Page 1 of Papa's Rules
Chapter One
Miss Katrina Wickersham eyed him from across the desk. Her manners, dress and posture bespoke a privileged upbringing, yet somehow Lord Alexander Cavendish felt quite certain that Miss Wickersham rarely engaged in the gossip, intrigues and rivalries which were the preferred entertainments for women of her social set.
Though they had spent less than forty minutes in each other’s company, Miss Wickersham’s personality was no mystery. From the prim knot of her hair to the shiny point of her boots, Miss Katrina Wickersham was all business.
Quite clearly, she was a woman of purpose.
“It would appear,” she said, “as though everything is in order.” The corners of her lips turned up in the tiniest of what might pass for a smile. “If you will sign here,” she pointed, “here and here,” she pointed twice more, flipping the pages back and forth in an efficient and no-nonsense sort of way, which did not surprise him in the least. Before inking his quill, he gazed upon her until she finally looked away. He had no desire to dominate her, but he did wish to ascertain that she was, in fact, human in some way.
He never liked to question his own judgment, and so he attempted to engage Miss Wickersham in conversation to ease his mind before he put ink to paper.
“Can you tell me more about Cammie?” Though his features were composed, as had been drilled into him since childhood, Lord Cavendish’s heart struck a rapid pace as the name of his future bride passed his lips.
To his pleasure, Miss Wickersham’s countenance softened slightly and she became, he noted, rather pretty, in an austere sort of way.
“Cammie has been under my care for six years. I found her upon the streets of London.” Miss Wickersham closed her eyes briefly as though hiding from an unpleasant vision. “A young man purporting to be her brother was dragging her up the stairs of a London town home where he intended to hire her out as a scullery maid. No doubt it was the best the brother could do for her, at least she would have a roof over her head and food on the table.” Miss Wickersham paused, collecting her thoughts.
“I knew the family to whom he had promised the girl, a notorious household with a reputation for cruelty and deprivation. The terrified child was screaming and crying and doing everything she could to promise she would behave and be a good girl, but from the looks of both the brother and the sister, it was clear that money for food was the issue and not the unfortunate child’s behavior.”
Alexander gasped and reared back, appraising the woman across from him with a new sense of intrigue. “Oh, how shocking,” he said, involuntarily.
“Yes,” Miss Wickersham said, jutting out her chin defiantly and purposely passing her gaze about the opulent room in which they were seated, “not everyone in this life is as fortunate as you, Lord Cavendish.” She sniffed the words and his gaze landed on the silver handled letter opener on his desk, wondering how much food that one item might buy for a hungry little girl.
Properly chastened, he asked another question. “How were you able to obtain Cammie from her brother?”
“I am not without my methods of persuasion,” Miss Wickersham said. “A wad of bills and the promise of a safe home and secure future for her were enough. I do not doubt that simply the notes would have been sufficient, but I feel it is important to assure family members, when my little charges have them, that the child will be well cared for...forever.”
Her green eyes bore into him until he spoke. “I understand,” he said, “I have every intention of seeing to Cammie’s needs and wants.”
“That is my expectation, sir.”
* * *
“Miss Wickersham would like to see you, Cammie,” Garland, the bossiest of all the caregivers, said in an impatient tone.
“But I am not done playing,” Cammie replied with a pout, straightening the checkerboard in front of her.
Garland gazed down her nose. “You know what happens when you do not obey Miss Wickersham.”
That was all the reminder Cammie needed, though she was not happy about it. She was in the middle of playing checkers with her best friend, Hyacinth. “I must go, Cynny,” she said, giving Garland a meaningful glare before walking out of the room ahead of the older girl.
“Hard to believe you are nineteen years old, Cammie, given the way you behave sometimes. We’ll have none of that attitude around here,” Garland said, giving Cammie’s backside a firm swat that sent all the young ladies in the social room into a fit of giggles.
“Cammie’s in trouble,” a couple of them chanted.
Before crossing the threshold, Cammie turned and stuck her tongue out at the lot of them then spun back around and ran smack dab into the not amused form of Miss Wickersham.
Looking up at the woman who was her guardian and caretaker, Cammie found herself on the receiving end of one of Miss Wickersham’s well known and roundly feared scowls. “Camellia,” she said, hands on hips, “is that any way for a young lady to behave?”
Subdued, Cammie cast her eyes downward. “No, ma’am.”
“That is correct,” Miss Wickersham said, taking Cammie’s hand and leading her down the hall of the manor which housed several dozen young ladies who had been taken in by Miss Wickersham over the years. The two of them arrived at Miss Wickersham’s private parlor where tea had been laid out. Cammie’s heart sang. When Garland had told her Miss Wickersham wished to see her, she felt certain someone had tattled on her about sneaking a kitten into the older girls’ room last night, but clearly that was not the case if the table was filled with sweet cakes, biscuits and cucumber sandwiches.
Minding her manners, Cammie stood by her seat until Miss Wickersham bid her to sit. She crossed her hands over her lap and waited for her hostess to pour the tea, as a well-behaved young lady ought.
“Thank you for inviting me to tea, Miss Wickersham,” she said, using her best grown up manners.
“You are welcome, Cammie.” Miss Wickersham favored her with a rare smile. “I have some good news for you,” Miss Wickersham said as she poured a cup of tea for Cammie and laced it with two spoons of sugar and a hearty dose of milk, just the way Cammie liked it.
