The Major Meets His Match

He threw back his head and laughed.

‘Touché!’

She glowered at him. Far from showing the slightest sign of contrition, he was clearly thoroughly enjoying himself. At her expense.

‘Come, come, don’t look at me like that,’ he said. ‘I conceded the point. And far from being sorry I swooped, I have to admit I am glad I did so. No, truly,’ he said, just as he whirled away from her.

‘Well, I’m not,’ she said as the interminable music finally gasped its last and everyone bowed or curtsied to everyone else in their set. ‘I’m tired of being baited.’ At least, she would very soon be if he kept this up for any length of time. It was just one more vexation she was going to have to endure. On top of everything else she was struggling with, it felt like the last straw. ‘Why don’t you just get it over with? Hmm? Go on. Tell Lady Tarbrook where you found me, two weeks ago, and what we were doing. And then...’

Her mind raced over Aunt Susan’s inevitable disappointment and her tears, and the scolding and the punishment. Which might well, if Uncle Hugo had anything to do with it, involve being sent back to Stone Court.

Which would mean her ordeal by London society would come to an end.

Which would be a relief, in a way.

At first. But then she’d have to live, for the rest of her life, with the knowledge that she’d failed. Which she most emphatically did not wish to do.

She lifted her head to stare at Lord Becconsall who, though being thoroughly annoying, had at least made her see that she was nowhere near ready to throw in the towel.

He was shaking his head. ‘I don’t know what I have done to make you think I would behave in such a scaly fashion,’ he said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Only that I would never betray a lady’s secrets.’

‘Not if it didn’t suit your schemes, no,’ she said uncharitably.

Which made him look a bit cross.

‘It wouldn’t be in either of our interests for anyone else to hear about that kiss,’ he snapped. And then went very still. And then he turned a devilish grin in her direction.

‘I’m beginning to wonder,’ he said, leaning close and lowering his voice to a murmur, ‘if you aren’t playing a similar kind of game to mine.’

‘Game?’

‘Oh, very nicely done. That touch of baffled innocence would have fooled most men. But I met you under, shall we say, very different circumstances. Revealing circumstances.’

‘Revealing?’ Her heart was hammering. What had she revealed? Apart from rather too much of her legs. And what game was it he suspected her of playing?

‘Oh, yes. You are a rebel, aren’t you?’

Well, that much was true. She had rebelled against Mama and Papa’s wishes to come to London for this Season.

And since she’d been here, she’d been rebelling against all the strictures imposed upon her behaviour.

‘Ha! I knew it. Your guilty expression has given it away. You are merely pretending to go along with all this...’ He waved his hand to include not only the ballroom, but by extension, the whole society it represented. ‘But the fact that you felt the need to go galloping round the park at dawn, unfettered by all the restrictions society would impose on you, coupled with the dreadful way you are dressed, hints at a cunning scheme to avoid falling into the trap of matrimony.’

‘Absolutely not,’ she retorted, stung by his continuing references to her poor choice of clothing. ‘If you must know...’ she drew herself to her full height, which meant she only had to tilt her head the slightest bit to look him straight in the eyes ‘...I dressed like this because...because...’

She paused, wondering why on earth Aunt Susan had permitted her to buy so many things that didn’t suit her. When she was doing so much to make her a social success.

And it came to her in a flash.

‘This is the first time I have ever been anywhere near a fashionable dressmaker and my aunt didn’t want to ruin the pleasure of being able to feel satin against my skin, or picking out lace and ribbons and feathers by objecting to every single gaudy thing I set my heart upon.’

‘But—’

‘And I do want to get married. That is why I’ve come to London. To find somebody who will...value me and...admire me and talk to me as if what I have to say is...not a joke!’

He flinched.

‘Oh, there is no need to worry that I will ever set my sights on you,’ she said with a curl of her lip. And, as a fleeting look of relief flitted across his face, she had another flash of insight. ‘That is what you meant, isn’t it, about playing a game? You are avoiding matrimony. Like the plague.’

He started and the wary look that came across his face told her she’d hit the nail on the head.

And then, because he’d had so much fun baiting her, she couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to turn the tables on him. It wouldn’t take much. He’d practically handed her all the ammunition she needed.

‘What devilish schemes,’ he said in alarm, ‘are running through that pretty head of yours?’

Pretty? She looked up at him sharply.

And met his eyes, squarely, for the first time that night.

And felt something arc between them, something that flared through all the places that he’d set ablaze when he’d crushed her to his chest and kissed her.

‘You think I’m pretty?’

What a stupid thing to say. Of all the things she might have said, all the clever responses she could have flung at him, she’d had to focus on that.

Fortunately, it seemed to amuse him.

‘In spite of those hideous clothes, and the ridiculous feathers in your hair, yes, Lady Harriet, you know full well you are vastly pretty.’

The words, and the way he said them, felt like being stroked all the way down her spine with a velvet glove. Even though they weren’t true. She’d had no idea anyone might think she was pretty. Let alone vastly pretty.

Even so, she wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily.

‘You are not going to turn me up sweet by saying things like that,’ she said sternly. ‘One word from me, just one, about that kiss in the park and my outraged family will be dragging you to the altar so fast it will make your head spin.’

‘What? You wouldn’t!’

‘Oh, wouldn’t I?’

‘No, now look here, Lady Harriet—’

‘Oh, don’t worry. The ordeal of being shackled to you for the rest of my life does not appeal. In the slightest. I’m just reminding you that I have as much on you as you have on me.’

At that point, they reached the chair upon which Aunt Susan was sitting, beaming at them.

‘Your niece, Lady Tarbrook,’ said Lord Becconsall, letting go of her hand as though it was red hot and making his bow rather stiffly. He then gave her a look which seemed two parts frustration and one part irritation, before turning and marching away, his back ramrod stiff.

‘Harriet, I despair of you,’ said her aunt as Harriet sank to the chair at her side, her knees shaking, her palms sweating and her insides feeling as if they were performing acrobatics.

‘There you had the chance of making a conquest of one of the most elusive bachelors in Town, and what must you do but frighten the poor man off. Whatever did you say to him on the dance floor to make him run away like that?’

She considered for a moment.

‘Only that I had no wish to marry him, when he raised the subject,’ she said daringly.

‘What!’ Aunt Susan looked aghast. ‘You turned down a proposal from Lord Becconsall? Not that I can believe he really did propose. Although,’ she mused, fanning herself rapidly, ‘he really is such a very harum-scarum young man it is probably exactly the sort of thing he would do. To fall in love at first sight and propose in the middle of Astley’s Hornpipe.’

Of course he hadn’t fallen in love at first sight. Nor had he proposed. But something inside her softened towards her aunt for believing he could easily have done both.

However, ‘You cannot wish me to marry a...harum-scarum young man, can you?’

‘What can that matter when it would be such a triumph for you? Oh, I know he is only a viscount and one would, in the normal way of things, hope for a much better match for a girl of your background, but the way your training has been neglected one cannot expect a man with very nice tastes to look twice at you.’

The soft feeling chilled into the more usual wedge of inferiority and loneliness with which Harriet was familiar.

‘Not once he’s seen your performance on the dance floor,’ Aunt Susan continued. ‘My dear, what were you thinking, to collide with Lady Vosborough in that clumsy way? Unless Lord Becconsall had just that moment proposed. Yes, I suppose that would have shocked you enough to make a misstep completely understandable.’

‘Well, yes, it would,’ said Harriet, deciding that this had gone far enough. ‘But—’

‘If he proposes again, or if any gentleman proposes to you again,’ continued Aunt Susan as though she hadn’t spoken, ‘you are not to turn him down out of hand. You are to tell him you will reflect upon the matter and come to me, and I will advise you. I know all there is to know about any gentleman who might propose, you may be sure.’

Although Harriet really had no intention of marrying Lord Becconsall, even if he ever did propose, which he’d just informed her he wouldn’t, she couldn’t help indulging her curiosity.

‘What should I know about Lord Becconsall, then?’ she said in as meek a tone as she could muster. Whilst looking down at her fingers as they played with the struts of her fan.

‘Oh, so it is like that, is it?’ Aunt Susan smiled. ‘Well, in that case, we might still be able to repair the damage. I can drop a word in his ear,’ she said, patting her hand.

‘What? No! I mean, I’m sure that is very kind of you, Aunt, but—’

But Aunt Susan had got the bit between her teeth.

‘Lord Becconsall has a very handsome fortune, my dear, and a couple of really lovely estates. All kept in immaculate condition by his family for generations. I admit, since he has come into the title, he has not behaved with—that is, he has gained a reputation for being something of a...wastrel, let us say, but then what can you expect? I mean, he never expected to inherit anything, I shouldn’t think, what with having two such strapping older brothers.’

‘Oh?’ It felt strange to think he, like her, was the youngest out of a handful of brothers. ‘What happened to them?’

‘Oh, you need not worry about any sort of hereditary weakness that might carry him off the same way,’ said Aunt Susan, completely missing the point. ‘No, the eldest fell from his horse and broke his neck.’

Harriet winced.

‘And the next in line contracted...well, a most unpleasant illness which was the scourge of the district at the time. Which came as a very great shock to everyone. Particularly him, I should think. Why, he probably assumed he would spend the rest of his life in the army. Where, I must say, he did at least acquit himself with honours. Though he only came out with the rank of major,’ she mused. ‘Although that was probably as much to do with finances as anything,’ she added, brightening up. ‘As the third son, I don’t suppose he had much in the way of money to buy promotions. Oh. It has just occurred to me—yes, it probably went to his head, suddenly having so much money and the title as well. Is it any wonder he went just a little...wild? Just at first. I am sure he will settle down and do his duty to his family. Perhaps he is already starting to think along those lines. Yes,’ she said, brightening up. ‘Perhaps that is why he asked you to dance.’

Harriet swallowed, knowing it was no such thing.

But Aunt Susan was sitting there, plotting and planning ways and means of getting him to propose to her.

Because, deep down, she thought her niece only good enough to marry a...wastrel.

Worse, said wastrel had no intention of marrying her. Had indeed scuttled away with his tail between his legs at the merest threat he might have to do something so abhorrent should their kiss become common knowledge.

* * *

She was still seething by the time they called for their carriage. Which was an utterly stupid thing to do, since their own house was not two hundred yards away. They could have walked home far quicker. But, no, in London, ladies waited for the horses to be put to and the carriage to be brought round, rather than do anything as prosaic as walk home.

Oh, how she hated London tonight. Why had she listened to Aunt Susan’s tales of balls and picnics and beaux? Why had she allowed herself to get swept along on the tide of Kitty’s enthusiasm at the prospect of them making their come-out together?

Because, she answered herself as she clambered into the coach behind her two female relatives, Aunt Susan and Kitty had made her feel wanted, that was why. It would never have occurred to either of her parents that it was high time their only daughter made her social debut. And if it had, neither of them would have wanted to oversee it. Papa hated London and Mama considered it all a ridiculous waste of time and expense.

She sighed, and in the darkness of the coach, reached out and took Aunt Susan’s gloved hand. It was not her fault Harriet had not, so far, found her feet in society. Her aunt had done all she could.

Nor could Harriet blame her for believing she was only fit to marry a wastrel. Not when she was so awkward, and...yes, rebellious, as Lord Becconsall had pointed out.

As the coach rumbled through the darkened streets, and Kitty prattled on about the many and various partners with whom she’d danced, Harriet wondered how she was going to break it to Aunt Susan that not even the wastrel looked on her as a potential bride.

Though time would probably take care of that. Since, after the way they’d just parted, he’d probably take good care not to come anywhere near her, ever again.

Chapter Five

Jack couldn’t face returning to Becconsall House, the town house that now belonged to him. It was too full of ghosts.

Besides, he was still too unsettled after his encounter with Hope. Who’d turned out to be...of all things, the daughter of an earl. He certainly hadn’t expected that. To think that the owner of those sparkling blue eyes, that tart tongue, and those lush lips, was not only a lady, but a lady.

He shook his head as he strolled aimlessly along the street. What had she been thinking, going out at that hour of the day without an escort? If she’d run into anyone but him, in the park, she would have ended up getting far more than just a kiss.

She was so...naive, that was the word. And she had no idea of the effect she had on men.

Although, to be frank, if he’d seen her for the first time tonight, he wouldn’t have looked at her twice. If he hadn’t seen the other side of her, in the park, he would never have suspected she possessed anything to take a man’s interest, except for her rank. The silly gown, and the even sillier hairstyle, completely distracted a man from noticing the subtle curve of her mouth, or the determined set of her chin, or the intelligence and wit lurking in the depths of her eyes. Not to mention the lush curves of her body.

Lush curves he’d held against his own body and would very much like to feel pressed closely to him again. The urge to do something about it had taken him by surprise, several times, while they’d been dancing. Even though she’d been doing nothing to attempt to interest him. On the contrary, she’d been all bristles and spikes.

Which had soon stopped him from feeling sorry for her. Nobody could possibly feel sorry for a girl with as much spirit as that, not for long.

A reminiscent smile played about his lips. He’d really enjoyed the thrust and parry of the verbal fencing match they’d fought as they’d danced round the events of their first meeting. Right up to the end, that was, he thought, his smile fading, when she’d lashed out rather too cruelly.

Not that he could blame her, he supposed. He’d been unforgivably rude. Or so she must have thought. It was just that he’d thought he’d glimpsed the same sort of...hurt and rebellion, and desire to shock that he had lurking in his own heart, in her behaviour. Had thought he’d found a kindred soul. That she was doing what he was doing. Pretending to do as he’d been told, whilst making damn sure everyone thought he was completely ineligible.

He’d thought the way she dressed was due to a rebellion against what society expected of her. The way he’d rebelled when the lawyers had told him his best course of action would be to come to Town and find a respectable bride as quickly as he could, to ensure the succession. As if there was no worth in him apart from the blood which they wanted him to pass on to the next generation.

Instead of which, she’d admitted she just had no clue about fashion. Or taste.

He groaned as he thought of the sheen of tears he’d told himself he’d imagined, at one point during the evening. She’d made a swift recovery, but there was no doubt in his mind now that he’d hurt her. Rather badly, to judge from the way she’d lashed out at him towards the end.

He couldn’t blame her. Not when his own jibes must have seemed so cruel, to her.

Which left him no choice.

He was going to have to swallow his pride and tender an apology.

* * *

And so, the next day, he presented himself at Tarbrook House at the correct hour for paying visits, armed with a posy of spring flowers.

Though the room was full of visitors, Lady Harriet was sitting on her own, on a chair by the window, from which she was looking out on to whatever it was that was at the rear of the house. The other gentlemen who’d called were all clustering round another girl, who was wearing a gown almost identical to Lady Harriet’s. Only wearing it rather better. And the aunt, Lady Tarbrook, was keeping her beady eye on her own daughter’s visitors.

Lady Harriet gave a start when he stopped by her chair, so engrossed had she been by whatever she’d been watching through the window.

He craned his neck to follow her line of sight. But all he could see was a courtyard containing an ornamental fountain which sprayed water a few inches into the air.

So, she had been lost in thought, rather than admiring the view.

‘A penny for them? Your thoughts?’

‘They are not worth that much,’ she replied tartly. ‘And anyway—’

‘You would rather walk barefoot along Piccadilly than share them with me,’ he finished for her.

Her face turned a charming shade of pink.

Which was, to his way of thinking, the perfect moment to present her with the posy.

‘Oh,’ she said looking down at them with surprise. And then up at him with a touch of suspicion. And then, being the girl she was, she asked the question no other delicately nurtured female would ask.

‘Why have you brought me these? Why have you come at all, for that matter?’

‘Well,’ he said, reaching for a nearby chair and placing it closer to hers, ‘it is the done thing, you know, for a gentleman to pay a morning call upon a lady with whom he has danced the night before.’

‘Yes, I know that,’ she snapped.

‘But you did not think that I would pay any attention to the conventions,’ he said, flicking aside his coat tails as he sat down. ‘I can see why you might think that, given the way we have...dealt with each other up to now. But the truth is...’ He shifted, suddenly finding the chair rather hard and unforgiving.

‘Oh, yes, by all means, let us always speak the truth to one another,’ she said waspishly.

‘The truth is,’ he continued, leaning in closer, ‘that I owe you an apology.’

She couldn’t have looked more surprised if he’d leaned in and kissed her. Which he could easily do, since nobody was paying them any attention. The focus of the other visitors was all on the insipid, younger, paler copy of Lady Harriet.

‘I was rude and hurtful to you last night, about your—’ His eyes flicked to her gown. Back up to her hair.

‘But truthful,’ she said. ‘And completely correct.’

‘But it wasn’t kind of me to say so—’

‘No,’ she said, holding up one hand to stop him. ‘It made me see that I needed to do something, instead of wondering why Kitty always looks so much better than me. Your criticism made me go to my aunt and ask her, outright, what I was doing wrong. And why she hadn’t stopped me before. And it was...’ She paused and rolled her lips together as though trying hard to find the right words.

‘Yes, I did wonder why your sponsor would let you go about looking so...’ He trailed off. ‘If she really cared about you, that is.’

‘Oh, she does,’ said Lady Harriet with some vehemence. ‘More than anybody else. But since she brought me to London she has had to be so strict with me about so many other things that she had not the heart, she told me, to ruin the one pleasure I had left. That is, shopping. And anyway, she said that since I have rank and fortune on my side she didn’t think it would matter if I looked just a little eccentric in my own choice of clothes, just to start with. And besides...’

‘Besides,’ he urged her, when she appeared to realise that she ought not to be rattling on in such an indiscreet fashion with a man she hardly knew. ‘Go on, you might as well tell me the besides, now that I know the rest.’

‘I don’t suppose there is any harm in it,’ she admitted. ‘Since it’s only that my aunt was so touched that I was trying to model myself on Kitty, because I have always thought her so pretty and feminine, that she could never quite bring herself to stop me.’

‘She is not that pretty,’ he said, glancing just once at Lady Harriet’s cousin.

‘I thought you promised to be truthful,’ said Lady Harriet with a frown.

‘I am being truthful.’

‘No, you are not. Because Kitty is pretty. Even Papa notices and tells her so whenever she visits. When he has never said—’

She broke off, and looked down at the posy she was clutching tightly in her lap.

‘Well, he should have done,’ he said irritably. ‘Because you are much prettier than her.’

Her head flew up, her eyes widening in what might have been shock, which was swiftly changing to annoyance.

‘No, truthfully,’ he said, laying his hands just briefly over hers. ‘She is just... Whereas you are...’

‘Yes?’ She tilted her head on one side, her eyes narrowing in challenge.

‘That is, she looks to me the kind of girl who blushes and simpers and giggles when a man asks her to dance,’ he said with derision. ‘And you should not be trying to emulate either her looks, or her behaviour.’

‘That is your opinion, is it?’

‘Yes. You are...well, when I think of the way you looked in the park, bringing Lucifer under control, and then dashing to my side to see if I was hurt...that is how I wish you could look all the time. You ought to be wearing vibrant colours, to go with your vibrant character. And you should positively never crimp your lovely hair into silly curls that dangle round your face like this.’ He reached out and flicked one ringlet.

‘You are abominable.’

‘To tell you how to make the most of yourself? When nobody else will?’

‘I have already told you, Aunt Susan and I have had a little chat and, when next we go shopping, things are going to be different.’

‘No more dresses that belong on a frippery little schoolgirl, I hope. No more of those silly frills and flounces.’

‘For two pins,’ she said, her eyes flashing fire, ‘I would deck myself from head to toe in frills, just to annoy you.’

‘If only you didn’t have too much sense,’ he reminded her.

‘Well, yes, there is that. No sense in cutting off my nose to spite my face, is there?’

‘None whatever. It is far too charming a nose. And anyway, I’m really not worth it.’

A frown flitted across her face.

‘Oh, come now. Surely your aunt has already warned you not to set your sights on me.’

A rather mulish look came to her mouth.

‘Actually, she thinks you might do very well for me. Seeing as how I’m not likely to attract a man with higher standards.’