Mistress in the Regency Ballroom: The Rake's Unconventional Mistress / Marrying the Mistress

It is doubtful whether Rayne even noticed, being more interested in the appearance of another of Letitia’s cousins, Miss Gaddestone’s younger brother Lieutenant Fingal Gaddestone, who had been away at sea for almost three years. Rosie Gaddestone’s girlish face shone with happiness, her arm linked through his as if to anchor him to her while his other hand held Letitia’s. The two cousins had once been close, each of an independent spirit that recognised the need to break the family mould, which both of them had done successfully, but not without some anguish. Old Lady Gaddestone, Lady Boyce’s sister, had died while he was away, some said of a broken heart, and Rosie had gone to live with her cousin Letitia rather than stay alone in London.

Disengaging her hand from his, Letitia could see the kind of changes that affected so many naval men: bronzed skin, lines around the eyes and mouth, a lean fitness and a newly assured manner that she assumed he had acquired as an officer. He was now a handsome young man with sun-bleached hair, a friendly smile and a teasing manner that made Letitia change the subject hurriedly and turn to her other guest. ‘Lord Rayne, will you allow me to introduce my cousin Fin to you?’

‘Certainly,’ he said, stepping forward with a slight bow.

Both men drew themselves up smartly, pulling back their shoulders as if an extra half-inch could make all the difference.

‘My lord,’ said Lieutenant Gaddestone.

‘Where are you lodging, sir?’

‘Temporarily with my uncle and aunt in London until I can find a suitable place of my own. Then I shall settle down and live a normal life. Did you serve, too, my lord?’

‘Briefly, in Spain. Cavalry. A few years of that was enough.’

‘So now you’re a man of leisure?’

‘Not exactly. I train cavalry recruits at Hampton Court Palace. You must come and see, one day. My elder brother is responsible for the Royal Stud there. We shall need every available horse once the celebrations begin next month. It’s going to be a busy time.’

Aunt Minnie could not resist asking, with a certain acid relish, ‘And will you be escorting Miss Boyce, or her two younger sisters, my lord?’

Blandly, Lord Rayne studied her as if trying to make up his mind, then said, ‘Lady Aspinall, as soon as I’ve made a final decision on that, you will be the first to be told of it. There, how will that do?’

Minnie Aspinall was not so stupid that she could not tell when she’d been snubbed for impertinence and, although Letitia thought she deserved it, she herself quaked at the damage it was doing.

The tension was broken by the arrival of Mrs Quayle and her three charges, and the meal progressed peacefully, the conversation to-ing and fro-ing with ease, neatly bypassing Aunt Minnie’s simmering disapproval of her niece’s friendship with Lord Rayne, her glowering silence being wasted on the company who had so much to say to each other. Letitia knew only too well that the news would be taken back, post-haste, to Lady Boyce and her twin daughters with predictable results.

However, Aunt Minnie refused to relinquish her role as critic and, as soon as she was able, reminded Rayne that Letitia’s dear sisters had obtained vouchers for Almack’s that same evening and were hoping to see him there. But to her great annoyance, he refused to pass on any message to her nieces except an enigmatic smile. She tried again on a different tack. ‘Young Lieutenant Gaddestone and Letitia have always had a tendre for each other since they were children. He seems particularly interested in her now, doesn’t he, my lord?’

‘I suppose it’s to be expected, Lady Aspinall. They must have plenty of news to exchange after an absence of three years,’ he said.

She did not give up. ‘Indeed, yes. He’s done terribly well for himself, you know. Went out to the Americas with pockets to let and came back with a considerable share of prize money. Yes, he’ll be a good catch for some fortunate young lady before too long. Of course, the army don’t go in for prize money, do they?’

‘No, my lady. They don’t.’ Cultivated through generations of blue blood, the patronising smile in his voice and the quirk of one eyebrow was quite enough to remind her that her observation had backfired. Cavalry officers, drawn mostly from the wealthy aristocracy, could afford to fight for the sake of adventure and glory rather than for the pay, which was not good. Their colours, kit and horses usually cost a fortune, and few officers emerged wealthier than they were already. After that, Aunt Minnie confined herself to observing the two cousins and making plans for their future.

That evening, while her sisters were at Almack’s, Letitia spent several hours writing her notes into her journal and continuing her story about the young Perdita who, by coincidence, was experiencing similar emotions and conflicts to herself.

She took her leave of him, allowing her hand to rest in his a moment longer than was appropriate for one who had only that day insisted they could never be good friends. To humour her, he had cheerily agreed, but the look in his eyes told a different story, and the pressure of his fingers was like a caress around her heart, adding to the slow thaw that had begun with his first disturbing kiss. He would never know what that had done to her. He would not understand how a maid could be melted, insidiously, by a gentle embrace offered that day out of compassion. What was an untutored girl to understand by this, except that he saw her as some trophy to be won? Was it too late for her to refuse him her heart? Had he already claimed it? ‘Good day, my lord,’ she said. ‘Thank you for…’

‘For what?’

‘For the drive. For staying. For being here.’

He nodded, smiling with wicked brown eyes. ‘Progress, Miss Perdita? Are we making some progress at last?’

She watched his two giant strides take him to his high curricle, revealing the length of his steely thighs and calves. Responding like quicksilver to his commanding hands, his team leapt away, leaving Perdita to watch him disappear into the blue autumn haze, already counting the hours before she would see him again.

Lord Rayne, on the other hand, had said nothing about progress to the author, nor had his wicked brown eyes smiled as he took his leave of her after luncheon. He had looked sternly at her instead. ‘Well,’he said, ‘don’t be going on any drives with your cousin, will you? Naval officers don’t have much practice with horses, and you two together would be a liability.’

‘Thank you for your advice, Lord Rayne. Your concern is touching.’

‘My concern is mainly for the horses. Good day, Miss Boyce.’

When shall I see you again?

Halfway across the pavement, he stopped and turned as if he had heard her. ‘Tomorrow. At church. You’ll be there?’

‘Yes.’ She nodded, startled by his reading of her mind.

His acknowledgement was curt to the point of incivility, his two strides to the curricle seat taken without another glance.

Her intention to be at church next morning, however, was upset by an incident that shocked the adults involved in the smooth running of Miss Boyce’s select seminary.

Letitia and Miss Gaddestone were preparing to leave the house, waiting for Mrs Quayle and the three girls to join them, when the three arrived with serious faces, without their chaperon.

‘Is she coming?’ said Letitia, drawing on her gloves.

‘Yes,’ said Edina. ‘She asks that you wait for her while we go on ahead. Shall we go?’

‘Yes. We’ll catch you up. Go with Miss Gaddestone.’

Once they were out of the way, Mrs Quayle entered the house through the back door, leading an unkempt Sapphire Melborough, who ought to have been at church in her parents’ pew. Sapphire was sullen and indignant, her pouting mouth reddened as if she’d been eating strawberries. Her long fair hair, which should have been braided, hung down on to one muslin-covered shoulder, the fabric of which was loosened by the undone row of hooks and eyes down the back of her bodice. One hand held the front of her dress in place while the other carried her pink bonnet and reticule, and her prayer book.

If Letitia was lost for words, Mrs Quayle was not. ‘I think,’ she said in her severest tone, ‘that this young lady has some explaining to do. First, she may like to tell us why she prefers to spend her Sunday morning in the potting shed rather than at church with her parents.’

Guessing the answer to that, Letitia started from a more obtuse angle. ‘Where do your parents think you are, Sapphire?’ she said.

‘At church or at home, Miss Boyce,’ the young woman whispered. ‘They’re away visiting for the day, but I pleaded to stay behind.’

‘So you could come down to Paradise Road while we were at church?’

‘Yes.’ The blue eyes had lost their merry twinkle, taking on a heavy-lidded tiredness, guarded against probing personal questions.

‘To meet the gardener’s son?’

‘How…how did you…?’

‘Tell me! Never mind how I know.’

‘Yes.’

Bristling with indignation, Mrs Quayle felt obliged to add details she knew Sapphire would not willingly have offered. ‘The great hulking lout ran off, buckling his belt up, leaving this young madam—’ she cast a jaundiced look at Sapphire’s dishevelled state ‘—to pull herself together as best she may. Down on the bench they were, when I found them, rolling about like a couple of pups, and him with a black eye as big as a cabbage.’

‘Yes, thank you, Mrs Quayle. Sapphire, come here and sit down. Did you walk down Richmond Hill on your own? Without a maid?’

‘Charity came with me, ma’am, to keep watch.’

‘To keep watch? For pity’s sake, what has it come to? Where is She now? Still out there?’

‘I don’t know, ma’am.’

‘Sapphire, how long has this been going on?’ Before the girl could develop her fib, it was snapped off in a sudden burst of anger. ‘Don’t lie to me, young lady. The truth, if you please. How long?’

‘Not long, Miss Boyce. Since I first hurt my ankle.’

Letitia closed her eyes, seeing the occasion in one quick blink. They had left Sapphire behind in Miss Gaddestone’s care to finish off her watercolour in the summerhouse while the rest of them went to the Royal Academy. Gaddy would have dozed off. The gardener’s son would have beckoned, offering Sapphire an irresistible alternative. She was not a girl to refuse that kind of adventure, as she herself had done. She would have pushed aside any reservations and taken whatever experience was waiting for her, and she would emerge at the tender age of seventeen knowing far more about a man than Letitia knew at twenty-four, a novelist who wrote about such relationships as if she knew what she was talking about. Sapphire’s behaviour could not be excused or condoned, but neither could she be condemned out of hand for wanting to know exactly what would be expected of her in marriage, before committing herself to it.

‘With the gardener’s son, Sapphire? Is that the best you could do? Could you not have waited for marriage?’

Sapphire hung her head as if in shame, but there was no trace of shame when she lifted it again to look Letitia full in the face. ‘I could, Miss Boyce,’ she said through swollen lips, ‘but Ted’s not like the men my parents approve of. He’ll keep it to himself, not prattle and boast as others do, swapping details, comparing, laughing about it, giving one a reputation and a silly nickname to match. I wanted to find out what I need to know without everyone hearing about it. He’s had lots of girls. He knows what he’s doing. Not like some of them. And now I know what it’s like. It was not what Mrs Quayle says, rolling about like pups. It was good, or I’d not have returned.’

‘Have you no shame, Miss Melborough?’ Mrs Quayle snapped.

Sapphire did not look her way. ‘My body is my own to do with as I please. Yes, I know about bloodlines and all that, but experience with men has not stopped some women from making good marriages, and it won’t stop me. The difference is that I shall be going into it with my eyes open. As men do.’

‘And have you given any thought to the consequences, young lady?’ said Mrs Quayle, unconvinced by the argument. ‘Do you want to bear the gardener’s brat? Will your own father recognise it, if you do?’

‘There won’t be any consequences of the kind you mean.’

‘How can you be sure, Sapphire?’ said Letitia. ‘You run a very serious risk.’

‘My father tells me one must be prepared to take risks in life.’

‘I don’t doubt he did, but I don’t suppose he had this kind of thing in mind when he said it. Turn round and let me fasten you up.’

As Letitia might have expected, Sapphire’s back was covered by tiny pink scratches that rough sacking would make upon delicate skin. But she was not prepared for the pale grey-blue rows of fingertip marks on the upper arms, shoulders and back as if some violence had been used. Finishing the fastenings, she turned Sapphire to face her. ‘Tell me the truth, if you please. Did the gardener’s son force himself on you?’

The blue eyes opened wider, astonished and innocent, and Letitia knew she did not lie. ‘No, he didn’t, Miss Boyce. Ted’s not like that. I know it might be best for me to say that he did, but that wouldn’t explain why I came down here on a Sunday morning when I told the housekeeper and Mama I’d be going to church, would it? I’d have gone straight there, not to your potting shed. I won’t get Ted into any more trouble than he is already. Someone’s already beaten him up.’

It would have been so easy for Letitia to tell her, but she held her tongue. This was not the time. ‘Do you love him, then?’ she said.

‘No, Miss Boyce, of course I don’t. It’s not love we were after.’

‘What was it, then?’ said Mrs Quayle, sharply.

Letitia thought the question unnecessary, quelling Mrs Quayle’s curiosity with a frown. ‘My concern,’ she said, ‘is for your personal safety, which has been put at risk. And what on earth am I to tell your parents, when you choose to use my property to misbehave on while you were not supposed to be here? I shall have to insist that they find another seminary for you, Sapphire. Just when it was all going so well.’

‘Do you have to tell them?’

Letitia recognised the plea for privacy, and there was a moment of hesitation before she replied, ‘Yes, they must know. Certainly they must. They are responsible for you still, and I cannot pretend not to know what’s been happening. That would make me as irresponsible as you. You must see that. I can only be thankful that it’s been stopped before it gets any worse, though it will be bad enough if that young man has fathered a child on you. I pray it has not happened.’

‘He must be got rid of immediately,’ said Mrs Quayle.

‘He will be. I should have done it sooner.’

‘Why?’

‘Well…er…because it’s his father who’s employed here, not Ted. He only helps out when he’s needed.’ She recalled Rayne’s caustic and rather indelicate words about who else Ted had ‘helped out’. ‘Has he been associating with any of the other girls, Sapphire?’

‘No, Miss Boyce.’

‘Are you quite sure?’

‘Yes, ma’am. Quite sure.’

Letitia sighed with relief. ‘Stand up. I’ll tidy your hair before I take you home. Turn round.’

‘I’d rather stay here with you, ma’am, if I may. My parents won’t be home until this evening.’

‘Very well, but you must stay upstairs out of the way. I’ll have your lunch sent up on a—’ Her words were cut off by the insistent clang of the front doorbell, followed quickly by a loud commanding voice. ‘Oh, no! That’s Mama!’ she whispered to Mrs Quayle. ‘Quick! Take Sapphire upstairs.’

But it was too late to take Miss Melborough anywhere before the footman opened the door, his announcement obliterated by the loud greeting of Lady Boyce who had come on a mission of some urgency. ‘Letitia!’she bawled, then stopped abruptly to take in the unusual scene of her eldest daughter dressing the hair of a dishevelled young beauty, while her plump brown neighbour looked on with alarm written clearly on her face. With eyes sharpened by years of training, Lady Boyce saw that something was seriously amiss—a minor tragedy that demanded her personal investigation.

The hour that followed was one of the most difficult Letitia ever had to endure while defending Sapphire Melborough against Lady Boyce’s embarrassing inquisition, far worse than Mrs Quayle’s barbed enquiries. After ignoring repeated invitations to visit Paradise Road, she had chosen that Sunday morning to descend upon her daughter at last, not with smiles of appreciation, but solely to find out more about the relationship with the man she had earmarked for one of her younger daughters. Hoping to arrive before Letitia’s return from church, she had intended to do at least half an hour of snooping. She did not enjoy having her plans dislodged, but she did enjoy demanding answers to searching questions, regardless of the fact that Miss Melborough’s plight was no concern of hers. This kind of detail had never stopped her in the past, and nor did it now.

Usually able to hold her own in an argument, Letitia was this time no match for her mother, particularly on an issue that needed handling with great sensitivity. No amount of protectiveness towards Sapphire would do: that was seen as being on the side of the sinner. And as for Letitia’s ideas of a seminary, it had already sunk to a level of vulgarity made worse by the noisy and untimely appearance of Charity, the young lady’s maid who, more to save her skin than for any finer feeling, blurted out before anyone could stop her, her own innocent part in the role she had been told to play that morning. With additions.

Letitia’s prayer for another unscheduled appearance in the form of Lord Rayne had no effect. If anyone could have dealt with Letitia’s mother, he could. But he did not appear and, after Sapphire’s eventual tearful departure to Letitia’s bedroom, Lady Boyce needed no more convincing that she was right about the seminary being a grave mistake, already being regretted. Having made her opinions clear about the scandal of Melborough’s daughter, she was not inclined to take luncheon with her niece, Rosie Gaddestone, or with Mrs Quayle and the boarding pupils. Instead, she launched once more into an attack upon Letitia, demanding to be told what she meant by driving out with her sisters’beau, making it look to the world as if she had stolen his affections. Did she realise what a disservice she was doing by this selfish behaviour? Did she realise the gossip it was causing? And the embarrassment? Did she have to wear those silly spectacles to draw attention to herself? Did she know how close Garnet was to being engaged to Rayne? Did she really believe a man like him could be seriously interested in her? Could she not see that she was not the kind of female such men married?

‘Mama, you’ve not told me anything I don’t already know. There is not the slightest possibility of marriage. Lord Rayne lives here in Richmond at the weekends and, because of my relationship to Garnet and Persephone, he and I are acquainted. Not good friends, Mama, just acquainted. He took me to Mortlake to see his sister, Lady Dorna Elwick, who is a friend of mine. There’s no more to it than that. Garnet has nothing to fear.’

‘And what about the theatre? I heard—’

‘There were fourteen of us, Mama.’

‘Well,’ she said, looking round at the blue, white and gold décor, the walnut table and chairs, the embroidered seat covers and cushions as if they belonged in a dingy street tavern, ‘it’s bad enough for you to be doing this kind of thing, without trying to take your sister’s future husband.’

‘Are you not being premature, Mama? You know how Lord Rayne tends to…?’

‘Yes, Letitia. I do know. That’s the problem. And you’re not helping matters, are you? And now this shocking scandal, too.’

‘Which no one need know of, Mama, unless you tell them.’

‘Then you must tell Rayne you no longer need his company,’ she said, rising. ‘That should redirect his interest. Don’t ask him to lunch with you again, either. That young Waverley is more your type. Summon my carriage, if you please. It’s time I was going.’

‘But don’t you wish to look round the house, Mama?’

‘No time today. I have guests coming this evening.’

‘I see. First things first, of course.’

Not being finely tuned to such nuances, Lady Boyce failed to pick up the cynicism. And had not Rosie Gaddestone entered the hall just as she was about to depart, she would have missed seeing her altogether after an interval of eight months. Her quick peck to each of Gaddy’s cheeks was both hello and goodbye, delivered to Letitia with the same artificiality.

It was not like Letitia to weep over matters such as this, but the only thing preventing her on this occasion was not fortitude but the gentle clasp of Gaddy’s arms around her shoulders and the scent of lavender in an embrace that lasted as the hall clock ticked and chimed over their heads.

‘Has Mrs Quayle told you?’ she whispered into Gaddy’s lace cap.

‘Yes, love. We’re not having a good day today, are we?’

‘No. Was Lord Rayne at church?’

‘Yes. He asked about you. I said you’d been delayed.’

‘We could have done with him here just now.’

‘A change of heart, Lettie dear? That’s not like you.’

‘I’m not much like me at the moment.’ She held her cousin away, her hands buried in the tiers of lace over her arms. ‘Oh, Gaddy, what a business this is. Now we may be sure that Mama will tell anyone who’ll listen what a mess I’m making of it.’And unless Lord Rayne stays well out of the way, she will broadcast Sapphire’s scandal far and wide. That’s for sure

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