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He recalled all the things he had been told about her in a jumbled rush. He had not believed that her Season had been disastrous because she was shy, having been on the receiving end of her temper, but could she really be as shy as everyone had told him? Could a woman have two such opposite traits of character existing side by side?
Yet why not? He had known many horses just like that. Trembling and sweating nervously when the halter went over their head, then kicking out wildly in an attempt to break free. Just like a wild colt, she responded to a man’s approach by either shying or kicking up her heels in a display of defiance.
His eyes narrowed. Whatever this revelation might mean for him he would consider at his leisure. For now, all that mattered was that she was in dire need of rescue. This oaf was bullying her, delighting in reducing her to a mass of quivering nerves. He had met fellows who broke their horses in that way—the fools. The end result was a mount that was not worth riding. For the thrill of mastering, breaking another creature’s spirit, they destroyed all that was fine and admirable.
Well, not while he was here to prevent it. He would not stand by and see a man mistreat a horse, let alone the woman he intended to marry.
He took a calming breath, reminding himself this was a drawing room, not a boxing ring. The method would have to be different, but as far as he was concerned, the gloves were off.
‘Snelgrove, did I hear your name was?’ He held out a hand, forcing the man into either ignoring his overture, or relinquishing his grip on Lady Hester’s elbow. ‘I am Lensborough. I dare say you have heard of me.’
After the briefest of hesitations, the man let go of Lady Hester to shake his hand. ‘Friend of the family, are you?’
There was an awkward pause. Hester still did not appear to have the ability to move as yet, let alone frame a coherent introduction.
‘Mr Snelgrove is a distant relative of mine,’ Miss Dean supplied. ‘He arrived unexpectedly last night.’
On a repairing lease, no doubt, Lord Lensborough thought, taking in the waxy countenance and bloodshot eyes that betokened a life of dissipation. ‘Do you stay long in the district?’ he inquired, taking a pace into the room. In order to continue the conversation, Snelgrove had to turn away from Lady Hester slightly.
‘As long as necessary, my lord. It all depends.’
To his relief, he saw a tide of angry colour rush into Lady Hester’s face, her fists clenching at her sides when Snelgrove glanced her way, grinning.
‘I have many old friends in this area, with whom I wish to renew…links. Lady Hester’s brother was a very dear friend of mine, and I used to run tame in this house during school vacations. Sadly I have not been able to return since the funeral, but now that I am here I had hoped to make up for that omission.’
‘You lost a brother, too, Lady Hester?’ Lord Lensborough’s voice was gentle.
Hester managed to open her mouth, but no sound came out. How could he sound so sympathetic when she had ridden roughshod over his own grief?
‘Alas, he died about six years ago,’ Lady Gregory piped up. ‘A terrible tragedy.’ She looked nervously at Lord Lensborough, then meaningfully at Hester as she went on, ‘We never speak of it…it is too upsetting.’
He looked at Hester, whose face was pale as milk yet again. ‘Forgive me, Lady Hester, for intruding on your grief.’ He spun towards Mr Snelgrove abruptly, turning his back to her.
‘You know the area well, I take it, since you spent so much time here in your youth?’ He began to stroll towards the window, indicating the vast empty moorlands with a sweep of his arm. Snelgrove trailed in his wake reluctantly. He clearly did not wish to move away from Hester, but nor did he dare to defy a marquis in mid-flow.
‘Yes, I do, my lord.’
‘And you ride.’ He paused by the window, hands clasped together behind his back. ‘I would very much like to explore the locality. What I have seen of it is quite intriguing. Perhaps you would care to act as my guide? I have brought a couple of my hunters with me, and so far I fear they have not had much exercise.’
Snelgrove was hooked. There was not a man who’d ever placed a bet on a horse who had not heard of the Marquis of Lensborough’s stables. He would not pass up the chance to ride one of his own hunters. And then, he thought with contempt, he would dine out on the story for weeks.
He felt rather than saw Lady Hester move to a chair and sink into it, and sighed with contentment. He had never felt such satisfaction in knowing that his actions had brought comfort to another person, but then, neither had he experienced such a strong urge to protect a female before.
Lady Hester sighed with relief as Lord Lensborough launched into a detailed account of the pedigree of the horses he had brought with him, while Lionel drank it all in. Her lips twisted in bitter humour. Typical that the two men in the world that she loathed the most should hit it off instantly. But she was not about to complain. That coincidence had bought her a temporary reprieve. With any luck, Lord Lensborough would keep droning on about his stables until it was time for Mr Snelgrove to leave. And now that she knew he was in the area…She bit her lower lip. He had dropped enough hints about gypsies to let her know he would blow her cousins’ ambitions out of the water if she did not bend to his will. The only way to prevent him from blackmailing her was to keep well out of his sight.
As she glared at Lord Lensborough’s back, he half-turned, and ran his eyes over her just once, briefly, as if to ascertain her condition. When she bristled, he nodded, as if satisfied, and turned back to Snelgrove. It all happened so quickly that Hester could not be sure she had not imagined it. If she had not known better, she might have assumed that he was checking up on her, as if he had been sensitive to her distress, and had drawn Lionel away from her, and was keeping him at his side for her benefit.
That could not possibly be. Lord Lensborough notice something that had been hidden from her close family? Absurd. He was far too self-absorbed; she was just so shaken by Lionel’s sudden reappearance, her imagination had run away with her. She was seeing Lensborough as her saviour because she had been desperate for one, that was all.
‘I am glad to see you two are getting along so well!’ Lady Gregory suddenly remarked, her eyes fixed on the two men chatting by the window. ‘You must dine with us one evening, Lionel. You, too, Miss Dean, of course. You can walk over from the vicarage together.’
Hester sprang to her feet. All she wanted to do was avoid Lionel and the stupid woman had invited him into her home!
‘Oh…’ Em caught her eye ‘…I am sure you cannot want us to intrude upon a family party.’
‘Nonsense.’ Lady Gregory blithely swept her protestations aside. ‘We already have Lord Lensborough and his friend come among us. Another couple at the table can only serve to enliven things. In fact, it would be a very good thing if you were to join us, because then we should have enough couples to get up some dancing. It would be a lovely way to round off the house party. Say Wednesday evening? Lady Moulton’s last night with us?’
‘Oh, yes, Mama, the very thing,’ Julia cried, clapping her hands in delight.
‘Come on, Em,’ Lionel drawled, prowling over to where she sat, gazing with concern at Hester’s obvious distress. ‘Don’t say no. Your father will be glad for you to have a chance to get out and enjoy yourself for once. He won’t thank you for using his infirmity as an excuse to stop at home. Besides, everyone is relying on us to make up the numbers. And I for one will be only too glad of the chance,’ he said, looking keenly at Hester, ‘to oblige the ladies.’
Lady Gregory followed the direction of his gaze, and a vexed expression flitted across her brow. ‘Hester, dear…’ her brow cleared ‘…would you mind having a word with cook right away? I know the invitation is for Wednesday, but these things take time to arrange. You will need to get a room prepared for dancing. Well—’ she smiled ‘—I am sure I do not need to tell you. You know exactly what to do.’ She nodded in a satisfied way as an expression of relief washed across Hester’s taut features.
This time, in tune with her true state of mind, Lord Lensborough appreciated what Lady Gregory had done. She had given Hester the excuse she badly needed to leave the room without having to speak to Snelgrove again. She was protecting her shy niece.
He recalled, with a chill, the number of times over the past few days various members of her family had sent her from the room on the most paltry of errands when he had been trying to engage her in conversation. Could it possibly be that they had not been bent on thwarting her chances after all, but had been attempting to protect her…from him?
Chapter Seven
‘What on earth has come over you, Lensborough?’ Stephen enquired on Wednesday evening as he put the finishing touches to his neckcloth. ‘If you were to meet a cur like that in town, you would give him the cut direct.’
‘You wanted an excuse to visit the vicarage, did you not? I have provided it.’ Lord Lensborough had been so determined to prevent Snelgrove from getting anywhere near Hester that he had ridden over to Beckforth vicarage at first light the past two days and kept him hacking round the local countryside till all hours.
He had not repeated his foolish attempt to get her alone and flirt with her either. No. The way to win the trust of any nervous colt was to demonstrate that he posed no threat.
‘Since when did you put anyone else’s interests before your own?’ Stephen scoffed. ‘It strikes me you’re trying to prevent him from getting at Cinders. I saw the way he drooled over her in the library on Monday.’
‘Astute of you.’ Lensborough smiled. He was looking forward to this evening’s entertainment. Dancing would provide him with a legitimate opportunity to hold her in his arms.
‘You’re really going to make the poor relation an offer?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? She will suit my purposes as well as either of her cousins.’
Stephen selected a ring, threaded it on to his finger and paused to admire the effect.
‘I hate to burst your bubble, Lensborough, but have you not noticed that she doesn’t like you?’
‘She doesn’t dislike me as much as she dislikes Snelgrove,’ he pointed out.
‘But you cannot want to marry a woman who does not like you.’
‘You talk a deal of nonsense at times, Stephen. What has liking to do with marriage? In fact, I would find it tedious to marry a woman who liked me too well.’ She was an intelligent woman. Even if she did not like him much, she would certainly like to become a marchioness.
‘I have a great deal to offer her,’ he reassured himself. ‘Instead of acting as unpaid housekeeper to her aunt, she will be mistress of her own establishment. And she will become a mother. She adores children.’
Stephen regarded his fingers steadily for several moments, before remarking, in a voice devoid of all inflection, ‘You know I wish you well, Lensborough. But marriage is…well, it lasts a long time. Not like taking a mistress whom you can pay off when you’ve had enough of her.’
‘If you are intending to say anything derogatory about Lady Hester, then I strongly advise you—don’t.’
For some reason this outburst brought the smile back to Stephen’s face. ‘Then I won’t,’ he said. ‘We’ll go down to dinner in silence if you like.’
And they did.
‘What is the matter, Hester?’ Em and Hester were standing by the piano, which had been moved to the Great Hall, sifting through the sheet music while the ladies waited for the gen-tlemen to join them. Hester had been pleased with the atmosphere the servants had managed to achieve at such short notice. There was fresh greenery everywhere, the pots and containers swathed with every kind of red material they had been able to lay their hands on. They had even resurrected several old-fashioned flambeaux and stuck them in iron wall sconces or the gauntleted hands of the suits of armour.
She had unearthed the primrose-satin ball gown left over from her Season in honour of the occasion, though she had taken the precaution of tacking a fichu into the indecently lowcut bodice. She had even taken pains to make sure all the accessories matched. The cream kid gloves and gold satin slippers she had bought in Bond Street were as good as new, since they had been packed away in tissue paper after only one outing. Mary, the head housemaid, had helped her pin up her hair with a matching set of gold-and-amber combs. The ensemble was not as up to date as her cousins’ creations, of course, but then she was not the one trying to attract the notice of a marquis.
‘You hardly spoke a word at dinner, and you still seem strained. Is the house party not going well?’
‘In some ways,’ Hester mused, ‘it is going better than I expected. Aunt Valeria is so overwhelmed by Lord Lensborough’s magnificence…’ she stuck one hand on her hip, flicking an imaginary coat tail out of the way in the process, and looked down her nose at Em, raising one eyebrow in mimicry of Lord Lensborough at his most haughty ‘…that she hasn’t thrown a single tantrum. And Mr Farrar,’ she confided, dropping her pose, ‘who I at first thought was nothing but a dandy, is in fact doing his level best to put my cousins at ease. Not entirely successfully, I might add.’
‘Oho! What has the monstrous marquis done?’
‘Oh, hardly anything worth mentioning,’ she replied airily. ‘Apart from sneering at Phoebe’s watercolours and yawning over Julia’s embroidery, depressing Aunt Valeria’s pretensions and taking up with Lionel Snelgrove so that he does not have to go out riding with my uncle.’
Em giggled. Dinner had been one of the most strained occasions she had ever attended at The Holme, which was normally one of the most informal of venues. Julia and Phoebe, Hester had told her, were becoming increasingly agitated as the allotted week drew to a close and neither felt any nearer knowing which was likely to receive the formal offer. The marquis himself had not spoken a word throughout the entire meal, but sat with his mouth drawn into a line as though he were biting back scathing retorts. He even raised his haughty left eyebrow at Stephen Farrar for repeatedly provoking Phoebe into fits of giggles.
‘Has he ever spoken about running you down that first day? Or apologised for just taking off afterwards?’
‘Oh, that.’ Hester fanned herself with a sheet of music with a languorous air. ‘He has quite forgot all about that. I dare say he runs so many women off the road he cannot differentiate between all his victims. When he deigns to speak to me at all, which is not all that often, I promise you, it is on the subject of politics.’
‘P…politics? Oh, dear.’ Em laughed. ‘Does he try that with Julia? Or Phoebe?’
‘I wouldn’t put it past him.’ She glanced at where they stood by the fireside, heads close together in a frantically whispered conversation. ‘The one good thing to come from his insufferable attitude was my uncle’s decision that I need not be a part of any entertainment that involved him. Except…’ she heaved a sigh ‘…for tonight. Since you and Mr Snelgrove are technically my guests, I may not withdraw until you have gone home.’
Em drew herself up, giving Hester a direct look.
Hester could have kicked herself. ‘You know if it were just you I would gladly put up with…I mean, I would have had a tray in my room and we need not have even…oh, you must know it is Lionel. I do not know what I shall do if he should ask me to dance.’
Impulsively she reached out to clasp her friend’s hand. Em patted it, but her tone of voice was brisk.
‘Really, Hester. What harm do you think would come from dancing with him in your own home, with all your family about you? I fail to understand how you can march into a gypsy camp and confront that dirty ruffian Jye one minute, then quiver like an aspen leaf at the prospect of taking part in a perfectly civilised pastime with a relative of mine.’
Hester hung her head. ‘It is not because he is your relative. It is the way he—’ She blushed crimson.
Em pursed her lips. ‘I know he is rather a flirt, Hester, but don’t you think you are overreacting?’ She sat down firmly on the piano stool. ‘Now look, the gentlemen are coming in, and the first set will be forming soon. His marquisness will no doubt solicit the hand of one of your cousins, and Mr Farrar the other. The other men will dance with their wives, so Lionel is bound to ask you to stand up with him. And you must.’
Hester blenched.
‘Don’t be a goose. It is only a dance. You’ll feel better once you’ve got it over with.’
Em’s words were prophetic. In moments, Lionel was the only man without a dance partner, and he was bowing over her hand. And standing far closer than she liked. So close that she could feel his body heat through the flimsy barrier of her primrose gown. She backed into the piano, shivers of revulsion coursing through her limbs.
‘A pretty show of reluctance,’ he teased. ‘But you will not refuse me this dance. Another couple is entirely necessary to complete the set.’
With a sudden flash of clarity, Hester saw that when they got on to the dance floor, Lionel would only be able to touch her hand briefly, when the movements decreed it. He would not at any time be able to stand as close to her as this. She levered herself off the piano, and walked, stiff legged, to join the bottom of the set.
Em struck the first chord, the gentlemen bowed to the ladies, and the dance began.
It seemed to go on for ever.
By the time it was over Hester’s head was spinning with the effort of pretending she was unaffected by the taunts he whispered into her ear whenever they drew close enough to converse. Her entire body was trembling from the effort she had expended in taking mincing little steps when all she wanted was to hitch up her skirts and run a mile. The only thing that had prevented her from doing just that was her refusal to let him triumph. She would never let him beat her again!
While everyone else was applauding Em’s playing, Lionel sidled up behind her.
‘You look delightfully flushed.’ His voice oozed down the back of her neck. ‘Let us sit the next one out, while you recover your breath. I have something I particularly want to say to you.’
She was ready to drop; she needed to sit down and recover, but not with him.
Before she could collect her wits enough to make some excuse, he had taken her by the elbow, and was steering her towards a shadowy alcove beneath the minstrel’s gallery.
And then Lord Lensborough was blocking their path, he was bowing, and through the roaring in her ears she heard him ask if she would do him the honour of being his partner for the next dance.
Hester had never dreamed a day would come when she would seize at the opportunity to dance, let alone with Lord Lensborough, but it had come now with a vengeance.
She could not yet control her voice, but when she tugged her arm from Lionel’s grip, decorum decreed he had to relinquish it. She stretched her hand out to Lord Lensborough; wordlessly he took it, and with a profound sense of relief Hester walked back to the dance floor.
‘I believe you do not care for dancing any more than I do myself, my lady,’ he said softly as they took their places in the new set that was forming. ‘Convention demands that we appear tolerably amused, however, lest a shadow be cast over the pleasure others take in the exercise.’
Why had he asked her to dance, then, if he really had noticed she did not enjoy it? Did he take some kind of perverse pleasure in making her uncomfortable?
She glared straight ahead at the tiger’s-eye pin that nestled in the deep black folds of his silk cravat. As for taking pains not to cast a damper on others’ enjoyment…well, what a plumper! He didn’t care if his mood cast a shadow. He’d had the whole household on edge ever since he’d arrived.
‘And I shall not be offended if you do not make any attempt to speak to me.’
Well, that she could believe. Whenever they had spoken they had come to cuffs, and for the last two days he had been as much at pains to avoid her as she had been to avoid him.
Then he confounded her by finishing, ‘I do not wish to make this more of an ordeal for you than it need be.’
Hester stumbled through the opening sequence in a perplexed silence.
‘You are doing well,’ he said as he took her raised hand and turned her. ‘I have often found myself that going through some dull, repetitive task enables me to restore my composure when I have been sorely tried by some idiot or other.’
Hester gazed up at him in frank astonishment. Was he saying that he had noticed how badly Lionel affected her, and was deliberately trying to help her recover? Could this be the same man who had subjected her to a torrent of oaths, less than a week ago, when she had got in his way?
He gave her a rueful smile. ‘I am capable of behaving as I ought, though I have not so far given you reason to believe it.’
Heavens, was he reading her mind now? Before she could respond they moved apart again. But perhaps it was just as well. She could not have framed a fit reply to that remark to save her life.
‘At least I have the satisfaction of knowing that dancing with me is preferable to being drawn into a tête-à-tête with that crass suitor of yours.’
Without thinking, she snapped, ‘Well, anything would be preferable to that.’
Lord Lensborough let out a bark of surprised laughter, a sound so astonishing that everyone, or so it seemed to Hester, turned and stared. It was the first indication he had given during this visit that a sense of humour might lurk beneath that stern façade.
Hester tilted her face up towards him in surprise, and made the discovery that with those little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, his mouth turned up with genuine, rather than sardonic, humour, all the harshness had melted from his sombre features.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she apologised, heat flooding her face.
How could she have been so rude? And how could he possibly find her rudeness amusing? She supposed it must have some novelty value to come across a person, especially a female, with so little regard for his rank that they would dare say exactly what they thought.
Did he appreciate the unconventional? Was that why he favoured the tiger’s eye, whose swirling bands so exactly matched the varying shades of brown that twinkled in his own eyes, rather than a diamond, or even just a plain gold pin?
He had not responded to her apology before they moved apart again. Really, it was vexing trying to hold a conversation during a dance. The figures separated them at the most inopportune moments.
‘Don’t mention it.’ He smiled down at her when next they came together. ‘I think we both owe each other roughly the same number of apologies now. Shall we just cry quits?’
She nodded as she twirled away, reflecting that perhaps she did not need to pity her cousins. After all, they kept on saying they wanted to get married. And she was beginning to suspect Lord Lensborough might be the kind of husband Uncle Thomas was to her Aunt Susan. Blunt of manner and speech, more used to the society of men and sporting men at that. Yet for all his lack of address in company, his preference for the hunting field over the drawing room, her uncle’s rough exterior cloaked a kernel of solid decency.
She was faintly surprised to find that the dance had come to an end, and Lord Lensborough had led her the full length of the room to where his friend Mr Farrar was standing.
‘I will leave you in Mr Farrar’s capable hands.’ She heard the smile in his voice, though she did not see the accompanying warmth in his eyes. She was gazing in perplexity at her hand. He must have held it in his own, all the way across the room, and not for one second had she felt the least bit intimidated by his superior masculine strength.