A Gentleman’s Promise: A Regency Romance (Gentlemen Book 1)

by Penny Hampson

  ‘Nonsense, Francis. Of course you’d be welcome in any case,’ Crawford interjected. ‘It’s only because of your overdeveloped sense of pride that you hold yourself apart from society.’

  ‘I’m not so mean-spirited as to hold a man accountable for his father’s sins. Any friend of Crawford’s is a friend of mine.’ Regardless of Crawford’s assurances to the contrary, Richard guessed that the poor devil probably received the cut direct from many when Wheatley wasn’t with him.

  ‘Same goes for me too,’ added Phil, raising his glass.

  Crawford refilled his own glass and, smiling at them all, said, ‘We all need friends. Let’s drink to friendship.’ The four men raised their glasses and made their toast. It wasn’t long before general conversation resumed.

  Another bottle of claret later and Heslop checked his pocket watch, a very expensive-looking timepiece, to Richard’s discerning eye. How did a man in his situation afford such luxuries? he asked himself.

  ‘Is that the time? I’d better get back,’ said Heslop, getting up from his seat. ‘Wheatley expects me to attend him in the evenings.’ He laid a hand on Crawford’s shoulder. ‘It’s been good to see you, Nate.’ With a smile and a gracious inclination of his head, he acknowledged Richard and Phil. ‘I’m glad to have made your acquaintances, gentlemen. I’ve enjoyed our conversation.’

  ‘I hope we meet again, Heslop,’ replied Richard, racking his brains for a way to engineer another meeting. ‘Do make yourself known to me when you’re in here next. I come over most afternoons.’ He quirked his eyebrow hopefully. ‘Might I see you in Jackson’s or Angelo’s?'

  Heslop smiled. ‘His Grace enjoys a bout with the foils, but I’m not up to his standard, so I intend to have some lessons at Angelo’s. I plan to visit Manton’s too, but you won’t find me at Jackson’s.’ He gave an awkward grin. ‘I’m afraid I don’t enjoy getting beaten to a pulp.’ With a final wave, he headed for the door.

  ‘He seems like a good sort, Crawford,’ ventured Richard.

  Crawford nodded. ‘Yes, he is, you can depend upon it. His mother was a lady of good family sent to live in the country. Not sure who his father is; Francis never spoke of him. We spent much of our youth together. I’m glad he’s doing well.’

  Richard became thoughtful as Crawford continued reminiscing.

  ‘We did everything together… you know, the sorts of things all boys get up to. But he was never in the petticoat line.’ Crawford grinned. ‘Unlike myself. I always enjoyed flirting with the barmaid. But Francis never joined in… said he wasn’t interested. He has very high principles.’ Crawford sighed. ‘Each to his own. Can’t claim my principles are that high.’

  ‘Why don’t you join me for dinner at home this evening, Crawford?’ offered Richard. ‘You, too, of course, Phil.’

  ‘Not me, thanks all the same,’ answered Phil. ‘I’ve lots of paperwork to catch up on.’

  ‘You make me feel guilty, Phil, making you work so hard.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Phil winked. ‘It’s just that I like to keep on top of things. Also, I’ve a few matters of my own that need sorting.’

  ‘Very well, but if you change your mind, you’d be very welcome. How about you, Crawford?’

  ‘Yes, I’d be happy to,’ replied Crawford, an amused twinkle in his eye. ‘I was wondering how I’d fill the hours this evening, not many people in town yet.’

  ‘So I’m the last refuge of the lonely, am I?’ Richard slapped Crawford on the back. ‘I’ll expect you at about eight.’

  The three men made their exit, Crawford heading off to his lodgings at the Albany, while Richard and Phil retraced their steps through Green Park.

  Chapter 12

  After the visit with her grandmother, Emma and Julia went shopping. The dowager had decided that nothing would do but for Emma to be fitted out with the latest styles, entrusting the supervision of this task to Julia and insisting that all bills be directed to her.

  ‘Though you will have a significant inheritance, Emma, once all the paperwork is sorted,’ the dowager disclosed. ‘I insisted that your grandfather oversee the details of Charles’ will before you all left for France, and he assured me that you were to be well provided for.’

  Emma was secretly elated. She could avoid marriage and would not have to become someone’s companion after all. She’d have funds to live an independent life.

  Julia escorted Emma to her own modiste, who, despite looking with misgivings at Emma’s slight figure, assured both ladies that she would be transformed once in the right attire. Emma was not quite convinced.

  ‘Grandmamma said I was to spend what I needed, but I do feel guilty,’ she confided to Julia later in the carriage. ‘Do I really require all those dresses? I swear, I’ve never had so many in my life.’ Julia laughed at her friend’s qualms.

  After the modiste, they visited other shops, selecting hats, shawls, gloves, shoes, undergarments, and nightwear. Hearing Emma voice her reservations yet one more time, Julia became impatient.

  ‘Nonsense. I’ve only helped you select the bare minimum for the moment. You can’t attend some of the social events I plan on taking you to without the right clothes.’

  Emma’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Oh, but I thought I was not to go out and about too much until the matter with… well, you know, is sorted?’ She couldn’t bring herself to say “murder attempts”. Besides, she wanted time to herself to develop her own plans, still adamant that Richard should not shoulder the entire burden of sorting out her mess. She’d even thought out how she might confront the duke.

  Julia, who was now preoccupied trying on a rather attractive hat, said abstractedly, ‘Richard has agreed for you to attend a few select social gatherings, under your assumed guise, of course. He and George will also be there, so I really can’t see that there’ll be much risk. There will be too many people about.’ She gave Emma’s arm a reassuring pat.

  Emma smiled, but inside her stomach churned. She’d put all thoughts of her predicament out of her head for a few hours, enjoying the novel sensation of trying on different gowns and deciding which of the fine fabrics and beautiful colours would suit her best. Now reality was intruding again.

  Several hours later, Polly had put the finishing touches to her hair. Emma was wearing a dress that she’d been persuaded to purchase immediately – an Albanian robe in Sicilian blue crêpe, which Julia had insisted brought out the colour of her eyes. Silver buttons adorned the front from bodice to hem, and the sleeves and bosom were embellished with a Vandyke border. Drawing a matching silk scarf in the same hue around her shoulders, Emma surveyed herself in the mirror.

  Her eyes widened. Goodness, she looked almost elegant. No, dash it. She was elegant. Putting her shoulders back and lifting her chin, she no longer saw herself as the frightened young woman she’d been just a few weeks before. Would Richard like what he saw? she wondered. Why did his opinion matter? She’d every intention of remaining an independent woman… didn’t she? She bit her lip. Good grief, it seemed she didn’t know her own mind. Oh, it was all his fault. Why was he so attractive? Merely seeing him turned her thoughts awry. Telling herself not to be such a goose, Emma took a deep breath and went to join the others in the drawing room.

  George rose to greet her.

  ‘Julia was about to come and fetch you, Emma. I must say, you look particularly lovely. Is that one of your purchases from your shopping expedition? Julia told me you’d bought all manner of things.’

  The heat crept into Emma’s face, blushing at the thought of Julia sharing all the details of the shopping expedition… the underwear, the stockings.

  ‘Don’t mind George,’ said Julia. ‘He’s always teasing. But you do look lovely, Emma. That colour really suits you, as I told you it would. It was so lucky Madame Gilbert had a cancelled order.’ She turned towards the door. ‘Now, I wonder where Richard has got to. Dinner will be served sh
ortly.’

  No sooner had the words left her mouth than the door opened and Richard entered, accompanied by another gentleman using a cane. Despite his pronounced limp, he held himself erect as he came forward to be introduced. By his bearing and commanding presence, Emma guessed he was a military man.

  ‘We’ve not delayed you too long, have we?’ said Richard, laughing apologetically. ‘I’m afraid Crawford and I were caught up in conversation and I quite forgot the time. Please forgive me.’ He gestured to his sister and her spouse. ‘Julia, George, you remember Crawford, don’t you? No need for introductions.’

  Crawford bowed.

  ‘Emma, may I present my good friend Major Nathaniel Crawford? Crawford, this is my cousin, Miss Emma Smith.’

  Major Crawford smiled and took her hand. His arresting green eyes held an interested and appreciative gleam.

  ‘Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Smith. Richard has not mentioned you before now. Has he been hiding you away?’

  Emma suppressed a feeling of panic, feeling the blood rushing to her cheeks. She’d no experience of flirting, yet this gentleman wanted to flirt. She braced herself. She could deal with this.

  Richard, who up to now had been looking forward to a convivial evening, was suddenly assailed with doubts. He hadn’t invited Crawford in order for him to flirt with Emma. As much as he liked him, a military man like Crawford was not the man for her. She needed someone more… like himself. Richard sucked in his breath. He shouldn’t feel so possessive, he told himself. She was far too independent-minded and impetuous for him. They would never suit.

  He eyed her wistfully. She did look stunning in that blue dress. It had taken an effort of will for his jaw not to drop open when he’d first seen her on entering the room. No wonder Crawford was turning on the charm. Who wouldn’t when faced with such a vision of loveliness? In the past, he’d enviously watched Crawford charm the most reluctant of females. Some had been so smitten with him that they’d been practically begging for a kiss. Surely Crawford wouldn’t try for the same with Emma? Richard scowled. Of course Crawford would. He cursed himself for inviting his friend. Emma had no experience. Her life had been sheltered from predatory males like Crawford. Richard made his mind up. There was nothing for it… it was up to him to protect her and pray that Crawford had lost his touch. His ears tuned to their conversation as he hovered nearby.

  ‘I’m happy to make your acquaintance too, Major Crawford,’ said Emma. ‘So, you were at university with Richard. What did you study?’

  Crawford sent her one of his easy smiles. Damn the man, thought Richard, glowering in the background. Unclenching his fists, he forced himself to act nonchalantly and swept an imaginary thread from his sleeve. Listening to their conversation was torture.

  ‘Oh, the usual. Classics, mainly.’ Crawford gave a throaty chuckle. ‘That’s where Lacey and I tended to part ways. He was always more interested in engineering and mechanicals.’ To Richard’s smothered outrage, Crawford smoothly took Emma’s arm. ‘Mind you, the classics never really held much for me either, apart from helping to occupy me when I was bored.’

  Richard gaped as Crawford guided Emma to the sofa and sat beside her. He frowned. Was it his imagination, or was Crawford sitting just a little too close?

  Emma gave a light laugh. ‘Yes, it’s nice to escape from everyday cares, isn’t it? What authors do you read?’

  Richard cursed inwardly, thinking that the pair had far too much in common. Emma could read Latin and Greek, and he’d forgotten that Crawford had come top of his year in classics.

  Crawford’s face glowed with admiration. He was clearly impressed with both Emma’s looks and her learning. Emma’s eyes sparkled as she steered the conversation. In short, they were getting on famously. Richard moved glumly towards the fireplace. He’d lost all appetite for dinner.

  A few minutes later, Grimes announced that the meal was ready to be served. Richard’s head whipped round at this heaven-sent opportunity, and he crooked his elbow towards Emma, at the same time shooting a menacing look at his friend.

  ‘Let me escort you in, Emma. Crawford, you don’t mind, do you?’

  Crawford, with a knowing smile, waved at his friend to proceed.

  Dinner was taken at the smaller of the dining tables. Richard was at the head, with Emma seated to his right. Next to her was George, while across the table sat Julia and Crawford. Richard felt pleased with himself for arranging matters thus.

  His cook had excelled herself. There was white soup, followed by poached salmon and turbot, roast fowl, and a couple of prime rabbits, together with side dishes of potatoes, spinach, and broccoli. To finish, there were jellies, sweet pastries, and a rather fine Stilton cheese. The conversation had been lively, with Crawford recounting some of his escapades – those that were suitable for mixed company – and George had brought Richard up to date with news of their mutual neighbours in Cornwall. By the meal’s completion, Richard was once more feeling benevolent towards his friend and readily agreed that the gentlemen should take their port and brandy in the library with the ladies.

  Taking her arm, Richard deftly manoeuvred Emma into a chair near the fire, where he intended to linger.

  Crawford took the seating arrangement in with a glance and smirked at Richard, saying sotto voce, ‘Why didn’t you tell me about this lovely cousin? Marking your territory, you sly dog? Oh well, perhaps she has a sister?’ Without waiting for a reply, Crawford sat on one of the remaining sofas, a look of amusement on his face. Shooting a quick glance at Richard, he leaned forward and asked, ‘Do you have any other family, Miss Smith? Apart from Richard and Julia, of course?’

  Emma blinked. ‘Erm, yes, I have a brother. He’s much younger than I, so he did not join us this evening.’

  ‘And your parents – where do they reside?’

  Richard made a swift decision. He’d known Crawford for years. There was no-one more upright and reliable. He was a war hero and could be trusted with the truth. Richard leaned down and, in an undertone, spoke to the now worried-looking Emma.

  ‘Let me tell him, Emma. I know Crawford well enough to say that what we disclose to him will go no further than these four walls.’

  She regarded him from under her lashes for a moment.

  ‘Very well,’ she replied. ‘I trust your judgement.’

  Crawford’s face clouded. ‘Is something amiss?’

  It didn’t take Richard long to reveal to his astonished and horrified friend all the details.

  ‘You should’ve told me sooner about these attempts on your life, Lacey.’ Crawford was now very much a commanding officer concerned about one of his men. ‘I insist you let me know if there’s any way I can be of assistance. I’ll certainly put off returning to Warwickshire until the culprit has been run to ground.’ His head swivelled to Emma, a new look of respect in his eye. ‘And you, Miss Smythe… I just wish we’d had more officers with your pluck back in Portugal.’

  Julia, who’d been listening with an attentive ear, piped up. ‘Major, I agree. Emma certainly has pluck. I don’t think I could have managed to pull it off, despite my tendency for adventure.’

  George patted her hand. ‘There’ll be no more adventures for you, my love.’ In response to the outraged look she sent him, he quickly added, ‘At least not for a while.’

  Richard grinned and took his friend’s hand.

  ‘Thanks, old man. Knew I could rely on you.’

  Crawford dug Richard in the ribs.

  ‘So, you’re not a viscount after all? Never mind, I’ll still treat you the same.’

  The evening, after a precarious start, was going well as far as Emma was concerned. She’d found Richard’s friend, Major Crawford, a little intimidating at first. But then they’d discovered mutual interests and were getting on famously. It was only when the major started asking more personal questions about her background
that she’d started to panic again. But Richard had come to her rescue, and it seemed as if the major, now he knew the truth, also wanted to help. How was she going to sort this out? Things were getting trickier by the minute.

  Her ears pricked up at Major Crawford’s words. Richard had shared their suspicions about Wheatley.

  ‘Are you absolutely sure?’ Crawford’s tone was incredulous. ‘He’s a very powerful man – but to do such a thing, why would he? And if he is the culprit, well… you’d best be careful.’

  A chill shot through her. Wheatley must indeed be dangerous for the major to issue such a warning. She’d intended somehow to engineer a meeting with the duke, but this was sounding riskier by the minute.

  Crawford flashed Richard a knowing look. ‘I see now. That explains your surprise at my greeting Heslop this afternoon. And why you tried to question him about Wheatley.’

  Richard nodded. ‘Was it that obvious?’

  ‘It seemed to me that Francis thinks very highly of his employer, but I can’t believe him guilty of having a part in anything so nefarious.’ Crawford shook his head. ‘No, not Francis. He’s not like that at all.’

  Richard shrugged.

  ‘People change.’ He slapped his forehead, as if remembering something. ‘Wait a minute, Crawford. Think about what you told me recently. When we met in Oxford.’

  Crawford frowned and scratched his head. ‘Sorry, old man. We spoke about so much.’

  Richard set his glass down on the mantelpiece, his eyes glowing with excitement.

  ‘Think, man. You said your father disliked Frederick Smythe intensely because of what he’d done to that young woman.’

  Emma’s eyes swivelled to Crawford.

  ‘What young woman? What did Uncle Frederick do?’ she demanded. She’d guessed her uncle had been a bit of a loose screw from some of the comments her mother had let slip, but she was clueless as to what he could’ve done to attract the enmity of a duke.