An Escapade and an Engagement

He took a deep breath. ‘I am going to ask you to do something for me that means I shall have to take you into my confidence. I am going to trust you to keep what I am about to tell you to yourself. Just as you are trusting me to keep my mouth shut about your continuing relationship with Lieutenant Kendell.’

He was going to trust her with a secret? A great deal of her irritation with him ebbed away. Even if his words did contain that thinly veiled threat about him keeping quiet so long as she kept quiet, nobody had ever reposed any confidence in her upon any matter whatsoever. On the contrary—all her life her male relatives had been drumming it into her that she was completely useless.

‘I want you to help a … a friend of mine.’ He frowned. ‘Perhaps it is best I go back to the beginning. You know I was wounded at Orthez last February?’

‘No.’ But hadn’t he said something about not being able to sleep because his leg troubled him? She looked down at it. Then her eyes flicked to the cane she recalled he’d made use of when he’d limped into Lucy’s ballroom the previous night.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, feeling really ashamed of all the nasty things she’d thought about him just because he’d looked so grim-faced.

‘Stupidest thing, really,’ he admitted, looking a bit uncomfortable. ‘My horse got shot out from under me, and instead of jumping clear I let the damn thing roll on me. Clumsy. I was pretty well out of it for a while. And then I came to in the field hospital, with Milly defending me like a tigress from surgeons whose sole idea of a cure is to amputate anything that looks the least bit untidy. So, you see, she saved my leg.’

He held up one finger as though keeping score.

‘Then, eventually, I got sent back to England on a transport, while the rest of my regiment pushed across the border into France. Milly’s father, who was the regimental quartermaster, gave his permission for her to come with me as my nurse, thank God, else the fever I contracted would most probably have carried me off.’

He held up another finger.

‘I was weak as a kitten all through last summer. And desperately hard up. But thanks to Milly’s ingenuity and Fred’s skill at foraging—perhaps I should mention Fred is, or was, my batman—I slowly began to recover. And then winter came, and I took an inflammation of the lungs. It looked as though I was done for, but they both stuck with me even though by this time I could not even pay their wages …’

‘But you are a wealthy man!’

‘I am a wealthy man now,’ he corrected her. ‘Before Mortimer died I had to live on my pay. And what with doctors’ bills and so forth …’

‘But surely if you had applied to your family, they would have …?’

‘I have already told you that you are not alone in being disappointed in your male relatives, Lady Jayne. I wrote on several occasions, but never received any reply.’

‘How can that be? Did they not receive your letters? Do you suppose they went astray?’

‘Oh, no,’ he said, looking particularly grim. ‘The minute my brother died the family’s man of business came to inform me that I was now Viscount Ledbury—proving that they had known exactly where I was, and how I was circumstanced, all along.’

And they’d left him? Hovering between life and death? Oh, how could they?

‘Would it surprise you to learn that my first reaction on hearing of my older brother’s death was gratitude—for at last I had the means to reward the only two people who had shown any loyalty towards me?’

‘Not one bit.’

She was only surprised that he was so determined to do his duty by a family that had neglected him so woefully. A family that, by the sound of it, cared as little for him as hers did for her. She found herself wanting to lay her hand upon his sleeve and tell him she understood all about that particular kind of pain. But that would be the very last thing he would want. She knew that for certain because the last thing she wanted was for anyone to discover that she was constantly repressing a keening wail of her own. Why does nobody love me? Or even like me?

‘When I learned that I would have to move into Lavenham House and actively start looking for a wife, I set Milly up in a snug little house in Bedford Place and gave her a generous allowance. I told Fred to stay with her, though I would have preferred to have kept him on as my valet. But, you see, she has no acquaintance in London. I could not just abandon her, after all she has done for me. It is no exaggeration to say I owe her my life. And, no matter how bleak things looked, she always looked on the bright side. She kept our spirits up. It could not have been easy for her, coming to what was to her a foreign country and having to adapt to its ways. And its climate.’

And then there was the fact that when he’d told her he was going to have to leave the army, get married and take up his position in Society, she had burst into tears and told him she was in love with him. Not that he was altogether sure he believed her, but still … He hated the thought that everything he did now must be hurting the only person who had ever said they loved him.

‘I worry about her,’ he admitted. ‘Only last week I went round to see them both and she came running down to the kitchen dressed in an outfit that made her look … tawdry. When she told me how much she’d laid out for the gown I could not believe she’d spent so much and ended up looking so cheap. To be frank, she desperately needs guidance. From a woman of good taste.’

His eyes skimmed her outfit. She was wearing a carriage dress of deep blue, a jaunty little bonnet that framed the natural beauty of her face and chinchilla furs about her shoulders to shield her from the breeze, which was quite brisk that day.

‘I know it will involve a great personal sacrifice for you to spend time with a woman of Milly’s class, but I cannot think of anyone else I would rather she emulate. I cannot imagine you ever choosing anything that did not become you.’

He thought she was a woman of good taste? That was two compliments he had paid her within the space of a few minutes. Two more than she’d ever had in her life, apart from on her looks—which did not count since she hated the fact she resembled her father so closely.

‘I promised her father I would take good care of her, but I find it is not enough to just give her a house and an allowance. I am afraid if I do not find some way to restrain her she will end up becoming … easy prey to men who have no scruples. It was while my valet was shaving me this morning that I thought of you.’

It had suddenly struck him that setting Lady Jayne a task would make her feel as though he was making her pay for allowing her to see Harry—rather than let her suspect he felt compelled to keep an eye on her. Or, more specifically, Kendell.

And she had complained of feeling bored. She would enjoy the sensation of having a little adventure. And this time he could ensure the adventure was harmless.

‘I realized that you would be the perfect person to teach Milly a little about genteel behaviour and style. For you are not so high in the instep that you would look down your nose at Milly and make her feel uncomfortable.’

She’d given her heart to a low-ranking, impoverished soldier, hadn’t she? And she had no qualms about engaging in a spot of deception when it suited her purposes.

‘And I cannot do the thing myself, much as I would wish it, because—well, you must see how it is. Were I still just Major Cathcart nobody would pay any attention. But now I am Lord Ledbury. If I were to escort her to a modiste everyone would think she is my mistress.’

Worst of all, if he relaxed the stance he had taken towards her Milly herself might start to think she was making some headway with him. And he could not encourage her to think she meant any more to him than—well, than Fred did. They had all become very close, living as they had done this past year. They’d become more like friends than master and servants. But you couldn’t be just friends with a woman. Not, at any rate, a woman who said she was in love with you.

‘She … she isn’t your mistress?’

‘If she was, I would be the one to take her shopping, wouldn’t I?’

‘Oh,’ she replied, a little perplexed. It sounded so very odd for a man to go to such lengths to see to a woman’s welfare. Not to let anyone think she was his mistress, which was the natural conclusion to draw. Unless … Suddenly his reference to them having more in common than she might guess, his interrogation of her opinion of marriages between persons of unequal rank, and the way he’d sung Milly’s praises all began to make sense.

Lord Ledbury was in love! With a girl of lowly station. No wonder he had looked so kindly on her own situation. No wonder he had jumped to all the wrong conclusions, too. His head must be so full of doomed love affairs between persons of different ranks that he could see them everywhere.

‘Say no more,’ she said, gently laying her hand upon his arm. Her heart went out to him. No wonder he looked rather cross most of the time. He was the living image of all the tortured, romantic heroes she had ever read about in the books Josie had smuggled in to her.

‘Not surprising you can’t take to reading,’ she had said, ‘if all you have is that rubbishy stuff meant for little children. This is what young ladies of your age enjoy.’

‘Life can be so unfair,’ Lady Jayne said to Lord Ledbury softly, completely forgiving him for every harsh word he had uttered, every criticism he had levelled at her. When a man was in the throes of a painful, thwarted love affair, it was bound to make him a little short-tempered.

‘Of course you do not want anyone to say unpleasant things about your … friend. I shall be only too pleased to meet her, and help her in any way I can.’

In fact it would be quite wonderful to be the one giving advice to someone else, instead of constantly being on the receiving end of it. Even if it was only on matters of fashion and etiquette.

‘Somehow,’ he said with a smile, ‘I never doubted it.’

Was that a third compliment? She positively glowed with pleasure.

But then his expression turned hard and businesslike once more.

‘I have already told you that I am in Town primarily to find a bride,’ he said. ‘And, since our families would definitely approve of a match between us, I propose to make it seem as though I am trying to fix my interest with you. And you would do well to make it appear as though you reciprocate that interest,’ he said quite sternly, ‘if you want to continue seeing Lieutenant Kendell. Though I warn you, I will not allow this covert operation to interfere with my primary objective. Which is to find a woman who is worthy of holding the title of Countess of Lavenham. Is that clear?’

She turned to look out of the carriage as though somebody she knew had caught her eye. As though Lord Ledbury had not just cut her to the quick with one throwaway remark. After all those compliments, genuine compliments, she had begun to think that he quite liked her. But now he’d made it plain that he would rather not have to spend any time with her at all.

‘Abundantly,’ she replied coldly. ‘Though,’ she observed after a moment or two, ‘I cannot help but remark that I think you are carrying your sense of duty too far.’

‘By which I assume you mean you think I ought to marry for love.’

Yes! If he was in love with Milly then he ought to marry her, and that was that. Why, earls married widows with shady reputations, or even actresses upon occasion. It caused a bit of a scandal—but when had what others thought ever stopped a man of rank from doing just as he pleased?

‘It is the only reason one should marry …’

‘Well, there we will have to agree to differ.’

Oh, the man was impossible. But there was no point in trying to make him see how foolish he was being. Apart from the fact he was a man, and men always thought they knew best, they were only—as he’d put it—working together under a flag of truce.

And yet she couldn’t help feeling rather sorry for him. The poor man must be in hell, being in love with one woman whilst feeling duty-bound to marry another. True, she had been packed off to London to be married off, but at least her affections had not really been engaged elsewhere. He could not even elope, as her aunt had done—not when he had so many responsibilities. He was not that kind of man. She had only met him the night before, but already she could tell he was determined always to do the right thing. No matter what the personal cost. Why, he wouldn’t even take Milly shopping in case it gave rise to the suspicion that the woman he loved was his mistress. Even though most men of his class would have made her his mistress in reality, without batting an eyelid.

Well, she would not say any more upon that topic. Not only would it be like prodding at a decaying tooth, but they did not know each other well enough to share those kind of confidences.

Though she would do whatever she could to help his lady-friend. Apart from any other consideration, she relished the chance to be really, truly useful to someone for the very first time in her life.

‘Oh!’ she said, clapping her hands in glee. ‘I have just had a brilliant idea. I shall be in Conduit Street tomorrow. I have to purchase some new gloves. If you could arrange for Milly to loiter outside the front of Madame Pichot’s at about ten o’clock I could pretend to recognise her, and introduce her to Lady Penrose as an old friend.’

He looked at her with approval, making her swell with pleasure when he said, ‘Yes, I think that could work.’

Not for long. She sighed. The first thing Lady Penrose would do, upon her introducing a new friend, would be to write to her grandfather and enquire if Milly was proper company for her to keep. And as soon as he wrote back, disclaiming all knowledge of any such person amongst her acquaintance, the game would be up. But there was no saying how long it might take for a letter to reach him if he were not at Darvill Park for any reason. So they might have a few days before their ruse was discovered.

And in that time she would do all she could to help the pair who, for reasons of stupid custom—because he was all bound up with doing his duty rather than following his heart—could not be together even though they plainly should be.

‘Tell me how I might recognise her,’ she said. ‘What does she look like?’

‘Milly? Oh, she is …’ He looked at her, a puzzled frown on his brow. ‘She is quite a bit taller than you. Dark hair and eyes. Strong. Plain of face,’ he said, his eyes wandering over her features individually and softening. ‘Nothing much to look at at all, really.’

And yet he loved her. She was plain, and poor, and yet the eyes that could look as hard as chips of granite turned all soft and smoky when he thought about her.

Because they had shared all those hardships and she’d come through them all with flying colours.

Jayne knew she would never have been able to nurse a man through such a difficult time. She had no skills, no experience. And would never be allowed anywhere near a sick room in any case.

She turned her head away abruptly while she grappled with a fierce stab of jealousy for the girl who, despite all her disadvantages, had managed to capture the heart of a man like this. A man unlike anyone she’d ever met before. Now that she wasn’t quite so cross with him she could admit that she found his rough-hewn face ruggedly attractive. Even that terrible scar, which at first sight had made him look a bit scary, now only served as a reminder that he was a battle-hardened soldier, a man to be admired for his bravery.

She heaved a deep sigh. If any man in London deserved to find happiness with the woman he loved, then it was this man.

It was such a pity he couldn’t see it for himself.

Chapter Four

The next evening, Lady Jayne had barely arrived at the Cardingtons’ before Lord Ledbury came over.

He bowed to Lady Penrose. ‘May I claim the hand of Lady Jayne during the next waltz? Not to dance, but to take the air on the terrace?’

‘Oh, may I, Lady Penrose?’ Lady Jayne put in hastily, before Lady Penrose could object. ‘Lord Ledbury was terribly wounded at Orthez. He does not dance.’

She hoped that putting those two statements together might make Lady Penrose soften towards him. Not that she believed he could not dance if he wanted to. After all, he was fit enough to go prowling around public parks at dawn. But he clearly wanted to talk to her—and not many men, she had noted, were capable of carrying on sensible conversations while executing the complex figures of any dance, let alone the waltz.

‘It is rather warm in here,’ said Lady Penrose, after a visible struggle with herself. Having been given the information that Lord Ledbury did not dance, she had little choice but to relax her rigid rules just a little, or risk losing the first suitor in whom her charge had shown any interest. ‘Perhaps you might go and sit on that bench, just there.’ She indicated a spot just through the open doors, which would be clearly visible from where she sat. ‘It is a little unorthodox, but in your case,’ she said with a slight smile, ‘I think there would be no harm in it. I shall have a footman send you out some lemonade.’

Lady Jayne could barely stifle a giggle at the implication that nobody could get up to anything improper whilst drinking lemonade.

‘Phew!’ she said as they made their way to the open doors. ‘It is a good thing you are such a catch, or you would never have got away with that.’

Lord Ledbury flinched. It was just typical that the first woman to rouse his interest should dismiss him so airily. But what else could he expect? She was determined to marry for love. And he’d learned from the cradle that there was nothing in him to inspire affection. His own parents, who’d had no trouble at all doting on his other brothers, had seemed barely able to recall they had a third son. True, his father had only had time for Mortimer, while his mother had practically smothered Charlie, but that had done nothing to soothe the sting of their joint rejection of him. Or to lessen the impact of Lady Jayne’s indifference to him now.

He took himself to task as he took his place next to her on the designated bench. He had rank and wealth to offer a woman now. And there were plenty who would be perfectly satisfied with that. He only had to recall how they’d flocked round him at Lucy Beresford’s ball.

He had no need of love—not in the kind of marriage he intended to contract.

Particularly not from a flighty little piece like this.

‘You are looking very pleased with yourself this evening,’ he observed dryly. ‘I suppose I should have expected it. You are never happier than when you are up to your neck in mischief, are you?’

She turned to stare at him, wide-eyed, at the unfairness of that remark, and saw that he looked as though he was really annoyed with her about something. Though, cudgel her brains as she might, she could not think what.

That morning she had driven up to the front of Madame Pichot’s at the prearranged hour, in Lady Penrose’s town carriage, and, seeing a tall, dark-haired girl loitering on the pavement, gazing wistfully at the window display, had sat forward and said artlessly, ‘My goodness. Can that be Milly? Whatever can she be doing in Town?’

And then she had leaped out nimbly and darted up to the girl to make sure she was the right person. By the time Lady Penrose had exited the carriage with rather more decorum she’d thought enough time had passed for her to have extracted the news from her supposed friend that she had recently come into some money, quite unexpectedly, and had come up to Town to purchase a fashionable wardrobe.

Having imparted that information to Lady Penrose, she had then swept Milly into the shop, chattering about the newest fashions in that month’s La Belle Assemblée, and naturally the modiste, seeing the two on such good terms, had assumed Milly must be a somebody, and treated her accordingly.

‘Now you are looking at me,’ Lord Ledbury was saying, ‘as though you expect me to congratulate you for this morning’s work. Did you come here expecting me to thank you?’

‘Well, yes,’ she replied, growing more mystified at his ill humour by the minute.

Milly had certainly been thrilled at the way the morning had turned out. She had admitted that she would never have dared set foot in an establishment like Madame Pichot’s. But now she would be able to return whenever she wanted, after an introduction like that. Even if Lady Jayne was not able to go with her, Madame Pichot would never let one of her customers leave her shop looking anything less than elegant. Which was surely what Lord Ledbury wanted?

‘Well, I cannot thank you for issuing her with a false name. Milly informs me that she is now to be known as Miss Amelia Brigstock!’

Oh, so that was it. ‘That is entirely your fault,’ she retorted, stung by his determination to find fault with her in spite of all she had achieved on his behalf. ‘You omitted to tell me her full name.’ And she had not criticised him for his lack of foresight, had she? She had just plugged up the leak as best she could, to make sure the whole campaign did not sink before it even got underway. ‘Since she was supposed to be a long-lost friend, newly come to Town, I could hardly ask her what it was, could I? When Lady Penrose asked me to introduce her I had to come up with something.’

His hands tightened on the head of his cane. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

She reminded herself that he was not in the best of health, and that being in pain could make anyone short-tempered.

Whilst arranging her skirts into decorous folds, making sure the train was well out of the way of his feet, she resolutely stifled the pang of hurt his lack of gratitude had inflicted. Only when she was confident she could do so in a calm, even tone, did she point out, ‘And I assumed Milly must be short for something. Amelia is a good, safe kind of name for a girl who is supposed to be completely respectable, though not from the top drawer. And the name Brigstock just popped into my head.’

‘Her name is Milly,’ he grated. ‘Just Milly. And there is nothing wrong with that.’

‘There is if I am to invite her to go about with me and pretend that we are bosom friends.’

He looked aghast. ‘I have not asked you to do that! Surely you only need to take her shopping a few times to teach her the difference between taste and tawdriness?’

She mellowed a little. How could she not, when he was demonstrating such faith in her fashion sense?

But still …’You have not thought this through at all, have you? I have not gone shopping with a friend once since coming to Town. If I am to suddenly wish to do so with Milly, then Lady Penrose has got to believe she is someone exceptional. A special friend. Or she will become suspicious.’

Lady Jayne never went shopping with friends? He’d thought that was how all fashionable young ladies spent their days.

They were both obliged to suspend any effort at conversation when a footman approached with the drinks that had given them the excuse to go out onto the terrace. But once Lady Jayne had taken just one sip, she pointed out rather tartly, ‘You wished me to exercise some influence on her. Which I have promised to do. But you did not give me enough information to see me through any social awkwardness which presenting her to Lady Penrose would entail. I did my best to smooth over that awkwardness. I thought it was what you military types called thinking on your feet.’

He eyed her with misgiving. All he’d wanted was some pretext for making her think they were doing each other a favour—something to distract her from questioning his real motives behind monitoring her and Lieutenant Kendell’s meetings so closely.

He could never have guessed just how little freedom she had—not even to go shopping. He’d assumed she’d been exaggerating when she’d said she felt caged, but now he understood what she had meant. It must be intolerable. No wonder she resorted to telling lies and climbing out of windows. Though he couldn’t very well encourage her propensity for getting into mischief by admitting that. So, instead, he observed, ‘All you have done is make everything twice as complicated as it need be by adding yet another layer to the deception you are practising upon Lady Penrose.’