The English Lord
and the
American Tart
Armand's wrinkled brow, squinting eyes, and pursed lips clearly indicate his disdain of the young woman Lord Cranston brought home from America to be his bride. Obviously, she is beneath the Lord's status. The Butler's eyes reflecting his disdain. Her garish makeup and low-cut dress indicate a showgirl rather than a woman of rank. Armand hopes the lust will quickly wear off before the announced wedding two weeks hence. He replaces the disdainful look with a somber welcome greeting, taking the Lord's wool cloak, and the soon to be a bride's cheap fake fur coat. He had difficulty hiding his disappointment.
"Your parents, Lord and Lady Cranston are awaiting you in the drawing-room, Sir," he mutters through gritted teeth. "This way please."
"Thank you, Armand, I quite well know how to go to the drawing room in my own home. Please be sure Miss Cassidy's suite is ready and have a footman take her things there. If Clarice is available, I would like her to attend to my fiance's needs. Thank you and that is all."
The curt dismissal irritates the Butler beyond reason. Tensing, he responds civilly. "I shall see to it immediately, Sir."
"Come along Darling, I can't wait for my parents to meet you."
As Sir Edward and the appalling Miss Cassidy make their way across the foyer, Armand hurriedly finds Mrs. Gates, the housekeeper.
"His Lordship wants Clarice to tend to the Yank."
"I'll not hear of it. Clarice only cares for the gentry. She will be appalled. No, I'll not allow it." Mrs. Gates fists on her hips shows solid determination.
"Fine. Go tell his Lordship in the parlor with his parents." Armand, knowing quite well Mrs. Gates would do no such thing, quickly walks away,
She fumes for a few moments before climbing the staircase to the third floor. Informing Clarice of her new duties for the bride to be would be difficult, to say the least, but she is the housekeeper, and Clarice her charge. One had to do what one had to do.
Edward and Abbey enter the parlor. His father stands abruptly upon seeing them. Lady Cranston raises her head, her stern looking eyes register shock as she looks at Abbey.
"Mother, Father, may I present Abigail Cassidy?
"You can call me Abbey your lord and ladyship. I ain't too much for formal stuff."
A serious gasp comes from the two elders.
"Sweetheart, shall I pour you some Sherry?'
Abbey frowns. "Sherry? Eddie Darlin, you know I like the good stuff, not that fluff teatime slurping. I'd like a Bourbon, neat please, my angel."
Two muffled gasps.
Edward pours a healthy splash from the crystal decanter on the sideboard, hands the glass to Abbey and pulls her into his arms for a long ardent kiss.
Two more gasps followed by a fake cough.
"You are doing great," he whispers into her ear, then moves his head to kiss her neck.
"Edward,' Lord Cranston! Would you ring for Armand, please? I'm sure Miss Cassidy would like to freshen up and perhaps have a rest before dinner. Armand can have Mrs. Gates show her to her rooms."
"That is so swell of you Lord C. I could use a hot soak in a tub after that carriage ride." She glances sideways at Edward. "Would you like to join me, Eddie?"
Two furtive gasps this time followed by hysterical coughing.
"Not this time." Edward kisses her lightly on the cheek, as he tugs the bell pull for Armand. "You are marvelous." Whispering softly, he lightly clips her under the chin.
"Of course, I am," she put her lips close to his ear, "I'm good at what I do."
Edward takes her by the arm. "I will show my bride-to-be to her rooms. When Armand arrives, please tell him we will be down to dinner at eight." He and Abbey nearly bump into Armand as they hurry from the parlor.
"You were wonderful." Edward grabs her hand hurrying her to the staircase.
"Your poor mother. I thought she was going to swoon when I walked into the parlor." Abbey cups her hand over her mouth hushing her giggles.
Quickly moving up the two flights of stairs, Edward bounds ahead of Abbey, opens a door and rushes in.
"Clarice!" He sprints across the room, startling the young maid who turns on him with burning anger flaring in her eyes.
"How dare you demand I take care of your intended betrothed's room? How dare you?" Tears suddenly cascade along her cheeks as she looks at Abbey standing in the doorway.
"I am sorry!" she apologizes. "The room is nearly ready for you."
Edward reaches for Clarice, but she pulls back, knocking against the newly lighted hearth.
"Get away from me. How dare you come near me?" She seethes, anger biting each word.
Abbey moves quickly into the room. "Hey, hey, now don't go getting your pantaloons in a twist. Eddie, I thought she knew."
Clarice recoveres her composure. "Knew what?" She stares at Abbey. "That Edward went to America and brought back a fiancé? Excuse me, that Sir Edward brought back a fiancé?" She emphasized the word, Sir.
"You two have to talk, and I have to take a bath. Show me where the tub is and a towel. I am weary and want to relax."
Clarice shows her to an adjoining room where a young housemaid curtsies to Abbey, then takes empty buckets from the room, with another curtsy before passing Edward.
"If there is nothing more, Sir, I shall leave." Clarice nearly stumbles hurrying to the door.
Without hesitating Edward pulls her into his arms, his lips quickly finding hers.
Stammering, her fists pounding against his chest, she pushes him away, repeating her earlier questions. "How dare you?"
"I dare because I love you." He smiles down at her. "Have you forgotten that?"
"I will not be your paramour. Under no circumstances will I allow you to degrade me. I may not be of the proper class to be your wife, but I will not lower myself to become your mistress." Turning she grabs the door handle.
"Clarise. I would never have you as a mistress. I want you for my wife. I thought we agreed to that before my parents sent me to America to be away from you."
She lets go of the door handle, looks up at him, her angry sapphire eyes still spewing tears.
"Then what is she doing here? Your bride to be!"
"Come here my darling." He again pulls her into his arms. This time she lets him hold her. "She is not my bride to be. She is an American actress I hired to stun my parents." He laughs softly. "And she certainly did that. Trust me my darling, within twenty-four hours my parents will be begging me to marry you, as we planned before they sent me to America."
This time, Clarice does not fight him as his lips hungrily find hers.
Abbey sinks deeper into the tub thinking about the $2,000 and a paid trip to Paris Edward promised. But, seeing this is such a fancy house with servants and all, well maybe she could find a way to stay longer, or perhaps up the ante. It was worth thinking about.
The End!
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