His Wayward Ward - A Regency Novella (Risque Regency) (4 page)

It would interfere with his self-indulgent pursuits. This last was said with peevish exasperation when it became clear he remained determined to go ahead with his plans. Carlton turned each of her objections aside with unflappable ease and was rewarded by the increasingly dangerous sparkle in Eliza’s eyes.

By the time they had retired to the drawing room, he could sense the girl had reached a nicely combustible state and made sure to sit beside her. Her sideways glance of annoyance was reward enough.

‘The Assembly Rooms. The Museums. There are some very pretty parks and, of course, the baths are particularly fine.’ Eliza frowned at him, ‘you have a house in town. How can you not know of these places?’

‘I have always found Bath particularly stuffy. And alarming. The aged and the sickly are a daunting sight.’

Eliza’s soft mouth pursed with disapproval. ‘That is
not
a very charitable attitude.’

Eliza showed him her small white teeth. ‘It’s more likely you’re thumbing your nose at it. You can’t really mean to take Edward and I places in London. You’ll be dreadfully bored.’

‘But I don’t find you boring in the least.’

This gave her pause. ‘What a vexing man you are. I never know if you’re serious or not.’

Aunt Flora had come to sit across from them. She gave her niece a warning look. ‘Oh, but my dear, what man
is
serious in this day and age? Lord Carlton is fashionably jaded.’

‘How ridiculous.’ Eliza looked him over with disapproval. ‘How can anybody be jaded when there are so many pleasant things to do?’

Carlton smiled. ‘Oh, but I agree. It is just that my amusements are somewhat different from yours.’

She gave him a doubtful look but was sensible enough not to pursue the subject further.

She smelt delightful, of lavender and something faintly floral. Frankly, Carlton was surprised that old Percival had produced such a child, but then, his wife had been a beauty in her day, or so he seemed to recall. Eliza Percival, with her dark brown curls and small, straight nose, was certainly appealing. Of course, she was not as tall as was the fashion at the moment, but a pocket Venus had their own admirers and he thought that Eliza would do well in London.

He enjoyed her lack of artifice. There was no simpering with the girl, no pretence of frailty, despite her smallness of stature. Far from the usual deference he was accustomed to, Eliza Percival was all too ready to spit like a cat if her fur was ruffled. Such an attitude was refreshing and it was hard to resist stroking her the wrong way. So he didn’t did not – could not – resist.

‘And young gentleman? I’m sure you have several dozen dancing attendance on you.’

Her creamy skin took on a faintly pinkish hue. He sensed her hesitation and his attention sharpened. Could it be that he had hit a nerve? Was the little Eliza smitten with some poor fool? ‘Of course, there are some delightful gentlemen,’ she began, ‘but I have to admit, there is
one
in particular…’ Eliza shot a calculating look in his direction, trying to gauge his reaction.

Carlton raised an eyebrow. ‘Yes?’

‘Mr. Grayson Henry!’ she said with a rush. ‘He is… he is a very worthy young man!’

‘And yet you still like him?’ his lordship looked intrigued. ‘In my experience, young ladies did not much care for worthy men. They far prefer something with a little more bite.’

‘Yes, but as you’ve pointed out,
your
experiences – and pleasures - are a little different from mine.’ Eliza observed primly. ‘Mr. Henry is a man with the most excellent address. He is considerate and mindful of others’ comforts. He is thoughtful and… and gentlemanly and his manners are unexceptional in every way -’

‘Good God, girl. What a paragon!’

Eliza’s eyes flashed. ‘Indeed he is!’

Flora, who had been listening to this interchange as she poured the tea, hurried to forestall any unwise utterances from her niece’s all too ready tongue. ‘Oh, Eliza, you do sing his praises. But indeed, he is such a delightful young man that any female would be happy to have him single her out for special attention.’

Eliza shot her aunt a grateful look. ‘Indeed, Aunt Flora.’

Carlton’s eyes rested on his ward’s slightly flushed face, wondering what stance would ford him the most amusement. Should he object? It would certainly stir the child up if he did. Of course, she had taken a gamble, bringing up her suitor’s name so soon and now she would have to persuade him that the man was truly a marvel. ‘And what are Mr. Henry’s intentions towards you?’

‘Why, marriage, of course. Mr. Henry would never have anything but the most honorable of intentions.’

‘Of course not,’ his lordship returned dryly.

Truly, Grayson Henry sounded as if he might be an unutterable bore. If he had half the virtues that Eliza professed him to have, a creature as high-spirited as Miss. Percival would surely become bored within a month.

‘And the young man’s prospects?’ Carlton inquired delicately. ‘You understand, as your guardian, I must ask these questions. You and your brother have been left a not inconsiderable estate in trust. It is my duty to ensure that you do not become the prey of rapacious young men.’

Predictably, Eliza took this badly, sitting up straight in her chair and scowling at him. ‘Grayson is not rapacious! He is not rich but he has a perfectly good income and a house in Taunton and comes from a
very
distinguished family!’

‘Taunton,’ his lordship drawled, ‘how… impressive. I cannot wait to meet him.’

The girl blinked. ‘Meet him?’

Once again, he raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course. Naturally, he will have to petition me for your hand. How fortunate it is that I am in town. He may visit me tomorrow and impress me with his sterling character.’

Eliza was disconcerted by this sudden turn and not at all sure if she wanted Grayson to meet the sardonic and wickedly sharp Carlton. If there was one thing she had learned over dinner, it was that her guardian might
look
like he was not paying attention, but the truth was that he missed very little. It was all proving to be most unfortunate and she was sorry she had brought up Grayson so soon. But after she’d watched her poor aunt put forward one argument after another as to why they should not go to London, telling him the real reason behind her reluctance seemed her only option.

She had certainly not played her hand well.

If only she was not quite so
aware
of him. Sitting across the table from the man, Eliza had found that she was preternaturally conscious of his every move. His tall, lean figure drew her attention repeatedly and, while she was determined to ignore him, he seemed to enjoy teasing her. Eliza had decided quite quickly that she did not like her guardian. He was arrogant, irreverent and could not be relied upon to behave well. So it was a pity that he was so very hard to dismiss for, she longed to do exactly that.

When Carlton rose to leave, Eliza had reluctantly promised to direct Grayson to Nile Street on the morrow. ‘But really,’ she’d said with some irritation, ‘it is absurd. I do not see that you need to meet Grayson at all. Aunt Flora likes him and so does Edward.’ Fortunately, her brother was not around to dispute this, having left to meet friends half an hour before. ‘And I can assure you he is perfectly suitable.’

‘Of course you can,’ Carlton agreed amiably, ‘as I’m sure I’ll discover tomorrow. Two o’clock. Try to ensure he’s prompt.’

This inflamed her wrath once again.

Later, lying in bed, she tried to dismiss all thought of Lord Carlton, focusing on her future with Grayson instead. So it was annoying, just as she was drifting off to sleep, that it was his lordship’s face that came so forcefully to mind and even more irksome that her dreams should be haunted by the tall, dark figure of a man who had no right to be there…

Chapter Three

‘Was it too terrible? Did he ask you many questions? Oh, Grayson, I’ve been in such a state!’

It was the first opportunity Eliza had had to talk to Grayson since his interview with Carlton that afternoon. Unfortunately, she and her aunt had committed to a picnic in Prior Park that Grayson was unable to attend and Aunt Flora had refused to let her niece shirk the affair. Now they were at Lady Bellingham’s cotillion and Grayson had finally managed to obtain Eliza’s hand for a dance, although she was far more focused on conversation than the intricate steps of the quadrille.

Grayson made a face. ‘I have no idea how it went. Lord Carlton gives little away.’

She looked up at him anxiously. He was looking particularly handsome tonight in navy brocade, which brought out the brilliance of his eyes. His golden hair gleamed in the candlelight, although his expression was far from happy. ‘But he approves of you?’

Grayson shrugged. He really did seem ruffled, not at all his calm, good humored self. ‘I have no idea. I must say, Eliza, I do not like that man.’

‘Nor do I. He is utterly disagreeable. But only tell me… did he give his permission for our marriage?’

‘Not exactly.’ His mouth drooped into a sulky line. ‘He said that we would discuss it again after your return from London in August.’

‘In August!’ Eliza stared up at him in dismay. ‘But that’s two
months
away! I had no idea we were to be gone so long.’

‘He said that it had been decided you and Edward should see the rest of the Season out in town,’ Grayson said in a tone that let her know just how unhappy he was with that decision.

‘It had been decided,’ Eliza frowned. ‘Not by me, it wasn’t!’

‘It’s wretched news, Eliza. It will put paid to us seeing each other every day for I cannot afford to take a house in town for two months, as well you know.’

Eliza did not, not exactly. She had no real idea of how Grayson’s financial situation stood but she sympathized anyway. Carlton had made his plans and they all must fall in with them. A fresh flare of resentment sprang up in her breast. The man was impossible!

‘I’m sorry, my love. I truly am.’

There was a small silence and then words exploded out of Grayson, indignation and wounded pride giving them heat. ‘Can’t
you
change his mind Eliza? You don’t want to go to London! It’s quite ridiculous that he’s forcing you into it.’

‘I’ve tried,’ Eliza said despairingly, ‘but he refuses to listen. And Aunt Flora says I must go. He
is
my guardian. I have no choice in the matter.’

She wondered, yet again, if elopement had crossed Grayson’s mind but he said nothing and the dance finished shortly after.

Twenty minutes later, having evaded several offers from eager gentlemen to procure refreshments on her behalf, Eliza stood looking forlornly at the buffet. She felt completely out of sorts and was contemplating if it was possible to excuse herself early. Grayson seemed to have disappeared and she was developing a slight headache, thanks to the heat of the room and the crush of people. She was looking for a glass of cold ratafia, but the press of bodies was daunting. When a light touch fell on her shoulder, she turned to look, dreading the need to make polite conversation when all she wanted was a little quiet and a place to think.

She was completely taken aback to see Lord Carlton standing there, eyeing her with quizzical amusement. He was very tall… she had not realized that before and she was forced to tilt her head back to look into his face. A small, unexpected thrill ran through her at the sight of him, disconcerting her. He was dressed in a dark brown jacket, biscuit colored breeches and a plain black waistcoat; he looked, it must be admitted, rather fine. ‘My dear Miss. Percival, you appear to be in a dream.’

Eliza struggled to find her tongue, annoyed that, once again, he seemed to have her at a disadvantage. ‘What are
you
doing here?’

An eyebrow went up, a quirk with which she was fast becoming familiar. It happened every time she uttered something he considered churlish. ‘I was invited. How delightful it is to see you, too.’

Carlton looked down at her with a smile. ‘Oh? Has Mr. Henry a complaint about my behavior this afternoon? I thought I acted with perfect civility.’

‘Yes, well, I’m sure you did.’ Certainly, Grayson had not mentioned that Carlton had been unpleasant. ‘But that’s not what I meant. You said we were to go to London for a few weeks but now, it seems, we are not to return until the season finishes in August!’

‘Actually,’ Carlton corrected her, ‘I said that a few weeks would knock the rough edges off you. I did not say how long you should remain there. But, surely, there’s no point in going up for so short a period. Clearly, with the amount of clothing your aunt considers necessary, she must be of the same opinion.’