Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed (23 page)

“No, and my parents would see me in rags before they acknowledged such as him as my husband. Could he be so foolish? He declared that he knew his love was hopeless—”

“His what?”

“Love. He claimed to be dying of love for me.”

“Well, that is twaddle! He is the most shallow, self-centered creature alive. He loves nothing but his own comfort. Do you know, he chooses which invitation to accept according to the quality of the food or the comfort of the beds.”

“But even a hedonist can love.”

“Oh let us forget him and the foolish note,” said Sophie abruptly. “But I will have a word with Mr. Carruthers when next I see him.”

 

The occasion presented itself that very evening at a reception, where Mr. Carruthers found himself the nervous target of Sophie’s interest.

“So many weeks of the Season gone by, Mr. Carruthers,” she said sweetly. “So many pairings, not to speak of the couplings.”

“Lady Sophie!” he exclaimed with a strangled laugh.

“And, alas, I have not found the man of my dreams, and you have not found your fortune.”

“Really, I—”

“Of course, you have foolishly wasted so much time at Marlborough Square. What can you have been about? You must know you are not up to my weight, and Jane has not a penny at her own disposal, besides being spoken for. Maria! Do not tell me you are smitten with my cousin?”

She turned laughing eyes on him as he absorbed her words, and could not help but say, “I believe Miss Sandiford to bring a handsome dowry.”

“Oh certainly,” she replied. “But it will not go willy-nilly, only to a target of Lady Sandiford’s choosing. If Jane were so foolish as to marry to disoblige her parents, she could die in poverty and they would not raise a finger.”

He had recovered his composure. “Then we must all rejoice that she will wed with their blessing,” he said and sauntered off.

Sophie’s spirits were lifted by this encounter, and she was amused to see that Mr. Carruthers spoke briefly with Lady Harroving, then left. A glare across the room from her cousin was quite pleasing as well, for it confirmed her suspicion that Lady Harroving had something to do with Crossley Carruthers’ strange pursuit of Jane.

Jane summoned a smile when Sophie related the incident and was truly relieved to think she did not have Mr. Carruthers’ broken heart on her conscience. Whether he was the author of the note or not, however, the fact remained that the contents probably contained a germ of truth. Thus, she found it impossible to be in high spirits. If only she had not seen Lord Wraybourne that day in Clarke Street, she could have laughed off the whole thing as Sophie was inclined to do. But in that knowledge, Jane could only console herself with the thought that he was impelled by duty and not by love of the lady in question.

Jane was further distressed to see Sophie move off to join a group which included Lord Randal and his sisters. Knowing how she herself felt, Jane could guess Sophie would not be able to stop such behavior even if she realized how harmful it might be in the end. Perhaps, Jane really ought to find the courage to speak to Lord Wraybourne or to Lord Randal. However, the mere thought of doing the latter gave her a
frisson
of horror, and the former seemed too disloyal.

The Harroving party moved on to Almack’s, and Jane entertained a faint hope that the Ashby party would go elsewhere. But, of course, they joined the cream of Society at the Marriage Mart. Jane wondered whether the pa tronesses had entertained doubts about giving vouchers to Lord Randal. He was hardly a pattern of propriety, but then there were a number of other gentlemen present, and not a few of the ladies, whose private lives would not bear close scrutiny. Birth could outweigh a great deal, after all.

Promenading with Mr. Brummell, Jane found herself discussing, in what she hoped were general terms, her predicament. She had always found the Beau a pleasant companion, and he was very shrewd as well as surprisingly discreet.

“I discover myself in a quandary, Mr. Brummell.”

“If it is a matter of how to hold your gloves or the color for your stationery, I am sure I will be able to assist you, Miss Sandiford.”

“Nothing so simple, I am afraid, Sir.”

“Simple! Miss Sandiford, I thought you to be one of my most promising pupils. Such details are complex and crucial.”

She smiled, aware that he was playing his part, not speaking seriously. “I am afraid, Mr. Brummell, that it is more a question of scruples and, perhaps, etiquette.”

“Ah, etiquette.” The Beau waved an elegant and perfectly manicured hand. “There, Miss Sandiford, I am an expert. Inquire away.”

Jane found it very difficult, now the moment had come, to put her problem into words without revealing too much. “My question is, would it be proper for me to approach a gentleman of my acquaintance in order to discuss matters personal to him and a friend—a lady friend?”

“Proper? Most definitely not. But, perhaps, desirable. I cannot tell.”

Jane met his smiling, heavy-lidded eyes. He was being quite sincere for once. At times, she had observed, he was the kindest of men. She understood why so many people were devoted to him despite his annoying ways.

“I do not think I can say more . . . ,” Jane admitted after a moment. “But, a year or two ago, if I had been acquainted with Lord Byron, would it have been desirable for me to have asked him to stay away from Lady Caroline, for the lady’s sake?”

He smiled delightedly. “What a wonderful hypothesis, Miss Sandiford. If you had been a fortune-teller, yes, I believe it would have been desirable, but I fear you would have been renamed Cassandra. They would both have laughed at caution. My dear lady, if you are attempting to manage matters of the heart, I say to you, desist. Not for reasons of propriety, but because you might as well stand on London Bridge and tell the Thames to stop flowing.”

Jane sighed. “Must we stand and watch our friends hurtle towards disaster then?”

As she said it, she thought the words could apply to the Beau himself. From all accounts, he was following a disastrous course of gambling and debt, and his friends were unable to turn him from it. Maybe it was the same thought that caused his famous smile to twist slightly.

“That, or turn away. But it is the fate of true friends to stand and watch, Miss Sandiford. A painful experience, though sometimes there are pieces to be rescued after the debacle.”

If this conversation gave Jane little consolation, she would have been even more distressed to realize that Sophie had drawn Lord Randal apart into a small salon off the refreshment room.

Lord Randal was not best pleased, either. “This is most improper, Sophie.”

“Randal. Don’t tell me
you
are going to start preaching at me too,” Sophie said with a laugh.

He extracted a delicate snuffbox and took a pinch. “
I
choose where and when I go beyond the bounds of propriety. If you wish to speak to me privately, can it not wait until tomorrow? I will call on you.”

“And Maria will insist on sitting with us. You are wasting time. Listen to me. Jane has received an anonymous note saying that David is off in Harrogate with a pregnant mistress.”

His hand was arrested midway to his nose. “The devil you say!”

“She is trying to make light of it, but I can see it has hurt her. Is it true?”

“Of course it ain’t. He was in Harrogate, but it was on business for your uncle.”

“Uncle Henry! What kind of business can he have that would involve David?”

“Never mind. But you can reassure Jane that he is now in Exeter, or quite likely on his way back. So, unless she cares to think that he has
enceinte
convenients all over England, she can put her fears to rest.”

“Could you tell her, Randal? She would believe you, I think.”

He shrugged. “Very well. Now let us leave this room before someone finds us here.”

“Would it be so terrible?” Sophie asked archly, leaning against the door to prevent their exit. “After all, we are behaving with total propriety.”

“But no one would believe that, minx, as you well know. Stop fooling, Sophie, and move. You’ve no more desire to create a scandal than I have.”

“Have I not? What could happen? They would all fuss and go red in the face. It could be amusing. Perhaps,” she said with a grin, “they’d say you had to marry me.”

“It’s more likely that David would run me through. What mad idea have you got into your head now?”

“Might it not be fun for us to marry, Randal? You wouldn’t be always preaching at me and improving me.”

His eyes had hardened. “A few minutes ago you complained of just that. If that was a proposal, Sophie, the answer is no,” he said flatly.

Sophie moved away from the door and reached up to touch his cheek, feather light. Then her fingers ran over his lips in a caress. He stood quite still, eyes locked with hers.

“Why no?” she asked softly.

But she had made a strategic mistake. He sidestepped her and opened the door, then glanced outside to make sure that all was clear.

“Because you’d have me gray before my time. Go and find Jane. I’ll wait here for a few moments and won’t be surprised if she doesn’t lend herself to this kind of improper behavior.”

“Being much more of a lady than I am, I suppose!” snapped Sophie. She took a breath and smiled, with her lips, at least. “Sometimes, my friend, I fear you are growing sober. It must be old age.”

With that she swirled out of the room. Slowly and thoughtfully, Lord Randal took a pinch of snuff, carefully dusting off his jacket afterwards. His thoughts were obviously far away. He was still standing there when Jane came hesitantly into the room. She had been reluctant to keep this tryst, not just for sake of propriety, but because it went against Lord Wraybourne’s advice to avoid being alone with any man. Though Lord Randal was surely safe.

“Very strange behavior for Almack’s, is it not?” he said with a reassuring smile as he closed the door. “But this will only take a moment.” He quickly recounted his conversation with Sophie and his reassurances.

“Thank you,” Jane said, feeling suddenly as if a cloud had moved to allow the sun to shine through. “David told me that he was going to Exeter, but I let that silly note throw me into a panic. So if he was meeting a woman in Harrogate, it would be for his uncle?”

“Yes. I cannot go into more detail, but I am certain he could have no personal interest in her.”

This made Mr. Moulton-Scrope seem a little peculiar, but that was no concern of Jane’s. She suddenly realized she could now speak to Lord Randal if she had the courage. Though it might achieve nothing, she knew she had to try.

“Did Sophie say anything else, Lord Randal?” she asked.

She knew, from the flicker of emotion in his eyes, that something had indeed occurred.

“Nothing of importance, Jane. We really should leave here.” He went to open the door again.

Gathering desperate courage, she said, “Sophie loves you!”

He stopped abruptly, and Jane noticed that, sudden as the arrest of motion had been, a sculptor could have taken the lines of his body and made of them a masterpiece.

“She is playing games,” he said simply.

“No. She loves you. I know this is an embarrassment to you, but I felt you should know. If you could see less of her, perhaps the feelings would pass and she would be able to fix her affections on someone who can return them.”

He turned to her, a half smile on his lips. “Dear Jane. Are you implying I am unable to feel the tenderer emotions?”

“Good heavens, no!” Jane was heartily wishing she had held her tongue. “But if you were going to fall in love with Sophie, you would have done so long ago. And Lord Wraybourne has told me you want to join a regiment.”

“What a very simple view you have of love, to be sure. But you are, of course, right in this case. If Sophie has taken a mad fancy in her head to imagine herself enam ored of me, then I should by all means avoid her to give her time for a return of sanity.”

With that he steered Jane out of the room and back into the glittering company.

J
ANE COULD NOW anticipate Lord Wraybourne’s return with pleasure and feel the noble satisfaction of having done her best to steer her friend from disaster. It was painful, of course, to watch Sophie’s sadness as Lord Randal discreetly avoided her. If they met, he was always in the company of his sisters. On many occasions, Lady Caroline or Lady Cecilia would explain that he was otherwise engaged.

“Poor Randal,” said Lady Caroline one day in Hook-ham’s. “He has really been very kind to give up so much time to the entertainment of mere sisters, but now we have many willing escorts.” This was said with a delicate coloring on the faces of both twins. “He feels able at last to engage in activities of his own choosing, horrid things such as prizefights and mechanical expositions.”

It was true that both sisters were well on the way to finding husbands. The world was expecting Viscount Daubry to make an offer for Caroline any day, and Lady Cecilia was seen to spend a great deal of time with Mr. Jeremy Hythe. To be sure, he was a commoner, but a wealthy man all the same, who was making a name for himself in the business of state and expected to go far.

This further felicity, and that of many other young ladies who were choosing and being chosen, did nothing to lighten Sophie’s spirits. In fact, she only achieved her usual animation when engaged in the planning of the masked ball. Jane encouraged Lady Harroving to busy Sophie with this as much as possible.

Meanwhile, Jane received a brief note from her betrothed, telling her to expect his return on the twenty-eighth of May. The missive was accompanied by another gift, this time a charming onyx box, bound with silver. She thought at first it might be a snuffbox, though she could not imagine what she would do with such; but when she opened it, she found the compartment lined with creamy silk upon which rested a faceted ruby in the shape of a heart.