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‘I don’t know that Dom would appreciate a visit. He was still pretty groggy with laudanum and pain from the amputation when I saw him last. After he came round enough to abuse me for fussing over him like a hen with one chick, he ordered me home to placate my father and the army board.’
‘Yes, he tried to send me away too, though I wasn’t about to budge until I was sure he wasn’t going to stick his spoon in the wall.’ Setting his jaw, Alastair looked away. ‘I was the one who dragged the rest of you into the army. I don’t think I could have borne it if you hadn’t all made it through.’
‘You hardly “dragged” us,’ Max objected. ‘Just about all our friends from Oxford ended up in the war, in one capacity or another.’
‘Still, I won’t feel completely at ease until Dom makes it home and … adjusts to life again.’ With one arm missing and half his face ruined by a sabre slash, both knew the cousin who’d always been known as ‘Dandy Dominick’, the handsomest man in the regiment, would face a daunting recovery. ‘We could go and cheer him up.’
‘To be frank, I think it would be best to leave him alone for a while. When life as you’ve always known it shatters before your eyes, it requires some contemplation to figure out how to rearrange the shards.’ Max gave a short laugh. ‘Though I’ve had months and am still at loose ends. You have your land to manage, but for me—’ Max waved his hand in a gesture of frustration. ‘The delightful Mrs Harris was charming enough, but I wish I might find some new career that didn’t depend on my father’s good will. Unfortunately, all I ever aspired to was the diplomatic corps, a field now closed to me. I rather doubt, with my sullied reputation, they’d have me in the church, even if I claimed to have received a sudden calling.’
‘Father Max, the darling of every actress from Drury Lane to the Theatre Royal?’ Alastair grinned and shook his head. ‘No, I can’t see that!’
‘Perhaps I’ll join John Company and set out for India to make my fortune. Become a clerk. Get eaten by tigers.’
‘I’d feel sorry for any tiger who attempted it,’ Alastair retorted. ‘If the Far East don’t appeal, why not stay with the army—and thumb your nose at your father?’
‘A satisfying notion, that,’ Max replied drily, ‘though the plan has a few flaws. Such as the fact that, despite my service at Waterloo, Lord Wellington hasn’t forgotten he was waiting for me when he was almost shot in Vienna.’ The continuing coldness of the man he’d once served and still revered cut even deeper than his father’s disapproval.
‘Well, you’re a natural leader and the smartest of the Rogues; something will come to you,’ Alastair said. ‘In the interim, while we remain at Barton Abbey, best watch your step. Mrs Harris was one thing, but you don’t want to get entangled with any of Jane’s eligible virgins.’
‘Certainly not! The one benefit of the débâcle in Vienna is that, with my brother to carry on the family name, I’m not compelled to marry. Heaven forbid I should get cornered by some devious matchmaker.’ And trapped into a marriage as cold as his parents’ arranged union, he thought with an inward shudder.
Picking up the decanter, Alastair poured them each another glass. ‘Here’s to confounding Uncle and living independently!’
‘As long as living independently doesn’t involve wedlock, I can drink to that,’ Max said and raised his glass.
Chapter Two
‘No, no, you foolish creature, shake out the folds before you hang it!’
Caroline Denby looked up from her comfortable seat on the sofa in one of Barton Abbey’s elegant guest bedchambers to see her stepmother snatch a spangled evening gown from the hapless maid and give it a practised shake.
‘Like this,’ Lady Denby said, handing the garment back before turning to her stepdaughter. ‘Caroline, dear, won’t you put that book away and supervise Dulcie with that trunk while I make sure this girl doesn’t get our evening dresses hopelessly wrinkled?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ Caroline replied, setting down her book with regret. Already she was counting the hours until the end of this dreary house party so she might return to Denby Lodge and her horses. She hated to lose almost ten days’ training with the winter sales approaching. The Denby line her father had bred had earned a peerless reputation among the racing and army set, and she wasn’t about to let her stepmama’s single-minded efforts to marry her off get in the way of maintaining her father’s high standards.
Besides, while working in the fields and stables in a daily regimen as comfortable and familiar as her father’s old riding boots, she could still feel the late Sir Martin’s kindly presence, watching over her and the horses that had been his life. How she still missed him!
Sighing, she closed her book and dutifully cast her gaze over at Dulcie, who was currently lifting a layer of chemises, stays and stockings out of a silken rustle of tissue paper. She should be thankful she’d been delegated to supervise the undergarments and leave the gowns to her stepmother. At least she wouldn’t have to cast her eyes on them again until she was forced to wear one.
Better to appear in some hideously over-trimmed confection of unflattering colour, she reminded herself, than to end up engaged.
‘I’ll help with the unpacking, but afterwards, I intend to ride Sultan before the light fades.’ As her stepmother opened her lips, probably to argue, Caroline added, ‘Remember, you agreed that if I consented to come to Mrs Ransleigh’s cattle auction, I’d be allowed to ride every day.’
‘Caroline, please!’ Lady Denby protested, her face flushing. Leaning closer and lowering her voice, she said, ‘You mustn’t refer to the gathering in such terms! Especially …’ She angled her head toward the maids.
Caroline shrugged. ‘But that’s what it is. A few gentlemen in search of rich wives gathering to look over the candidates, evaluate their appearance and pedigree, and try to strike a bargain. Just as they do at cattle fairs, or when they come to buy Papa’s horses, though I suppose the females here will be spared an inspection of their teeth and limbs.’
‘Really, Caroline,’ her stepmother said reprovingly, ‘I must deplore your using such a vulgar analogy. Just as the ladies wish to ascertain the character of prospective suitors, gentlemen want to assure themselves that any lady to whom they offer matrimony possesses suitable background and breeding.’
‘And dowry,’ Caroline added.
Ignoring that comment, Lady Denby said, ‘Couldn’t you, for once, allow yourself to enjoy the attentions of some handsome young men? I know you don’t want to spend another Season in London!’
‘You also know I’m not interested in getting married,’ Caroline said with the weariness of long repetition. ‘Why don’t you forget about trying to lure me into wedlock and concentrate on making a match for Eugenia? My stepsister is beautiful and wealthy enough to snare any suitor she fancies, and she’s eager enough for both of us. Only think how much blunt you’d save, if you didn’t have to take her to town in the spring!’
‘Unlike you, Eugenia is eagerly anticipating her London Season. Besides which, though I don’t wish to be indelicate, you are … getting on in years. If you don’t marry soon, you will be considered quite on the shelf.’
‘Which would be quite all right with me,’ Caroline retorted. ‘Harry won’t care a fig for that, when he comes back.’
‘But, Caroline, India is such an unhealthy, heathenish place! Marauding maharajas and fevers and all manner of dangers. Difficult as it is to consider, you must acknowledge the possibility that Lieutenant Tremaine might not return.’ Lady Denby’s eyes widened, as if the notion had only just occurred to her. ‘Surely he wasn’t so heedless of propriety as to ask you to wait for him!’
‘No,’ Caroline admitted. ‘We have no formal understanding.’
‘I should think not! It would have been most improper, with him leaving for Calcutta while everything was still in such an uproar after your papa’s … demise. Now, I understand you’ve known Harry Tremaine for ever and are comfortable with him, but if you would but give the notion a chance, I’m sure you could find some other gentleman equally … accommodating.’
Of her odd preferences for horses and hounds rather than gowns and needlework, Caroline silently filled in the unstated words. With Harry she’d had no need to conceal her unconventional and mannish interests, nor did she have to pretend a maidenly deference to his masculine opinions and decisions.
For her dearest childhood friend she might consider marrying and braving the Curse—though just thinking about the prospect sent an involuntary shudder through her. But she certainly wasn’t willing to risk her life for some lisping dandy who had his eyes on her dowry … or the Denby stud.
Unfortunately, she was wealthy enough that, despite her unconventional ways, there’d been no lack of aspirants to her hand during her aborted Season, before news of her father’s sudden illness had called them home. Caroline remained sceptical of how ‘accommodating’ any prospective husband might be, however, once he gained legal control over her person, property—and beloved horses. With the example of her now much-wiser and much-poorer widowed cousin Elizabeth to caution her, she had no intention of letting herself become dazzled by some rogue with designs on her wealth and property.
If she must marry, she’d wait to wed Harry, who knew her down to the ground and for whom she felt the same sort of deep, companionable love she’d felt for her father. Another pang of loss reverberated through her.
Gritting her teeth against it, she said, ‘In the five years since Harry joined the army, I’ve not found anyone I like as well.’
‘Well, you certainly can’t claim to have seriously looked! Not when you managed to talk your dear father, God rest his soul, out of taking you to London, or even attending the local assemblies, until I managed to convince him of the necessity last year. It’s just not … natural for a young lady to have no interest in marriage!’ Lady Denby burst out, not for the first time.
Before Caro could argue that point, her stepmother’s expression turned cajoling. ‘Come now, my dear, why not allow Mrs Ransleigh’s guests to become acquainted with you? It’s always possible you might meet a gentleman you could like well enough to marry. You know I have only your best interests at heart!’
The devil of it was Caroline knew the tenderhearted Lady Denby did want only the best for her, though what her stepmother considered ‘best’ bore little resemblance to what Caroline wanted for herself.
Her resolve weakening in the face of that lady’s genuine concern, Caroline gave her a hug. ‘I know you want me to be happy. But can you truly see me mistress of some ton gentleman’s town house or nursery? Striding about in breeches and boots rather than gowns and dancing slippers, stable straw in my braids and barn muck on my shoes? Nor do I possess your sweetness of character, which allows you to listen with every appearance of interest even to the most idiotic of gentlemen. I’m more likely to pronounce him a lackwit to his face, right in the middle of the drawing room.’
‘Fiddle,’ her stepmother replied, returning the hug. ‘You’re often a trifle … impatient with those who don’t possess your quickness of wit, but you’ve a kind heart for all that and would never be so rag-mannered. Besides, it was your papa’s dying wish that I see you married.’
When Caroline raised her eyebrows sceptically, Lady Denby said, ‘Truly, it was! Though I suppose it’s only natural of you to doubt it, since he made so little effort to push you towards matrimony while he was still with us. But I promise you, as he breathed his last, he urged me to help you find a good man who’d make you happy.’
Caroline smiled at her stepmother. ‘You brightened what turned out to be his last two years. Knowing how much you did, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that, at the end, he urged you to cajole me into wedlock.’
Lady Denby sighed. ‘We were very happy. I’ve always appreciated, by the way, how unselfish you were in not resenting me for marrying him, after it had been just the two of you for so long.’
Caroline laughed. ‘Oh, I resented you fiercely! I wished to be sullen and distant and spiteful, but your sweet nature and obvious concern for us both quite overwhelmed my ill humour.’
‘You’re not still concerned about that silly notion you call ‘the Curse’?’ Lady Denby enquired. ‘I grant you, childbirth poses a danger to every woman. But when one holds one’s first child in one’s arms, one knows the risk was well worth it! I want you to experience that joy, Caroline.’
‘I appreciate that,’ Caro said, refraining from pointing out again just how many of her female relations, including her own mama, had died trying to taste that bliss. Her stepmother, ever optimistic, chose to see their deaths as unfortunate chance. Caro did not believe it to be mere coincidence, but there was no point continuing to argue the matter with Lady Denby.
Her stepmother’s genuine concern for her future usually kept Caroline from resenting—too much—Lady Denby’s increasingly determined efforts to push her towards matrimony … as long as the discussion didn’t drag on too long. Time to end this now, before her patience, always in rather short supply when discussing this disagreeable topic, ran out altogether.
‘Enough, then. I promise I will view the company with an open mind. Now, I must change if I am to get that ride in before dinner.’ She gave Lady Denby an impish grin. ‘At least I’ll don a habit, instead of my usual breeches and boots.’
Caroline was chuckling at her stepmother’s shudder when suddenly the chamber door was thrown open. Caro’s stepsister, Eugenia, rushed in, her cheeks flushed a rosy pink and her golden curls tumbled.
‘Mama, I’ve heard the most alarming news! Indeed, I fear we may have to repack the trunks and depart immediately!’
‘Depart?’ Lady Denby echoed. With a warning look at Eugenia, she turned to the maids. ‘Thank you, girls; you may go now.’
After the servants filed out, she faced her daughter. ‘What calamity has befallen that would require us to leave when we’ve only just arrived? Has Mrs Ransleigh fallen ill?’
‘Oh, nothing of that sort! It seems that her son, Mr Alastair Ransleigh, just arrived here unexpectedly. Oh, Mama, he has the most dreadful reputation! Miss Claringdon says he always has an actress or high-flyer in keeping, or is carrying on a highly publicised affair with some scandalous matron! Sometimes both at once!’
‘And what would you know of high-flyers and scandalous matrons, Eugenia?’ Caro asked with a grin.
‘Well, nothing, of course,’ her stepsister replied, flushing. ‘Except what I learned from the gossip at school. I’m just relating what Miss Claringdon said. Her family is very well connected and she spent the entire Season in town last spring.’
‘Poor Mrs Ransleigh!’ Lady Denby said. ‘What an embarrassing development! She can hardly forbid her son to enter his own home.’
‘Yes, it’s quite a dilemma! She cannot send him away, but if any of us should encounter him … why, Miss Claringdon said merely being seen conversing with him is enough for a girl to be declared fast. How enormously vexing! I was so looking forward to becoming acquainted with some of the ladies and gentlemen that I shall meet again next Season in London. But I don’t want to remain and have my reputation tarnished before I’ve even begun.’ She sighed, a frown marring her perfect brow. ‘And that’s not all!’
‘Goodness, more bad news?’ Lady Denby asked.
‘I’m afraid so. Accompanying Mr Ransleigh is his cousin, the Honourable Mr Maximillian Ransleigh.’
‘Why is that a problem?’ Caro asked, dredging out of memory some of the details about the ton Lady Denby had drummed into her head during her short stay in London. ‘Isn’t he the Earl of Swynford’s younger son? Handsome, wealthy, destined for a great career in government?’
‘He was, but his circumstances now are sadly changed. Miss Claringdon told me all about it.’ Eugenia gave Caroline a sympathetic look. ‘It’s no wonder you didn’t hear about the scandal, Caro, with Sir Martin falling ill and you having to rush back home. Such a dreadful time for you both!’
‘What happened to Mr Ransleigh?’ Lady Denby asked.
‘“Magnificent Max”, they used to call him,’ Miss Claringdon said. ‘Society’s favourite, able to persuade any man and charm any lady. He’d served with distinction in the army and was sent to assist General Lord Wellington during the Congress of Vienna—the perfect assignment, everyone believed, for someone poised to begin a brilliant diplomatic career. But then came the affair with the mysterious woman and the attack on Lord Wellington, and Mr Ransleigh was sent home in disgrace.’
Caroline frowned, remembering now that Harry had told her before leaving for Calcutta how the English commander, then in charge of all the Allied occupation troops in Paris after Napoleon’s first abdication, had been forced to station a personal guard because of assassination threats. ‘How did it happen?’
‘Miss Claringdon didn’t know the details, only that he returned to London under a cloud. Then, if that wasn’t bad enough, when Napoleon escaped from Elba and headed to Paris, gathering an army as he marched, Mr Ransleigh disobeyed a direct order to remain in London until the Vienna matter was investigated and sailed to Belgium to rejoin his regiment.’
‘Did he fight at Waterloo?’ Caroline asked.
‘I suppose so. There’s still talk of a court-martial, though. In any event, Miss Claringdon says his father, the Earl of Swynford, was so incensed, he ordered his son out of the house! Lady Mary Langton, whom everyone thought he would marry, refused to see him, which ought to have been a vast good fortune for some other lucky female. Except that it’s now said that he has vowed never to marry and has been going about London with his cousin Alastair, always in the company of some actress or … or lady of easy virtue!’
A glimmer of a memory stirred in Caroline’s mind … Harry, talking about the ‘Ransleigh Rogues’, four cousins who’d been at school with him before they all joined the army and served in assorted regiments on the Peninsula. Brave, strapping lads who could always be found in the thick of the fight, Harry had described them approvingly.
‘Miss Claringdon was nearly in tears as she told me the story,’ Eugenia continued. ‘She’d quite thought to set her cap at him before he began making up to Lady Mary … but now, with him dead set against marriage and keeping such scandalous company, no well-bred maiden would dare associate with him.’
‘An earl’s son, too.’ Lady Denby sighed. ‘How vexing.’
‘Well, Mama, must we leave? Or do you think we can remain and avoid the Ransleigh gentlemen?’
For a moment, Lady Denby stared thoughtfully into the distance. ‘Mrs Ransleigh and her elder daughter, Lady Gilford, are both eminently respectable,’ she said at length. ‘In fact, Lady Gilford is the most influential young hostess in the ton. I’m sure they will talk privately with the gentlemen who, once the situation has been explained, will either take themselves off, or remain apart, so as not to compromise any of Mrs Ransleigh’s guests.’
‘So they don’t inadvertently ruin some young innocent before she even begins her Season?’ Caro asked, winking at Eugenia.
‘Exactly.’ Lady Denby nodded. ‘Though I’m convinced it will be handled thus, just to make certain, I shall go at once in search of Mrs Ransleigh and make enquiries.’
Caroline laughed. ‘Goodness, Stepmama, how are you to phrase such a question? “Excuse me, Mrs Ransleigh, I just wished to make sure your reprobate son and disgraceful nephew aren’t going to hang about, endangering the reputation of my innocent girls!”’
Eugenia gasped, while Lady Denby chuckled and batted Caroline on the arm. ‘To be sure, it will be more than a little awkward, but I’ll word my question a good deal more discreetly than that!’
‘Perhaps she will lock the gentlemen in the attic—or the wine cellar, so none of the young ladies are at risk of irretrievable ruin,’ Caroline said.
‘Caro, you jest, but it is a serious matter,’ Eugenia insisted, a worried frown on her face. ‘A girl’s whole future depends upon her character being thought above reproach! A ruined reputation is irretrievable, and I, for one, don’t find the discussion of so appalling a calamity amusing in the least … especially after Miss Claringdon told me Lady Melross arrived this afternoon.’
Lady Denby groaned. ‘The worst gossip-monger in the ton! What wretched luck! Well, you must both be extremely careful. Lady Melross can winkle out a scandal faster than a prize hound scents a fox. She’d like nothing better than to uncover some misdeed she can report back to her acquaintances in town.’
‘Very well,’ Caroline said, sobering at the sight of her stepmother’s agitation. ‘I shall behave myself.’
‘And I shall go and make discreet enquiries of our hostess,’ Lady Denby said. ‘Eugenia, let me escort you to your room, where you should remain until dinner, while I … acquaint myself with the arrangements.’
‘Please do, Mama. I shan’t stir a foot from my chamber until you tell me it is safe!’
‘You’d best make haste,’ Caroline said, anxious to see them out of the door before her stepmother recalled her intention to ride and forbade her to leave her room. She didn’t intend to let adherence to some silly society convention get in the way of riding the best horse she’d ever trained.
The two ladies safely dispatched, Caroline tugged the bell pull to summon Dulcie to help her into her habit. Extracting the garment from the wardrobe, she sighed as she thought of the much more comfortable breeches and boots she’d sneaked into her portmanteau. Though she was sensible enough not to don them when her hostess or the guests might be about, she did intend to wear them on her daily dawn rides.
Might she encounter one of the scandalous Ransleigh men this afternoon? If Mrs Ransleigh was going to banish them from the house, the stables were a likely place for them to retreat.
Despite Eugenia’s alarm, Caroline felt no apprehension about encountering either Alastair or Max Ransleigh. She doubted either would be so overcome by her charms that they’d try to ravish her in the hayloft. As for having her reputation ruined merely by chatting with them, Harry would consider that nonsense, and his was the only opinion besides her own that mattered to her.
A knock at the door heralded Dulcie’s arrival. Caroline hurried into her habit, anxious to be changed and gone before her stepmother finished her errand and returned, possibly to ban her from riding for the duration.
She didn’t slow her pace until she’d escaped the house and made it safely down the lane leading to the stables. Curious now, she looked about the grounds as she walked and peered around the paddock, but saw no sign of anyone besides the groom who had saddled Sultan for her.
She had enjoyed the ride tremendously, thrilled as always to order Sultan through his paces and receive his swift and obliging responses. As she turned him back towards the stables, she had to admit she was a bit disappointed she hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of the infamous Ransleigh men.
It would be interesting to come face to face with a real rogue. Her stepmother, however, would be aghast if she were to converse with either of them, given their terrible reputations and the fact that Lady Melross was now in residence. Were that woman to observe her exchanging innocuous comments about the weather with either Mr Ransleigh, she’d probably find herself branded a loose woman by nightfall.
Although, Caroline thought with a grin as she guided Sultan back into the stable yard, being pronounced ‘ruined’ in the eyes of society might be positively advantageous, if it relieved her of having to suffer through another Season and made her unacceptable as a bride to anyone save Harry.