An Escapade and an Engagement (6 page)

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

T
he 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.’

‘I hate having to deceive Lady Penrose,’ Lady Jayne said now to
Lord Ledbury with feeling. ‘I wish it was not necessary.’

‘Yet Milly tells me you have invited her to go shopping again
tomorrow?’

‘And then to Gunter’s for ices.’ Her face brightened
considerably. ‘She will enjoy that, will she not?’

‘She will,’ he said, wondering what was making her look so
cheerful. He would not have thought that a sheltered Society beauty like her
could have anything in common with an army brat. Was she really so lonely that
she could look forward to going shopping and having ices with a girl like Milly?
If what she said about disliking deceiving Lady Penrose was true, then he could
only believe she was so lonely that even Milly’s company seemed appealing,
or…

Hang it. How could he have forgotten the reason she’d agreed to
meet Milly in the first place? Lieutenant Kendell. He’d promised that if she
took Milly shopping he would reward her with a sight of her lovelorn
lieutenant.

His mood, which had not been all that good to begin with,
plummeted still further as he saw that, in spite of knowing Lady Jayne was not
at all the kind of girl he could ever seriously consider marrying, it was still
galling to know her face would never light up at the prospect of spending time
with him.