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An Escapade and an Engagement
ANNIE BURROWS


A SEASON OF SCANDAL Richard, Lord Ledbury, has had his fair share of adventure on warring battlefields, but even this seasoned soldier isn’t prepared for the outrageous escapades going on in London’s ballrooms! Lady Jayne Chilcott is under orders to find a husband, and Lord Ledbury has caught her eye.But nothing is simple when courting under the glittering spotlight of the ton. Richard has always risen to any challenge, but Lady Jayne might just be the first to get the better of him… Let the games begin!










‘Lady Jayne, I have given my word I will not say anything about tonight. And I would never go back on my word. But you must see that I cannot just let the matter rest. You have said yourself you are not behaving as you ought.’

She looked mutinous as she said, ‘And just what do you mean to do about it?’

He only wished he knew. For now, the best thing would be to make a strategic withdrawal so that he could regroup.

‘I shall call upon you this afternoon, to take you for a drive in Hyde Park. That is when I shall tell you what action I plan to take.’ Once he’d decided what it would be.

‘I shall be ready,’ she said, lifting her chin in a fashion that told him she was preparing to fight him every inch of the way. ‘This is it,’ she said, waving her hand at the frontage of an imposing mansion.

Having shown him where she lived, she ducked down a passage that led to the mews at the back. Then she turned round and stood quite still, staring up at him for a minute, with her head on one side as though trying to work him out.

‘You have surprised me,’ she said at last. ‘I would never have imagined you could be so … decent.’


AUTHOR NOTE

The Earl of Caxton has two granddaughters.

You may have read about Miss Aimée Peters in CAPTAIN CORCORAN’S HOYDEN BRIDE. Having grown up in exile, Aimée was desperate to find security and put down roots. To that end, she travelled to Yorkshire to become a governess—only to find that her employer was not what she’d expected …

In AN ESCAPADE AND AN ENGAGEMENT you will meet her cousin, Lady Jayne Chilcott. People think she is her grandfather’s pampered darling. But she feels suffocated by the propriety of her lifestyle and longs for the kind of adventure she is sure Aimée must have had. The product of a bitterly unhappy arranged marriage, Lady Jayne vows she will only marry for love. But where is she ever going to find a man who will inspire anything more than mild contempt when her grandfather guards her so zealously she never meets anyone new, let alone exciting?

That is until she clashes with the grim-faced Lord Ledbury, an ex-soldier who has come to London to find a suitable woman to become his bride. Lady Jayne has the right pedigree. But does he really want to get tangled up with a girl who is never happier than when up to her neck in mischief?




About the Author


ANNIE BURROWS has been making up stories for her own amusement since she first went to school. As soon as she got the hang of using a pencil she began to write them down. Her love of books meant she had to do a degree in English literature. And her love of writing meant she could never take on a job where she didn’t have time to jot down notes when inspiration for a new plot struck her. She still wants the heroines of her stories to wear beautiful floaty dresses and triumph over all that life can throw at them. But when she got married she discovered that finding a hero is an essential ingredient to arriving at ‘happy ever after’.

Previous novels by Annie Burrows:

HIS CINDERELLA BRIDE

MY LADY INNOCENT

THE EARL’S UNTOUCHED BRIDE

CAPTAIN FAWLEY’S INNOCENT BRIDE

THE RAKE’S SECRET SON

(part of Regency Candlelit Christmas anthology) DEVILISH LORD, MYSTERIOUS MISS A COUNTESS BY CHRISTMAS CAPTAIN CORCORAN’S HOYDEN BRIDE

Also available in eBook format inMills & Boon


HistoricalUndone:

NOTORIOUS LORD, COMPROMISED MISS

Do you know that these books are available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk


An Escapade and

an Engagement



Annie Burrows






























www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To Carol Townend,

author of the ‘Wessex Weddings’—

whose hospitality is legendary, and whose

insightful and experienced advice has been of

enormous help to me in the completion of this book.




Chapter One


Lord Ledbury glared up at the ruched silk canopy of the bed he’d inherited from his brother, wide awake now, when not an hour since he’d felt so drained he was sure he could have slept for a week.

He hated this bed. He hated its soft feather mattress and the mounds of bedding that felt as though they were suffocating him. He hated the valet whom … no, that was going too far. He could not hate Jenkins for doing a job to the best of his limited ability. It was just that he was not Fred.

He could have talked to Fred as he’d undressed and prepared to go to bed. Probably managed to laugh off the more ludicrous aspects of the evening’s sortie behind what felt like enemy lines—as they’d done time without number during the preceding six years of active service. No matter what deprivations they’d had to endure because of the damn fool orders some pompous ass higher up the chain of command had issued.

But he’d been obliged to leave Fred behind when he’d taken up residence in Lavenham House. And though he’d never experienced such luxury, never had so many servants in his life since coming to live here, he’d never felt so alone or so ill at ease. A spy must feel like this, he reflected bitterly, kicking off his covers and turning onto his side to glare at the fire glowing smugly in its ornate marble fireplace. Without benefit of his uniform to vouch for his identity. Cut off from his regiment, his comrades. Entrusted with orders that he alone could carry out.

Dammit, he was more likely to get some sleep outside on a park bench wrapped up in his old army greatcoat than he was in here, suffocated by all the trappings deemed necessary to coddle a lord. When he thought of all the times he’d slept out of doors, with conditions so harsh he would wake in the morning with his blanket frozen to the ground …

He sat bolt upright. At the end of this street there was a small park, with benches dotted about in it. And in spite of Jenkins’ ill-concealed disgust, his army greatcoat still hung in the armoire….

He just had to get out of Mortimer’s house for a while, and away from Mortimer’s servants, even if there was no escaping the obligations Mortimer’s sudden and unexpected death had foisted upon him.

Muttering imprecations under his breath, he got out of bed and pulled on a random selection of clothing by guesswork in the flickering shadows cast by the fire, making sure only of his army greatcoat. He sighed as he shrugged himself into it, feeling as though he was being taken into the arms of a friend. As though there was a part of him that was still Major Cathcart, even though everyone was suddenly calling him Lord Ledbury now.

He rubbed his hand briskly over the crown of his head to tidy his bed-rumpled light brown hair in the way that had become second nature to him on campaign as he left the bedroom, wishing it was as easy to smooth down his ragged temper.

His mouth flattened into a grim line as he limped down the stairs. He had not quite recovered from the interview with the Earl of Lavenham, that was half the trouble. He’d been braced to hear something unpleasant. Nothing less than a dire emergency would have induced his grandfather to summon him to Courtlands. And what he’d learned about his younger brother during that interview had certainly been a shock. But what still left him with a nasty taste in his mouth had been the confirmation that if only Charlie had been the sort who could have concealed his preference for men he might have returned to his regiment, been killed or maimed, and nobody would have given a damn.

The night porter leaped to his feet as he saw his master approach. He opened his mouth, as though about to say something, but one look was all it took to have the man hand him his cane, open the door for him and scuttle back to his chair without uttering whatever objection he had been about to raise.

Lord Ledbury heaved a sigh of relief as he stepped outside. He’d done all his grandfather had asked of him. Made all the sacrifices demanded. He’d resigned his commission, moved out of his lodgings and into Lavenham House. Bought the clothes, and begun to play the part, but …

He breathed in deeply as he made for the square. The night air was redolent of … soot, actually. And damp. With a hint of something indefinably green about it that could not be mistaken for anything other than the smell of springtime in England. It took him less time than he would have thought before he was pushing open the gate, considering the state of his leg. For which small mercy he was truly thankful. He might be able to find a measure of peace if he could only stretch out on one of the benches and look up at the night sky through a tracery of leaves.

Thanks to Mortimer’s ignominious demise, he’d become a lord. And, as the last hope of the Cathcarts, he was going to have to find a bride. A bride worthy of becoming the next Countess of Lavenham. To that end, tonight he’d attended his first ball since he’d become Lord Ledbury.

He gave an involuntary shudder as his mind flashed back to the glittering ballroom, the eager faces of the matchmaking mamas who’d clustered round him, the horrible feeling of being under siege …

And, goddammit—but wouldn’t you know it with the way his evening had been going—when he finally reached the bench on which he’d set his heart he found it already occupied.

By a strapping redcoat and a somewhat-reluctant female, to judge by the way she was beating at his broad shoulders with her clenched fists while he carried on kissing her.

He acted without thinking.

‘Take your hands off her!’ His voice, honed through years of bellowing orders across parade grounds, made them both jump.

The soldier turned to scowl at Lord Ledbury over his shoulder.

‘This is none of your business,’ he snarled.

‘I am making it my business,’ he retorted. ‘This sort of behaviour is completely unacc—’

He broke off, stunned to silence when he caught sight of the female who was still struggling to disentangle herself from the redcoat’s determined grasp. It was Lady Jayne Chilcott. He’d seen her earlier, at the ball he’d attended, and immediately asked his host who she was. For she was, without a doubt, the prettiest creature he’d ever clapped eyes on.

Berry, the former schoolfriend whose sister’s come-out ball it was, had pulled a face.

‘That,’ he’d said scathingly, ‘is Lady Jayne Chilcott—otherwise known as Chilblain Jayne. Lucy is in raptures to have her attend tonight, since she normally only goes to the most select gatherings. Her grandfather is the Earl of Caxton. Pretty high in the instep himself—and you will only have to observe her behaviour for half an hour to see why she’s earned the soubriquet.’

He’d promptly changed his mind about asking for an introduction, taken a seat and Berry’s advice. He’d watched her. It had not taken quite half an hour to agree that she did look as though she was regretting coming to a place that was frequented by people so far beneath her in station.

At least that was what he had assumed then. But now, as he studied the insignia that proclaimed the lowly rank of the soldier who’d been kissing her so passionately, he revised his opinion. He had thought, from her refusal to dance with any of the men who’d been falling over themselves to break through her icy reserve, that she was as cold and proud as Berry had warned him she was.

But she did not look proud now. She looked like a rather young girl torn between fright and embarrassment at the compromising nature of the situation he’d just interrupted.

It was in stark contrast to the anger blazing from her would-be seducer’s eyes.

‘I repeat,’ said Lord Ledbury firmly, ‘take your hands off Lady Jayne this instant.’

It was more than just his innate sense of chivalry that made him so determined to rescue Lady Jayne. In spite of what Berry had said, and the derisive way he’d said it, he hadn’t been able to prevent that initial interest steadily growing into a sense of something resembling comradeship as the awful evening had dragged on.

As she had doggedly rebuffed all overtures with chilling finality, he’d found some comfort in knowing he wasn’t the only person there battling under siege conditions. After a while he’d even begun to derive a perverse sort of amusement from the way her courtiers grovelled at her feet on one side of the dance floor, while he sat in state on the other, repelling all invaders with equal determination. Though at least the men who flocked around her had some excuse. He knew the matchmaking mamas who clamoured round him were interested only in his newly acquired wealth and title.

‘The state of your face won’t matter,’ his grandfather had predicted, running his eyes over the furrow on his forehad that a stray bullet had ploughed across when he’d been only a lieutenant. ‘Not now that you are such a catch. Wealthy in your own right and heir to an earldom. All you will have to do is turn up and sit on the sidelines and they will come to you. You mark my words.’

The mere thought of having to fend off flocks of avaricious harpies had made entering that ballroom one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Particularly with his grandfather’s words still ringing in his ears. Knowing that none of them would have given him a second glance before Mortimer had died and catapulted him into the peerage tied him up into knots inside. Yes, he’d gone there to start looking for a wife. But did they have to make it so obvious they all wanted his rank, his position?

And not him?

But Lady Jayne would have attracted as many suitors were she a penniless nobody as she was so stunningly beautiful. He could not remember ever having seen a more perfect face. She had a flawless complexion, a little rosebud of a mouth and a profusion of golden ringlets that tumbled round her gently rounded shoulders. He had not been able to discern what colour her eyes were, but in a perfect world they would be cornflower-blue.

She’d shot him one cool, assessing look when he’d first come in and sat down. Later, when they’d both been surrounded by a crowd of toadeaters, their eyes had actually met, and for one instant he’d felt sure she was telling him she hated the attention, the flattery, the insincerity of it all, just as much as he did.

Not long after that, she’d risen to her feet and stalked from the room.

Once she’d gone, and he’d been the only prize catch left in the ballroom, he’d felt as though he had a target painted in the middle of his chest. Whilst she, too, had been repulsing unwelcome advances, he’d felt—no matter how erroneously—as if he had at least one ally in the place.

Once she’d gone, all the reasons why he didn’t want to be there had become so overwhelming he had no longer been able to bear it. The heat of that stuffy room had made his head feel muzzy. The tension that hadn’t left him since he’d taken the decision to do his duty by his family had become too great for a body so weakened by prolonged illness. He’d ached all over. He’d scarce known how to keep a civil tongue in his head. He’d had to leave, to get out of there and head home.

Only it hadn’t been his home he had gone back to. It was still Mortimer’s house. Another jarring reminder that he wasn’t living his own life any more.

It would do him good, he suddenly realized, to knock somebody down. He had been spoiling for a fight ever since he’d walked away from his grandfather, bristling with the determination to prove once and for all that he was a better man than Mortimer and Charlie put together.

‘Get up,’ he snarled, advancing on the redcoat, who still had his arms round Lady Jayne. Mortimer and Charlie were both beyond his reach, one being dead and the other in Paris. And a man could not come to blows with his own grandfather, no matter what the provocation.

But this redcoat was just about his own height. And though he was younger, and probably fitter, the lad had not been tempered into fighting steel in the heat of battle.

The man got to his feet. Slowly.

‘You are a disgrace to your uniform,’ he said, angered still further by his slovenly posture when anyone under his command would have known to snap to full attention when he’d used that particular tone of voice. ‘I would derive great personal satisfaction in seeing you brought up on a charge for this night’s work. No officer should force his attentions upon an unwilling female. If you were under my command you would be lucky to escape with a flogging.’

But before he had a chance to add that he would give the man a chance to settle the matter between them with their fists, Lady Jayne leaped to her feet and interposed her own body between him and the soldier, crying out, ‘Oh, no! You could not be so cruel!’

‘Cruel?’ He was stunned by her reaction. ‘You think it is cruel to rescue you from a situation that is plainly causing you distress?’

He steadfastly ignored the little voice that reminded him that he had been spoiling for a fight for ages. That this redcoat was just in the way when he happened to be in need of someone upon whom to vent his frustration. That if he had come across a young officer in the throes of a passionate clinch with a female as pretty as this one in Portugal he would have winked at the man, wished him luck and been on his way.

Ah, but this was no sloe-eyed señorita, nor the willing wife of a local grandee, he argued back. This was a young English lady, and she had not appeared willing. On the contrary, she’d been struggling with the lout. She’d looked frightened.

‘I admit, I was a little taken aback by Harry’s ardour,’ said Lady Jayne. ‘For he has never really kissed me like that before. But mostly I was afraid somebody might come by and discover us.’

‘Do you really expect me to believe you were only trying to fight him off because you feared discovery?’

Though now he came to think of it she must have come here of her own free will, even if she had taken fright at the last minute.

‘Yes!’ she cried, lifting her chin to glare at him defiantly. ‘Not that I expect a man like you to understand,’ she said with contempt. ‘But since my grandfather has forbidden Harry to approach me we can only meet in secret.’

He had not thought he could get any angrier. But her words were so inflammatory. What did she mean, a man like you? Why could she not just express her gratitude that he was here to rescue her? And, most of all, why wouldn’t she get out of the way so he could just lay into this sneaking, slovenly excuse for a soldier?

‘Did it never occur to you that your grandfather might have your best interests at heart? That it would be better to stay away from him?’

Lady Jayne was a great heiress. Her grandfather, so Berry had informed him, had no direct male heir, and it was common knowledge that he intended to bequeath to her the bulk of his fortune. Some penniless nobody was obviously not a suitable partner for a girl who would inherit so much. All this Harry had to recommend him, by the looks of it, was a handsome face, a pair of broad shoulders—and a ruthless streak.

‘So you mean to betray us?’ she said frostily.

Harry moved to stand beside her. He took her hand in his and raised it to his chest, where he pressed it to his heart.

‘This is not the end. I shall not let it be. I swore that I would not let anything part us and I meant it. I still mean it.’

‘Oh, Harry,’ she said, turning to him with a woebegone face. ‘I shall never forgive myself if he has you flogged.’ She shot a glance of loathing in Lord Ledbury’s direction. ‘I knew I should never have agreed to this meeting.’

And as they stood there, gazing soulfully into each other’s eyes, Lord Ledbury felt his irrational spurt of anger drain away.

If she was in love with this man, no matter what his own opinion of him was, no wonder she had behaved the way she had done in that ballroom earlier. Lord, he knew just how she must have felt. Had not his own grandfather ripped him from all that he knew, all that he loved, and set his feet on another path—one that he would never willingly have trod?

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake!’ he snapped, annoyed that he was now obliged to continue in the role of upholder of propriety or he was going to look a complete fool. Even though half of him wished he could walk away and leave them to it. ‘Stop acting like some heroine out of a bad melodrama and call your maid over. It is time you went home.’

She made no such move—only hung her head, looking shamefaced.

‘Oh, Lord. Never say you came out without her?’

She could not even raise her eyes to meet his when she nodded.

This was getting worse and worse. He could not in all conscience leave her alone with a man who had no scruples about enticing a trusting young woman to meet him in secret, at dawn, without even the benefit of a maid to keep things within spitting distance of propriety.

‘I suppose I shall be obliged to escort you home, then,’ he snapped. ‘And we’ll have to hope nobody catches the pair of us—else we shall be the ones embroiled in scandal.’ Which would completely ruin his plans.

He’d decided that since marrying was his inescapable destiny he would jolly well find a wife who would be such a superlative countess that generations to come would speak of her in awe. He wasn’t necessarily going to find her in Almack’s. He’d made a point of launching his campaign in the house of a man of little wealth, but sterling character, to demonstrate that attaching a woman of high rank was not his primary objective. He wanted the woman he married to have a certain … something that everyone would recognise.

Even him, when he came across it.

There was no way he was going to live down to his family’s low expectations by tumbling into a match with a girl he scarcely knew in a way that reeked of suppressed scandal.

‘Well, what are you waiting for, man?’ He turned the full force of his frustration on the hapless young soldier. ‘Get back to your barracks before I think better of covering for the pair of you. And pray that your absence has not been discovered.’

They both turned to him, faces alight with hope.

‘You mean you have changed your mind?’

‘I can still change it back if you don’t remove yourself from the vicinity, double-quick,’ he growled at the soldier. ‘But first your name and rank.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. ‘Lieutenant Kendell, sir.’ Then, pausing only to press one last kiss upon Lady Jayne’s hand, Harry made a run for it.




Chapter Two


Lady Jayne gazed up at him, a perplexed frown creasing her brow.

‘Why did you let him go?’

He looked steadily back at her, wondering why she wasn’t asking a more pertinent question. Such as, how could Harry have just abandoned her without so much as asking his name? He could have been one of the most notorious seducers of womankind for all he knew.

‘I can always report him later, if you like,’ he replied scathingly. It was what he ought to do. He eyed the object of Lady Jayne’s affection with disdain as he scuttled away into the shadows. It was hard to believe a man could behave so dishonourably towards a woman with whom he was genuinely in love.

‘No, no! Please don’t!’ She seized his arm. ‘It is all my fault. I know it was very wrong of us to meet in secret, but he loves me so very much …’ Her little fingers kneaded at his sleeve as she plunged on. ‘And I know I should not have come here without bringing my maid. But you see the doors are all locked tight at night, and I could hardly expect Josie to climb out of a window, could I?’

‘You climbed out of a window?’ A sudden foreboding gripped him. ‘How do you plan to get back in?’ If he was going to have to knock upon her front door to return her to her guardians at this hour in the morning, the fat would be in the fire and no mistake.

‘Oh, the same way, of course. But never mind that. It is Josie that I am worried about. She did try to talk me out of coming. I promise you she did. But she is only a servant, after all. She has to do what I tell her.’

‘And you took ruthless advantage of the fact?’

‘I … I suppose I did, yes.’ She caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘And now, if you tell anyone I was out here without her, when she is under such strict orders never to let me out of her sight, they will turn her off without a character. Which would be grossly unfair. Oh, no …’ Her eyes shimmered. ‘I could not bear it if she was to lose her job and Harry was to be cashiered out of the regiment just because I have not behaved as I ought.’

To his astonishment, one single, enormous tear rolled down her cheek. And it struck him that everything about her behaviour at the ball earlier had been an act. And that Berry would never have said what he had about her if he’d seen this side of her. She might have appeared cold and haughty on the outside but inside she must have been counting the minutes until she could escape. It put him in mind of the way he’d been at that age, at stuffy dinners put on by the regiment to persuade local dignitaries they had nothing to fear from having them quartered nearby. All the junior officers had been under strict orders to be on their best behaviour. And later they’d made up for it by running out into the backstreets and behaving completely disgracefully as an antidote to all those hours of hypocritical posturing.

Lady Jayne might have come out here without a thought for anyone but herself, but now that he’d made her see that her misdemeanour could wreak havoc on the lives of others she was genuinely contrite. Just as sorry as he’d been the day after that banquet when the locals hadn’t seen the funny side of finding that ugly statue in the middle of the river, bedecked in pondweed, but had regarded the desecration of their patron saint as an act of sacrilege.

‘Never mind all that for the moment,’ he said brusquely, to mask the fact that he was sorely tempted to promise her he would never breathe a word to anyone. And that wasn’t just because of her contrition. Even if she hadn’t cared a rap for the repercussions, he didn’t have any right to castigate anyone for climbing out of a window to escape the crushing sense of family expectation. Not when he had done more or less the same thing himself. The only difference between them was that he’d had the liberty to walk out of his own front door when he’d felt the walls of his own personal prison closing in on him.

‘What we have to do now is get you home without your escapade becoming common knowledge. Where do you live?’

‘Oh, then you mean to help us?’

Her whole face lit up. She gave him such a dazzling smile that, in spite of that tear on her cheek, or perhaps because of it, he suddenly saw why her Harry had been unable to resist her. Any man with red blood flowing through his veins would risk the wrath of his commanding officer for a chance to hold such a divine creature in his arms. And for a kiss … What would he not risk for one kiss? The mere thought of bending to sip at that little rosebud of a mouth sent blood flowing hotly through his veins.

He inhaled slowly, savouring the feeling of being a healthy male responding to the possibilities inherent in being alone in a dark, secluded place with a pretty female in an entirely natural way.

To say that it was a relief was putting it mildly. He had assured his grandfather that medically there was nothing to prevent him from siring the next generation of Cathcarts. But the truth was he had not felt any interest in sex since he’d had his leg smashed at Orthez. All his energy had been spent on surviving—first the field hospital and then the foul transport back to England. And then one fever after another. And even though he’d been mobile enough to think about returning to active service some weeks ago, until his grandfather’s shocking revelation had put a stop to it, he’d had no inclination to resume any kind of sex life. No matter how temptingly the offers he’d received had been presented.

He couldn’t resist reaching out and gently, with one thumb, wiping away the tear that had reached the point of her chin. And as he felt the warmth of her skin against his own his body reacted as if he’d received a jolt of electricity.

Her own breath hitched, as though the current of lust that had seared through him had arced across to her, too.

It had been so long since he’d held a woman in his arms, so long since he’d wanted to, that for a moment he was tempted to tell her that if he might only kiss her …

He cleared his throat and forced his eyes away from her mouth. What he ought to do was act the gentleman and take her straight home.

At once.

But the temptation to prolong this unexpectedly erotic encounter was too great to resist. He found himself saying the first thing—well, the first polite thing—that came into his head.

‘Perhaps if you could explain exactly how such a great heiress comes to be tangled up with a man of his station …’

‘You sound just like my grandfather!’

Her scorn doused his ardour as effectively as a bucket of cold water. Did he really look so much older than her that she bracketed him with her grandfather? No wonder she’d flinched when he touched her. It was just as well he had not voiced his crazy idea that she could purchase his silence on the whole matter with a kiss. She probably already thought he was a brute for merely breaking up her tête-à-tête.

‘That is all he can think about,’ she grumbled, impervious to the errant thoughts skirmishing through his brain. ‘Rank and fortune. He never lets me meet anyone interesting or new! He was furious when he found out I had formed an attachment to Harry. As soon as he got wind of our friendship and learned that he has no title, no prospects at all, he forbade me to so much as speak to him. And banished me to London.’

‘That sounds like an eminently sensible measure,’ he said, loath though he was to take the side of anyone’s grandfather in the suppression of youthful desires. ‘You are far too trusting for your own good. A girl with more sense would know it really is not safe to meet men in the park, on her own, at daybreak.’

Particularly not when that lush mouth of hers could have such a startling effect on a man’s libido.

‘It certainly is not!’ She looked furious. ‘Because who knows what kind of person one might come across … prowling around the place, spying on people …?’

‘I was not spying!’

‘Then what were you doing? Something underhanded, I have no doubt.’

‘Not a bit of it. I simply could not sleep, that’s all.’ At her look of scorn, he added, ‘My leg hurt like the very devil, and the damn London servants will insist on banking up the fire and keeping all the windows shut. I had to get outside and get some fresh air. Though why the d … deuce I’m telling you all this I cannot think.’

She’d slipped under his guard, somehow. Taken him by surprise with her line of questioning.

Nettled, he snapped, ‘That is all beside the point. I have no need to justify my actions …’

‘No. You are a man,’ she said bitterly. ‘Men can do whatever they want, no matter who they hurt in the process, and nobody ever calls them to account.’

‘You could not be more wrong. A man with any pride at all puts duty before his natural inclination. Duty to the Crown. Duty to his family …’ He pulled himself up.

She’d done it again. Got him speaking his mind instead of saying what was appropriate to the occasion. Though God only knew what was appropriate to say on an occasion such as this. He would swear no etiquette book contained a chapter upon proper conversation in which to engage whilst escorting a woman home from a clandestine meeting with an ineligible suitor.

He eyed her with misgiving.

She clearly thought she was in love with her handsome young officer. But she could not really know much about him if they had only managed snatched moments together, like this. He wouldn’t be a bit surprised to find her feelings had more to do with the uniform than the man inside it. He’d learned from experience that a scarlet jacket could have a powerful effect upon a susceptible female.

‘And speaking of family,’ he said, ruthlessly returning to the most pressing issue, ‘your grandfather probably thought you would get over what he hoped was just a girlish infatuation if he offered you other distractions.’

Lady Jayne glowered at him before tossing her head and setting off briskly along a path that led in the opposite direction from the one he had used to enter the square. As he caught up with her, she said, ‘It was more than that. I overheard him giving Lady Penrose strict instructions to get me safely married off before the end of the Season.’ She laughed bitterly. ‘Though how he expects her to accomplish that when he won’t allow her to take me anywhere but ton parties, where I mix with people I have known all my life, I have no idea. Ooh.’ She clenched her fists. ‘You cannot begin to imagine what my time in Town has been like. Boring, boring, boring! I was beginning to think I knew just what a canary bird feels like, shut up in a gilded cage, by the time Harry arrived in Town. That first note he sent me, begging me to meet him …’ Her fists uncurled as she trailed off.

‘He kept on sending notes to me through Josie. To let me know which events he could gain entry to. And we began to meet in the gardens, or in a quiet room of the house, while the balls were going on downstairs, with Lady Penrose never suspecting a thing!’

He frowned down at her as they crossed the road and set off down Mount Street. He wished he had not already given his word not to tell anyone about this night’s assignation. The more he learned about Harry, the more untrustworthy he sounded. And if anything happened to Lady Jayne because he’d kept quiet about this night’s work he would feel responsible.

Although warning her guardians of what was going on would probably not do much good anyway. From what Lady Jayne had just said, her chaperone was clearly not up to the task of guarding such a highly spirited charge.

He rubbed his hand over the crown of his head. He couldn’t report her to those who ought to protect her. Should he just warn her, then, of his mounting suspicions regarding Harry’s motives? No. Given her reactions to him so far, she would probably assume he was yet another overbearing male attempting to oppress her. And he rather thought she would derive as much pleasure from flouting him as she did from outwitting her grandfather and chaperone.

But she really needed somebody who knew about Harry, and the lengths she would go to in order to get her own way, to watch over her. Somebody who wouldn’t be fooled by the haughty, unapproachable facade she’d employed at the ball.

‘Lady Jayne, I have given my word I will not say anything about tonight. And I would never go back on my word. But you must see that I cannot just let the matter rest. You have said yourself you are not behaving as you ought.’

She looked mutinous as she said, ‘And just what do you mean to do about it?’

He only wished he knew. For now, the best thing would be to make a strategic withdrawal so that he could regroup.

‘I shall call upon you this afternoon, to take you for a drive in Hyde Park. That is when I shall tell you what action I plan to take.’ Once he’d decided what it would be.

‘I shall be ready,’ she said, lifting her chin in a fashion that told him she was preparing to fight him every inch of the way. ‘This is it,’ she said, waving her hand at the frontage of an imposing mansion.

Having shown him where she lived, she ducked down a passage that led to the mews at the back.

Then she turned round and stood quite still, staring up at him for a minute, with her head on one side as though trying to work him out.

‘You have surprised me,’ she said at last. ‘I would never have imagined you could be so … decent,’ she finished on a shrug.

‘What did you think I would be like, then?’ It shouldn’t have made such an impact to hear that she’d had any expectations of him at all, considering they had only glanced at each other across a ballroom.

‘Oh, I don’t know … At the ball you looked so … hard. All those women who threw themselves at your feet had about as much impact on you as waves dashing themselves up against a cliff. And then, when you spoke of flogging Harry, I really thought for a minute that …’

She looked abashed. ‘But you are really not cruel at all, are you?’

‘I have sent men to their death without giving it a second thought,’ he retaliated, lest she think his leniency with her on this one occasion meant he was a soft touch.

‘Ah, but you don’t take delight in it. That makes all the difference.’

He was about to defend himself from the charge of not being cruel when she stole all the breath from his lungs by hitching up her skirts and tucking them into a belt at her waist.

He knew he ought not to look. But how could he do her the disservice of not appreciating such a shapely pair of legs, covered in what looked like a junior footman’s breeches, especially when not a day ago the sight would not have interested him in the slightest?

He was still swallowing too hard to ask if she needed any assistance in getting back into the house undetected when she scampered over to the horse trough and clambered up onto its rim. From there she swung herself up onto the stable roof.

Darting him an impish grin as she reached for the lower branches of a gnarled old apple tree, she said, ‘I don’t think you are such a cross old stick as you look.’

Having fired that Parthian shot, she clambered from one bough to another with the agility of a monkey, giving him one tantalizing glimpse of a perfectly formed bottom as she leaned over to push up a sash window which had been left open an inch, before vanishing into the house.

For some minutes all he could do was stand there, rock hard and breathing heavily, feeling as though he’d been hit by some kind of energising force.

He’d begun the night seething with resentment and frustration. But now he was savouring the delicious sensation of knowing everything was in working order. And it had not been achieved through the determined wiles of some doxy. No, in spite of everything, it had been a natural response to a society female. He chuckled. It was good to know that there was one, at least, amongst them that it would be no hardship to take to bed. He eyed the window, half wondering what would happen if he were to climb up after her and …

The window slammed shut. He took a step back into the deeper shadows close to the stable. He’d come to London to contract a respectable alliance, not get embroiled in a scandal. It was no use standing here gazing up at the window through which she’d disappeared, wondering if the branches of that apple tree would bear his weight.

But the fact that he was thinking along those lines at all was immensely cheering.

He turned and walked away with a grin on his face. Lady Jayne was what was termed a handful. Continuing an association with her was going to bring him no end of trouble. He could feel it. And yet he was not dreading their next encounter. Not by a long shot.

In fact, he couldn’t remember when he’d last felt so alive.

‘Lor, miss, I been that worried about you,’ exclaimed Josie, leaping to her feet, dashing across the room and hauling Lady Jayne in over the windowsill. ‘Thank heavens you’re back safe and sound and no harm done.’

‘I am sorry you have been so worried,’ said Lady Jayne. ‘And I promise you,’ she said vehemently, turning to shut the sash firmly behind her, ‘that I shall never do anything so thoughtless and reckless and selfish ever again.’

Josie, who had been with her since she was twelve years old, and therefore knew her moods well, looked at her sharply.

‘What happened? Something, I can tell. Have you fallen out with your young man?’

Lady Jayne shook her head. ‘No, nothing like that.’

Although, in a way, she supposed she had. Even before Lord Ledbury had come along and put an end to their encounter she had wondered if it had been a mistake to leave the house to meet Harry. The darkened windows of the houses she’d snuck past had seemed to glare at her menacingly, so that she had already been feeling uneasy by the time she’d entered the square. It was not like sneaking out at dawn for an unsupervised ride or walk around Darvill Park, her grandfather’s estate in Kent. She might run into anyone in a public park.

‘We’d best get you into your night rail and into bed before that maid of Lady Penrose’s comes in with your breakfast,’ said Josie, turning her round and briskly unhooking the back of her gown while she undid her breeches.

She’d already been feeling distinctly uneasy when she’d found Harry. And then, instead of just taking her hand and murmuring the sort of endearments he generally employed during their snatched meetings, he had pulled her down onto the bench next to him and hauled her into his arms.

‘I cannot bear to go on like this, my darling,’ he’d said in accents of despair. ‘There is nothing for it. We shall have to elope.’

Before she’d had a chance to say she would never do anything of the sort, he had kissed her full on the mouth. His moustache had scoured her upper lip in a most unpleasant way, and some of the bristles had gone up her nostrils. And what with his arms crushing her ribcage, half his moustache up her nose, and his mouth clamped over hers, she had felt as though she was suffocating. It had all been a far cry from what she had expected her first kiss to be like. When eventually she permitted some man to kiss her … And that was another thing, she reflected with resentment as she stepped out of her gown and breeches. She had not given him permission. He had just pounced. And he had been so very strong and unyielding that for a moment or two she had panicked.

It was not easy, even now, to keep perfectly still while Josie untied her stay laces and she relived those horrible moments in Harry’s determined embrace. How relieved she had been when Lord Ledbury had come upon the scene, looking so ferocious. Not that she would ever admit that to a living soul. She ducked her head guiltily so that Josie could throw her night rail over her head.

She had not felt grateful for long, though. The way he’d looked at Harry, as though he wanted to tear him limb from limb, had caused her fear to come rushing back—although its focus had no longer been upon herself.

But then he’d dismissed Harry, wiped away the one tear she had not been able to hold back, and taken her home as though there was nothing the least bit untoward about walking through the streets at daybreak with a person he’d just caught in a compromising position.

She went to the dressing-table stool and sat down heavily.

Until the viscount had talked about getting Harry brought up on a charge it had never occurred to her that others might have to pay any penalty for her misdemeanours. She had cheerfully flouted the rules, safe in the knowledge that any punishment meted out to her would be relatively mild. Lady Penrose might have forbidden her to attend any balls for a few nights, or curtailed her shopping expeditions. Which would have been no punishment at all.

At the very worst she had thought she might get sent home to Kent. Which would have felt like a victory, of sorts.

It had taken the grim-faced viscount to make her see that there would inevitably be repercussions for others tangled up in her affairs, too. To wake her up to the fact that she would never have forgiven herself if Josie had lost her job, or Harry had been cashiered out of his regiment, on her account. Thankfully he had listened to her pleas for leniency for Harry and Josie, and had given his word not to speak of what he knew about her activities tonight.

She reached up and patted Josie on the hand as her faithful maid began to brush out her hair, separating it into strands so that she could put it in the plaits she always wore to bed. How could she not have considered that others might have to pay for her misdemeanours? How could she have been so selfish?

She raised her head and regarded her reflection in the mirror with distaste.

People were always telling her how very much she resembled her father. They were beginning to whisper that she was as cold and heartless as him, too, because of the wooden expression she had taken so many years to perfect.

But you couldn’t tell what a person was really like from just looking at their face. Only think of how wrong she’d been about Lord Ledbury. Earlier tonight, when she’d noticed him at Lucy Beresford’s come-out ball, she’d thought him one of the most disagreeable men she’d ever seen. He had not smiled once, though people had been falling over themselves to try and amuse him.

She’d really disliked the way he’d behaved, as though he was doing Lucy’s brother an immense favour by making his first public appearance as Lord Ledbury in his home. She’d thought Lucy a complete ninny for going into raptures about him for being some kind of war hero. He looked just the sort of man to enjoy hacking people to bits, and there was nothing heroic about such behaviour.

But he wasn’t cruel at all. He could have ruined her reputation, and Harry’s career, and left Josie destitute if he was the kind of man who revelled in inflicting pain on others. But he had chosen not to.

She looked at her cool expression again and felt a little comforted. She might look like her father, but she wasn’t like him—not inside, where it mattered. Was she?

She gave an involuntary shiver.

‘Not long now, miss. Then we’ll get you all snug and warm in your bed,’ said Josie, misinterpreting the reaction.

Lady Jayne did not bother to correct her mistake. She had no intention of adding to her maid’s worries by telling her what had happened. Or confiding in anybody that Lord Ledbury’s very forbearance, when she knew she deserved his contempt, had made her feel as though she had behaved in as selfish a fashion as her father had ever done.

She couldn’t bear to look at herself any longer. Had she really encouraged Harry to fall so hopelessly in love with her that he’d acted recklessly enough to jeopardise his whole career? In just such a way had her womanising father destroyed the women who’d been foolish enough to fall for his handsome face and surface charm.

Not that Lord Ledbury would let that happen. Not now. He was bound to prevent her from seeing Harry again. He had made it clear he disapproved of a woman of her rank having a relationship with a man who had no fortune of his own. Or at the very least a title.

At last Josie had finished her hair, and she could get into bed and pull the coverlets up comfortingly to her chin as she wriggled down into the pillows.

Though she couldn’t get comfortable. How likely was it that Lord Ledbury would be able to deter Harry from contacting her again? Not even her grandfather had managed that.

She chewed on her thumbnail. She did like Harry. Quite a lot. And she had been quite cut up when her grandfather had sent her to London to put an end to the association that had started when his regiment was stationed in Kent for training. And she had been pleased to see him again.

Until he had told her that the separation had almost broken his heart.

Oh, how she hoped Lord Ledbury could persuade him to abandon his pursuit of her! Because if he couldn’t she was going to have to tell him herself that she had never really loved him. She had not seen it before tonight. But now that she was looking at her behaviour through Lord Ledbury’s censorious eyes she had to face the fact that a very large part of Harry’s attraction had derived from the satisfaction gained in knowing that to see him was to defy her grandfather.

Oh, heavens. Lord Ledbury would be quite entitled to write her off as a shallow, thoughtless, selfish creature.

She shut her eyes and turned onto her side as Josie slid from the room and shut the door softly behind her. Her stomach flipped over. She did not want to be the kind of girl who could casually break a man’s heart in a spirit of defiance. Though she had never dreamed Harry’s feelings were so deeply engaged. She tried to excuse herself. She had not done it deliberately! She had thought … She frowned, looking back on her behaviour with critical eyes. She had not thought at all, she realized on a spurt of shame that seared through her so sharply she had to draw up her legs to counteract it. Harry had just turned up when she was so frustrated with her life in Town that she’d been silently screaming at the weight of the restrictions imposed on her.

Though they were not all entirely the fault of her chaperone. She herself had made a stupid vow not to dance with anyone this Season, lest they take it as a sign she might welcome their suit.

Though, she comforted herself, even before Lord Ledbury had caught them she had begun to see that, in all conscience, she could not continue to encourage Harry. It had only been a moment before he’d come upon them. The moment when Harry had urged her to elope and she’d known she could never do anything of the sort. Even before he had kissed her, and it had become so very unpleasant, she had known she would have to break it off.

That was the moment when she’d known she was not in love with Harry. Not in that deep, all-consuming way which might induce a woman to give up everything—as her aunt Aurora, so her mother had told her, had done when she had eloped with an impecunious local boy.

‘Oh, Harry.’ She sighed. She hoped he would get over her quickly. He should, for she was not worth the risks he had taken. Anyway, he was certainly going to have more important things to think about than her in the near future. The newspapers were full of Bonaparte’s escape from Elba. Every available regiment was being posted overseas in an attempt to halt his triumphal progress through France. And what with all the excitement of travelling to foreign climes and engaging in battles, he would soon, she hoped, be able to put her out of his mind altogether.

Though she would feel guilty for toying with a man’s feelings for a considerable time to come.

Shutting her eyes, she uttered a swift prayer for him to meet a nice girl of his own class, who would love him back the way he deserved to be loved.




Chapter Three


‘Lord Ledbury is coming to take you for a drive today? Are you quite sure?’

Lady Penrose regarded her over the top of her lorgnettes, which she was using to peruse the pile of correspondence that had arrived that morning.

‘Yes,’ said Lady Jayne, crossing her fingers behind her back. ‘Did I not mention it last night?’

Lady Penrose looked pensive. ‘I was aware he was at the Beresfords’ last night, of course. But not that you had been formally introduced. Nor that an invitation had been given. Or accepted. In fact you should not have accepted at all.’ She laid her glasses down with evident irritation. ‘You know it was quite wrong of you to do such a thing. The young man ought to have applied to me for the permission which I alone am in a position to give.’

Though Lady Jayne hung her head, her spirits leaped at the possibility that Lord Ledbury was not going to have it all his own way after all. In any confrontation between the hard-faced viscount and her stern duenna regarding a breach of form she would lay odds on Lady Penrose emerging victorious. Lady Penrose was such a stickler for etiquette. It was why her grandfather had appointed this distant relative to oversee her Season.

‘She won’t stand any nonsense from you,’ he had warned her. ‘And she is astute enough to spot a fortune-hunter a mile off. Yes, Lady Penrose will get you safely married before the Season’s out …’

Lady Jayne felt the sting of his rejection afresh. He had been so keen to get her off his hands. His attitude had made her even more determined to take up with Harry when he had shown up. At least Harry liked her.

‘Although,’ mused Lady Penrose, ‘since he is exactly the sort of man your grandfather would wish to encourage, I am inclined to permit the outing to go ahead.’

When Lady Jayne’s eyes widened in shock, her duenna explained, ‘I dare say he slid into bad habits during his years on active service. I have seen this kind of thing before with younger sons who never expected to inherit. It will take him a while to adjust to polite society, no doubt. We will have to make allowances for him.’

‘Will we?’

‘Of course,’ said Lady Penrose, looking at her as though she was an imbecile. ‘He is now a most eligible parti. It would be foolish beyond measure to make a to-do simply because he seems to have forgotten the way things ought to be done. I shall rearrange your engagements for today accordingly.’

Lady Jayne practically gaped at Lady Penrose. Up till now she had been scornful of just about all the young men who had attempted to fix their interest with her. Not that she’d had any objection to Lady Penrose frostily sending those men about their business. For she had no intention of marrying anyone—not this Season! If her grandfather thought he could marry her off just like that then he had another think coming.

She stayed angry for the rest of the day. By the time Lord Ledbury arrived to take her for the drive he had coerced her into taking with him she was almost ready to tell him to do his worst. Except for the fact that he might know Harry’s commanding officer. It would only take one word in the right quarters to ensure he paid dearly for last night’s foolishness. Which reflection only made her crosser than ever. It was so unfair that he could get away with behaving as badly as he wished and even a high stickler like Lady Penrose would forgive him because of his rank.

And then he had the gall to turn up at her front door in a barouche. If she had to be seen out and about with him, could it not at least have been in something a bit more dashing—like a phaeton? Did he not know that this was the very first time Lady Penrose had permitted her to go out driving with a man in the park?

No, she fumed, climbing in, he did not know. Or care. For he was not really her suitor.

At least there was some consolation in that. She twitched her furs up to her chin and glared at the groom’s back as Lord Ledbury sat down next to her. She felt him giving her a hard look, but he said nothing. And continued to say nothing all the way to the park.

As they bowled along the streets she conceded that she supposed she could see why he had chosen such a stuffy, staid form of transport. With a groom to drive there was nothing to distract him from the lecture he looked as though he was itching to give her. He’d probably only held back last night because of that single tear remorse had wrung from her. Yes—she would warrant he’d feared she would cry in earnest if he shouted at her the way he’d shouted at Harry. That pensive expression as he’d wiped that teardrop from her chin had probably been due to him imagining how dreadful it would be to have to escort a weeping female home through the darkened streets.

It also accounted for the way he was darting her assessing glances now, as though she was an unexploded bomb that might go off in any direction should he make an unwise move.

Not that he would have succeeded in making her cry if he had shouted at her. She had learned almost from the cradle the knack of keeping her emotions well controlled. It had started with her determination never to let her father reduce her to tears. She’d refused to give him the satisfaction!

By the time they drove through the gates of the park she had managed to compose her features into the carefully blank mask behind which she always sheltered when on the receiving end of a dressing-down.

Though there was nothing Lord Ledbury could say to her that she had not heard a thousand times before—from someone whose opinion actually mattered to her.

‘You are angry with me, Lady Jayne,’ he observed dispassionately. ‘It appears that since we parted you have decided to regard me as your enemy.’

‘How can I be anything other than angry,’ she retorted, ‘when you think you have me at your mercy?’

He sighed. Her emphasis on that word think confirmed his belief that she was no docile creature to meekly reform after a stern talking-to.

‘Even those who have been at war a long time can become allies against a common foe. Or act within agreed limits under a flag of truce.’

‘I … I don’t understand.’ But she was intrigued. What could he possibly be thinking to make a remark like that?

‘Perhaps we have more in common than you might think. For example, you told me that you were sent to London to contract a marriage, in spite of your preferences. Well, I too have been set upon a path I would rather not have trod. And before you rehash that argument about men only ever doing what they want, no matter who they tread down in the process,’ he put in quickly, when she drew a breath to give him the benefit of her opinion, ‘I would advise you not to judge us all by the conduct of the males to whom you are closely related. For I assume it is their conduct which has formed your opinion of my sex?’

‘I … Well, um, yes.’

It had started with her father. He had made no secret of the fact that he resented her for being the only child of his to survive past infancy, when what he wanted from his wife was an heir. If she ever inadvertently crossed his path, the way he would look at her—his eyes so icy, his lips flattening in displeasure—would chill her to the marrow. It meant that she had spent most of her childhood roaming wild about their estate in an effort to keep well out of his way. There had been one groom who had taken it upon himself to teach her to ride, but apart from him she had never met a man who’d shown her the slightest bit of concern.

Until she’d gone to live with her grandfather. And his horror on discovering that she could barely read or write, let alone know the first thing about mixing in polite society, had resulted in him going to the other extreme. He had hired a succession of tutors and governesses who invariably gave up on her, telling him that she was impossible.

The real problem was that no matter how hard she had tried to absorb all the information they’d attempted to cram into her brain, there had always been more. So that no matter how hard she’d worked, she had never managed to measure up. It had felt as though not a single day passed without her being sent to her grandfather’s study to hear how far she fell short of the standards he expected from a young lady living beneath his roof.

The set of her lips as she went into a brown study put him in mind of exactly the way he felt about his own brothers. Mortimer, his father’s pride and joy, had gambled and whored his way through life, only to end up breaking his neck by falling from his horse dead drunk. And Charlie, his mother’s precious baby, had been packed off to France, where he was living exactly as he pleased—no doubt at enormous expense—because the laws over there were far more lenient towards men of his stamp.

‘I, too,’ he said with a curl to his lip, ‘have male relatives who care for nothing but their own pleasure. And they have left me with the unenviable task of cleaning up the mess they’ve created. Though it is far from being what I would wish to do at this juncture in my life, now that I have become a viscount I have had to resign my commission and embark on a hunt for a wife.’

‘That’s silly. I mean, there’s absolutely no need to resign your commission just because your family is putting pressure on you to marry. Plenty of officers with titles marry, and even take their wives on campaign with them. And I should have thought that our country is in particular need of every experienced officer it can get if we are to keep Bonaparte from rampaging all over Europe again.’

‘That was exactly what I said to my grandfather when he insisted I sold out!’

It was extraordinary to hear her voice his own objections with almost the same vehemence as he’d felt when his grandfather had banged his fist on the desk, his face turning purple with rage as he’d bawled, ‘I want you married and setting up your nursery without delay. I let your father persuade me that Mortimer needed time to make his own choice. Hah! See where that got me! Chased every skirt in the neighbourhood and told me to my face he was enjoying himself too much to settle down. Well, I shan’t make the same mistake with you! Either get yourself to Town and pick a bride, or I shall pick one for you.’

He shot Lady Jayne a wry smile. ‘But after a lengthy … discussion …’ the details of which he would never reveal to a living soul ‘… I realized that even though, as you correctly state, England does need experienced officers, Wellington himself would agree that the preservation of an old and distinguished family is of at least equal importance as trouncing the Corsican tyrant.’

He paused, gripping the handle of his cane so hard she wondered he did not snap the head clean off.

‘My grandfather is old,’ he said eventually, ‘and, though he won’t admit it, not in the best of health. Over the last year he has suffered a series of nasty shocks. You probably know that both my father and then my older brother suffered fatal accidents within months of each other. He has become seriously concerned about the continuation of our family line. And, as he so pithily put it, anyone can lead troops into battle, but I am the last hope of the Cathcart family.’

His stomach swooped into the same knot as it had done that day, when he’d seen his entire life’s achievements brushed aside as being of no consequence. For a moment the demons that had plagued his childhood had come swarming back. The demons that had insisted he was of no intrinsic worth. How could he be, when even his own parents did their best to ignore his very existence, whilst pampering and coddling his brothers?

But then he’d remembered that, in spite of what his grandfather had said about anyone being able to lead troops into battle, there was a damned sight more to being an officer than he knew. Earning the men’s respect, for one thing, was no sinecure. The majority of them came from the gutters, and had a natural distrust of anyone who represented authority. But they’d learned to trust him with their lives. Depended on decisions he’d made for their very survival. And, more than that, he’d maintained their morale—even when times were at their toughest.

The demons had fled, whimpering, as he’d drawn on all the self-confidence he’d acquired during the eleven years he’d served in the army. Eleven years during which he’d grown from a diffident boy into a seasoned veteran.

His grandfather had implied that his only function in life was to father the next generation. But, by God, he was going to do more than that. If he could organize a regiment, then he could damn well learn to manage the estates that were now his responsibility.

And, what was more, he would make a better job of it than either of his self-indulgent brothers could have done.

‘So … You are saying that you sympathise with my plight because you know what it feels like to be pushed into marrying when you don’t really want to?’

‘Something like that,’ he said with a hard smile, continuing, ‘I certainly admire the fact that you have not allowed your head to be turned by all the flattering attention you attract. From what I observed last night, one would expect you to be hanging out for a duke, or at the very least a marquess.’ That was probably what Berry had assumed when she made it obvious she was not interested in any of the men who’d tried to get her to dance. ‘You have half the male population of London at your feet, and yet you have set your heart on a man with no rank and few prospects.’

She was not cold and proud at all, or she couldn’t have rushed headlong into such an inappropriate relationship.

He turned towards her to make his next point, to find her looking up at him, wide-eyed, and his breath caught in his throat. Cornflower-blue. The exact shade to round off the perfection of her features.

Damnation.

He’d half hoped that he would be able to detect some flaw upon seeing her in broad daylight. She had, after all, been on the far side of the ballroom the night before. And everyone knew candlelight was particularly flattering. And then in the park it had been so dark he might well have imagined her beauty was far beyond that which really existed. But here they were, their faces mere inches away, and her utter perfection had just literally taken his breath away.

‘Your Harry … Lieutenant Kendell … must be so dazzled by you,’ he eventually managed to grate, ‘that he has completely lost his head.’

And perhaps that really was the truth. Perhaps he was no fortune-hunter at all. With those big blue eyes, that glorious mane of golden curls and that utterly kissable little mouth, she was capable of ensnaring just about any man she set her sights on. If she had given the lowly lieutenant the least bit of encouragement, she might easily have enslaved him.

But she wasn’t going to enslave him. He whipped his gaze away from her mouth to glare at a hapless matron whose own barouche happened to be passing theirs. He was not going to allow this attraction, no matter how strong, to deflect him from his primary objective. Which was to marry a paragon of some kind.

He was not only going to learn how to manage his estates to the admiration of his peers, he was going to marry a woman who would excite envy and admiration. Not a girl whose very nature meant she was bound to teeter permanently on the brink of one scandal or another.

‘Um … Actually …’ She faltered on the verge of confessing the truth. He had just said he admired the way she was not hanging out for a man with a grand title. It was so rarely she heard any praise for anything she did that she was loath to admit she didn’t deserve even that.

Not that she did think people should attempt to marry for social advancement.

‘I believe that people should only marry for love,’ she declared.

‘I might have guessed,’ he said, so scathingly her temper flared up all over again.

Her own family had been quite needlessly torn apart when her aunt Aurora had eloped with a man the Earl of Caxton had decided was beneath her, socially. Her grandfather would still not permit anyone to mention her name. Which had, according to Josie, wounded her mother deeply. Yet the man with whom she had eloped had been the son of a gentleman. There had been no need to banish them both and forbid any communication between the sisters, surely?

There had always been a sort of gaping hole in the family where Aunt Aurora and her husband ought to have been round which they all had to tiptoe. And she had long since come to the conclusion that her grandfather had behaved in a perfectly ridiculous fashion. Just because his daughter had fallen in love with a man of whom he did not approve.

‘If two people love each other—really love each other—then nothing should be allowed to stand in their way,’ she said vehemently.

His heart sank. For he’d hoped that in the light of day she’d somehow wake up and see that Harry was not worth the risks she was taking. And then he could forget about this detour and return his full attention to the important business of scouring London Society for his bride.

But the tone of her voice revealed a determination that no amount of arguing was going to be able to shake. She left him with no alternative. He was going to have to employ a little subterfuge so that he could limit her exposure to potential danger, whilst keeping close enough to protect her should it become necessary.

‘Then who am I to stand in the way of true love?’ he said, with such sarcasm she just knew she wasn’t going to like whatever he was going to say next. ‘Not that I condone your behaviour, young lady. Nor his. Especially not his.’

Ah, that was more like it. She knew how to deal with a man who spoke to her with just that tone of disapproval in his voice.

She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye.

‘You have no right to criticise my behaviour.’

He quite liked it when she squared up to him, he realized, leaning back against the squabs to study her mutinous expression. When she dropped the frigid mask she employed to deceive the rest of Society and revealed her true self. It made him feel privileged to get a glimpse of a facet of her nature she permitted nobody else to see.

He’d felt like this last night, too, when she’d been pleading with him to spare her maid. She’d completely forgotten all about acting as though she didn’t care about anything. Her eyes had glowed with a similar fervour, and those petal-soft lips had trembled with emotion….

It was only with a great effort that he tore his eyes from those tantalizingly tempting lips. It made his voice quite gruff when he said, ‘Catching you in the arms of your lover last night gives me every right to speak my mind. I know what you are capable of. I know what you are really like.’

He raised one gloved hand to silence her when she drew breath to object.

‘And I cannot, in all conscience, just allow you to carry on as you have been doing. Dammit, if anyone else had caught the pair of you together there would have been hell to pay. I have no confidence that if I do not, personally, put a curb on your behaviour you will not carry on sneaking out to meet him in secret. And it must stop. Do you hear me?’

She nodded, her lips pressed hard together on the reflection that there was nothing so infuriating as being ordered to do something she had already decided on doing.

‘Now, it will not be as bad as all that. If you do me one favour I am willing to arrange for you to see your young man, in circumstances which will compromise neither him nor you.’

‘You will do what?’ How could the man be so exasperating? She had been relying on him insisting she give Harry up completely.

‘I will arrange for you two to meet. But only when I, myself, will be your chaperon.’ He half turned towards her again. ‘Now, look. Everyone knows I have only very recently sold out. What could be more natural than for me to be seen about with other military men? Lieutenant Kendell will be accepted into certain situations if he is with me. And I seem to be exactly the sort of man your family would encourage you to mix with. The fact that we are here, riding out together, with only my own servants to chaperon us, is proof of that. It will be quite easy for me to ensure that you may see each other whenever his duties permit. In a properly managed, decorous fashion. Not in this sneaking way in which you have so far engaged.’

She felt ready to explode. The last thing she could do was tell him he had got completely the wrong idea about her and Harry. He had already made her feel stupid and selfish. If she admitted that she had fallen into the relationship in a fit of pique with her grandfather, and was now quite keen to wriggle out of it again, she would never live it down!

She was going to have to appear to agree to his terms. Oh, Lord, and that meant that she would have to meet Harry again and tell him to his face that she did not love him. Could never marry him.

It would be painful. Very painful. But in a way would it not be a fitting punishment for the way she had led Harry on these past months?

Though she still could not understand why on earth Lord Ledbury was so keen to act as a go-between. Just when she had been relying on him to put an end to what was becoming an increasingly untenable situation, he was coming to their aid—as though he had every sympathy for what he assumed was a pair of star-crossed lovers.

‘Why are you doing this?’

He took a deep breath. ‘I am going to ask you to do something for me that means I shall have to take you into my confidence. I am going to trust you to keep what I am about to tell you to yourself. Just as you are trusting me to keep my mouth shut about your continuing relationship with Lieutenant Kendell.’

He was going to trust her with a secret? A great deal of her irritation with him ebbed away. Even if his words did contain that thinly veiled threat about him keeping quiet so long as she kept quiet, nobody had ever reposed any confidence in her upon any matter whatsoever. On the contrary—all her life her male relatives had been drumming it into her that she was completely useless.

‘I want you to help a … a friend of mine.’ He frowned. ‘Perhaps it is best I go back to the beginning. You know I was wounded at Orthez last February?’

‘No.’ But hadn’t he said something about not being able to sleep because his leg troubled him? She looked down at it. Then her eyes flicked to the cane she recalled he’d made use of when he’d limped into Lucy’s ballroom the previous night.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth, feeling really ashamed of all the nasty things she’d thought about him just because he’d looked so grim-faced.

‘Stupidest thing, really,’ he admitted, looking a bit uncomfortable. ‘My horse got shot out from under me, and instead of jumping clear I let the damn thing roll on me. Clumsy. I was pretty well out of it for a while. And then I came to in the field hospital, with Milly defending me like a tigress from surgeons whose sole idea of a cure is to amputate anything that looks the least bit untidy. So, you see, she saved my leg.’

He held up one finger as though keeping score.

‘Then, eventually, I got sent back to England on a transport, while the rest of my regiment pushed across the border into France. Milly’s father, who was the regimental quartermaster, gave his permission for her to come with me as my nurse, thank God, else the fever I contracted would most probably have carried me off.’

He held up another finger.

‘I was weak as a kitten all through last summer. And desperately hard up. But thanks to Milly’s ingenuity and Fred’s skill at foraging—perhaps I should mention Fred is, or was, my batman—I slowly began to recover. And then winter came, and I took an inflammation of the lungs. It looked as though I was done for, but they both stuck with me even though by this time I could not even pay their wages …’

‘But you are a wealthy man!’

‘I am a wealthy man now,’ he corrected her. ‘Before Mortimer died I had to live on my pay. And what with doctors’ bills and so forth …’

‘But surely if you had applied to your family, they would have …?’

‘I have already told you that you are not alone in being disappointed in your male relatives, Lady Jayne. I wrote on several occasions, but never received any reply.’

‘How can that be? Did they not receive your letters? Do you suppose they went astray?’

‘Oh, no,’ he said, looking particularly grim. ‘The minute my brother died the family’s man of business came to inform me that I was now Viscount Ledbury—proving that they had known exactly where I was, and how I was circumstanced, all along.’

And they’d left him? Hovering between life and death? Oh, how could they?

‘Would it surprise you to learn that my first reaction on hearing of my older brother’s death was gratitude—for at last I had the means to reward the only two people who had shown any loyalty towards me?’

‘Not one bit.’

She was only surprised that he was so determined to do his duty by a family that had neglected him so woefully. A family that, by the sound of it, cared as little for him as hers did for her. She found herself wanting to lay her hand upon his sleeve and tell him she understood all about that particular kind of pain. But that would be the very last thing he would want. She knew that for certain because the last thing she wanted was for anyone to discover that she was constantly repressing a keening wail of her own. Why does nobody love me? Or even like me?

‘When I learned that I would have to move into Lavenham House and actively start looking for a wife, I set Milly up in a snug little house in Bedford Place and gave her a generous allowance. I told Fred to stay with her, though I would have preferred to have kept him on as my valet. But, you see, she has no acquaintance in London. I could not just abandon her, after all she has done for me. It is no exaggeration to say I owe her my life. And, no matter how bleak things looked, she always looked on the bright side. She kept our spirits up. It could not have been easy for her, coming to what was to her a foreign country and having to adapt to its ways. And its climate.’

And then there was the fact that when he’d told her he was going to have to leave the army, get married and take up his position in Society, she had burst into tears and told him she was in love with him. Not that he was altogether sure he believed her, but still … He hated the thought that everything he did now must be hurting the only person who had ever said they loved him.

‘I worry about her,’ he admitted. ‘Only last week I went round to see them both and she came running down to the kitchen dressed in an outfit that made her look … tawdry. When she told me how much she’d laid out for the gown I could not believe she’d spent so much and ended up looking so cheap. To be frank, she desperately needs guidance. From a woman of good taste.’

His eyes skimmed her outfit. She was wearing a carriage dress of deep blue, a jaunty little bonnet that framed the natural beauty of her face and chinchilla furs about her shoulders to shield her from the breeze, which was quite brisk that day.

‘I know it will involve a great personal sacrifice for you to spend time with a woman of Milly’s class, but I cannot think of anyone else I would rather she emulate. I cannot imagine you ever choosing anything that did not become you.’

He thought she was a woman of good taste? That was two compliments he had paid her within the space of a few minutes. Two more than she’d ever had in her life, apart from on her looks—which did not count since she hated the fact she resembled her father so closely.

‘I promised her father I would take good care of her, but I find it is not enough to just give her a house and an allowance. I am afraid if I do not find some way to restrain her she will end up becoming … easy prey to men who have no scruples. It was while my valet was shaving me this morning that I thought of you.’

It had suddenly struck him that setting Lady Jayne a task would make her feel as though he was making her pay for allowing her to see Harry—rather than let her suspect he felt compelled to keep an eye on her. Or, more specifically, Kendell.

And she had complained of feeling bored. She would enjoy the sensation of having a little adventure. And this time he could ensure the adventure was harmless.

‘I realized that you would be the perfect person to teach Milly a little about genteel behaviour and style. For you are not so high in the instep that you would look down your nose at Milly and make her feel uncomfortable.’

She’d given her heart to a low-ranking, impoverished soldier, hadn’t she? And she had no qualms about engaging in a spot of deception when it suited her purposes.

‘And I cannot do the thing myself, much as I would wish it, because—well, you must see how it is. Were I still just Major Cathcart nobody would pay any attention. But now I am Lord Ledbury. If I were to escort her to a modiste everyone would think she is my mistress.’

Worst of all, if he relaxed the stance he had taken towards her Milly herself might start to think she was making some headway with him. And he could not encourage her to think she meant any more to him than—well, than Fred did. They had all become very close, living as they had done this past year. They’d become more like friends than master and servants. But you couldn’t be just friends with a woman. Not, at any rate, a woman who said she was in love with you.

‘She … she isn’t your mistress?’

‘If she was, I would be the one to take her shopping, wouldn’t I?’

‘Oh,’ she replied, a little perplexed. It sounded so very odd for a man to go to such lengths to see to a woman’s welfare. Not to let anyone think she was his mistress, which was the natural conclusion to draw. Unless … Suddenly his reference to them having more in common than she might guess, his interrogation of her opinion of marriages between persons of unequal rank, and the way he’d sung Milly’s praises all began to make sense.

Lord Ledbury was in love! With a girl of lowly station. No wonder he had looked so kindly on her own situation. No wonder he had jumped to all the wrong conclusions, too. His head must be so full of doomed love affairs between persons of different ranks that he could see them everywhere.

‘Say no more,’ she said, gently laying her hand upon his arm. Her heart went out to him. No wonder he looked rather cross most of the time. He was the living image of all the tortured, romantic heroes she had ever read about in the books Josie had smuggled in to her.

‘Not surprising you can’t take to reading,’ she had said, ‘if all you have is that rubbishy stuff meant for little children. This is what young ladies of your age enjoy.’

‘Life can be so unfair,’ Lady Jayne said to Lord Ledbury softly, completely forgiving him for every harsh word he had uttered, every criticism he had levelled at her. When a man was in the throes of a painful, thwarted love affair, it was bound to make him a little short-tempered.

‘Of course you do not want anyone to say unpleasant things about your … friend. I shall be only too pleased to meet her, and help her in any way I can.’

In fact it would be quite wonderful to be the one giving advice to someone else, instead of constantly being on the receiving end of it. Even if it was only on matters of fashion and etiquette.

‘Somehow,’ he said with a smile, ‘I never doubted it.’

Was that a third compliment? She positively glowed with pleasure.

But then his expression turned hard and businesslike once more.

‘I have already told you that I am in Town primarily to find a bride,’ he said. ‘And, since our families would definitely approve of a match between us, I propose to make it seem as though I am trying to fix my interest with you. And you would do well to make it appear as though you reciprocate that interest,’ he said quite sternly, ‘if you want to continue seeing Lieutenant Kendell. Though I warn you, I will not allow this covert operation to interfere with my primary objective. Which is to find a woman who is worthy of holding the title of Countess of Lavenham. Is that clear?’

She turned to look out of the carriage as though somebody she knew had caught her eye. As though Lord Ledbury had not just cut her to the quick with one throwaway remark. After all those compliments, genuine compliments, she had begun to think that he quite liked her. But now he’d made it plain that he would rather not have to spend any time with her at all.

‘Abundantly,’ she replied coldly. ‘Though,’ she observed after a moment or two, ‘I cannot help but remark that I think you are carrying your sense of duty too far.’

‘By which I assume you mean you think I ought to marry for love.’

Yes! If he was in love with Milly then he ought to marry her, and that was that. Why, earls married widows with shady reputations, or even actresses upon occasion. It caused a bit of a scandal—but when had what others thought ever stopped a man of rank from doing just as he pleased?

‘It is the only reason one should marry …’

‘Well, there we will have to agree to differ.’

Oh, the man was impossible. But there was no point in trying to make him see how foolish he was being. Apart from the fact he was a man, and men always thought they knew best, they were only—as he’d put it—working together under a flag of truce.

And yet she couldn’t help feeling rather sorry for him. The poor man must be in hell, being in love with one woman whilst feeling duty-bound to marry another. True, she had been packed off to London to be married off, but at least her affections had not really been engaged elsewhere. He could not even elope, as her aunt had done—not when he had so many responsibilities. He was not that kind of man. She had only met him the night before, but already she could tell he was determined always to do the right thing. No matter what the personal cost. Why, he wouldn’t even take Milly shopping in case it gave rise to the suspicion that the woman he loved was his mistress. Even though most men of his class would have made her his mistress in reality, without batting an eyelid.

Well, she would not say any more upon that topic. Not only would it be like prodding at a decaying tooth, but they did not know each other well enough to share those kind of confidences.

Though she would do whatever she could to help his lady-friend. Apart from any other consideration, she relished the chance to be really, truly useful to someone for the very first time in her life.

‘Oh!’ she said, clapping her hands in glee. ‘I have just had a brilliant idea. I shall be in Conduit Street tomorrow. I have to purchase some new gloves. If you could arrange for Milly to loiter outside the front of Madame Pichot’s at about ten o’clock I could pretend to recognise her, and introduce her to Lady Penrose as an old friend.’

He looked at her with approval, making her swell with pleasure when he said, ‘Yes, I think that could work.’

Not for long. She sighed. The first thing Lady Penrose would do, upon her introducing a new friend, would be to write to her grandfather and enquire if Milly was proper company for her to keep. And as soon as he wrote back, disclaiming all knowledge of any such person amongst her acquaintance, the game would be up. But there was no saying how long it might take for a letter to reach him if he were not at Darvill Park for any reason. So they might have a few days before their ruse was discovered.

And in that time she would do all she could to help the pair who, for reasons of stupid custom—because he was all bound up with doing his duty rather than following his heart—could not be together even though they plainly should be.

‘Tell me how I might recognise her,’ she said. ‘What does she look like?’

‘Milly? Oh, she is …’ He looked at her, a puzzled frown on his brow. ‘She is quite a bit taller than you. Dark hair and eyes. Strong. Plain of face,’ he said, his eyes wandering over her features individually and softening. ‘Nothing much to look at at all, really.’

And yet he loved her. She was plain, and poor, and yet the eyes that could look as hard as chips of granite turned all soft and smoky when he thought about her.

Because they had shared all those hardships and she’d come through them all with flying colours.

Jayne knew she would never have been able to nurse a man through such a difficult time. She had no skills, no experience. And would never be allowed anywhere near a sick room in any case.

She turned her head away abruptly while she grappled with a fierce stab of jealousy for the girl who, despite all her disadvantages, had managed to capture the heart of a man like this. A man unlike anyone she’d ever met before. Now that she wasn’t quite so cross with him she could admit that she found his rough-hewn face ruggedly attractive. Even that terrible scar, which at first sight had made him look a bit scary, now only served as a reminder that he was a battle-hardened soldier, a man to be admired for his bravery.

She heaved a deep sigh. If any man in London deserved to find happiness with the woman he loved, then it was this man.

It was such a pity he couldn’t see it for himself.




Chapter Four


The next evening, Lady Jayne had barely arrived at the Cardingtons’ before Lord Ledbury came over.

He bowed to Lady Penrose. ‘May I claim the hand of Lady Jayne during the next waltz? Not to dance, but to take the air on the terrace?’

‘Oh, may I, Lady Penrose?’ Lady Jayne put in hastily, before Lady Penrose could object. ‘Lord Ledbury was terribly wounded at Orthez. He does not dance.’

She hoped that putting those two statements together might make Lady Penrose soften towards him. Not that she believed he could not dance if he wanted to. After all, he was fit enough to go prowling around public parks at dawn. But he clearly wanted to talk to her—and not many men, she had noted, were capable of carrying on sensible conversations while executing the complex figures of any dance, let alone the waltz.

‘It is rather warm in here,’ said Lady Penrose, after a visible struggle with herself. Having been given the information that Lord Ledbury did not dance, she had little choice but to relax her rigid rules just a little, or risk losing the first suitor in whom her charge had shown any interest. ‘Perhaps you might go and sit on that bench, just there.’ She indicated a spot just through the open doors, which would be clearly visible from where she sat. ‘It is a little unorthodox, but in your case,’ she said with a slight smile, ‘I think there would be no harm in it. I shall have a footman send you out some lemonade.’

Lady Jayne could barely stifle a giggle at the implication that nobody could get up to anything improper whilst drinking lemonade.

‘Phew!’ she said as they made their way to the open doors. ‘It is a good thing you are such a catch, or you would never have got away with that.’

Lord Ledbury flinched. It was just typical that the first woman to rouse his interest should dismiss him so airily. But what else could he expect? She was determined to marry for love. And he’d learned from the cradle that there was nothing in him to inspire affection. His own parents, who’d had no trouble at all doting on his other brothers, had seemed barely able to recall they had a third son. True, his father had only had time for Mortimer, while his mother had practically smothered Charlie, but that had done nothing to soothe the sting of their joint rejection of him. Or to lessen the impact of Lady Jayne’s indifference to him now.

He took himself to task as he took his place next to her on the designated bench. He had rank and wealth to offer a woman now. And there were plenty who would be perfectly satisfied with that. He only had to recall how they’d flocked round him at Lucy Beresford’s ball.

He had no need of love—not in the kind of marriage he intended to contract.

Particularly not from a flighty little piece like this.

‘You are looking very pleased with yourself this evening,’ he observed dryly. ‘I suppose I should have expected it. You are never happier than when you are up to your neck in mischief, are you?’

She turned to stare at him, wide-eyed, at the unfairness of that remark, and saw that he looked as though he was really annoyed with her about something. Though, cudgel her brains as she might, she could not think what.

That morning she had driven up to the front of Madame Pichot’s at the prearranged hour, in Lady Penrose’s town carriage, and, seeing a tall, dark-haired girl loitering on the pavement, gazing wistfully at the window display, had sat forward and said artlessly, ‘My goodness. Can that be Milly? Whatever can she be doing in Town?’

And then she had leaped out nimbly and darted up to the girl to make sure she was the right person. By the time Lady Penrose had exited the carriage with rather more decorum she’d thought enough time had passed for her to have extracted the news from her supposed friend that she had recently come into some money, quite unexpectedly, and had come up to Town to purchase a fashionable wardrobe.

Having imparted that information to Lady Penrose, she had then swept Milly into the shop, chattering about the newest fashions in that month’s La Belle Assemblée, and naturally the modiste, seeing the two on such good terms, had assumed Milly must be a somebody, and treated her accordingly.

‘Now you are looking at me,’ Lord Ledbury was saying, ‘as though you expect me to congratulate you for this morning’s work. Did you come here expecting me to thank you?’

‘Well, yes,’ she replied, growing more mystified at his ill humour by the minute.

Milly had certainly been thrilled at the way the morning had turned out. She had admitted that she would never have dared set foot in an establishment like Madame Pichot’s. But now she would be able to return whenever she wanted, after an introduction like that. Even if Lady Jayne was not able to go with her, Madame Pichot would never let one of her customers leave her shop looking anything less than elegant. Which was surely what Lord Ledbury wanted?

‘Well, I cannot thank you for issuing her with a false name. Milly informs me that she is now to be known as Miss Amelia Brigstock!’

Oh, so that was it. ‘That is entirely your fault,’ she retorted, stung by his determination to find fault with her in spite of all she had achieved on his behalf. ‘You omitted to tell me her full name.’ And she had not criticised him for his lack of foresight, had she? She had just plugged up the leak as best she could, to make sure the whole campaign did not sink before it even got underway. ‘Since she was supposed to be a long-lost friend, newly come to Town, I could hardly ask her what it was, could I? When Lady Penrose asked me to introduce her I had to come up with something.’

His hands tightened on the head of his cane. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

She reminded herself that he was not in the best of health, and that being in pain could make anyone short-tempered.

Whilst arranging her skirts into decorous folds, making sure the train was well out of the way of his feet, she resolutely stifled the pang of hurt his lack of gratitude had inflicted. Only when she was confident she could do so in a calm, even tone, did she point out, ‘And I assumed Milly must be short for something. Amelia is a good, safe kind of name for a girl who is supposed to be completely respectable, though not from the top drawer. And the name Brigstock just popped into my head.’

‘Her name is Milly,’ he grated. ‘Just Milly. And there is nothing wrong with that.’

‘There is if I am to invite her to go about with me and pretend that we are bosom friends.’

He looked aghast. ‘I have not asked you to do that! Surely you only need to take her shopping a few times to teach her the difference between taste and tawdriness?’

She mellowed a little. How could she not, when he was demonstrating such faith in her fashion sense?

But still …’You have not thought this through at all, have you? I have not gone shopping with a friend once since coming to Town. If I am to suddenly wish to do so with Milly, then Lady Penrose has got to believe she is someone exceptional. A special friend. Or she will become suspicious.’

Lady Jayne never went shopping with friends? He’d thought that was how all fashionable young ladies spent their days.

They were both obliged to suspend any effort at conversation when a footman approached with the drinks that had given them the excuse to go out onto the terrace. But once Lady Jayne had taken just one sip, she pointed out rather tartly, ‘You wished me to exercise some influence on her. Which I have promised to do. But you did not give me enough information to see me through any social awkwardness which presenting her to Lady Penrose would entail. I did my best to smooth over that awkwardness. I thought it was what you military types called thinking on your feet.’

He eyed her with misgiving. All he’d wanted was some pretext for making her think they were doing each other a favour—something to distract her from questioning his real motives behind monitoring her and Lieutenant Kendell’s meetings so closely.

He could never have guessed just how little freedom she had—not even to go shopping. He’d assumed she’d been exaggerating when she’d said she felt caged, but now he understood what she had meant. It must be intolerable. No wonder she resorted to telling lies and climbing out of windows. Though he couldn’t very well encourage her propensity for getting into mischief by admitting that. So, instead, he observed, ‘All you have done is make everything twice as complicated as it need be by adding yet another layer to the deception you are practising upon Lady Penrose.’

Guilt made her stomach twinge. She did not want to practise any deception upon Lady Penrose at all. After living under her aegis for only a few weeks she had discovered that, though reserved and inclined to be strict, basically she was a kind woman. So kind, in fact, that after observing the two girls together in the shop she had invited Milly back to Mount Street. Immediately catching on to what a marvellous opportunity this would be to spend some time together in private and concoct a suitable background story, Milly had accepted the invitation with alacrity.

‘I am sure you wish to catch up with each other,’ Lady Penrose had said once they arrived, and then had retired to her own room leaving them entirely unsupervised.

Lady Jayne did not think she had ever laughed so much since … No, she had never laughed so much as she had done that afternoon, closeted in her room with Milly and her lively sense of humour. She had wondered if this was what it would be like to have a close female friend. She had no idea. She had never had any friends she had chosen for herself. Her grandfather vetted everyone she came into contact with so closely that by the time they measured up to his impossibly high standards she had lost interest in them.

Milly was like a breath of fresh air. Even though Jayne had been a little jealous of the esteem in which Lord Ledbury held her to begin with, once they had retired to the privacy of Lady Jayne’s room and got talking—well! Milly had seen so much, had had so many exciting adventures growing up in the tail of the army, and recounted them so amusingly that Lady Jayne forgot to be anything but completely enthralled. How she wished she might have had but a tithe of Milly’s experiences. Once her parents had died, and she had gone to live with her grandfather, Lady Jayne had not set foot outside Kent. While there, she had scarcely been allowed off the estate except for church on Sunday, or to visit the few neighbouring families of whom her grandfather approved. She felt so green and naive and ignorant beside Milly.

After she had gone, Lady Penrose had summoned her to her room.

‘That girl appears to have acted upon you like a tonic,’ she’d said, the moment Lady Jayne had taken a seat. ‘I had thought just at first she looked a little … common …’ Lady Penrose had arched an enquiring brow.

‘That is one thing I hope to help her with while she is in Town,’ she had said, seizing her opportunity. ‘I had hoped, if I might supervise her purchase of a new wardrobe and just give her a nudge—you know, about what is truly stylish …’

Lady Penrose had continued to look at her in silence, that eyebrow raised, until Lady Jayne had admitted, ‘Well, no, she is not from a terribly good family. But I do like her.’ And by that time it had been the truth.

‘There is nothing wrong with having a few friends from lower levels of Society, provided one does not let them become too encroaching,’ Lady Penrose had said with a pointed look.

Lady Jayne had nodded her understanding. Any friendship with a person of Milly’s class would be allowed to go so far, but no further.

‘I have not been able to help noticing,’ she had then said, with a troubled air, ‘that you have not been very happy while you have been staying with me. It was one of the reasons why I decided we should accept Miss Beresford’s invitation to attend her come-out, even though she is not from one of the families your grandfather approved. I had wondered, when you expressed an interest in attending, if you and she had struck up a friendship?’

Lady Jayne had only gone to that wretched ball because Harry had let her know he could be there, and they had arranged an assignation in the library, but she couldn’t very well admit that.

When Lady Penrose saw that she had no intention of making any response to her tentative enquiry, she continued, ‘I have rarely seen you smile, and certainly never heard you laugh, until Miss Brigstock came upon the scene.’ She smiled. ‘For that alone I am inclined to like her.’




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