A Proper Companion
Catherine
Fitzhugh, as you know. Dear Catherine was privy to Emily's
unfortunate history and had recounted the sad tale to me."
    "Good heavens! You're not about to tell me that she
really is a royal by-blow?" Robert said, his speared beefsteak
suspended halfway to his mouth.
    The dowager's chin dropped. "I beg your pardon?" she
said, her voice cracking slightly as she stared at her grandson in
slack- jawed astonishment.
    "Yes, well, I thought that story was probably a bit
wide of the mark," Robert said, returning his attention to his
beefsteak. "Luckett tells me your staff is abuzz with speculations
as to Miss Townsend's background."
    "Good God," the dowager said as she settled back in
her chair. "And they think she has royal blood?" She glared
openmouthed at Robert for a moment and then burst into loud hoots
of laughter. "Oh, that is rich, my dear," she said when she was
able. "Strange. I have always given the highest credence to
servants' gossip." She chuckled softly as she shook her head in
amazement.
    "Emily is indeed wellborn, however," she continued
after a moment. "Servants always do recognize quality. She is in
fact the granddaughter of the Earl of Pentwick."
    Robert, curious at best to hear Miss Townsend's
story, silently rose his brows in interest as he tackled a plate of
eggs. The dowager proceeded to enlighten him with the tale of the
runaway marriage of Emily's parents and the estrangement from her
mother's family. She also told what she knew, sparing no poignant
detail, of Emily's loss of her mother at an early age, and her
father's disastrous addiction to the gaming tables, which had left
Emily penniless upon his death.
    "I believe I met Townsend once or twice," Robert
said as he stood up and moved to the sideboard to pour himself
another cup of coffee. "Unbelievably reckless. I never joined his
table, though. He seemed too pathetically desperate. Makes a man
feel dashed uncomfortable. Didn't realize the man had a
family."
    "Nor did he," the dowager snarled as she held out
her cup for Robert to refill. "When Catherine died, I decided I
would ask Emily to come live with me here in Bath as my companion.
I admit it was impulsive. As you say, I've never had need of a
companion. But I haven't regretted it. Emily has been a joy to have
around. And, believe it or not, my dear, I really am getting older
and unfortunately slowing down a bit. I have found that it is
really quite helpful to have a companion."
    "It's a touching story. Grandmother," Robert said as
he sipped his coffee. "But, I suspect, incomplete. No offense, my
dear, but I have never known you to be particularly charitable
toward your fellow man. In fact, I am sure I have heard you more
than once tell me that your opinion of humanity was so low
that—"
    "Oh, hush!" the dowager snapped. "Surely I can offer
help to one well-bred but impoverished female without having my
motives questioned?"
    "On the contrary. I know you too well, my dear. I
believe you must have other plans for the lovely but impoverished
Miss Townsend."
    "Hmph!" the dowager snoited in reply.
    Robert continued to glare at her in that piercing
way he had often found to be most effective, and she finally sighed
in resignation.
    "Well," she began slowly, straightening the lace at
her sleeves, not daring to look at Robert, "I thought that being
here in Bath would give her an opportunity to get out more in
Society. Perhaps meet some nice gentleman .. ."
    "Oho! Now we get to the core of the matter," Robert
interrupted. "You old fraud, you are acting as matchmaker!"
    "And so what if I am?" she cried defensively. "Emily
is not meant for the lonely life of a paid companion or governess.
She is lovely and intelligent and well educated and charming. She
is not bred for the shelf, my boy. I declare, if her father had
provided her a come-out Season, she would have taken on the
instant."
    "You astound me, ma'am. You have deceived me all
these years into believing that matchmaking games were

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