Regency High Society Vol 3: Beloved Virago / Lord Trenchard's Choice / The Unruly Chaperon / Colonel Ancroft's Love
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He shook his head, at a loss to understand the workings of the female mind. When Captain Charlesworth had first brought him over, Miss O’Malley had betrayed clear signs of delight at coming face to face with him again so unexpectedly. He had found that initial reaction so very refreshing. She had made not the least attempt to dissemble, to pretend their paths had never crossed before. Then, quite suddenly, she had grown pale, and a look akin to loathing had flickered momentarily in those striking turquoise eyes before she had slipped quietly away.
Undeniably, Charlesworth and his delightful fiancee had been as mystified as he had himself at such odd behaviour. Yet when Miss Wentworth had returned, her face had worn a decidedly thoughtful expression, as though she were not quite certain about something. But what could she possibly have learned to his discredit during that brief absence? He had never met either young lady until today … or had he?
‘Something appears to be troubling you, Major,’ a smooth voice remarked, and Daniel discovered Sir Giles hovering at his elbow, looking remarkably well pleased about something.
He was instantly suspicious, for he knew well enough that the man beside him was not quite what he seemed. He had the utmost respect for Sir Giles’s acute intellect. None the less, if their association during the past years had taught Daniel anything, then it was not to trust the well-mannered, silver-tongued baronet an inch.
‘I swear, Osborne, that you were a cat in some former life. Like the pampered feline who lazes in the most comfortable spot in a room, you appear sublimely content. Yet, it would come as no great surprise to me to discover that you sleep with one eye permanently open.’
Sir Giles’s shoulders shook in silent, appreciative laughter. ‘Ah yes! Cats—remarkable creatures, are they not? I hold them in the highest regard. Lying quietly in wait to strike when least expected, they do their utmost to rid this world of ours of loathsome vermin.’
Extracting his silver snuffbox, Sir Giles made use of its contents before returning the elegant trinket to his pocket, while all the time his eyes stared through the open doorway leading to the card-room. ‘Lavinia Wentworth’s niece is a strikingly lovely young woman, do you not agree, Major Ross?’
Daniel followed the direction of the older man’s gaze in time to see his former companion taking a seat at the table occupied by a forbidding matron sporting an ugly turban of puce satin. ‘I did not realise that Miss O’Malley was related to our hostess,’ he admitted, eyes narrowing. ‘Then her maternal grandfather was none other than …’
‘Colonel Fairchild,’ Sir Giles finished for him, when the Major’s voice faded. ‘I understand that she lived with him for a short time. I thought perhaps you knew her.’
How very interesting! Daniel mused, his mind racing back over the years. Then it was just possible that he had met Miss O’Malley in the dim and distant past, though she must have been little more than a child at the time, for Colonel Fairchild had been dead for a number of years.
‘Such glorious hair, do you not agree?’ Sir Giles remarked, successfully recapturing his companion’s attention. ‘I myself have always had a particular weakness for auburn-haired fillies.’
‘Oh, you have, have you?’ Daniel did not believe a word of it, and wasn’t reticent about making his own views clear. ‘Well, I certainly have not! The few I’ve come across during my lifetime have all been devious little firebrands—totally unpredictable and not to be trusted. And Miss O’Malley has certainly not induced me to alter my opinion!’
It had taken Katherine a minute or two only to become aware that those of her fellow guests who were drifting into the card-room were keeping well clear of the table where she and the Dowager Lady Charlesworth now sat. Several wicked possibilities occurred to her for this deliberate avoidance, all of which were most definitely to the formidable Dowager’s discredit. She was just beginning to come to the conclusion that it was unlikely that there was anyone among the guests brave enough to challenge Lady Charlesworth, when a shadow fell across the table, and she found herself meeting the steely gaze of the distinguished-looking gentleman who had arrived with the disreputable Major.
‘Ah, Osborne!’ There was a distinct note of approval in the Dowager’s booming voice, which gave Katherine every reason to suppose that the baronet would prove to be a worthy opponent. ‘Come to challenge me and my young partner, have you? Well, sit down! Sit down, man! Have you met Miss O’Malley?’
‘I understand that you are Mrs Wentworth’s niece,’ he remarked, after Lady Charlesworth had made the introductions so loudly that Katherine was fairly certain that, had anyone else in the room been ignorant of her identity before, such was no longer the case.
Katherine nodded. ‘My mother was her elder sister, sir.’
‘I also understand that you reside in Bath.’
‘Yes, sir. I have lived there for a number of years.’
‘But not alone, I trust,’ the Dowager put in, looking faintly disapproving.
It would have afforded Katherine the utmost pleasure to inform the dictatorial lady seated opposite that her domestic arrangements were entirely her own concern, but having given way once to her occasionally volatile temperament, she had no intention of doing so again. It would have afforded her even greater pleasure to be able to say that she did live quite alone. Unfortunately she could not do so.
‘No, ma’am,’ she admitted. ‘My late aunt’s former companion still resides with me.’
‘Very proper,’ the Dowager approved, before turning her attention to Sir Giles and demanding to know if he had secured himself a partner.
‘My sister will be joining us, ma’am… Ah! And here she is, ready to do battle.’
It would have been hard to find a less formidable-looking opponent, Katherine decided, as she watched the middle-aged lady, dressed in the startling orange-coloured gown, nervously twisting the strings of her reticule round her fingers as she seated herself at the table.
The baronet’s spinster sister put Katherine in mind of the companion whom she had unfortunately inherited from her late aunt. Poor Miss Mountjoy, always eager to please, whilst bracing herself for the inevitable cutting remarks, had always displayed the same degree of nervous tension, whenever in her late employer’s presence, as Miss Mary Osborne was betraying now.
Katherine well expected the Dowager, undoubtedly fashioned in the same mould as the late Miss Augusta Fairchild, to utter some blistering remark. Yet, surprisingly enough, apart from sniffing rather pointedly as she cast disapproving eyes over the dazzling orange creation, which clashed alarmingly with her own puce gown, she refrained from comment. Which gave Katherine every reason to suppose that the mouse-like Miss Osborne, though lamentably lacking an eye for fashion, had somehow managed to earn the formidable Dowager’s approval.
This certainly proved to be the case, for Miss Osborne was undoubtedly a very skilful card player, and her partner no less so. They easily won the first game, and Katherine found herself having to concentrate very hard, which was no easy matter when she was having to contend with her partner’s hard-eyed scrutiny, and the frequent, penetrating steely-grey-eyed glances she found herself receiving from the baronet. None the less, her nerve, though sorely tested, held firm, and she and her partner won the second game, and took the first rubber convincingly with the final game.
‘I knew I chose wisely when I selected you for my partner, Miss O’Malley,’ Lady Charlesworth boomed approvingly. ‘A female who can hold her nerve, eh, Os-borne?’
‘It would certainly appear so, ma’am,’ he answered softly, his eyes once again firmly turned in Katherine’s direction. ‘Miss O’Malley appears to possess all the necessary requirements … Yes, she might prove to be an excellent choice.’
Chapter Three
I’ve been giving some thought to what you disclosed on the evening of my engagement party.’
The surprising admission succeeded in capturing Katherine’s attention, and she transferred her gaze from the spot beyond the parlour window, where the morning’s continuous rain had succeeded in creating a huge puddle on the terrace, to her cousin, who had been industriously plying her needle for the past half-hour. ‘About what?’ she prompted.
‘About Major Ross.’
The immediate response did not precisely please Katherine. Although his name had never once been mentioned within her hearing since the night of the party, she had been irritated by the number of times he had managed to encroach into her thoughts.
‘Before he returned to London Richard happened to mention,’ Caroline continued, ‘that Wellington himself thought very highly of the Major, and used him on many important missions.’
‘His bravery is not in question,’ Katherine pointed out, striving not to sound waspish. ‘I merely maintain that he is a heartless wretch who cares naught for the feelings of others.’
‘I’m not so certain you’re right about that,’ Caroline argued. Highly complaisant and sweet-natured though she was, she wasn’t afraid to voice an opinion if she held strong views on a subject. ‘I found myself in his company on more than one occasion during the evening of the party. I have to own, I rather liked him, even though I found his conversation a little—how shall I put it?—forthright. But Richard assured me that seasoned campaigners do tend to be plain-spoken and a little abrupt. And the Major was kind enough to fetch me a cup of fruit punch.’
‘Oh, well, that just goes to prove I misjudged him entirely, doesn’t it?’ Katherine rolled her eyes ceiling-wards. ‘Any gentleman who would fetch a lady refreshments must surely be a paragon of all the virtues!’
‘Furthermore,’ Caroline continued, smiling faintly at this blatant sarcasm, ‘Richard did furnish me with one tale about the Major that he’d heard from a fellow officer. Seemingly, appalling atrocities took place after our troops were successful in storming Badajoz. Major Ross, by all accounts, offered his protection to the wife of some French officer. I do not know all the details, you understand, because Richard didn’t consider it a suitable topic to discuss in my company. Nevertheless, what he did disclose was sufficient to convince me that any gentleman who would put his life at risk to protect a lady’s virtue must be a very honourable man. Which makes me wonder whether what you were told about him years ago was completely true.’
‘We do not know for certain that the story of his heroism at Badajoz is true either,’ Katherine pointed out. ‘You know how these tales are much embellished in the retelling.’
‘Mama was talking with him a good deal at the party. We could always ask her if she knows anything about his exploits,’ Caroline suggested, just as the door opened, and Mrs Wentworth herself entered the parlour.
Although Katherine had no wish to engage in a discussion about someone whom for years she had been happy to stigmatise as a heartless lecher, her cousin, evidently, was not of a similar mind, for Caroline hardly waited for her mother to settle herself comfortably in a chair, before she asked outright whether she was well acquainted with the gallant Major.
‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, dear,’ Mrs Wentworth responded, reaching for her embroidery. ‘When I left Dorsetshire to marry your father, Daniel was merely a boy, no more than six or seven, though I do remember his father very well. Edwin Ross was such a charming gentleman, and extremely astute. And Daniel, I feel, has grown into his image in both looks and character.’
Somehow managing to suppress a snort, Katherine made a supreme effort to concentrate on the book lying open on her lap, and ignore the ensuing conversation between mother and daughter. Unfortunately she was only moderately successful, and one interesting disclosure had her and her equally astonished cousin exchanging startled glances.
‘I didn’t realise that Major Ross was Grandpapa’s godson,’ she freely admitted.
‘Oh, yes, dear,’ her aunt confirmed. ‘Your grandfather and Edwin Ross had been friends since boyhood, and Daniel was very fond of dear Papa. Papa frequently mentioned in the letters he wrote how much he missed his godson’s visits when Daniel went out to India.’
This appeared to capture Caroline’s attention in a big way, for she immediately set aside her sewing. ‘Major Ross has been to India? Oh, what exciting lives gentlemen lead!’
‘I do not know whether Daniel himself found the experience so very rewarding,’ her mother countered, ‘in view of what took place during his absence.’
Although Katherine doggedly refused to betray further interest, she was not unduly sorry when her cousin demanded to know what precisely had happened during Daniel’s travels abroad.
‘His father passed away just a year after Daniel had set sail for India. Although his uncle, Sir Joshua Ross, did write promptly, informing him of the tragic news, it quite naturally took some time before the letter reached him. And if that was not bad enough, when the poor boy did eventually return, it was to discover that his childhood sweetheart, Julia Melrose, had married Sir Joshua’s son Simon just a few months before.’
‘Oh, poor Major Ross!’ Caroline exclaimed, and Katherine, much to her surprise, found herself experiencing a twinge of sympathy too, and could not resist asking whether there had ever been anything official between them.
Lavinia Wentworth shook her head. ‘I do not believe Julia’s parents were averse to a match. Daniel, after all, was the son of a wealthy landowner, and therefore quite eligible. I believe the Melroses considered that it wouldn’t hurt to wait a year or two before giving their consent to a marriage. Daniel himself had only just turned twenty when he set sail for India. I suppose he considered it would occupy his time until he could officially ask for Julia’s hand.’
Caroline cast a puzzled glance across at her mother. ‘But if Julia Melrose was truly in love with Daniel, why on earth did she agree to marry Simon Ross?’
‘That I couldn’t say, my dear. I do know that Julia, Simon and Daniel had known one another all their lives and had frequently played together as children, but from what I have gleaned over the years from the many friends I still have living in the area, Julia always showed a preference for Daniel’s company. Most people, including your grandfather, expected them to tie the knot one day.’ She shrugged. ‘One can only imagine pressure was brought to bear on Miss Melrose to marry Simon. After all, he was the one who had been destined to hold the title, not Daniel.’
Mrs Wentworth sighed and shook her head. ‘Whether the marriage was happy or not, I couldn’t say, but it certainly proved fruitful. Julia gave birth to a son some five or six years ago, if I remember correctly. One cannot help but feel saddened that the union was brought to an abrupt end. Simon Ross, sadly, was killed whilst hunting in the Shires.’
‘Which leaves the field now open for the Major, as it were,’ Katherine remarked, with just a touch of cynicism that made her aunt smile.
‘It is certainly a possibility that their love will rekindle,’ her aunt acknowledged. ‘He has, so I understand, never betrayed the least interest in marrying anyone else, even though his name has been linked with several—er—females over the years.’
Out of the corner of her eye Katherine saw her cousin glance in her direction, as though expecting her, now that the opportunity had arisen, to pass some remark, and she swiftly decided not to disappoint her. ‘I clearly remember that, when I resided in Dorsetshire for those few short months, Captain Ross, as he was then, betrayed an interest in a close neighbour of Grandpapa’s—Helen Rushton.’
‘Helen Rushton?’ her aunt echoed, frowning slightly. Then her brow cleared. ‘Ah, yes, I remember—Hermi-one Rushton’s girl!’ The frown returned. ‘Are you positive he was interested in her, Katherine? She must have been a mere child at the time.’
‘She was seventeen.’
Mrs Wentworth’s expressive brows rose this time. ‘Yes, I suppose she must have been. So very sad, her dying so young. I remember Mrs Rushton very well—a sweet woman, but something of a dreamer and not very bright. I recall your grandfather mentioning once that Helen had become very like her mother.’
Until that moment Katherine had never considered that Helen had been very immature for her years. Looking back now, however, she was silently forced to own that her friend had been something of a dreamer and might well have imagined that Daniel Ross had been betraying an interest in her.
Swiftly thrusting this traitorous thought aside, she said, ‘I also recall, Aunt, that he was displaying marked attention towards a young widow in the locale.’
‘Very likely, my dear. He could only have been twenty-three or-four at the time. I doubt his intentions were serious. Gentlemen rarely are at that age. And you must remember he had suffered a grievous blow over Julia Melrose. When I spoke to him at the party I gained the distinct impression that he is more than ready to settle down now, however. He is quite wealthy, so should have no difficulty in finding himself a wife.’
Caroline’s soft brown eyes glowed with a distinctly hopeful look. ‘Although it is unlikely that Major Ross will ever inherit the title, it is not impossible that he and his childhood sweetheart might one day find happiness together.’
Whether or not it was because she had never fallen in love herself, or that she simply didn’t possess her cousin’s romantic streak, Katherine was not sure, but her interest had already swiftly begun to wane. The ex-Major’s present romantic inclinations were of absolutely no interest to her. Consequently she experienced no compunction whatsoever in changing the subject by voicing something which was of far more concern to her, if a trifle mundane.
‘I sincerely hope the weather improves by tomorrow. I do not relish the prospect of returning all the way to Bath in the pouring rain.’
‘I wish you were not going back so soon, Katherine. Cannot Mama and I persuade you to remain a little longer?’
Katherine, smiling fondly at her cousin, shook her head. ‘I should dearly love to stay another week or two, Caro, but my conscience will not permit it. I have already left poor Clarissa Mountjoy to her own devices for two weeks.’
‘I think it was highly unfair of Aunt Augusta to foist that distinctly foolish female on to you, Katherine,’ Lavinia Wentworth announced, with a rare show of annoyance. ‘She is engaged as a companion and resides in your home for the sole purpose of ensuring that you, an unmarried female, are suitably chaperoned at all times. Yet I swear it is you who takes care of her. It is a fine duenna indeed who cannot bring herself to travel more than a mile or two because she fears becoming queasy!’
A further fond smile touched Katherine’s lips as she looked across at her aunt. ‘Believe me, Aunt Lavinia, I am not sorry that Mountjoy is afflicted with travel sickness whenever she steps inside a carriage.’ She couldn’t prevent a sigh escaping. ‘I am forced to admit too that I do find her company excessively tedious, for she is undeniably an extremely foolish woman, but she does try so very hard to please. And I would never go back on the promise I made to Aunt Augusta and turn Mountjoy off. The poor woman put up with Great-aunt Augusta’s megrims and ill humours for twenty years. I believe she has earned a little peace and contentment in a house where not too much is expected of her, and she can more or less come and go as she pleases.’
A further sigh escaped Katherine as she finally abandoned her book and set it to one side. ‘I must admit, though, as chaperons go, she could never be described as diligent. I cannot say that I would feel in the least sorry if she did decide to leave, and I could employ someone of my own choosing.’
‘I doubt there is much chance of that,’ her aunt warned. ‘I fear, my dear, that you have made the woman’s life far too agreeable since Aunt Augusta’s death for her to wish to take up another post.’
‘You are possibly quite right,’ Katherine agreed. ‘But there is just a glimmer of hope on the horizon. Mountjoy received a letter from her widowed sister a month ago, inviting her to make her home with her. Needless to say I would be delighted if she does decide to leave, but I am resolved that it must be her decision.’
‘You would have no need of a chaperon if you chose to make your home here with us,’ her aunt reminded her.
Katherine had wondered how long it would be before the subject was once again raised. Her aunt had asked her on several occasions to make her home in Hampshire, and Katherine had always neatly avoided giving a firm answer. It was not that she felt she would be unhappy living with her aunt and uncle, for she was fond of them both, and adored both her cousins. Nor was she afraid that the little independence she had acquired would be drastically curtailed, for her aunt was such an easygoing soul who would willingly allow her to do more or less as she pleased. No, stupid though it might be, she was afraid to take up permanent residence under this roof; afraid that, as had happened so often in the past, she would bring ill fortune to the household if she were ever to remove here.
‘That is certainly true, Aunt,’ she agreed, her warm smile concealing quite beautifully those deep-rooted fears that had continued to torment her in recent years. ‘But I would never dream of inflicting Mountjoy on you. And even if I should be lucky enough to persuade her to accept her sister’s kind offer, there is still Bridie to consider. There is not the remotest possibility that I shall ever be able to persuade that fiendish woman to take up another post. I know I shall be cursed with her company for life! She is the most self-opinionated, domineering creature imaginable! If once she takes up residence here, you’d swiftly find her ruling the roost in the servants’ hall, and your own staff leaving your employ.’
Mrs Wentworth frankly laughed. ‘Oh, I know Bridie can be a little outspoken on occasions, and is certainly not what one might describe as a conventional domestic, but I for one, as I’ve mentioned before, have always felt very relieved that she has been there to take care of you, Katherine.’
She looked up as the door opened to see her butler enter the room, carrying a small silver tray. ‘Yes, what is it, Meldrew?’
‘A letter from Osborne House for Miss O’Malley, ma’am,’ he answered, presenting Katherine with the tray. ‘The footman is still here, awaiting a reply, miss.’
Surprised, Katherine removed the missive, which did indeed bear her name in bold, elegantly constructed letters, and broke the seal. ‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed, after running her eyes over the few lines. ‘I’ve been invited to take tea with Sir Giles and his sister this afternoon at three o’clock.’
She handed the note across to her aunt. ‘Have you anything planned for the afternoon, Aunt Lavinia?’
‘As a matter of fact, dear, Lady Charlesworth plans to call. But, in any event,’ she added, after scanning the brief missive, ‘it would seem the invitation is for you alone.’ She did not appear in the least offended, as her next words proved. ‘I’m rather relieved. I should not have wished to cause offence to either Sir Giles or his sister by refusing. In the circumstances, however, I feel I must remain here, as I have already assured Lady Charlesworth that her visit will be most welcome.’
Katherine was far from convinced that her aunt’s assertion was one hundred per cent true. If her cousin’s expression of comical dismay was any indication, poor Caroline certainly wasn’t looking forward with any real conviction to her future mother-in-law’s proposed visit. Caroline, of course, had little choice in the matter; Katherine, on the other hand, most definitely had. She considered she had more than fulfilled her role as dutiful niece on the night of the engagement party, and had no intention of enduring the formidable Dowager’s company for a further lengthy period.