Papa's Desires Read online

  Another gathering of young ladies played hopscotch. It was from that group where the majority of the laughter arose. In the middle of the players his eyes were drawn to one young lady in particular. She was without a doubt the most beautiful creature he ever beheld. She was diminutive in stature but clearly a mature young lady based upon the way she filled out the dress, and its accompanying pinafore, which she wore. She smiled and laughed and it was the most magical sound he had ever heard, but what was most magnificent about this young lady was her hair.

  Golden curls framed her face and trailed down her back, held in place by a crisp white ribbon. The ringlets surrounding her face gave her an ethereal look. She was like a walking, talking china doll. She bent down to retrieve her hat which had apparently just fallen off, and he couldn’t help but gawk at her shapely figure. He could easily imagine grasping her hips, pulling her flush against his body, and holding her in place while he leaned down to kiss her.

  He stood staring, completely unaware of the passage of time or his surroundings, his focus solely on the blonde haired beauty. She donned the hat and skipped away from the larger gathering of girls with two of her friends, their heads bent together in intense conversation, as if they were sharing the most scandalous of secrets. Or so he imagined.

  “You there,” a strident voice called him and hurried footsteps caught his attention and drew him from his distracted thoughts. Straightening, he turned in the direction of the voice. A woman, not significantly older than those gathered in the garden, approached him at a brisk pace. Her body was lean and trim, her hair piled appropriately upon her head and tied in a knot at the nape of her neck. No loose curls bounced around her face.

  “Sir,” she said, “may I inquire as to the nature of your business here?” Although her words were polite, her demeanor and the firm set of her jaw indicated that she had no interest in friendly chit-chat. Chastened at being caught out, Lord Grayson turned and gave a slight bow.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, “I am Lord Grayson. I have come in search of Miss Katrina Wickersham. Might you be her?”

  Her sharp eyes appraised him from head to toe. He noticed a twinge of recognition when he told her his name, though she quickly smoothed her features so as not to betray any of her inner thoughts. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she said. “What is the nature of your business here, Lord Grayson? I do not believe we have an appointment.”

  “No, we do not. I apologize for dropping in unannounced. I am en route to London and having only learned of the existence of Talcott House yesterday, I decided to make an unscheduled visit. I hope I am not intruding.”

  “If you did not wish to intrude, you would have written to announce your intention to visit.”

  Having no ready response to her accurate and unflinching assessment of him and his motives, Grayson dispensed with social pleasantries as well. “I assume you are… or were… acquainted with my late father, Lord Henry Grayson. He passed away some eight months ago.”

  Though her posture indicated more than a small amount of pique at his intrusion into her domain, he noted that her features softened at the mention of his father.

  “Yes,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice, “your father was a fine and generous man. I was quite saddened by his passing and wish to offer you my sincerest condolences.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I have some matters which I should like to discuss with you.”

  “Then perhaps you ought to have made an appointment with me. Do you think so little of the time of others that you believe you can simply roll up the driveway and an entire household will come to a halt to accommodate your whim?”

  Miss Katrina Wickersham was clearly a formidable woman who was unimpressed with him. It was no wonder his father had taken a special interest in her, though he still did not understand exactly what that interest was.

  “It was rude of me to presume. I apologize,” he said, surprised to realize he meant it. “My solicitor has lately informed me that my father had allocated a monthly stipend to you.”

  “And you assumed I was some long lost love of your father’s for whom he felt obligated?” She held his gaze and he was the first to look away, thereby giving her the answer to her question.

  “I suppose,” she continued, “that you further believe I have birthed all of the young ladies in the garden, as well.”

  Perhaps she meant to be ridiculous to prove a point. If so, she succeeded. “Again, I find myself obligated to offer you an apology, Miss Wickersham. I made assumptions which were unfair and clearly unfounded.”

  “Clearly.” She crossed her arms and tilted her head to the side.

  If he had hoped she would explain his father’s beneficence without further prodding, he was mistaken. With a sigh, he broached the subject himself. “As you are no doubt aware, with my father’s passing, I am charged with managing the finances of an earldom which supports many people. Without an understanding of my father’s interest in your establishment here, I may be forced to discontinue the estate’s support.”

  “Are you asking, in a decidedly and annoyingly roundabout manner, for me to explain to you something which your father chose not to disclose to you?”

  He had gotten off on the wrong foot with Miss Wickersham and despite his multiple apologies, the situation had not improved. By rights he could simply return to his carriage, continue his journey and instruct the solicitor to discontinue the payments to Talcott House, which had been his inclination from the beginning. However, his curiosity had been piqued by the collection of youthfully dressed young women, in particular the golden haired lass. Where had they come from and why were they at Talcott House? What was Miss Wickersham’s purpose?

  “Miss Wickersham,” he said with a bow, “I beg your forgiveness. I arrived with my mind set upon believing certain things and I must admit I am quite taken aback by what I have found here in my few short minutes at Talcott House. Would you please be so kind as to enlighten me as to your purpose here?”

  For several long moments, Miss Wickersham studied him and he found himself very much hoping to meet her approval, a feeling which he had not experienced in an exceptionally long time. He had been raised fully mindful of his place in life, which had included little need for acceptance by others. Quite the contrary, it had been he who bestowed approval, not the other way around.

  Much to his relief, his hostess’s shoulders relaxed slightly and she inclined her head in acknowledgment of his apology. “All of the young ladies who live here at Talcott House have been rescued from the most dire of circumstances. Orphaned, abandoned, and usually living upon the streets, they were vulnerable to the whims and cruelties of others. They have been deprived of the carefree childhood which I believe is every person’s right.

  While many operate under the belief that blood and lineage are determinative of one’s place in society, I disagree. My young ladies have been educated and trained in all the same ways as the daughters of the finest families in England.”

  Ah, now he understood his father’s involvement. The former Earl of Shively had been a firm believer in nurture over nature. His son, however, had not been convinced, having been strongly influenced by a particular incident in which his late mother was robbed and pushed down in the mud by a street urchin in London in broad daylight, many years ago—and the pair had spent many an hour debating the issue. Grayson could not fathom a circumstance in which the criminal who robbed his own dear mother could be educated and integrated into polite society, and it had galled him to no end that his father had practically shrugged the incident off, much to he and his mother’s dismay. “I see,” Grayson said. “My father had strong beliefs that with the proper environment and education, class lines could be virtually erased. As you might well imagine, this was not a belief shared by his peers.”

  “And what of his son?” Miss Wickersham asked.

  “I shall admit, when I observed the young ladies in the garden, they gave every appearance of being from fine famil
ies. Though, of course, it was a brief observation. I am curious, however, at their youthful appearance and behavior. Are they stunted in some way as a result of their lineage?”

  Bloody hell. He had done it again. Just when Miss Wickersham had softened her attitude toward him, he caused offense. Her jaw tightened and he feared she might order him from the premises, but she did not. “As I stated before, the young ladies of Talcott House have all been deprived of a happy and carefree childhood which is the result of being loved and cared for in a safe and nurturing environment. Here, they are encouraged, in fact required, to embrace the youthful activities which were denied them.”

  “Do they never leave here?”

  “Of course they do. They are not prisoners. Each girl is raised with the knowledge that when she is of a suitable age, I shall select a husband for her who will cherish and care for her in the same way she has been here. A papa, if you will, who wants nothing more than to lavish affection and adoration upon his little bride. It is not, as you might surmise, a typical marriage, but for the right gentleman and young lady, it can lead to many years of happiness.”

  “A papa who is also a husband?” His head spun in confusion and several indelicate questions, which would not be proper to ask, popped into his head.

  “If you are wondering about whether these are marriages in the truest sense of the word, let me assure you, Lord Grayson, they are. In fact, I like to believe that the brides of Talcott House are as well prepared, if not more so, for the duties of marriage as their counterparts who have been raised since birth to wed England’s most eligible bachelors.”

  An image of the golden haired beauty, her eyes darkened with passion, flitted through his mind and an accompanying pulse of lust stirred his cock.

  “Perhaps my point would be better illustrated if you were given a tour of Talcott House and its grounds to see all we have to offer our little charges.” Miss Wickersham strode to the edge of the garden and to his delight, motioned for him to follow. “I suppose I can accommodate you, Lord Grayson, despite the fact that you have shown up unannounced.”

  “That would be most kind of you, Miss Wickersham,” he replied, anxious for a chance to get closer to the flaxen haired girl. But he also wished for a closer look at the charitable cause his father had supported for years and years, as now that he’d learned the true nature of Talcott House, he supposed it would be dastardly of him to discontinue the monthly stipend. While he shared differing views from his father, he was not entirely heartless.

  Grayson followed Miss Wickersham, his gaze constantly scanning for the pretty golden haired young lady. He hoped the opportunity to speak with the little angel arose, because he very much wanted to hear her voice and learn her name. His pulse spiked at the prospect, but he schooled his features, keeping them impassive so as to not give Miss Wickersham any indication of his lascivious musings.

  He was a gentleman, after all.

  Chapter 4

  Sunlight beamed down upon the garden and a soft breeze ruffled Hyacinth’s golden locks, which seemed determined to escape the confines of her hat, no matter how many times she readjusted it. Sighing, she removed the hat and allowed the full warmth of the sun to caress her cheeks. She closed her eyes, leaned back slightly, and breathed slow and deep.

  Ever since she’d overheard Miss Wickersham and Nurse Lister speaking about her future, she’d been in a state of constant nervousness, as she wondered whether or not she would soon have a papa of her very own, or if her caregivers would deem her too ill-behaved to become a wife at all and call her wedding to Lord Kensington off. To make matters worse, someone else had broken into the sugar cabinet this morning, though it had happened when Cynny was tutoring some of the younger girls and she’d thankfully had an alibi no one could question.

  This time. What about the next incident, if Cynny couldn’t account for her time, even when she was innocent?

  Didn’t Miss Wickersham realize she wouldn’t dare misbehave before her wedding date? She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her match with Lord Kensington. She wanted to be happy like her friend Cammie, to have a loving papa and a brand new life as a lady, and she wanted the same for the rest of the girls in Talcott House as well.

  Frustration simmered beneath her surface and she spun her hat on one finger, trying to work off her negative energies. In the past, she had been naughty and deserved the punishments she received at Talcott House, but many times she had also been blamed for things she hadn’t done. Like steal biscuits from the kitchen, or giggle during lessons, or put a toad in bossy Garland’s pillowcase.

  Despite being on her best behavior during recent months, when something went missing or a prank was played, most of the residents in Talcott House looked at her with suspicion. She’d been quite the hellion, she would admit, when she had first arrived at Talcott House, but she had quickly learned the rules and had eventually started trying to follow them. Not that anyone, least of all Miss Wickersham, had noticed.

  Miss Wickersham herself often didn’t believe Cynny when she professed her innocence and begrudged sitting on the naughty seat, because countless times in the past she’d done the very same things of which she was being accused. It wasn’t her fault another girl had copied her prank of putting a toad in Garland’s pillowcase five times already, though Cynny had no idea who the culprit was.

  Tears burned in her eyes, and she put her hat back on her head and wandered away from her friends, Rosie and Daisy, who were prattling on about a new kind of hairstyle they were planning to try on one another. She felt a stab of loneliness and reached in her pocket to touch the letter she’d received this morning from her best friend, Cammie, who had recently left Talcott House and gotten married. Cammie claimed she had the very best papa and that she was falling in love with her new husband, Lord Cavendish. Her new life sounded perfect.

  Would Cynny ever be so lucky? She settled on a bench far removed from the rest of the girls who were outside enjoying the beautiful warm day as the fullness of her solitude swept over her. Sometimes when she was wrongly accused of mischief, Rosie and Daisy would give her a suspicious look, just like all the other girls did. It was during such times that she missed Cammie the most, because her best friend had always believed her and defended her from the wagging tongues of the other girls.

  How could Cynny change her reputation? It seemed no matter how many good deeds she performed—like dusting the library, helping Cook, or tutoring the younger girls—the dark cloud of her past loomed over her, constant and unforgiving and taunting.

  Once a thief, always a thief. She was certain that was what Miss Wickersham must think of her, no matter how often the older woman professed that all her little charges got a new beginning when they came to Talcott House. A fresh start. Cynny believed her new beginning wouldn’t come until she had a papa.

  Papas were strict but loving, and they were kind and wise. Surely if she had a papa, he wouldn’t think she was a liar and a thief, like the majority of Talcott House did. If she were wrongly accused of some wickedness, her papa would defend her and hunt down the real culprit. The thought of a handsome papa fighting for her brought a smile to her lips.

  Of course, she would have to impress her papa from the start. She had heard that couples exchanged presents when they got married, and she needed to be ready for the day Lord Kensington arrived. She counted in her head. Eight days. He was coming soon, and she resolved to find the most wonderful gift for her new papa as soon as she possibly could.

  But she didn’t have any money, and she didn’t know how she would manage a gift. A sigh escaped her lips. She supposed she would have to make something, but she didn’t know what. Perhaps Daisy could help her embroider a handkerchief for her papa.

  Her spirits sank. A handkerchief! What was she thinking? That wasn’t a good gift. Not for a papa, especially a lord. She needed something spectacular. A present he would love. A present fit for the Earl of Fenton.

  She turned at the sound of voices and squinted a
s the sun reflected off something shiny and expensive. The owner of the object walked closer, out of the direct sunlight just long enough for her to glimpse the gold pocket watch. Her gaze traveled up to meet the eyes of the man wearing the lavish piece, and her heart beat frantically in her chest. The handsome man, whom she’d never seen before, gave her a brief smile and nod as he passed by with Miss Wickersham.

  Curious about his presence at Talcott House, as men didn’t visit often, she studied his tall profile as he walked with Miss Wickersham. He wore a tailored coat made of the finest quality, his leather boots were polished to perfection, and he comported himself with an aristocratic air.

  Cynny imagined what her life would be like if she’d been born into wealth and privilege, like this gentleman. She wouldn’t have spent most of her life on the streets, part of a gang of thieves, stealing to survive—not just so she would have money for food, but so the other members of the gang wouldn’t do away with her in her sleep for being useless. She wouldn’t have known hopelessness and mind-numbing fear. She wouldn’t be in Talcott House, either, feeling alone and quite sorry for herself in this moment.

  Garland stepped outside and motioned for Miss Wickersham, and the older woman excused herself from the gentleman’s company and followed the bossy caretaker inside. Cynny’s stomach flipped, and she hoped Garland hadn’t found another toad in her pillowcase. If she had, it wasn’t Cynny’s doing, this time, though of course that wouldn’t save her from being the prime suspect. As much as she would miss Daisy and Rosie, as well as a few of the other girls, she couldn’t wait to leave here.

  “Good afternoon, miss.” The deep, masculine voice penetrated Cynny’s thoughts and she slowly turned in her seat to discover the gentleman had approached her. She swallowed hard as heated tingles rushed through her. He was tall and exceedingly handsome, with the broadest shoulders she had ever seen on a man.