The Wayward Miss Wainwright

The Wayward Miss Wainwright Chapters 1-3

CHAPTER ONE

"Miss Wainwright!"

Helena Wainwright laid down the torn breeches she was busy mending with a faint sigh of annoyance. She looked up to find her dead brother-in-law Henry's older brother glaring at her. The Most Noble Vernon Sylvester Gillespie Wroxby, Duke of Rotherham and Marquis of Selby, stalked into the room, his face thunderous, and his jaw clenched in an expression she recognised as a prelude to a scolding. Her heart sank.

"What is the meaning of this?" he roared.

By this, Helena could only assume he meant the bedraggled figure that flounced into the small salon after him. Miss Emily Fanshawe, at just twenty, and blessed with an enchanting, heart-shaped face, dimples, china blue eyes, and a kittenish expression had taken both London and his Grace by storm. In just one month, she had graced Rotherham Park on several occasions, each visit leading to even more speculation that a proposal of marriage would soon be forthcoming from the eligible and apparently besotted duke. In a significant departure from her usual elegance, today Miss Fanshawe presented a grotesque appearance. Her hair, recently described as "spun gold wrought by fairy hands" by an aspiring London poet, was covered in what could only be labelled as lumpy brown porridge. Helena could not be sure but it looked suspiciously like a mixture of oatmeal, bran, and raw eggs. The mixture trickled down the sides of Miss Fanshawe's cherubic face and plopped onto the front of her stylish peach-coloured walking dress. A charming chip straw hat, trimmed with flowers and peach ribbons, dangled from her slim fingers. Miss Fanshawe struggled to compose herself and, speechless with shock, gasped several times in horror. Helena automatically smoothed the front of her serviceable blue morning gown and wished she had less height and more fragility.

"I asked you, Miss Wainwright, what is the meaning of this fiasco?" the duke roared again.

His face went a dusky red, a familiar signal to Helena that the duke was nearing the end of his tether. She could quite understand it, she thought to herself. Taking on one's dead brother's three children without any apparent liking for or understanding of the workings of young minds was a difficult task.

"I see Miss Fanshawe has met with a horrible accident," said Helena, approaching the victim with outstretched hands. "Please let me assist you."

Miss Fanshawe pushed Helena's hands away, sank onto a sofa, and burst into floods of tears. The effect on the duke was startling. He rang the bell at once for the housekeeper, gave Helena another glare, and then sat down beside his daintily sobbing guest.

"There, there, my dear," he said in soothing tones, all the while dabbing at the noxious mixture with a handkerchief. "We'll get to the bottom of this mishap."

"They hate me, Vernon," Miss Fanshawe hiccupped, casting her eyes upwards in a piteous, tear-drenched plea. Miss Fanshawe had clearly mastered the art of crying at will and could achieve this without her complexion turning blotchy or her nose becoming red. When she cried, her eyes appeared bigger and more luminous, and her long eyelashes fringed the effect in a most becoming way. Helena knew when she cried the effect was unpleasant to the degree it was best she cried alone.

"Your children hate me."

The lady's wiles were so transparent that Helena wanted to shake Miss Fanshawe hard and tell her to stop her histrionics at once, but the duke seemed to enjoy murmuring soft words of encouragement to his guest. He even patted her small, delicate hands.

"Of course they don't hate you, my dear, and I shall deal very firmly with the little scamps."

He motioned for Helena to approach the sofa.

"Find those rascals at once and bring them to me!"

The rascals appeared in the doorway at the same time as Mrs. Glossop, the housekeeper. The duke rose to his full, impressive height. The rascals quailed before him. Mrs. Glossop inclined her head in a dignified manner, without expressing a shred of surprise at the chaotic scene in front of her.