Page 12 of Brazen Rogue
Did he believe her to be so far beneath him now, a governess, that she was unsuitable for such a lofty marriage? The knowledge stung but also shamed him in turn.
How high and mighty must one be to believe such things? In truth, she was no lower on the social ladder than when she had her Season. Certainly, she was just as poor, as her parents had left a trail of debt when they had left the city. She was a gentleman's daughter and still was, even if she had to earn her way through the world now. With his lordship paying off her family's debts, she was better off now more than ever.
She shook her head, hating the thought that by courting her, marrying her, he would cause strife and scandal to sully the Lupton-Gage name as he suggested. He could choose to fight to have her accepted, dismiss those who would mention her fall from financial grace if she ever had any to begin with, and marry her anyway.
But it seems she was wrong in that estimation, for he would not, not after all the trouble and scandal that the late Marchioness of Lupton-Gage had put the family through, anything resembling shame would be dismissed.
She would be dismissed ...
"Ah, there you are, Miss Hall. I wish to discuss with you the arrangements for the bedrooms with the houseguests arriving for the house party. We shall have to move you, I'm afraid," Mrs. Watkins said from the door, folding her hands before her. Reign ignored the glee that she could see burning in the old retainer's eyes, something she had noticed the moment his lordship had mentioned their connection in London.
"Of course, Mrs. Watkins. I shall pack my things now so the maids can come in and clean and prepare."
"Thank you, that will be most welcome."
Reign ignored the older woman's presence when she entered her room and went about collecting the few meager items she owned. A few books, letters from friends, and her clothes, which did not total many.
To save money and keep food in her belly, she had sold the gowns made for her in London and only kept one afternoon dress. How sad it was that the one gown she retained was once the height of fashion and beauty, and now looked no better than a servant's gown.
Tattered and torn, like her life.
She lifted her small valise and followed Mrs. Watkins out of the room and toward the servants’ stairs. They went up another floor toward a long passage before a second passage came into view. "This is where the servants sleep, those who work upstairs in any case. Each room has a lock. Here is your key," she said, handing her a long, metal key hanging from a piece of string. "Room two, Miss Hall. Do let me know if you need extra blankets. The rooms are terribly cold at night this time of year."
Reign stood in the passage and watched as Mrs. Watkins strode away, her chin high, and a triumphant look upon her aged features. Turning on her heel, she walked the long corridor, taking note of the door numbers until she found two.
She entered the small space. An unlit fire sat against one wall, and a single bed with a rough metal frame on the other. A small, wooden chest and a bedside cabinet made up the remainder of the furniture. No chair before the fire, but she supposed she could always sit on the floor.
Reign dropped her valise and made her way over to the window. It was so very high up, and the view was the same one from the schoolroom downstairs, but merely two floors higher up. There were no curtains, not that it mattered, she supposed. No one would be climbing onto the roof to spy on her.
Well, at least she would not have to be in this room for long, not with her plans well on the way again. She turned about and went to her bag, unpacking her items and setting up her room for the night. Thankfully a tinderbox and flint sat beside a candle, along with a small pile of wood. They had not left her completely without comfort, it seemed.
And being this high up in the house, when his lordship hosted his house party, there was no reason why she would run into the guests and have to explain how she was once part of their world and why she no longer was.
Which, if after what Lord Lupton-Gage stated last evening, would be for the best, especially if those in attendance were known to her and knew of her Season in town.
With or without succumbing to her charms, a scandal may break in any case, merely by her being in the house with a gentleman who once paid court to her. She would prefer that not to happen, and she did not want to leave before she was able. Nor did she wish to be the reason Lady Alice was marred by scandal when she came of age. She would leave that up to the late Lady Lupton-Gage, who seemed to have that in hand.
ChapterSeven
The following days leading up to the house party ensured the estate was a hive of activity. The servants were busy polishing anything and everything that required a buffing cloth. Chandeliers were lowered and dusted. Fires were laid in all the guest bedrooms along with clean linens, and the dust cloths laid over furniture in unused rooms were removed.
Reign had found out during one of the servants’ dinners that the marquess had not held a house party here since before his marriage and the word below stairs was that his lordship was only doing so to capture a new bride. A new mother for his motherless daughter.
That Mrs. Watkins had watched her most curiously during the conversation left Reign uncomfortable. Did the housekeeper believe she was after the position of wife and mother? That their shared history in London meant there had been something between them?
Maybe that was the case, but the housekeeper did not know their history, and Reign was determined to keep it that way.
Not that any of the servants ought to worry about her being the next Marchioness of Lupton-Gage. After his lordship's words to her two weeks past, he would not seek her to fill the position. As a governess, she was too far beneath his social rank now to be considered appropriate for such a lofty title.
Pain settled in her chest at the thought that she was left with this situation in life through no fault of her own.
"You will keep to your room at all times except for your lessons and meals, Miss Hall," Mrs. Watkins said as Reign stood beside the stove in the kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea with the cook.
"Of course," Reign replied, wishing she could gain the housekeeper's trust and friendship, but the old retainer seemed determined to dislike her more and more each day.
"His lordship will be busy with his guests and ensuring their entertainment and needs are met. Any discussions you are required to have with his lordship will need to take place after the house party. It is only a week. I'm sure anything you need to know is not so important that you must harass his lordship," Mrs. Watkins stated bluntly before turning up her nose and walking from the kitchen, the many keys that hung from her waist clanging about with each step.
"Well, I never. What have you done to Mrs. Watkins to be so disliked, lass? She is very sharp with you, if I may say so myself," the cook said as she went on with her tasks for tonight's dinner.
