He spoke to no one of what had happened, and he swore never to be so vulnerable again. When he heard a few months later that the Divine Miss Westerly had confounded society by marrying a soldier of no great wealth or consequence, he merely raised a bored eyebrow and changed the subject.
Over the next years Jason turned his small estate into one of the finest horse-breeding farms in Britain. His hunters and racehorses were renowned for speed and endurance, his matched carriage teams without peer. When he went to town for the Season, men sought him out for equine advice, youths admired his sporting prowess, and women cast their lures to him. He was known as a devil with the ladies, always ready for an affair with a married woman but never giving away the smallest part of his heart.
When his brother’s unexpected death made him Lord Radford, he became even more sought after, and more cynical. The matchmaking mamas had been worse than the hot-eyed matrons.
His dynastic feelings were strong enough that he decided to marry, but he expected no particular pleasure. It had been a pleasant surprise when Caroline seemed to want nothing from him, in spite of her avaricious father. He had become confident of winning her affection as her shyness abated, so the union would be comfortable for them both.
Now his well-laid plan was blown to flinders. Who would have dreamed the long-lost Jessica could be Caroline’s aunt? Or that her presence could still upset him so? Just shock, of course, but it was going to be deuced awkward having her around the house. Running into her in the halls, sharing coffee in the breakfast parlor—his stomach twisted sharply at the thought.
A soft canine whimper brought him back to the present. He found he had drawn the stallion to a halt and was staring west toward the Welsh hills. Rufus had found him and was now trying to attract his attention.
He smiled without humor as he realized for the first time that he’d named his dog after the plaguey fox that had first drawn his attention to Jessica. What other tendrils had she left in his life?
He set the horse to a trot and signaled Rufus to follow him. The first thing was to get more people into the house. He had deliberately avoided a house party, to be more private with Caroline, but that was less important than his peace of mind. He must invite George, whose social skills had smoothed many a rocky path. Perhaps his friend would fall in love with Jessica and get her off Jason’s hands.
Oddly, the thought failed to please.
Aunt Honoria would come with her entourage. She wanted to meet the future Lady Radford, and it would be a courtesy to invite her. He was sure Lady Edgeware could keep even the most obstreperous redhead in check. The thought of the two women colliding brought a genuine chuckle; talk of an irresistible force meeting an immovable object!
Why couldn’t the damned woman have had the sense to marry a man who wouldn’t get himself killed?
By the time he returned to the house his plans were laid. While waiting for his new guests to arrive, he would find some pressing business to take him away for a few days. It was very rude to leave Caroline, but she would have her aunt to bear her company. She would hardly miss him.
He must remember to think of her as an aunt.
His unruly mind took over again. She called you Jason in the carriage. But that was of no significance; she had merely forgotten herself in amusement as he was savaged by her beastly cat. It meant nothing. After all, she had been married and traveled widely and must hardly remember a foolish boy’s ridiculous calf love. Is that what you want—for her to have forgotten?
Even to himself, he couldn’t answer that.
Just remember that she is Mrs. Sterling, his aunt. Like Lady Edgeware. The voice in his head made a rude and untranslatable noise. Well, not quite like Aunt Honoria. And what was he doing carrying on a conversation with himself? There was just barely time to dress before dinner.
Satisfied that events would soon be under control again, he strode up the steps of Wildehaven.
* * * *
Caroline had tried to rest before dinner, but sleep eluded her. After half an hour she rose and found her lute and absently strummed as she considered how to behave in the coming days. After all, she was setting a course for the rest of her life, and should begin wisely. Lord Radford—Jason—presumably wanted a gracious chatelaine to run his household comfortably and unobtrusively.
Actually, Mrs. Burke probably did that, but Lady Radford should at least know what was going on. She must try to look older, and be careful not to be too absentminded.
As for Jason himself ... he still alarmed her, but perhaps he couldn’t help having those eyebrows or that forceful voice. Certainly he had never been unkind. She suspected that missish behavior would give him a disgust of her, so she must appear more confident. Try not to quiver like a rabbit when he looks at you, she scolded. And do not always assume the worst of him—perhaps he has a shy, sensitive soul hidden deep inside.
She smiled involuntarily at the thought. While everyone had unsuspected depths, it was impossible to imagine that Lord Radford’s included shyness.
If she were to fulfill her promise to work at the marriage, she must keep Jason and Jessica from being at daggers drawn. She could feel the tension vibrating whenever they were together. They were both too independent, too used to going their own way; in short, they were too much alike to approve of each other.
But she must make sure they stayed on terms; she would be unable to bear it if Jason forbade her Jessica’s company. If he did, that alone would very nearly constitute grounds to leave him. Far better the situation never arise.
She had earlier considered breaking the engagement after Gina had married Gideon, but then Radford asked for an early wedding. She might be married before her sister. Besides, her sense of fairness rebelled at such shabby treatment of a man who had done nothing but honor her with a marriage proposal.
Jason’s pride would be more injured by a jilt than his emotions, but that pride was so integral a part of him that the damage would be cruelly deep. He would naturally demand the return of the marriage settlement if she cried off. Since her father had doubtless spent it, Radford could have him thrown in debtors’ prison. At the moment she wouldn’t mind seeing her father in jail, but the disgrace would devastate the whole family.
Caroline sighed. She had been through all this before, and had promised herself not to think of ways out of the match—it wasn’t possible and would undermine her resolve to make the best of the situation.
At this point a timid knock interrupted her unwelcome thoughts. The knock was followed by a young maid no more than fifteen years old. “Mrs. Burke sent me up to help you dress, miss. Is it convenient now?”
Caroline smiled at the child. If she intended to work on being a gracious lady, someone even shyer than herself offered a good place to start. “Of course. You know that I am Caroline Hanscombe, but I fear I don’t remember your name.”
“Betsy, miss,” she said, bobbing a curtsy.
“Well, Betsy, shall we see what we can find of my wardrobe? The baggage carriage was delayed with a broken axle, but there are several gowns in the one trunk that came on our carriage.”
Betsy went to the trunk and opened it, making a small exclamation over the contents. “Oh, Miss Hanscombe, such lovely things!” she said, stroking the fine silks and muslins as she took them out.
“Have you never worked as a lady’s maid before, Betsy?”
“No, miss. The only ladies that came here, Mrs. Burke said it weren’t proper for a young lass like me to wait on them.”
Caroline suppressed a smile at this artless information. It was fortunate she was neither in love with Jason nor of a jealous disposition. If she were, there would be plenty of material to send her temperature soaring. Madame Arlette’s greeting implied that Lord Radford had been a frequent visitor, and her assumption that Jessica was his intended made clear his lordship had a preference for beautiful dashers. Once more Caroline wondered once more how he came to choose such an undramatic bride as herself.
“
I think I shall wear the apricot gown tonight, Betsy. Could you have it pressed?”
“Of course, miss. And if you like, miss, there are some lovely miniature roses in the garden just this shade. Shall I bring some for your hair?”
“An excellent idea. I see you have a talent for this work. We shall have to find more opportunities for you.” Caroline smiled warmly at the little maid, who blushed with pleasure.
“Oh, thank you, miss! I’ll just take this off for pressing. Shall I send a footman with hot water for a bath?”
“I should like it above all things.”
The girl slipped out the door. Caroline was pleased to have made a friend in the house. The rather haughty dresser Lady Hanscombe had engaged had been called to a sick relative just before they left London. If Betsy was capable, she could keep the position.
An hour later she was ready for her first dinner at Wildehaven. The apricot dress was particularly becoming, and Betsy had a knack for hairdressing. Most of Caroline’s glossy dark blond hair was pulled into a twist at the back of her head, with a few curls left at the sides and front. The exquisite little apricot rosebuds Betsy brought were carefully woven under the edge of the twist and complemented her dress perfectly. A single strand of pearls was her only jewelry.
Betsy was justly proud of her handiwork. “Oh/ miss, you do look ever so nice. Everyone is ever so pleased the master is going to marry you.”
Caroline asked curiously, “Are they pleased he is marrying me, or just that he is marrying?”
“Well, that he is marrying at all. But as soon as they know you, they will be glad it is you. You look just like a fairy-tale princess,” the little maid said. And nice as she can be, I’ll tell the others.
At this juncture a knock on the door was followed by Jessica. Betsy’s mouth sagged in awe. If Caroline looked like a princess, clearly the maid had no image strong enough for Jessica’s auburn magnificence.
She dressed in her favorite emerald green, bringing her eyes to an improbable brilliance. The gown was simple enough for a country dinner, but its masterful cut and deep décolletage admirably displayed her superb figure. Her green jade necklace was not particularly valuable but it was beautifully crafted and perfectly matched her eyes.
“Jessica, sometimes I think you exist to cut me to size when I am in danger of getting a conceit of myself,” Caroline said with a laugh. “Betsy, this is my aunt, Mrs. Sterling.”
Jessica smiled at the maid. “If you are the one who did Caroline’s hair, may I hope you will help me in the future?”
“Oh, yes, ma’am!” the girl said fervently. She could hardly believe how her luck had changed. Earlier today she had been polishing silver with vague dreams of someday becoming a lady’s maid; now these two beautiful women were complimenting her skills and asking for her services. As Caroline and Jessica left the room, she was sighing blissfully.
The butler, Burke, met them at the foot of the main stairs with the announcement, “It is a custom of the house to gather in the small salon before dining. If you will follow me?”
Since the small salon could have held two or three dozen people without crowding, Caroline could only be grateful the large one was not used. Burke gave them each a glass of ladylike ratafia and withdrew. While Jessica examined a collection of china miniatures, Caroline wandered to a window and admired the velvety lawns lying warm in the early-evening sun.
She tried to imagine children belonging to her and Jason playing there, but without success—it looked as if no one had ever taken that lawn in vain. The head gardener would probably have an apoplexy if someone walked on it. It was even harder to imagine the children. Lady Hanscombe had given her a blunt and unappetizing lecture on A Woman’s Duty to Her Husband. While Caroline had had a general idea about the process, she had almost perished of embarrassment while her stepmother talked.
When the deep voice rumbled from behind her, “Please forgive my lateness,” she started so violently that some of the ratafia spilled. She turned to her betrothed with a blush as deep as if he had been reading her thoughts. So much for being a gracious lady, she thought wryly. It was very hard to look him in the eye with A Woman’s Duty still on her mind.
“I have been admiring the grounds, my lord,” she stammered.
The dark sardonic face obviously recognized prevarication, but Jason answered readily enough, “The park is said to be one of the finest in England. If you are not too tired after dinner, perhaps we can take a stroll in the formal gardens.”
“That would be very pleasant,” she answered, making a mental note to be tired later. She didn’t feel ready to be alone in the shrubbery with her fiancé yet. Perhaps next week . . .
Jason glanced at Jessica; an appearance that would have stunned most men called forth only a tightening of the lips from him. She nodded her head in cool acknowledgment of his presence and they adjourned to the dining room.
The meal that followed was beautifully prepared and served, but very quiet. With only three people, even the small family dining room seemed large, and no one was inclined to talk. Midway through the second remove, Jason announced, “I am afraid I must leave you for a few days. My bailiff has informed me of a problem at my Suffolk property that requires my personal attention. I will stay with you tomorrow but I must leave the next morning for perhaps a week.”
He paused, unpleasantly aware that Caroline’s face showed more relief than dismay. “You must make yourselves completely at home. The staff are at your command. Mrs. Sterling, perhaps you would like to take advantage of the stables. I recall you were a horsewoman.”
The understatement drew a curious glance from Jessica, but she answered calmly, “It will be my pleasure. Doubtless your lordship has a good eye for a horse.”
Jason looked her in the eye for the first time, wondering if she was baiting him. It was universally acknowledged in the ton that no one had better judgment about horseflesh than Lord Radford. If she wasn’t aware of his present reputation, surely her memory would remind her. The innocent look that met his eyes spoke of nothing but social blandness.
“I have also invited a few people to bear us company. You know George Fitzwilliam, Caroline. And my Aunt Honoria wishes to meet you.”
This occasioned a small sound from Jessica. “She is known to you?” he said with a supercilious arch to his brows.
“Very much so,” Jessica said dryly. “If you mean Lady Edgeware, I met her during my come-out. I believe she disapproved of me more than any other woman in London.”
Now it was Jason’s turn to look bland. “Doubtless she will be happy to see what a good douce matron you’ve become.”
He was pleased to see Jessica grit her teeth at that. The girl he remembered would have preferred almost any fate to that of staidness, but the woman she had become refused to be drawn.
“I found that respectability is not inherently distasteful, Lord Radford. In fact, used in moderation it adds a certain savor to life. The contrast, you know.”
Caroline watched the conversation uncertainly, feeling that some sparring was taking place beyond her understanding. “Will the guests arrive in your absence, my lord?”
“I think not. Even if they do, the Burkes can take care of all the details. Please forgive me. I know it is very bad to leave you so soon.”
The dinner party broke up shortly thereafter as Caroline pleaded fatigue and Jessica withdrew with her.
Jason lingered over his port, wondering what the devil he had done to himself.
* * * *
The promised house tour began the next morning promptly after breakfast. Jessica considered crying off but decided she had best learn her way around the great house before she got lost. While Mrs. Burke accompanied the party, it was Jason who provided the commentary, forgetting himself in the history and anecdotes of Wildehaven.
“Originally there was one very large royal hunting preserve in this area. Henry II broke it into two manors and gave them to favorites of his. Wildehaven and our neighbor,
Wargrave Park, are the results. Both properties have grown and shrunk with the family fortunes over the years, but the manor houses are only about a mile apart because of their common history.” He paused, pleased by the genuine interest in Caroline’s eyes.
“Surely it is unusual for two great houses to be so close?” she asked.
“It is,” he confirmed. “Neither house lies in the center of the park. In the past, the two families were close allies in many ways, but that has changed in this generation. The late Earl of Wargrave was very unsocial, and conservative as well. He made it obvious he didn’t approve of many of my innovations. He even considered this house too modern to be in good taste. Personally I believe he was envious; Wargrave Park is an old rabbit warren. It’s empty now but for a skeleton staff.”
“How old is this house?” said Jessica, curiosity bringing her out of her self-imposed silence.
“It was built just a hundred years ago on the site of an older house that burned. My great-great-grandfather was widely assumed to have set fire to the place because he was tired of its draftiness. Nicholas Hawksmoor designed this building, and it is considered his masterpiece.”
Wildehaven was indeed magnificent. The lofty ceilings were superbly carved in the Italianate style, and each room boasted at least one lovely marble fireplace. The proportions were flawless and it had been furnished with love as well as taste.
Caroline found the portrait gallery of particular interest. As Jason gave a brief summary of his ancestors, she kept comparing him with the pictures. He caught one of her sidelong glances and smiled in genuine amusement. “You are quite right; the family look is very pronounced.”
“I had thought your eyebrows unique, my lord, but I see I was wrong,” she murmured.
If there was one thing that distinguished the family, it was frowning brows. Rupert Kincaid, the sixth baron, appeared furious about the War of Roses. Rupert II, his great-grandson, seemed equally displeased with the cost of entertaining Queen Elizabeth on one of her progresses. Another baron, apparently at the time of the Civil War, left a scowl for his descendants. Either the family was permanently angry or Jessica was right: Jason wasn’t really condemning her personally.
The Diabolical Baron Page 10
