand. At least he was still in the good graces of one of the Rutledge sisters.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Ben addressed the backs of the older girls. “It is to be hoped you will apologize to each other at some point this afternoon.”
They both nodded, though not enthusiastically. The afternoon of fun he’d imagined for them seemed a distant fantasy. Somehow, he’d have to get them both back into good spirits.
Once in the kitchen, that goal turned out to be easier than he’d anticipated. Not even Elizabeth’s earnestness could withstand the delights of measuring flour, sugar, and eggs into a bowl and baking biscuits under the watchful eye of both Ben and the Rutledge cook.
After the girls finished eating the fruits of their labor, Ben sent them upstairs to change into clean aprons and instructed them to meet him in the portrait gallery. He returned to the schoolroom and retrieved paper, pencils, and measuring sticks.
Upon their reassembling in the light-filled gallery, neither Elizabeth nor Kitty would look at the other and they went out of their way to avoid coming into physical contact. So, they hadn’t reconciled yet. As Lucy and Kitty skipped down the length of the gallery with Elizabeth looking on disapprovingly, Ben began to lay out their assignments.
Truly, it was no concern of his if the Rutledge sisters were not in charity with one another. Nor that they had not heeded his directive to apologize. He wasn’t a real tutor. He was here to secure the future of his aunts and himself by claiming what was rightfully his. The sooner he could accomplish that feat, the better for all concerned. Tonight, he would get started on his search of Rutledge Manor. Until then, though...
“Ladies, please come get your assignments.”
Lucy barreled down the corridor toward him and when she went to stop in front of him, her slippers skidded along the polished wood, and she lost her balance. Ben managed to bend over and hook an arm around her waist to keep her from falling to the floor. He tried to set her back on her feet, but by that time, she was a giggling bundle of loose bones and her legs wouldn’t hold her up.
He hoisted her into his arms, incapable of repressing a grin at her infectious amusement. “I do admire your enthusiasm for mathematics, Miss Lucy.”
Resting her arm upon his shoulder, she countered, “I admire you too, Mr. Faunnelroy.”
Ben’s grin faltered at the reminder of the deception he was perpetrating. Lucy could have easily pronounced King, but that wasn’t who he was to her. He looked at the little girl in his arms, her cheeks round and red, her eyes grey and innocent, and guilt coursed through his veins like a raging fever. He needed to find what he was looking for as soon as possible.
Kitty approached and tugged on his sleeve, turning a morose face up to him. “May I have my assignment, sir? I’d like to get this over with.”
“Of course.” He set Lucy down and grabbed a paper and pencil. If he could further the girls’ education, and just perhaps counter Kitty’s dislike of learning in whatever time he had, then maybe his presence here at Rutledge Manor would be more beneficial than detrimental, at least as far as the children were concerned.
Ben held the paper and pencil out to Lucy. “Your assignment is to count the paintings here in the gallery. You can make tallies like this” —he marked one on the paper— “and circle every five tallies.”
As Lucy nodded and scampered down to the end of the gallery, he grabbed another pencil, paper, and a marking ruler. “Kitty, you need to determine how many of the paintings on this level” —he indicated those lowest to the ground— “will fit into that empty space over there.” Ben pointed to an area between two paintings. “Let me know if you need any assistance.”
With a sigh, Kitty took the supplies and trudged over to the empty spot. Ben was most pleased when she set about measuring the space straight away. Kitty might be unenthusiastic about learning, but she was far from unintelligent. As he gathered up the last ruler, paper, and pencil Elizabeth sidled over.
“Miss Rutledge, I would like you to measure all the paintings you can reach and then tell me how much area they take up on the wall.”
“Yes, sir.” She surveyed the wall with a gleam in her eye, accepting the challenge.
Ben took a step back, letting Elizabeth slip past him, and noticed Lady Dunstan—Penelope—Lady P—watching them from the end of the gallery. How long had she been there?
After what seemed like a brief hesitation, she glided down the corridor, her lavender muslin skirts whispering across the oak. Ben retreated to the far side of the narrow gallery, where he could keep an eye on the girls. Given the way their first encounter had gone, he didn’t wish to speak with her again. When she stopped beside him and flicked a glance his way, he realized his wishes were of no concern here at Rutledge Manor. He should never forget that.
Lady P surveyed her granddaughters as they measured and counted. “This is an odd place to conduct a lesson, Mr. Fauntleroy. Could you not have done something similar in the schoolroom?”
He cautioned himself to keep his answers short and truthful, as much as possible. He certainly couldn’t charm his way out of an interrogation…er, conversation…with Hattie’s mother-in-law. “Yes, we could have, my lady.”
When she realized he wasn’t going to say anything further, she tipped her head up and finally looked him full in the face. “And did Lord Pittford tolerate your unconventional methods?”
Ben searched her face, looking for any little twitch that indicated she was trying to catch him out in a lie. Not a single inch of her pale, perfect skin moved. “I worked for Lord Sedgeford, madam, and though he often inquired about my teaching methods, he never questioned the implementation of them.”
Though her posture had already been ramrod straight, somehow Lady P pulled herself up another half inch. “I am only looking out for the well-being of my granddaughters. I would not wish for rumors of eccentricity and hoydenism to tarnish them at such a young age.”
Displaying what he thought was formidable restraint, Ben kept his tone even. “They are none of them older than ten; they do not have reputations to be ruined.”
“They are the daughters of an esteemed viscount, not to mention the granddaughters of a duke. Their reputations began to form at their birth.”
The frostiness emanating from her sent a shiver down Ben’s spine. What a stickler she was. Poor Hattie.
He couldn’t resist contradicting her. “They are children first and foremost.”
Her lips stretched into a flat line. Ben steeled himself for the reprimand that was to come. “Are you a follower of Rousseau then, Mr. Fauntleroy?”
“Who?” Surprised by the question, his response slipped out without thought.
She tipped her head to the side. “Which university did you say you attended?”
Curses clogged his throat. Lying was so much easier when he could paste a smile on his face and distract the other person with his charm. Though he knew it was probably futile, he curved his lips. “Cambridge, my lady. As immersed in my study of mathematics as I was, I might possibly have missed a lecture on Mr. Rousseau.” Or, he might possibly have left Cambridge after a year, bored by the insufferable studies and, more importantly, in need of funds to put food in his mouth. “Would you recommend I read up on him?”
“No need. I can tell you here and now that his ideas regarding children are incorrect and ruinous.”
“Ruinous? Mr. Rousseau sounds more intriguing by the moment.”
When her eyes hardened into brown shards, Ben thanked God he was not in Lady P’s employ. He’d have been banished on the spot. Possibly even horse whipped.
Fortunately, Kitty chose that moment to climb the console table abutting the wall. She did so nimbly enough and was standing atop it before her grandmother even finished gasping.
“Catherine Mary Rutledge! Get down from there this instant.”
Ben was already striding across the gallery. He plucked the girl off the gleaming mahogany and deposited her back on the floor. “Miss Kitty, I—”
Lady P stalked over. “Do you see now what havoc your unnatural methods create, Mr. Fauntleroy?”
Ben ignored her and focused on Kitty’s wide eyes. “Were you given leave to climb the furniture?”
The little girl swallowed thickly, as if a cricket ball were stuck in her throat. “No, sir.”
“Please apologize to your grandmother.”
“I’m sorry, Grandmama.” There wasn’t a whole lot of regret in Kitty’s eyes, but her tone was respectful enough that Ben hoped Lady P would be mollified.
“Very well, but I insist you return to the nursery right now.”
Ben put a hand on Kitty’s shoulder to stop her from leaving. “I must respectfully override you, Lady Dunstan. We are not finished with our lesson, and I do not believe a learning opportunity should be negated by punishment.”
They stared at each other, Lady P with her jaw clenched to within a degree of shattering, Ben with one eyebrow raised, daring her to defy his defiance. By the crushing silence surrounding them, he knew Elizabeth and Lucy had stopped working and were probably gawking.
He was creating a very deep hole for himself. He needed to be here in Rutledge Manor to find what he was looking for. And yet he couldn’t seem to ingratiate himself with the rigid and far too proper Lady P. Not to mention he wasn’t treading carefully as he’d promised Hattie. He was not supposed to be poking the dragon and making things worse for her.
With a gulp, he swallowed his pride and broke eye contact with Lady P. Just then Hattie called out from the far end of the gallery.
“Good afternoon, everyone.” Her words might have been innocuous, but Ben heard the underlying question, What on earth is going on?
She bustled toward them, her pale-yellow gown frothing about her slippered feet as she walked. Ben liked the way she moved, gracefully and with a confidence that said even if she didn’t know what was going on, she would resolve it somehow.
Kitty rushed past him and Lady P. “Mama, Mr. Fauntleroy is making me apologize to everyone! Even Elizabeth! And it’s her fault, not mine. I—” At a look from Hattie, she stopped abruptly.
Hattie smoothed stray wisps of Kitty’s hair off her forehead and then slid her gaze to Ben. “Bonus lessons in civility, Mr. Fauntleroy? You are proving more than worth the wage I pay you.”
The laughing twinkle in her grey eyes made Ben’s stomach seem suddenly hollow. Full-of-life Hattie was a sight to behold, cheeks pink, lips fighting a smile. A moment of respite from her life living under the tyranny of the dragon standing next to him. Ben would have no regrets when he was finally able to bring Lady P down a peg or ten by claiming the property that rightfully belonged to him.
***
Harriet noted the devilish—as in up-to-no-good sort of devilish—gleam in Ben’s eyes and vowed to address his attitude with Penelope. Harriet’s will would only go so far in keeping him employed here. At the moment, though, she herself was not feeling all that charitable toward Penelope and she knew how far she could push. “I’m glad to see you taking an interest in the girls’ education. They will certainly benefit from your support.”
Irritation flashed across Penelope’s face. Although flashed was probably too strong a word for a woman who kept her emotions under such control. Out of necessity, Harriet had become astute at reading the subtle changes in her mother-in-law’s expressions. A small movement in Penelope’s jaw was the only indication she struggled with whether or not to vocalize her opposition to Ben and his tutoring in front of the girls.
“I was curious,” Penelope allowed.
With a gesture from Ben, Kitty reluctantly returned to her lesson. Then with a small nod at Harriet and Penelope, he withdrew to the other side of the room to speak with Elizabeth.
Grateful for the privacy, Harriet focused on Penelope. She might as well ask since Penelope would no doubt air her opinion regardless. “And? What do you think of Mr. Fauntleroy’s teaching?”
“I think the furniture may not survive his methods.”
Harriet stared, trying to determine if that was a cutting criticism or a minor attempt at humor. She decided on humor to keep the mood light and chuckled softly. “As long as the children survive...”
“I am not sure they will, Harriet,” Penelope replied sharply. “He seems to agree with Rousseau.”
Not Rousseau again. Harriet thanked heaven the man was long dead, or she wouldn’t have put it past Penelope to hunt him down and call him out for his outrageous ideas about the education of children. Whoever had first broached the subject of Rousseau to Penelope had done the society of Hatherden no favor as this particular Lady Dunstan had railed against the philosopher and his ideas ever since, to anyone who would listen.
Harriet sighed, unwilling to listen to another diatribe. “I will keep an eye on Mr. Fauntleroy, Penelope, as is my duty, but I truly do not think we have anything to fear. Mr. Fauntleroy is a young and enthusiastic teacher who seems” —she glanced around the room at her diligently engaged daughters— “to know what he is doing.”
To her great surprise, she realized that was no lie. The girls were absorbed in their lesson, even little Lucy who chewed on the end of her pencil as she doggedly counted paintings. And, if Kitty was complaining about having to apologize that meant Ben was at least trying to keep some order amongst his charges. At the moment she couldn’t fault him for his methods of tutoring or discipline, when in truth he was really here to do neither. She smiled to herself. Perhaps Benjamin King would walk away from Rutledge Manor with a new calling.
For the moment she didn’t want to think about him leaving. He’d brightened up her dull life—she’d danced at last! He was engaging the girls beyond what Miss Stanley could. And though she still thought him up to no good with this ‘search for a stolen painting’ business, she had to admit it was nice to have someone besides her children and her husband’s vexing relatives to talk to.
“Please do keep an eye on him, Harriet,” Penelope reiterated. “Not only must we safeguard the reputations of the girls, but we must as well be good stewards of the house and its contents for young Lord Dunstan.”
Harriet did not need a reminder of how many agonizingly long years her son was to be under the control of his grandmother and great-uncle. The thought of nineteen more years of this life was utterly depressing.
Having had her fill of Penelope for the time being, she blithely said, “Oh! I think Mrs. Frye wanted to speak with you about the new table linens.”
Harriet had no idea if the housekeeper really did wish to discuss the table linens, but if Penelope broached the subject, it was doubtful the woman would gainsay her. She sailed off without another word and the air in the gallery seemed a thousand times lighter and brighter almost instantly.
Harriet then spoke with each of her daughters in turn, listening attentively while they explained the lesson Ben had assigned them. Elizabeth and Lucy were particularly enthusiastic while Kitty was less so.
“Ladies,” Ben’s voice boomed across the long gallery, “you have fifteen minutes to finish your assignments. I will then mark them for accuracy. The one with the highest mark will help me plan tomorrow’s lessons.”
Kitty’s demeanor changed instantly. She threw Elizabeth a sidelong glance and then scurried back to work. Harriet swallowed a laugh.
Ben strode toward her with such a swagger she nearly choked on that laughter. “What kind of marks would you give me, Lady Dunstan?”
“I think you are a fool, Mr. Fauntleroy. But a fool who shows remarkable flashes of brilliance.”
“I think I shall pretend I didn’t hear the first part of that and will instead bask in the second part. Brilliant, she says. Such a compliment from my esteemed employer is more than one could hope for.”
Harriet was tempted to roll her eyes at this nonsense but behind his charming smile she glimpsed a hint of relief. Had confident Ben been unsure of himself in the role of tutor? Harriet decided to throw one more compliment his way.
“You seem to have read Kitty very quickly.”
Ben nodded. “Being the youngest myself, I thought I would sympathize with Lucy the most. But Kitty is in a difficult position, pinched between her adorable younger sister and her always superior older sister.”
Herself an older sibling, Harriet frowned at the ‘always superior’ description. “I don’t think Elizabeth is quite so condescending as that.”
Ben’s smile was surprisingly gentle. “No, no. I don’t mean to say Elizabeth is superior and condescending. Just that Kitty’s view is colored by her position. In Kitty’s mind Elizabeth will always be older, smarter, stronger. She seizes any opportunity she can get to come out on top. The rest of the time she niggles Elizabeth any way she can.”
“A common habit of younger siblings, if I recall.” Harriet offered him a pointed glare, but Ben just grinned back at her. She shook her head. “Anyway, you’re doing a fine job, Mr. Fauntleroy.”
“Why, thank you. However...” Ben sobered abruptly and stepped closer. “I must make progress on my other mission and that’s been impossible with my duties as tutor. There is no time for me to slip away from the girls. I intend to come back tonight and search. Can you recommend a way into the house after everyone is abed?”
“Are you certain that’s wise?”
“Of course it isn’t wise but what alternative do you suggest? Should I simply ask Lady Dunstan or Mr. Saunders where the stolen painting is hidden?”
Harriet ignored his sarcasm. “I take it the painting is not hanging in this gallery?”
Ben huffed out a breath in forbearance. “No, it is not. I have to have time to search, Hattie. The sooner I do, the sooner I’ll stop provoking your in-laws, and the sooner you’ll be left in peace.”
She doubted that. Nineteen years was a long time to wait for peace. She sighed. “Rousseau? Really, Benjamin? I’m surprised you even know who he is.”
He leaned even closer still and wafts of bayberry pleasured her nose. “I don’t know who he is but any man who riles your mother-in-law to that degree is a saint in my book.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“True, and I’m still willing to show you just how incorrigible.” His mouth cocked up, which Harriet should have found—had been finding since they’d met again—distasteful, but this time the curve of his lips seemed less rakish and more sincere and personal.
Sincere? Since when could an arrogant smile be considered sincere? Harriet studied his lips, trying to determine exactly what her brain meant by sincere.
That was a mistake.
Because closer inspection revealed that Ben possessed very fine lips indeed. His mouth was wide and the lips framing it were not too thin and not too full but utterly...kissable.
No. Absolutely not. She was being nostalgic. She hadn’t been kissed in well over two years. She’d already danced this week. What more could she possibly want?
“Hattie.”
The lips moved, jolting her back into the gallery, where Ben was staring at her, staring at his lips. In a move made thoroughly out of desperation and a desire to avoid more humiliation, Harriet pretended the last minute hadn’t happened at all.
She folded her hands in front of her skirts and tried to direct her most mature look at him. “Yes, Ben? You were discussing the need to sneak into the house tonight?”
His smile widened, brightening his eyes to a deep emerald. “Indeed I was. I just need to know which door or window to use. I promise no one will even know I’m here.” He leaned even closer, his breath feathering across her forehead. “What I can’t promise is that I won’t kiss you if you look at me like that again.”
Even as a shiver of want skittered down her spine and threatened to ignite her very latent passion, Harriet managed to shoot him a withering look. “Kissing you is the furthest thing from my mind.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Oh really? Perhaps you were thinking of something more salacious than kissing then, for I know desire when I see it.”
More salacious than kissing... This conversation and her imagination were both out of control. Harriet shifted her body so she could see past Ben, could see her children engrossed in their assignments farther down the hall. Practicality returned apace, thank goodness.
“Tonight isn’t possible. Penelope is hosting a dinner and the guests will be here late. Come tomorrow night. There is a door to the terrace off the south parlour that doesn’t latch correctly. You should be able to enter that way. Mr. Saunders is the last to retire for the night, usually around midnight.”
“Much obliged, my lady,” he replied with a wink. Then he checked his watch and turned back to the girls. “Time is up. Please bring me your papers.”
Grateful for the chance to escape without further ado, Harriet quietly bid her daughters farewell and slipped out of the gallery. She had no idea what that little aberration was about but a good long ride in the fresh air wouldn’t hurt.