Regency High Society Vol 3: Beloved Virago / Lord Trenchard's Choice / The Unruly Chaperon / Colonel Ancroft's Love

‘Would you mind very much, Aunt Lavinia, if I accepted the invitation to take tea with the Osbornes? I rather liked Sir Giles—a highly intelligent man who possesses a rather dry sense of humour.’ She chose not to add that she had been less favourably impressed with his sister.

‘Of course I do not object, my dear,’ her aunt assured her before turning to Meldrew. ‘Inform Sir Giles’s footman that Miss O’Malley will be delighted to accept.’

‘My, my, Katherine! You must have made a favourable impression on our reserved neighbour,’ Caroline teased, the instant the butler had withdrawn. ‘Sir Giles is not renowned for socialising to any great extent. He generally keeps himself very much to himself when in the country.’

‘Oh, I do not think that is strictly true, Caroline,’ her mother countered. ‘Sir Giles has always been a most genial man. I do not deny that since his wife and his younger son died, he has tended to be less sociable, but that is only to be expected. Furthermore, his work for the government keeps him in London a good deal.’

Caroline frowned a little at this. ‘Do you know, Mama, I’ve never perfectly understood the nature of Sir Giles’s work. I do not think even Papa understands precisely what duties Sir Giles performs.’

‘Our esteemed neighbour has always been a little vague about it, certainly,’ her mother agreed. ‘I believe he mentioned once that it was something connected with the War Office. I do happen to know that he numbers among the Regent’s close friends. So perhaps one of his duties is to keep our future King abreast of events, though why he should feel the need to spend so much time in the capital now that monster is on Elba, and the war is thankfully at an end, I cannot imagine.’

She frowned as a thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘In fact, I understood your father to say that Sir Giles accompanied Major Ross to the capital on the morning after the party.’ She shrugged. ‘Evidently he must have returned … At least for Katherine’s sake I sincerely hope he has, otherwise she will find herself having to endure his far less sensible sister’s company for an hour or two.’

It required a monumental effort, but Katherine managed to resist the temptation to declare that if it was a choice between spending time in the company of Lady Charlesworth and Sir Giles’s sister, she considered Miss Mary Osborne most definitely the lesser evil!

The Wentworth carriage having been kindly placed at her disposal, Katherine set off on the short journey to Osborne House in good time to reach her destination at the appointed hour. She was looking forward to visiting the home of the man whose company she had very much enjoyed on the evening of the party. She was pleased too that the rain had ceased and the afternoon had been blessed thus far with brief glimpses of an early February sun. She was not, however, precisely overjoyed at being denied the opportunity to make this perfectly respectable visit unaccompanied.

Bridie had taken it upon herself to follow her out to the carriage and had plumped herself down on the seat opposite, that mulish expression Katherine had glimpsed so often in the past taking possession of the homely features.

Katherine turned her head to stare out of the window, lest her own expression betray the mingled resentment and annoyance rippling through her. These were feelings she had experienced increasingly during these past twelve months. Augusta Fairchild might have been an irascible old lady, sharp tongued, and not disposed to consider the feelings of others, but she had not been bound by convention, and had allowed Katherine freedom to do more or less as she pleased. Since her aunt’s demise, however, Katherine had discovered that treasured independence, which one might reasonably have expected to increase now that she had become mistress of her own establishment, had been gradually curtailed by the two females whom she employed.

And it was utterly ridiculous! She inwardly fumed, resolved to do something soon about her far from idyllic domestic situation. These past two weeks in Hampshire had, if nothing else, shown her that one attained far more freedom from living in the country. Weather permitting, she had gone for a walk, sometimes accompanied by her cousin Caroline, and sometimes alone. It was true that on the occasion they had visited the local town they had taken the little housemaid with them. Yet Katherine had hardly known the servant was there. Walking a few paces behind, the maid had barely uttered a word, and had merely carried the few purchases both Katherine and Caroline had made back to the carriage.

How different from the life she had led in Bath! Not once since her great-aunt’s demise had she visited the fashionable shops without having to suffer Mountjoy’s incessant prattling, as she scurried alongside like a timid mouse. Always eager to please, poor Mountjoy more often than not had only succeeded in irritating her so much that Katherine had come perilously close on numerous occasions to releasing her pent-up frustrations by administering a sound box round the ears, and only the promise she had made to her aunt had checked the words of instant dismissal she so longed to utter.

Smothering a sigh, Katherine turned her attention to the woman in the seat opposite. Even if she did manage to resolve the problem of her less than ideal companion, there still remained the even greater dilemma of what to do about the woman who had taken such loving care of her throughout her life. Although she had never been afraid to speak her mind where Bridie was concerned, which had resulted in numerous battles of will over the years, and many harshly spoken words, not for the world would she deliberately hurt the person to whom she was so genuinely attached. Yet somehow she must find a way of convincing Bridie that her one-time charge was no longer in need of leading-strings, but a young, independent woman, quite capable of making her own decisions and, more importantly, of taking care of herself. And there was no better time to embark on this crusade for total independence than right now!

‘I cannot imagine why you felt the need to accompany me on this journey,’ she remarked in a level tone, determined to deny Bridie the opportunity of accusing her of being in a ‘naughty’ temper, which she so often did when Katherine had taken her to task over something.

The mulish expression returned to the homely face. ‘And who would have taken care of you if I hadn’t come along, may I ask?’

‘My aunt’s groom is more than capable of ensuring that I come to no harm.’

‘Pshaw! The great lummox didn’t even think to provide you with a few necessary comforts,’ Bridie retorted, lovingly tucking the fur-lined rug, which she had carried out to the carriage, more securely about her young mistress’s slender legs. ‘I promised your sainted mother on her deathbed that I would always look after her little girl. And I shan’t go back on my word. Bridie will always be here for you, Miss Kate.’

Oh, dear Lord! Katherine inwardly groaned. Although moved by this touching declaration, she was very well aware that the task ahead of her was going to be far from easy. Yet somehow there had to be a way of convincing Bridie that she was now a capable young woman, and no longer a child in need of constant care and attention.

Determined not to be defeated in her objective, Katherine adopted a different tack, as the coachman drew the well-sprung carriage to a halt before the front entrance of the impressive mansion. ‘As you have taken it upon yourself to play nursemaid, you had better accompany me inside. No doubt you will be invited to take tea with the more senior servants.’ She paused after alighting to cast a cautionary glance over her shoulder. ‘So kindly maintain a guard on that unruly tongue of yours for the duration of our visit.’

Bridie, both surprised and incensed at what she considered to be quite uncalled-for strictures, was denied the opportunity to retaliate by voicing her opinion of her young mistress’s frequently caustic utterances by the prompt appearance of the very correct manservant who admitted them to the house.

‘Sir Giles is expecting you, Miss O’Malley. If you would kindly step this way?’ The butler paused, before leading the way across the chequered hall, to cast a faintly superior glance in Bridie’s direction when she appeared about to follow her mistress. ‘I shall ensure that your maid receives refreshments below stairs.’

Hardening her heart against the hopeful expression in those loving, dark eyes, Katherine swept past the door the butler held open. Only then did she begin to wonder if she had not been a little foolish in not insisting that Bridie remain with her, when she noticed that the book-lined room’s sole occupant was Sir Giles.

Rising immediately from behind the desk, he came forward to take Katherine’s hand briefly in his own. ‘My dear Miss O’Malley. My sister and I were delighted that you were able to accept our invitation,’ he announced, before dismissing his servant with the faintest nod of his head. ‘Come, take a seat by the fire.’

A glimmer of amusement flickered in the baronet’s grey eyes as Katherine hesitated. ‘My dear child, I am old enough to be your father, if not your grandfather. Be assured that my sister will be joining us, once she has returned from her trip to town.’

Feeling rather annoyed with herself for so obviously betraying unease, while at the same time thinking it most strange that Miss Osborne should visit the local town when she had invited a guest to take tea, Katherine seated herself in one of the comfortable chairs by the hearth. It was strange too that the butler had shown her in here. Evidently he had been obeying his master’s instructions. But surely it was more usual to invite guests to take tea in the parlour?

After watching her host move across to a small table on which several decanters stood, Katherine glanced about the room. It was a wholly masculine sanctum, which put her in mind of her grandfather’s library in that charming house in Dorsetshire, the main difference being that this room had a second door, left slightly ajar, which possibly led to a small ante-room.

‘Can I tempt you to a glass of Madeira, my dear?’ Again there was a moment’s hesitation on her part which drew a brief smile to Sir Giles’s lips as he poured out a second glass. ‘You came to take tea and yet your host is attempting to ply you with strong liquor. What sinister motive can there be in that? I hear you asking yourself. You are wise to be cautious, child, for this world of ours holds many sinister pitfalls for the unwary. And I did have a specific reason for wishing to see you alone.’

More intrigued than unnerved by this surprising admission, Katherine accepted the glass held out to her, observing as she did so that those shrewd grey eyes, alert and acutely assessing, were regarding her no less keenly than they had on the evening of the engagement party almost two weeks ago.

‘You have striking colouring, Miss O’Malley,’ he remarked, surprising her still further, as he settled himself in the chair opposite, his gaze never wavering from her face. ‘Inherited from your Irish-born father, I should imagine.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she responded, wondering what he would remark upon next. She was not left to speculate for long.

‘I am reliably informed that you and your father were very close. It was a tragedy that he lost his life in the service of his country … But it was a tragedy that was destined to take place long before he had set sail from Ireland.’ Sir Giles saw the slender fingers tighten momentarily round the stem of the glass, and a look appear in the turquoise-coloured eyes which was no less penetrating than that in his own. ‘Ill fortune played no part in your father’s demise. The French had been informed that three vessels loaded with urgent supplies would be setting sail for Portugal on a certain date, and they were lying in wait.’

‘How—how did you discover this?’ Katherine demanded. The heartache she had suffered when she had first learned of her father’s death had never left her, but now a completely different emotion, far stronger than the lingering pain, had swiftly gained supremacy. A despicable traitor had been responsible for the death of her father!

‘I make it my business to know, child,’ Sir Giles responded, smiling grimly. ‘One does not need to don a uniform in order to serve one’s country. And not all one’s enemies are as visible as those on the field of battle.’ The look in his steely-grey eyes grew noticeably harder. ‘Napoleon is in exile on Elba. But my war is far from over, and shall not be so until I have unmasked the heartless devil who, during these past years, has been passing information on to the French.’

Taking a moment to refresh himself, Giles continued to regard her steadily over the rim of his glass. ‘I shall not insult your intelligence by attempting to suggest that the person I am determined to unmask is the very traitor responsible for tampering with the document sent to the Admiralty requesting an escort for the convoy in which your father was destined to sail. There have been a number of agents working for France during these past years. I have a particular interest in uncovering the identity of just one of them, mainly because I was foolish enough once to underestimate him, and in so doing was responsible, in part, for the death of a young Frenchwoman whose knowledge would have proved invaluable in unmasking a cell of agents working in this country.’

Katherine’s gaze remained as steady as her host’s. She now knew precisely why Sir Giles, the secret spy-catcher, had invited her here. ‘You believe that I might prove useful in helping you achieve your objective?’

‘Yes, child, I do. From the moment I first set eyes upon you I was aware of the striking resemblance you bear to the young woman who was murdered whilst under my so-called protection,’ he admitted, his voice surprisingly betraying a hint of regret. ‘I failed her, and that weighs heavily on my conscience. I have no intention of repeating my error. I shall do everything within my power to minimise the risk, but should you agree to assist me it is as well for you to know at the outset that your life would be in danger.’

Leaning back in his chair, Sir Giles regarded her in silence for a moment. ‘Now, before I divulge more, I need to know, Miss O’Malley, whether you are willing to undertake a very great service for your country, which, if successful, might go some way to avenging your father’s demise?’

Katherine didn’t need to take even a moment to decide, but was somewhat startled, after voicing her desire to help in any way she could, when the door leading to the small ante-room was thrown wide and a sparse man in his early forties, accompanied by a woman of similar age, walked calmly into the room.

‘Do not be alarmed, my child,’ Sir Giles advised gently. ‘I wish you to meet Mr Arthur Ashcroft, and his sister Miss Margaret Ashcroft, two of my most trusted associates. They will play a small but vital part in the plan I am about to outline to you. There is one further key player with whom I must make contact, but that can wait for the time being. What we must do now is put our heads together and come up with some scheme whereby you may leave Bath again, and quite alone, in the very near future without arousing the least suspicion.’

A plump, middle-aged figure suddenly appeared before Katherine’s mind’s eye. ‘That, Sir Giles, might prove more difficult than you imagine!’

Chapter Four

Major Daniel Ross laid his head against the back of the chair, and stretched out his long legs in order to rest his feet upon the fender. His time here in Curzon Street, enjoying the hospitality of his good friend Harry Danvers, must soon come to an end. These past few weeks had proved to be highly pleasurable, and some recompense, he supposed, for the many privations he had perforce to endure in recent years.

Undeniably London had much to offer any bachelor of comfortable means. He would have been the first to admit that he had been content to while away the hours in the company of many of those who, like himself, had known the hardship of life out in the Peninsula. There was no denying too that the highly satisfying association with that delicate vessel, short on brains but infinitely skilful in other ways, had assuaged his physical needs and provided a most pleasurable way of passing several evenings and nights. None the less, a totally idle existence was not for him. It was time he returned to his Dorsetshire acres to put into effect those improvements he planned for his house and lands.

After sampling the contents of his glass, he began to contemplate a future that would be in stark contrast with his past. Yet he had no regrets about the decision he had taken to sell his commission and leave the army. He believed he was more than ready now to take charge of his inheritance. The love of the land had taken time to come to him, but it was there now. Which was perhaps just as well, he mused, for there was precious little else in his life at the moment upon which he might shower attention and affection, least of all a woman.

A wry smile tugged at one corner of his mouth before he reduced the contents of his glass still further. Although he certainly hadn’t lived the life of a monk in recent years, no female had succeeded in capturing his heart since Julia had held a place there in his youth. Even now, after all these years, he could well remember how utterly devastated he had been when he had discovered that his childhood sweetheart, the female whom he had considered so perfect in every way, had betrayed his love and trust by marrying his cousin. Had the bitter experience left him hard and cynical, and disinclined to trust another member of her sex? He could not help wondering. Or was it merely that he had searched in vain for a replica?

A slight frown creased his brow. If that was so, why then had he felt nothing within him stir when, after so many years, he had seen Julia again, a few months ago? He would have expected to feel something more than just a faint twinge of nostalgia for the happy hours they had spent together in their youth. Undeniably, time had been kind to her and she was still very beautiful. Graceful and serene, she remained for him the epitome of womanhood. Not like that damnable little shrew who had crossed his path just a few weeks ago! He inwardly fumed, his frown deepening dramatically as the pleasing image of golden locks and limpid blue eyes was unexpectedly thrust from his mind’s eye by a set of quite different features, framed in a riot of deep auburn curls.

He shook his head in a vain attempt to dispel the vision which had too frequently plagued him during his stay in town. That unpredictable little virago typified everything he most despised in her sex! Contrary and sharp-tongued, she was just the type to lash out at a poor, unsuspecting male without the least provocation. Any man who was ever stupid enough even to contemplate taking that ill-mannered minx to wife would deserve all he got! he told himself, wondering why on earth he had been singularly unsuccessful in forgetting her very existence.

The door-knocker echoing in the hall brought these less than charitable musings to an abrupt end, and a minute later his friend’s very correct manservant entered to apprise him that he had a visitor. A quick glance in the direction of the mantel-clock informed Daniel that the hour was well advanced. He had an appointment early in the morning, and had no intention of delaying too long before he sought the comfort of his bed.

‘Did the caller give a name?’ he asked after a moment’s deliberation.

‘He did not,’ a smooth voice answered from the open doorway. ‘But he felt certain that our long and—er—not uneventful association would be sufficient to grant him admittance.’

‘Oh, you did, did you?’ Daniel muttered, before dismissing the servant.

In one lithe movement he rose from the chair and moved towards the decanters. ‘So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit? I thought you had returned to Hampshire?’

‘I did … briefly,’ the caller responded, accepting the glass of wine, before seating himself in one of the chairs by the hearth. He then waited for Daniel to settle himself in the seat opposite before adding, ‘But I have been back in town for nearly three weeks.’

Frowning suspiciously, Daniel studied his companion over the rim of his glass, before demanding somewhat abruptly, ‘Spit it out, Osborne! Why are you here?’

The baronet’s thin lips curled into an appreciative smile. ‘Always so delightfully brusque!’ he quipped. ‘Surprisingly enough, I consider it to be one of your most endearing qualities, my dear fellow. One always knows where one stands with you, Ross.’ A faintly menacing gleam hardened his grey eyes. ‘You are so refreshingly different from so many of those with whom I have been obliged to associate in recent years.’

‘Nobody forced you to take up such work,’ Daniel reminded him. ‘It was done through choice.’

‘Through necessity,’ Sir Giles corrected, ‘though I cannot deny that I have always displayed a certain aptitude. But my task is not yet complete.’

‘But mine is,’ Daniel returned, unable to prevent bitterness from edging his voice. ‘Years of conflict … thousands dead … and for what?’

‘So that we in these islands would continue to speak the King’s English, and not French. Which you, of course, do so remarkably well … And that is precisely why I’m here, Major Ross. Once again I find myself in dire need of your undoubted talents. I am here in an attempt to persuade you to take charge of a little commission which has already begun across the Channel.’

‘No!’ Daniel’s response, sharp and uncompromising, cut through the air like a knife as he rose once again to his feet. ‘My war’s over, Osborne. You cannot order me to go, not this time.’

A sigh escaped the older man as he stared intently at the impassive figure, solid and resolute, now standing before the hearth, staring intently down at the burning coals. ‘No, I cannot order you to go, Major,’ he concurred. ‘But should you agree to do so, you might attain some justice for those many friends who needlessly lost their lives throughout the campaign.’

‘Damn you and your spying games, Osborne!’ Daniel exploded, unable to quell the bitter resentment and anger which had steadily increased throughout the years of conflict, and continued to fester even now, like some open sore that refused to heal. ‘Justice for whom? Curse you!’

Daniel cast a glance over his shoulder in time to see the baronet’s bony fingers tighten fractionally about the stem of his glass. ‘Whose death are you so determined to avenge—your son’s? He was a soldier and, like so many others, was prepared to die for his country. He’s just another of those poor wretches who now lie buried in nameless graves scattered throughout Spain and Portugal.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Or is it perhaps Justine Baron’s demise which continues to prick your conscience?’

Sir Giles held the hard-eyed gaze steadily. ‘Yes, I do feel that I owe it to Justine to bring her murderer to book.’

‘You owe her nothing, Osborne,’ Daniel countered, totally unmoved by the hint of remorse so easily discernible in the baronet’s voice. ‘She knew the risks she was taking. She and the traitorous devil who has plagued your dreams all these years were two of a kind, and both gained considerable financial rewards from indulging in their despicable trade.’

‘Very true,’ Sir Giles concurred, the composure for which he was justifiably famed seemingly having been fully restored. ‘As I remarked before, Justine loved only one thing more than money—her sister. And it is the young woman who has agreed to pose as the former Mademoiselle Louise Baron who just might, if everything goes according to plan, avenge so many needless deaths.’

‘Dear God!’ Daniel muttered, his expression clearly disdainful, as he once again sought the comfort of the winged-chair. ‘Don’t you ever give up? Napoleon is on Elba. It’s over at last.’

‘Perhaps,’ Sir Giles conceded, before his eyes hardened once more. ‘And this is why my elusive friend has possibly begun to drop his guard. He may have severed all communication with many of his contacts, and now thinks himself safe. But he is at his most vulnerable. What will his reaction be when I make it known that, during these past months of Napoleon’s exile, I have worked tirelessly and have managed to locate the whereabouts of Justine’s sister? What if I also make it known that Justine left certain documents in the safekeeping of a lawyer whose identity is known only to the sister, and that the aforementioned sister has every intention of travelling to England in order to retrieve them? What if I were to suggest that the documents might prove interesting reading, and that the girl has agreed to let me study them before she takes her property back to France?’