Chapter 7

Mendora turned about the room, scanning the nooks and cranny for any leftover pages or toys that the children might have stowed away before they were taken away. Her first day as a private tutor had not been much more eventful that usual. Settling down was the biggest hurdle for young Simon Rosalind which in turn unsettled his impressionable sister, Henrietta. The young lass had a fire bellowing in her, calling for her to be her brother’s equal. A fire that Mendora recognised as a kindred spirit. The world was changing and she prayed that by the time Henrietta became of age, her prospects would have widened. In the meantime, Mendora planned to nurse that spark she’d witnessed.

The children had insisted upon their teachings being conducted in their mother’s parlour and Mendora hadn’t the energy to be stern, very much requiring that their studies remained on track, she conceded if only to allow the lessons to get underway. The only downside being that as she sought to replenish the room’s previous state, there were footsteps approaching the door.

Righting herself upon grabbing up a toy peeking its head out under a chair, she plastered a smile on her face as the door gave way to three figures. “Oh, Mendora I hadn’t expected—” Elizabeth was stunned to gaze upon her, obstructing the view of the men behind her. Over wash with a familiar sensation of being where she was not allowed or wanted, Mendora simply smiled. Her cheeks colouring lightly. Not an easy shade to discern from Mendora’s silky brown skin. She was darker in tone to her sister and many had seen it a necessity to comment upon it. In her better days, where the ton welcomed her, she was considered a rare beauty. Exotic and delicate.

Solaire had brightened at the mention of that name, the first time his brain has truly snapped to attention in the days he’d been roaming about with Nicholas.

*Mendora.* The name echoed amidst the alcohol induced buzzing he’d contributed to not five minutes before. Even with the impairment there was no mistake that Solaire had heard the name before and had attached some meaning to it. Averting his gaze from the ceiling, he’d fixed his wavering gaze ahead of the Rosalinds’ to the girl with the unflattering frock. Her eyes as dark as charcoal and smouldering. They were fine eyes peeking out under thick lashes and full brows. The delicacy in her features unmasked by the severe knot atop her head. A strange urge to have her hair freed from its bounds itched at his fingertips.

“Forgive me, the children were persuasive enough to have me conduct their teaching in here.” She clutched her books to her chest, wondering if perhaps Mrs. Rosalind would take it upon herself to check Mendora in the presence of her husband and a stranger. Steeling her spine, for Mendora was no stranger to insult, ready to bear the brunt of her own actions.

Such a melodious voice…

“Never mind that,” Elizabeth waved Mendora’s apology away, sauntering hurriedly into the room. “While you’re here it’s best you become acquainted with the Marquess of Lansdowne. He has come to visit us these past days.” She grabbed Mendora by the elbow, dragging her along, causing the toy to clatter noiselessly to the floor but she paid no mind to it. All else was secondary to the guest.

“Mr. Rosalind,” Mendora bobbed her head at the familiar face, turning her attention to the man hovering at his side. The Marquess of Lansdowne, Elizabeth had advised, but Mendora hadn’t been acquainted with him before. Not a word had been uttered about his existence as a man that appeared to be in his prime and yet not a whisper about him. Strange considering that all the busy matrons often regaled the young debutantes of all the potential husbands.

As a Marquess, Mendora would imagine that this man would be considered the catch of the season. His looks be damned, unless he was already spoken for, of course… and she found herself searching for a band of commitment on his fingers well before setting her eyes to his features.

Their eyes met and Mendora made the split decision that this man would be hounded even if he were not of noble status. Thick dark hair with streaks of brown, no doubt a consequence of spending hours in the sun, an assumption heightened by the tautness of his muscles beneath his finely crafted clothes. He possessed eyes the colour of a warming spirit which held mischief in them. Unable to focus on more than his face and overcome with an infirmity to keep her lips stilled and her voice secluded, Mendora was grateful for Elizabeth’s excitement in facilitating introductions.

“Solarie Giddeon Demaris, Marquess of Lansdowne,” Elizabeth breathed each syllable with pride at having such a high ranking connection. “Mendora Agnus Garrick,” she pushed Mendora forward as her husband eased to the side.

“My Lord,” Mendora curtseyed on the cusp of Elizabeth’s words, grateful for another voice intruding her thoughts. “Since you’ve no interest in the marriage market and steer clear of marriage hungry females, I have no objection to you meeting our dearest Mendora.”

Mendora gave Elizabeth a reassuring smile, certain the woman had no real indication of the nature in which she spoke, wondering instead why the man before her held no interest in marriage. Marriage was advantageous to men and gave no restrictions.

“You’ve met with her father the other night at the gentlemen’s club,” Nicholas advised as Solarie trained his gaze to the back of her head as she bowed before him. Certain he’d heard her name and her voice before. They triggered strong emotions in him. Or perhaps it was the state of the woman before him that tugged at his humanity? Solaire’s mind flashed to the garden at the Bastille house and the conversations he’d willingly overheard. So this was the mysterious girl with the voice that soothed him.

It was a pity that a young woman with such fine eyes and handsome features would be afflicted in such a manner. He averted his eyes as she met his gaze again, worrying that she’d take offense at his boldness.

“A Mr. Aldrick Garrick?” Solaire racked his brain to recall the evening in question. Mendora moved to the side, nothing the question being directed at Mr. Rosalind. Solarie held her in similar regard to all men of their station, with disregard.

“That’s the gentleman in question.” Nicholas responded, retrieving a cigar from inside his coat, turning it about in between his fingers. Solaire believed he had been made to accept an invitation to man’s home for dinner this weekend.

“Miss Garrick here has done us the honour of accepting to tutor our children. She has a brilliant mind for a woman. No one we’d place our trust in more.” Nicholas gestured towards her with his cigar. As a man who’d birthed a daughter, he’d never understand just how her father could bare to have her earn an income. Especially when the risk of molestation was ripe among men of the aristocracy and their servants. Thankfully, he prided himself that any and all woman was safe in his keep.

“You flatter me, Mr. Rosalind. The truth of the matter is that I am lucky to have been considered for employment.” Mendora smoothed her skirts, adding on in a flurry,

“pardon me ma’am but I must prepare lessons for tomorrow.” She addressed Elizabeth who nodded on, permitting Mendora to escape the unnerving Marquess of Lansdowne. Not that he was particularly paying any mind to her, but she’d been affected, shaken and time was needed to understand why.

“A man of the gentry permits his daughter to work?” Solarie couldn’t escape the thought, forced to voice and drawing the attention of both man and wife in the process.

“It is known that she’s a spinster in the making as no man could willingly court her. It’s smart to have her forge her way in the world.” Elizabeth took a seat, rearranging her skirts and while her husband could partially find consensus in the words of his wife, he knew it were not the reason. “Mendora is a sweet girl, you can feel at ease with her here. She has a great understanding for own predicament and have seemed to accept the prospect of life unwed.”

“It’s rumoured that Garrick is ashamed of his elder issue and will not provide for her,” Nicholas commented, ignoring his wife’s stunned features just as he’d paid no mind to her ending words. “And you scold me when I indulge in gossip.” She rolled her eyes indignantly. “But I shall engage since you’ve started us up,” she declared.

Solaire had little patience for gossip but he found himself eager to learn of the girl’s circumstance. What a pity indeed, he glanced at the doorway, envisioning her leaving in rush. He doubted he’d see her again and frankly that gave him comfort. He had no business feeling for the struggles of others.