Convenient Proposal To The Lady

‘Indulge me for one more minute and I will leave you to your sketching. Let me give you the names of the men currently at Lady Fulton’s party who are participating in this scheme.’

After staring at him, disbelief, wariness and a trace of anger warring in her countenance, she said, ‘I still find it hard to imagine even men as venal as my brother could have come up with such a despicable scheme. But if they have, it’s not logical you would have come to warn me if you were participating in it. And you are right; I know nothing of you save that you belonged to a university group called “the Hellions” and that my brother mocked your heritage. His disdain is hardly a disqualifying factor, since I have very little respect for him or his opinions. Aside from weaving me this fantastical story, you’ve done nothing to warrant my censure. If you are speaking the truth, you’ve gone to a good deal of trouble to warn me. I owe you an apology, and my thanks—though I am still not sure I believe you.’

Her abrupt about-face spoke well for her sense of fairness in admitting that she might have been mistaken. More than that, rather than turning missish and going off in fit of weeping at his alarming news, as he suspected many a maid of her sheltered upbringing would have, this fierce warrior princess looked like she’d prefer to face the offending gentlemen and level a sword or pistol at them.

Even more intrigued by those observations, he nodded. ‘Apology accepted. I know the tale must seem—fantastic.’

‘It does. Though I still find it difficult to believe the wager exists, neither can I explain why you would suddenly appear out of nowhere to convey such a tale.’ She shook her head, looking puzzled again as she apparently tried to sort out all he’d told her. ‘But—you also said you’d spent a few days in the village? Why, if your purpose in coming to Sussex was to warn me about this nefarious plot?’

‘I knew you would be at Dornton Manor, but little else about you. To devise the best way to approach you, I needed to learn more. I also needed to learn who had actually attended the party. While as far as I know, I was the only one to argue against the wager that night, all the participants were rather foxed. Upon sober reflection, others might have decided they wanted no part in it. I didn’t want to present you just a list of those present at the Quill and Gavel, lest I malign some gentleman who later chose to repudiate it.’

‘Oh, no, we certainly wouldn’t want to malign any gentlemen,’ she said acidly. ‘Though I don’t see how lingering in the village helped you. I’m not known there, and while I’m sure there is gossip about the party, how could you be certain who was in attendance, unless you actually came to Dornton?’

‘Ah, but I did.’

She blinked at him. ‘You visited and were not able to see me?’

‘I didn’t call at the front door.’ At her exasperated raise of eyebrows, he chuckled. ‘My time in the army taught me that it’s best not to blunder into enemy territory without first doing a thorough reconnaissance. Nor do you want to ride about in full uniform, rattling your sabre, so that every spy and sharpshooter on the enemy side notices you. No, such a delicate mission required...stealth.’

‘Stealth?’ she repeated. Her lips twitched, as if she were suppressing a smile. ‘What sort of “stealth”?’

‘I had no possible excuse for calling on you, nor do I move in the social circles that make me the sort of eligible parti Lady Fulton would invite to join her party. But, thanks to the army, I know how to mingle almost invisibly among regular folk. Dornton Manor is the largest estate in the area, which means Dornton Village supplies much of the goods consumed here and most of the labour to staff the house. Some rounds of ale at the local tap house, some conversations with the various merchants who provision Dornton Manor, a mention to one of them that, as a returned soldier currently out of work, I wouldn’t mind earning a few coins, and I had a commission to deliver food supplies. That fine fish you enjoyed last night and the pineapples for the compote for dessert?’ He tapped his chest. ‘Brought here from the village by Ben Tawny. Once at Dornton, it was easy enough, over a mug of ale in the servants’ hall, to learn who was valet to whom, and to flirt with the ladies’ maids and unearth a few details about each of their mistresses. Voilà—your size, colouring and love of sketching.’

‘In other words, you misrepresented yourself to the staff here and lied to the merchant,’ she said, her severe tone at variance with the half-smile curving her lips. ‘You are the most complete hand! How can I believe anything you say?’

‘I didn’t misrepresent!’ he protested. ‘I merely...created an illusion.’

‘You lied.’

He shook his head. ‘Not true! I am a former soldier; I grew up poor enough to always be in favour of earning a few coins and many believe that being a Member of Parliament means I do no work. The staff here may have assumed I was a deliveryman because I brought out supplies, but I never told them I was.’

‘I’m sure neither the merchant nor the staff could have imagined you were a Member of Parliament, seeking personal information about Lady Fulton’s guests!’

He shrugged. ‘If, after I presented “A” and “B”, they erroneously arrived at “C”, that’s not my fault.’

She shook her head. ‘You are a dangerous man.’

He grinned. ‘I certainly hope so. Are you any closer to believing me now?’

‘Yes...no. Oh, I don’t know! Your voice and manner are those of a gentleman, but your stories! If I didn’t recognise your name and your association with Oxford, I would think you a charlatan, travelling the countryside selling shares in bogus canal projects!’

‘The army trained me to gather intelligence; it’s surprisingly easy to get even strangers to talk about themselves, with a show of interest and a little prompting. And I did unearth the information I sought. Won’t you let me convey it to you?’

‘Very well. Although I make no promises about believing it!’

‘Denbry arrives today. Quinlen and Rossiter are already here. Even if you can’t bring yourself to believe the wager, be very careful around them. Watch how they treat you. I think you’ll discover they will be unusually flattering and attentive, quite ignoring the lures cast out by any other females present.’

The mirth fled from her face, replaced by an expression of chagrin.

‘They’ve already begun their campaign to win you over, haven’t they?’ he guessed.

‘Their campaign to sweet-talk me?’ she said, recovering her composure enough to scoff. ‘I still don’t see how they thought they could—’

She broke off abruptly, a flush slowly suffusing her face. ‘Ah, now, the rationale behind the wager makes sense,’ she said. ‘The men believe that, given my advanced age, unmarried state and lack of feminine charms, I would be so thankful for the attentions of an eligible bachelor, and so desperate to attach one, that with a little flattery I’d be willing to do anything they ask?’

While Ben hesitated, loath to confirm that was exactly the description Denbry had given, she nodded. ‘Though it was kind of you to try to spare me that humiliating assessment, I would have understood sooner if you hadn’t.’

‘I couldn’t have said such a thing!’ he replied, touched as he watched her gather up the shreds of her dignity, and angered on her behalf at the insult. ‘For one, I would never tell a lady anything that unchivalrous, and secondly, I’ve seen with my own eyes it isn’t true. You are lovely, quick-witted, independent, and highly talented. If you’ve remained unmarried, it must have been through your own choice.’

Though he meant every word, tears sheened her eyes. ‘I thought it was the other gentlemen who would try to sweet-talk me.’

He shook his head. ‘The honest truth, as I see it. At least I know now that, even without my intervention, you wouldn’t have been easily duped.’

She swiped the tears away with one impatient hand, that small act of bravery touching his heart. ‘Even understanding why they would pick me as the linchpin of the wager, I still have difficulty believing it. And for you to come warn me! I appreciate a sense of honour—but you’ve expended a great deal of effort on behalf of a woman you’ve never met, who has no claim to your protection whatsoever. Why would you care so much?’

‘I know what it is for a woman to be deceived—and to bear the cost of it for the rest of her life.’

Sudden comprehension lit her eyes. ‘The Chilford Bastard,’ she said softly.

‘Exactly,’ he said, struggling to keep the bitterness from his tone.

‘If it’s true, I owe you an even more sincere apology—and my thanks.’

He waved it away. ‘Just remain on your guard and watch the behaviour of the men I’ve mentioned. I doubt any of them would be lack-witted enough to try to make off with you against your will, for seduction would be necessary to ruin you and win the wager, to say nothing that attempted kidnapping carries severe penalties under law.’

‘I will certainly watch all of them.’

Despite that assurance, he couldn’t seem to rid himself of a vague uneasiness. Then he hit upon something that would not only help allay that concern—but would give him an excuse him to see this unusual woman again.

‘Would you meet me here, about this same time tomorrow? If those gentlemen’s behaviour does seem suspiciously beguiling, you’ll know I was telling the truth. I can return to London, then, reassured that you believe me and are forewarned. Could you do that?’

He watched her as she weighed his request, almost visibly ticking off the pros and cons in her head. ‘I suppose,’ she agreed.

‘Good. But when we meet tomorrow, bring your maid, even if Molly can’t abide accompanying you on your sketching excursions, since you either walk too fast, or dawdle for ever. Don’t go wandering by yourself in the gardens, either.’ He grinned at her. ‘You never know what sort of ruffian you might encounter.’

Relieved, and far more eager to see Lady Alyssa again than he should be, Ben handed her back the box of pastels she’d set on the ground, and strode to the lane to reclaim his horse.

He felt her speculative gaze on him as he rode away.

* * *

Lady Alyssa Lambornne certainly wasn’t what he’d expected when conscience had compelled him into this mission, he mused as he directed his horse towards the village. From Denbry’s description, he’d thought she’d be meek and mousy, the sort of shy, self-effacing creature who would never make a good impression on the Marriage Mart. As each year ticked by and she remained unwed, failing to achieve the only respectable occupation most women could hope for, she’d have become ever more anxious, apt to embrace even an unequal match to attain the respectability of marriage.

Instead, he’d found her uncommonly intelligent, self-possessed and confident, with a truly exceptional talent for drawing. As he’d not told her, far from being a mousy, he’d found her alluringly attractive. With a fat dowry and that physical magnetism, how had she managed to remain unmarried?

Perhaps because most men wanted a conventional and biddable wife, and were put off by the untamed aura she radiated?

It certainly appealed to him. He let the image of her play across his mind...soft lips, full breasts and deliciously rounded hips. The alertness in her body and the feral intensity of her gaze hinted of a passionate nature, barely covered by a thin veneer of civility...

Desire fired up again and he fought it. Despite her age and that illusion of restrained passion, Lady Alyssa was undoubtedly an innocent. The voice of self-preservation nattered in his ear, warning that he’d never engaged in the dangerous pastime of beguiling innocents and it was no time to start. That way led to the altar and he was neither interested, yet, in confining his interactions with females to a single specimen, nor had he attained the position he felt a woman he’d admire enough to marry would deserve in a husband.

And if he were truly honest, having witnessed the misery and deprivation a blighted love had caused his mother, he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to care that much about anyone.

He should therefore be extremely circumspect in his dealings with Lady Alyssa. Though she herself appeared to have little interest in entangling a suitor, that unusual attitude was almost certainly not shared by her family, who would probably much prefer her to put down her sketch pad and embrace the role of wife and mother. At her age, even the natural son of a viscount, a man who’d not yet achieved a superior position in the world, might be acceptable to them.

He had to laugh. Her family would have to be desperate indeed to consider a bastard son good enough for the daughter of an earl.

But he could risk seeing her one more time, before prudence dictated he distance himself. To make sure she was taking proper steps to protect herself. And, he admitted, for the simple pleasure of talking with this most unusual lady.

Anticipation filling him, he rode back towards the inn on the outskirts of the village where he’d engaged a room. He’d enjoy the fine fare at the Rose and Crown, while away the evening playing cards in the taproom and look forward tomorrow to meeting again the unexpectedly compelling Lady Alyssa Lambornne.

Chapter Two

For a long time after Mr Tawny rode out of sight, Alyssa stared off in his direction, her mind turning over his almost unbelievable story—and marvelling at his potent masculine appeal. The whole episode still seemed incredible, but the evidence he presented was so convincing, she was almost forced to believe him, even if it was dismaying to admit she’d been made the means to exact an unprincipled revenge.

Unless she were to awake and find all of this had been only an incredible dream, there seemed no other explanation but that Mr Tawny was exactly who he said he was and what he’d told her was true. If so, by coming to warn her, he’d committed a selfless act.

Too bad he wasn’t one of the ‘beguiling suitors’. Since she didn’t intend to marry anyway, it might be worth being ‘ruined’ to be seduced by him.

Desire stirred within her at the thought. She hadn’t been so attracted by a man in a very long time. Though she was still a maid, her experience of passion limited, she had no difficulty identifying—and appreciating—the reason for the heat that had flamed through her body when she’d first looked into his eyes.

A reaction that distracted her from observing him with her normal artist’s dispassion while he stood looming over her, his countenance so arresting she couldn’t make herself look away.

She recalled the startled moment when she’d first seen him, his broad shoulders blocking the ray of sunshine piercing the forest canopy, haloing his tall, well-muscled form and gilding the edges of his dark brown hair. Handsome, with a look of command about it, his lean face had a sharp nose, prominent cheekbones and the faint trace of a scar running from the left temple down almost to his jaw. Keen eyes the colour of an emerald illumined by sunlight held her gaze captive; his firm mouth looked made for kissing, that impression reinforced by a voice that was deeply pitched, almost—bedchamber intimate. When he’d held her gaze without flinching—his unexpected appearance and powerful attraction making her forget to drop her eyes modestly, as Mama kept instructing her—she’d felt so strongly drawn to him, she’d almost gone into his arms.

With his handsome face, virile body and shiver-inducing voice, she had no difficulty at all believing he was ‘a man of great address with the ladies’.

Though his sudden appearance had certainly startled her, she’d not felt threatened. Which was a curious response, given the venal character and violent tendencies of the men of her family. She should have felt an immediate wariness; instead, there’d been something about him that drew her. Continued to draw her, even after the shock of her first, intensely physical response faded.

Her usual reaction to the arrival of a visitor was to escape before Mama could call for her, or, if caught, get away as quickly as possible. Ben Tawny had evoked the opposite response; she’d wanted him to linger.

As they talked, that strong initial attraction still humming between them, his appeal expanded to include admiration for a man who would take so much trouble to safeguard a woman he didn’t even know. A man of intelligence and strong principles, who exuded a sense of purpose and a quiet competence.

A self-confidence, too, as if he felt easy in his own skin. He possessed the same sort of calm self-assurance that Will had, she realised, that conclusion followed with the inevitable pang of grief.

No wonder she’d felt so drawn to him.

It occurred to her that, not only had he learned about her, he knew her maid’s name, the fact that Molly didn’t like to accompany her on sketching excursions and why. What a clever intelligence-gatherer he was, indeed!

He ought to appear competent. Only look what he’d discovered about her and the other members of the house party, and in such an unusual manner! She couldn’t think of anyone else who could have managed such a chameleon-like performance.

She could easily believe he’d been an intelligence-gatherer for the army. She knew for certain he’d been to Oxford, joined a group of like-minded reformers who aspired to Parliament and achieved that ambition. What had he done, since joining the Commons? Her family having little interest in politics, she didn’t know much about what went on in government, though even she had heard vague rumblings about a new Reform Act. Were he and his group moving that forward?

Was the man who’d accosted her, in fact, Benedict Tawny? With no acquaintance present to introduce them, she had only his word for it. Though she couldn’t think of a good reason why someone else would pose as the man and come to warn her of a pernicious plot.

Was there any way she could make sure he was who he said he was? Asking Mama if she knew anything about a Mr Benedict Tawny would only result in a grilling about why she’d suddenly developed a most unusual interest in a gentleman to whom she’d never been presented. Besides, Mama knew few politicians, and by his own admission, Mr Tawny didn’t appear at society functions, which would be the only place her mama would encounter him.

Perhaps she could talk to Lord Fulton. Though he was not, to her knowledge, involved in politics, he’d certainly know more about Parliament and the Reform movement than any of the females present.

At the prospect, she felt a rise of eagerness and anticipation.

Mr Tawny was not only the most attractive gentleman she’d met in a very long time, he was the only one who’d aroused her interest and excited her curiosity. Although she was unlikely to ever see him again after tomorrow, she was suddenly very glad she’d agreed to meet him.

In the interim, she’d attempt a little intelligence-gathering of her own.

Anger stirred out of the ashes of humiliation. While she plumbed Lord Fulton about Mr Tawny, she’d also encourage the attentions of Rossiter and Quinlen and try to work out the dimensions of their plot.

Those dissipated, idle men might think to make her the target of their ploy, but she no intention of playing into their hands. In fact, she thought, their intended manipulation calling up her ever-simmering fury and resentment at her father’s strong-armed control over her life, perhaps she could try to turn their stratagems against them. If they counted on her being naïve, persuadable and desperate to capture their interest, she could count on them to be arrogant, sure of their superior cleverness and too unobservant to see anything but what they expected to see.

Despite their ill intentions, she wouldn’t attempt to ruin their lives, even if she could. But she’d have no regrets about exploiting their scheme so they, rather than she, ended up surprised and embarrassed.

The steady burn of anger reinforcing that intent, she gathered up her art supplies and headed back to Dornton.

* * *

Alyssa had hoped to return to the manor and change into more presentable clothing while her mother was at breakfast. Unluckily, as she tiptoed back into their bedchamber, she found Lady Aldermont still at her dressing table.

‘Sorry I slept so late, darling,’ her mother said—before catching a glimpse of her in the dressing table’s mirror. ‘Merciful Heavens, child!’ she said with a gasp. ‘Wherever have you been, wearing that hideous old gown?’

‘Just sketching, Mama. It was still very wet after yesterday’s rain and I didn’t wish to soil any of the lovely dresses you brought for me. None of the guests were up, so I got out and back without being seen.’

‘Sketching, always sketching,’ Lady Aldermont said fretfully. ‘If only you’d paid a fraction as much attention to the things that really matter during your London Seasons, we wouldn’t be reduced to attending this dreary series of house parties in dismally remote locations!’

‘I know you hate being out of London,’ Alyssa said, suppressing a guilty pang at the knowledge that it was the chance to sketch in different areas of England that prompted her to press for attending the ‘dreary series of house parties’.

‘At least in town, there’s visiting and shopping and a variety of company. Here, we are condemned to see the same faces day after day.’

Putting down her supplies, Alyssa walked over to pat her mother’s hand. ‘Has Lady Sutherland been plaguing you?’

‘Insufferable woman!’ Lady Aldermont cried. ‘If she’s not crowing about the brilliant marriage her eldest made, snagging the Duke of Wessex, she’s waxing eloquent about the beauty and accomplishments of Lady Alice. All this said with pitying glances at me.’

Alyssa sighed. ‘I know what a disappointment I’ve been to you, Mama.’

Though that was patently true, her mother seized her hands. ‘Of course you haven’t, my darling! Well, I do wish some gentleman—some eligible gentleman—had caught your eye after your come-out. I still think it most unwise that your Papa refuses you another Season, for I know he wishes you to wed and the selection at these smaller parties is so limited! It just grates on me when I see those empty-headed chits celebrated, when you, who are far more accomplished, are overlooked!’

Little brown wrens are always overlooked when there are beauteous swans about, she thought. Her mama had been one of them, the most beautiful, sought-after and well-dowered maiden of her debut Season, thirty years ago. Alas, though she’d inherited her mama’s short stature, she’d not received the golden hair, the arresting face or the summer-sky-blue eyes that had inspired suitors to write verses in her honour and propose in droves.

‘There’s no accounting for the taste of gentlemen,’ she said, giving her mama a kiss. ‘Why don’t you pick out your favourite of my new gowns for me to wear?’

Mentioning fashion was guaranteed to redirect her mama’s thinking into more cheerful channels. Brightening, Lady Aldermont said, ‘Yes, I will! Several of the gentlemen have been paying you a flattering amount of attention; we must inspire them to continue!’

And it certainly hasn’t been because of my charms, Alyssa thought, frowning as she remembered Tawny’s warning.

‘Surely, my dear, out of all the single men about, you might find one to your liking. Is it so wrong of me to want to see you wed and settled, with a house of your own and children?’

Alyssa noted her mother wasn’t hypocritical enough to add ‘happy’ to that description—her mama’s own marriage having given her little reason to expect wedded bliss for her daughter. ‘You never give up hope, do you, Mama?’

‘It would be so much better, if you could find a kind man you could tolerate as a husband,’ her mother said coaxingly.

‘Better than living under Papa’s thumb,’ she admitted. In the face of her father’s stern, tyrannical rule, her mother had always been too timid to please him, she too rebellious. Or rather, she had tried to please him when she was little, before she realised earning his approval was impossible. Since the incident three years ago, they’d regarded each other with active hostility.