The Unknown Heir: Book Nine in the Regency Romps Series

by Elizabeth Bramwell

“She’s already done that several times,” said Lord Arthur dryly. “Don’t feel that you need to, Lady Henrietta, but I would point out that we will keep Governess with us, so you need not worry that the pug will damage your consequence, or cause you to drive in an erratic manner!”

  “What a horrible thing to say,” said Miss Clyde with an amused grin, “but please, Lady Cordelia, Lady Cottingham, do not feel as though you must for my sake.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” said Henrietta, “for Cordelia is probably glad to stretch her legs.”

  “Of course I am,” said Cordelia, happy that her plan was succeeding. She reached out, expecting to take Christopher’s hand as she stepped down, but he was busy taking reluctant charge of Miss Clyde’s ugly little pug.

  “If I may, Mademoiselle,” said Monsieur Gautereau, appearing at her side with his hand stretched out. She hesitated only a moment before taking it with a tight smile and gracefully exiting the carriage.

  Christopher, she noticed, was perfectly capable of helping Miss Clyde up into her vacated seat, even with an irritated pug wriggling about under one arm.

  She also noticed that Henrietta was trying to catch the eye of her cousin, but that he was resolutely staring at the ostrich plume sprouting from her shako as though it were the single most fascinating thing in the world.

  Cordy frowned, momentarily distracted from her thwarted attempts to attract the attention of Mr Douglas. Something had obviously occurred between the two distant cousins, and it was her duty as Henrietta’s friend to help reconcile them.

  With no way to delay their setting off without making a scene, Henrietta stopped attempting to catch Monsieur Gautereau’s eye, and instead devoted her energy to keeping Miss Clyde entertained as they pulled away and back into the middle of the road.

  Cordelia, knowing that her moment had come, smiled over at Christopher with the intent of luring him to her side.

  It had been one thing to be in competition with Lily Clyde, but it was outside of enough when her charms were outshone by the behaviour of the pug, Governess, who quite obviously held Mr Douglas in mutual dislike.

  “I better walk the little rat- er, I mean, darling,” he said as he put Governess down onto the ground. He risked a side glance at Lady Arthur, but she seemed inclined to be amused rather than angry.

  “Protect your boots,” advised Monsieur Gautereau solemnly, and Cordelia got the distinct impression that Christopher was only just able to refrain from making a rude hand gesture at his Canadian friend. Any further conversation was prevented by Governess herself who, having just spotted the Honourable Frederick Byng promenading with his pet poodle as though it were the most superior dog in Hyde Park, decided she must immediately introduce herself and thus disabuse the noted dandy of his error.

  This time Christopher certainly did swear as Governess yanked her pretty lead from his hand and took off for the refined looking poodle whose existence so offended her. Cordelia watched, her mouth hanging open, as Christopher took off at a gallop, followed closely by a horrified Lady Arthur and her laughing husband.

  Monsieur Gautereau cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.

  “Perhaps you will permit me to escort you, Mademoiselle Cordelia?” he asked as he offered her his arm.

  She hesitated for only a moment, intelligent enough to know that Mr Douglas was not in a position to walk with her despite her hopes. She smiled and slipped her hand through his proffered arm.

  “Shall we walk as slowly as possible in the hope that Governess has been recaptured and apologies all made before we reach Lord Arthur and offer our help?” she asked.

  He gave an appreciative chuckle.

  “An inspired idea,” he replied, and together they began a very leisurely, and very slow, stroll.

  *

  It occurred to Jacques within a few minutes that, while he might abhor the fact that Christopher seemed to have forgotten his love for Marie-Thérèse , his friend had excellent taste in women. Lady Cordelia Delby, he quickly realised, was every inch a Society Miss, and the type of woman that his sisters would both admire and adore. Her striking outfit, which Miss Clyde's reaction had told him was in the first stare of fashion, truly did make the most of her features, but rather than seeming aware of her beauty, Lady Cordelia seemed oblivious to her charms. She kept a light patter of conversation running, apparently with the goal of putting him at his ease, and even after they caught up with their party she showed no inclination to trade his escort for that of Mr Douglas.

  "Are you enjoying your time in London, Monsieur?" she asked. "I sometimes envy people their first visit to the City, for they have the perfect excuse to visit all the sights of the Capital without having to pretend to be bored with it all. Promise you will not tell anyone, but I get such a quiver of excitement every time I see the Tower, and start to imagine all the famous people who have been held there over the years."

  "I know very little about the history of England," he told her apologetically. "Was the Tower a bad place to be?"

  Her eyes widened in surprise.

  "Oh, you have so many wonderful things to learn about! I will start with the most famous," she breathed, before launching into a brief, but very entertaining, account of the various wives of Henry VIII.

  It was the most enjoyable half an hour Jacques had spent since his arrival in England, much to his own amusement. He wasn't one for history, not when there was so much happening in the present to occupy his attention, but listening to the Lady Cordelia enthusiastically prattle on made him reconsider his opinion on the subject. A few pertinent questions led her to explaining the history of London, by way of the Romans through to the current age, and he very rapidly realised that her elegant clothing and pretty face held a very lively mind indeed.

  "I copied a portrait of Oliver Cromwell once," she said after he asked for some clarification about how the Monarchy had been abolished, and then reinstated, by the English some 170 years earlier. "It was a very tolerable likeness, if I do say so myself, but my father said he found it depressing for it glared at him whenever he did anything vaguely decadent, and so it lives in my portfolio rather than being on display. He very much liked the one I made of his grandfather, though, who had managed to survive the puritans, and was one of the men who rushed to bring Charles II back to the throne. We didn't have a picture of him, sadly, for it was destroyed in a fire that took out the Old House long before I was born, but Father said it was uncanny how accurately I captured the old Earl."

  "You can paint portraits of people you haven't met?" he asked, his hand going to the pocket where he'd tucked the miniature of his father.

  She nodded. "Yes, although I have to confess that people might just say they are accurate to be nice to me, for it's not as though I can compare them, now is it? But I do know that I need a good description of the person from people who were on intimate terms with them, otherwise I struggle to see what they might have looked like."

  "I see," said Jacques, his hand dropping alongside his heart. "I didn't know my father, sadly. I have only one, very poor miniature done in Quebec when he married my mother. I would have liked to have seen a good portrait of him, even though I did not think that I would until I arrived here."

  "How sad," said Cordelia, her expression full of sympathy. "I am guilty of forgetting that not everyone is as privileged as I am when it comes to knowing their family tree. We're rather proud that we can trace our ancestors back to the court of Aethelred on the Delby line - although Father occasionally enjoys teasing my mother that her people are nothing more than invaders that came over with the Conqueror."

  "I know the history of my mother's people and those of mon pere," he replied, aware of feeling a touch of resentment at her assumption. " My grandparents were both born in Scotland and know their lineage for a hundred years. The Gautereaus arrived in New France in the 1600s, while mon pere's mother is Iroquis, and can weave the names and stories of her ancestors back for generations."

  She did
not, as he had expected her to, take any offence at his correction.

  "How wonderful," she replied with genuine warmth. "I wish it were so for everyone. Do you know, my friend William - Lord Standish - recently married, and his new wife has taught me so much about how people outside of my social sphere live. I confess it was a bit of a shock to learn that poor people don't need embroidered gloves as much as they need stout boots and a good coat, but I bow to her knowledge, and act accordingly. Thanks to you, I now know not to assume that people only know their family tree if they are descended from the aristocracy... ha! I wonder if William knows that!"

  He hesitated for a moment as he worked his way through this tangled speech, and - apart from a momentary desire to confuse the poor girl further by describing the beautifully embroidered mittens that many of the Native and Metis peoples wore - decided that he rather liked Lady Cordelia Delby.

  "You know a lot more about the world than most, Mademoiselle, and I include myself in that number."

  She smiled at compliment. "Thank you! I do try to learn, you know. People don't think I do, because I care about frippery things like dresses and bonnets, but it is possible for a woman to be interested in a great many things at the same time."

  He gave a mock gasp of horror. "Non, you must not refer to clothing as frippery things! If I have been taught one thing by mon pere, it is that clothes can be the difference between life and death. On the prairies, that might mean a fur coat and good boots. In London, I believe a fashionable bonnet and a dress styled au militaire has the same effect."

  "On a social level perhaps," she laughed, ignoring the praise of her outfit. "I confess that navigating the Ton can be fraught with difficulty, but I have been trained for this since I was in leading-strings, so it comes easily to me."

  Jacques glanced over his shoulder, where Christopher seemed to have finally regained control of Miss Clyde's smug dog, while Lord Arthur and Mr Byng seemed to have come to an accord.

  "It makes very little sense to me," he confessed. "I thought that the rules of Montreal's elite was training enough, but non. I do not know what is expected here, or who anyone is, and why they all seem to be related to each other."

  Lady Cordelia let out a delightful giggle at this pronouncement, and Jacques was unreasonably proud that he had made her laugh.

  "Yes, it must be so hard to know who is related to whom, which family has a long standing feud with another, which gentlemen are Whigs or Tories, and why people with titles may not be as influential as a mere mister with no real claim to aristocratic ancestors!"

  He gave a theatrical shudder. "You describe it perfectly, Mademoiselle! And then add in the way they will reference events and incidents that only your Ton know of, and you can understand why I am so reluctant to talk of anything but snow and beaver pelts - but even then, I am at risk of offending someone who has family or shares in the Hudson’s Bay Company, for my family are Nor'Westers!"

  “I thought Mr Douglas worked for the Hudson’s Bay Company?”

  “Oui, but he is part of the group who wishes the two companies to be one, so has friends and enemies in both camps. At least at home I understand the allegiances, but here I am without hope!”

  She gave him a comforting pat on the arm. "If it makes you feel better, there are a great many members of Polite Society who are as terrified as you are when it comes to safely navigating our waters."

  He considered this for a moment. "Non, I am afraid it does not reassure me in the least, for if they cannot understand how it all works, what hope is there for me?"

  "At least you have Henrietta to help you," she said.

  Jacques couldn't find a way to answer that. Following his conversation with Lord Shropshire and the discovery that he was the heir to the Marquisate, the realisation that Henrietta had known the whole time, even before he'd left Montreal, had caused considerable damage to their friendship. Half of him had wanted to treat her like he would his sisters, and demand she explain why she had not simply told him and her grandfather of her suspicions. The other half suspected she had not considered him, a distant relative from the other side of the world, to be a worthy heir despite his Cartwright blood, or worse, that she had not believed his parents had been married.

  He could forgive much, but not a slight upon his mother's honour, or the refinement of the people who had raised him.

  "Yes," he said when it became obvious he would have to say something, even if there was no easy response at hand.

  The expression on Lady Cordelia's face turned thoughtful as they continued their walk. Jacques could hear Lord and Lady Arthur teasing Christopher a small way behind them over the general chatter of their fellow walkers and the clatter of the carriages as showy horses pulled them, slowly, along the main routes of the park.

  "Ah, I think I can spot Henrietta and Miss Clyde up ahead," said Lady Cordelia, and indeed, Jacques could just make out the distinctive cherry red carriage that belonged to his cousin inching its way towards them among the pack of vehicles. "Let's wait here for them, so that Lord and Lady Arthur may catch up."

  He noted that she didn't mention Christopher, and wondered if the beauty was feeling jealous of Miss Clyde.

  They received a few tuts and scowls from their fellow walkers as they came to a halt at the edge of the road, but either Lady Cordelia was too high status for them to risk commenting out loud, or the people around them were in the wrong for expecting them to continuing moving at the same snail's pace of the crowd. His companion was oblivious to any irritation caused, and instead pointed out a few of the notable people for his attention.

  "That's Mr Ball-Hughes in the landaulet with the four bays and the roan, but everyone calls him Golden Ball on account of his wealth. I know he looks to be a top of the trees fellow, but Lady Jane Paget refused his offer of marriage, you know, not to mention Lady Caroline Churchill."

  "Did you?" asked Jacques, glancing at her just in time to catch the wicked grin that came and went before he'd had a chance to blink.

  "A lady never tells," she replied, confirming that she had, indeed, turned down an offer of marriage from the man. "Now, do you see the two ladies in the green carriage led by the dark bay horse? The one with the very tall footman riding on the rear? That is the Countess of Blessington, and she is considered to be a beauty despite being over thirty."

  "An ancient indeed," said Jacques as the corner of his lip kicked up.

  Cordelia gave a laugh of appreciation. "Lord, I sounded terrible when I said that, didn't I? I'm afraid I have to dislike Lady Blessington on principle, for she stole my mother's crown as the Toast of the Ton, as it were, and has never been forgiven as a result, even though Mama is at least ten years her senior and of higher precedence."

  "But they are both called Madam la Countess, non?" asked Jacques.

  "Blessington is an Irish title, not even a decade old," replied his companion with a wry grin. "Don't you remember that I told you the Delbys go back to the mists of history? That makes us far more important."

  He gave an appreciative chuckle. "I might have to employ you as my tutor, Mademoiselle Cordelia. If I am not to disgrace my Cartwright relatives during my stay in England, I fear there is much more to learn than I thought."

  She turned to regard him, and their eyes locked. Jacques resisted the urge to tug at his neckcloth.

  "Would that help?" she asked.

  He rather felt like his brain had stopped working, for it was difficult to think of anything but how fine and expressive her eyes were.

  "Help?"

  "With whatever has you and Henrietta at odds," said his companion.

  “We are not at odds.”

  “You are,” she said plainly. "She is my friend, and I know when she is troubled. You have to remember that we were both born to our roles and have been fed the importance of our dynastic lines since we were children. The Cartwrights are so few in number, Monsieur, that I fear they have come on too strong with you in an attempt to pull you into the heart of their
family, and it has caused an upset between you."

  You would not believe just how close to the truth you are, thought Jacques.

  "They have been nothing but kind and welcoming of me, like I am the prodigal son returned," he replied.

  Her smile was sympathetic. "Exactly as I thought. Monsieur, I am very fond of Henrietta and her family, but I also remember how difficult the Ton could be for my cousin, Beatrix, when she came to London for a Season. As someone whose principle accomplishment is the ability to navigate the beau monde with ease, I offer my services as a guide in this matter."

  His initial thought was to refuse her kind offer, for although he was sure it was made in good faith, he could not help the surge of irritation that he would need help to make a good impression. Luckily for his future, Christopher chose just that moment to rejoin them, looking slightly harassed as he cradled the grumpy looking pug, Governess, tight in his arms.

  "This is a very important question, Cordy: what are your feelings on lap dogs?" he said as soon as he came upon them.

  She turned a flirtatious gaze onto Christopher, but with an amused smile hovering on her lips. "If I'm being honest, I much prefer cats."

  "I knew you were perfect," said Christopher, causing the beauty to laugh as he set Governess back onto the ground after ensuring her lead was tightly wrapped around his wrist.

  Jacques caught the look shared between Lord and Lady Arthur, and wondered whose idea it had been to set the pug onto his unsuspecting friend; theirs, or Miss Clyde herself.

  "Mademoiselle, I accept your kind offer, and look forward to beginning my lessons immédiatement," he said, drawing her attention back to him.

  "Wonderful, Monsieur Gautereau, but I warn you that it will involve me dragging you all about town to see the sights - it is not fashionable for me to be excited about visiting the attractions, you see, but unexceptionable if I am merely sharing the wonders of London with a visitor!"

  "Jacques," he said. "We are family friends now, are we not? Call me Jacques."

  She hesitated, and he wondered if he had done something contrary to the complex social rules of the Ton.