Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed (21 page)

“My first, Miss Sandiford? Indeed no, not at all. I am quite a regular. And at the Lambs on Wednesday for a bit of literature and Peacocks now and then for scientific philosophy.”

Lord Wraybourne obviously found this itinerary fascinating. “And do you participate in the arts, Mr. Carruthers?”

“Participate? Me? Well a little, maybe. Here and there, don’t you know. But mostly I like to listen. Quite amazing to listen to, all of it. But must go through to supper now, don’t you know. Jolly good food here. Your servant.”

With an elegant, stiff-necked bow he was gone, and Jane had to stifle the desire to laugh. She had never thought him brilliant, but she had not realized before how silly he was. He performed well enough in his own
milieu
perhaps, but, once out of it, he lost his magic.

“I wonder why he
really
comes to these evenings?” she asked, half to herself.

“Just what I was wondering,” said Lord Wraybourne. “But he has one right idea. The food is excellent. Let us go and enjoy it.”

There was no further opportunity for private discussion as they took supper with a group and then listened to more music. Jane enjoyed herself thoroughly and felt pride at the universal popularity of her betrothed. She was not quite sure enough of him, however, not to be watching the other women present. None of them was the woman from Clarke Street, but quite a few greeted him as a friend.

The atmosphere was informal, so unlike that to which she was accustomed. One Italian singer actually kissed Lord Wraybourne on the cheek, and no one except Jane seemed even to notice! She did her best to suppress any jealousy, particularly when she saw him watching her. But she also noted one or two young ladies whose eyes, when he was turned away from them, reflected the same emotion as Sophie’s had towards Randal earlier—undeclared love. Did Jane’s eyes betray her as well?

As for Sophie, Jane began to wonder whether she had imagined the afternoon. Her friend chattered all the way home about the people she had met, particularly the young philosopher.

“He was able, David, to talk quite coherently. I thought he might be like Mr. Quickly at home—the parson, Jane—who is generally held to have a superior mind but rambles on about the dullest topics as if his listeners were stone statues with nothing to say to the matter at all. Mr. Wetherby and I discussed the possibility of there being mermaids, and whether an English child brought up in China would speak Chinese. I still think it would speak
some
English.”

Lord Wraybourne laughed at this but refused to be drawn into the debate, though Jane and Sophie discussed it all the way home, agreeing in the end that the child would probably speak Chinese, but with an English accent.

Lady Harroving was still out, and Lord Wraybourne sent Sophie to bed but ordered the footman to light the candles in the red saloon. Jane preceded her betrothed into this elegant room, with its rich Turkish carpet and red velvet curtains a pointed contrast to the saloon they had occupied the night before. A germ of excitement was building in her. He would kiss her again. Instead, he put the width of the room between them.

“I hope you enjoyed this evening, Jane. I look forward to the time when we will spend many such together.”

“It was delightful.”

“Good. But I must ask your indulgence. As you know, I have to go out of Town again tomorrow.”

Jane stiffened, and she saw from his face that he had noticed. She was not sorry if he felt uncomfortable. His neglect of her was scandalous.

“I do regret it, Jane. It is a commitment I cannot avoid. I have to see someone in Exeter for my uncle, Mr. Moulton-Scrope. I wanted to remind you to be careful while I am away. You and Sophie both.”

It was not a very satisfactory explanation. Earls did not usually act as messengers, even for their uncles. Jane turned away from him to study an elegant piece of Dresden china.

“I see,” she said coolly. “Can you tell me exactly how long you will be away? I have so little time left in London.”

“Then it is all the sooner to our wedding day,” he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. “You cannot expect me to be sad at that, Jane.”

She heard his footsteps approaching slowly, then his voice close behind her.

“What is it that bothers you, Jane? Is it the silly talk? I think we have put a stop to that. Or are you already bored by Society?”

He turned her slowly to him. Jane was finding it difficult to keep control of her wits.

“It is more fun when you are here.” That wasn’t what she had intended to say!

“I will treasure that on my weary journey, Jane. Just think what fun we are going to have for the rest of our lives.”

He pulled her to him as if impelled, but though he held her tightly, he did not kiss her. He buried his face in her neck, and she could feel his soft, moist breath there. She turned her head slightly to kiss his hair but, otherwise, they remained so. The longer they stood together, the more impossible it seemed to Jane that they should part, but eventually he pulled away and looked at her with passion-filled eyes.

“It really is as well that I am out of Town so much, Jane,” he said gently.

“Are you not going to kiss me?” The question would not be held back, even though she suspected it was better left unasked.

He laughed and rested his hands on her shoulders. “If this is my Jane, all in innocence, what will become of me in the future? Stand still, wanton, and I will give you a kiss.”

She stood
quite
still as he leaned and touched his lips to hers. But when she began to press forward and open to him, he moved away.

“Tush, tush.” There was such smiling affection in his face that she smiled back. He dropped six light kisses on her mouth. “One for each day I will be gone, Tiger Eyes.”

Feeling greatly daring, she kissed her fingers and laid them on his lips. “And one to take with you so you will not be tempted by any other wantons you meet on your way.”

Sensing how difficult it was for him to go, she broke away and, with only a smile, left him there and floated up the stairs. As she passed Sophie’s door, Jane thought sadly of her friend, feeling much as she did at this moment, yet able to hope for nothing. Whereas Jane anticipated undiluted happiness forever.

 

Lady Harroving had experienced as satisfactory an evening as her charges in her own way. She had spent her time in a discreet establishment, playing Faro and winning. She also encountered a gentleman who had seen Lord Wraybourne in Yorkshire.

“Saw him about Harrogate a few times, always with the same woman. Had to look twice. After all, wouldn’t expect it. Not in Harrogate in June. Full of damned provincials. I was only there myself to visit an uncle. Got expectations.”

“Doubtless his great-aunt,” said Lady Harroving, more interested in the turn of the cards than in his chatter.

“Doubt it,” he chortled. “Pretty filly, if a bit quiet. Looked upset or sickly. Wouldn’t surprise me if she was a
chère amie,
but I’m surprised Wraybourne would get involved with her sort. Always better to stick to the knowing ones, my father says, and he’s right. Paying her off before the wedding, I suppose. Enough to make any young filly look blue-devilled. Dash it all, you’ve all the luck tonight, Lady Harroving.”

Lady Harroving agreed as she scooped up yet more guineas. “Do I gather you spoke to my indiscreet cousin, Mr. Peel-Saunders?”

“Good God, no. Obvious he wouldn’t want a third at those discussions.”

“He was fortunate that he was only seen by someone of your tact,” she said with a warm smile. It was an excellent opportunity to pursue her course of destruction. “I understand he did have a mistress of that sort. He is forever in the company of lesser folk, artisans and professionals. I quite feared at one point that he would marry such a one, but he has more sense than that, thank heavens. And I am sure he was extremely generous to his disappointed friend. Lord Wraybourne can always be depended on to do as he ought.”

She moved away, aware that Peel-Saunders would soon have the story all over Town, and reflected that it could be mostly true. David had no young relatives in Yorkshire. Whatever his business there, it was unlikely to be innocent. She wished she could tell the story straight to Jane, but the girl had become distrustful of late. And she would be the last one to hear the gossip. Lady Harroving felt the fates were with her when Mr. Carruthers walked into the room later in the evening.

“Crossley, I wish to talk with you.”

“Talk to me? Dammit, Maria. I’ve come to play,” said the gentleman. He was flushed with drink.

“The night is young. You can play later. I have better sport for you.”

She dragged him off to a quiet corner. “I am disappointed in you, Crossley. The wedding is only weeks away, and you have made little impression on Miss Sandiford.”

“It’s my opinion you were out in your facts, Maria,” he protested. “The whole Town is talking of their goings-on at the Faverstowes’. If they weren’t in love before, they are now.”

“The town knows nothing,” she said in a hard voice. “They came back to Marlborough Square afterwards and quarreled dreadfully. It is all a sham.” Seeing that he was willing to believe her lies, she continued. “They would both be well pleased to be free of their entanglement. Jane merely needs a reason to break the engagement, and you could give it to her. David has a mistress, at present residing in Harrogate. He was seen with her recently.”

He considered the matter with a pout. “She wouldn’t be such a fool as to break the match over that. She can’t be so naive.”

“Consider, Crossley,” Lady Harroving said with patience. “Not only does he have the mistress, but he has abandoned Jane in Town to be with that mistress
since
the betrothal!”

Light dawned. “Yes indeed. That is different. But will she believe it?”

“If you put it well, yes. You can tell her that Matthew Peel-Saunders saw them together. It’s the truth.”

He thought for a moment. “Might be worth a try. But what’s the odds she’ll just cry off and run home to mother.”

“It is obvious you have not met Lady Sandiford. The last thing Jane wants to do is to return home. It is the only reason she is still betrothed to my cousin, and that is why she will elope with you.”

He nodded, eyes bright and greedy. “I’ll do it, and I’ll soon make sure she has to marry me. You’re sure she has money coming that can’t be touched? It may take a while to win her parents around.”

Maria Harroving lowered her lashes to hide the humor there and lied again. “Of course I’m sure. There is a substantial sum from an uncle. And when there is a grandchild, I’m sure they will part with the unentailed property, which is a large part of the whole.”

You poor fool, she thought as she watched him walk away. I wish I might be present when you try to soften the heart of that walking icicle, Amelia Sandiford.

Lady Harroving licked her lips with satisfaction. She had primed a weapon and pointed it at target. That weapon might not achieve its full potential, but she had great hopes of it wreaking considerable damage on its way.

T
HE ATMOSPHERE IN the Harroving household became very strained. Lady Harroving had resumed a degree of good humor, but there was a brittle quality to it. Jane sometimes caught the older lady watching her with malicious anticipation. Whether he was also disturbed by this unpleasantness in his wife, or for other reasons, Lord Harroving was particularly surly. Sophie had recovered superficially, but Jane detected a melancholy in her friend which gave her natural high spirits an hysterical edge.

Jane herself alternated between worry about Sophie and dreamy anticipation of Lord Wraybourne’s return. At times the dreaminess was supplanted by an overwhelming burst of energy, and she dragged Sophie out for rides and long walks. One such morning, Jane was frustrated to discover that Sophie did not wish to ride in the park.

“Sophie, it is a beautiful day,” she protested. “You know how much you enjoy these rides before the world is about.”

Sophie was in one of her disconsolate moods, however. Lord Randal had attended the Matlock rout the night before at his glittering best. Jane had known at the time that Sophie would suffer today for the pleasure of the evening, so was saddened rather than surprised when her friend buried herself deeper in the bedclothes and ordered Jane away.

She decided to ride anyway. It would not be improper, merely a little unusual, to do so with only a groom in attendance, and the groom would protect her from the whisperer. She was surprised at how free she felt and realized that she had never been outside the door of the Harrovings’ house without Lady Harroving or Sophie as companion and maids and footmen in attendance.

Riding along the almost deserted paths with the groom a discreet distance behind, Jane could imagine herself alone for the first time in her life. Tigress—that was the name she had given her beautiful mount—sensed her mistress’s high spirits and shook her head, asking for the chance to gallop.

“Very well, you darling creature,” said Jane with a laugh. “But only a canter. I am resolved to be good. Stay here, Stinson,” she called to the groom. “I will go just to the end of the ride.”

When she’d done so, Jane wheeled the mare to return to the groom. She was aglow with exhilaration and reflected on how she had changed in these last weeks. She had learned to cope with the whims of Society. She had made friends and handled some difficult situations. She remembered herself as the nervous girl who had arrived at The Middlehouse and knew that was a different person. For the first time, Jane wondered if her mother had been mistaken in Lord Wraybourne’s intentions, if he had been attracted to her from the start. With her new self-confidence it did not seem so absurd a notion. She was certain by now that he had no need of her money, and plenty of other well-raised young ladies were eager for his attentions.