The Unknown Heir: Book Nine in the Regency Romps Series

by Elizabeth Bramwell

  "I think Monsieur Loughcroft tried to tell me about a fight over a cheesecake here," said Jacques as they drove through Hyde Park. "Is that true, Mademoiselle Hemsworth? I confess I do not always understand the stories he tells, for my English is not so good, I think."

  Christopher let out a crack of laughter. "No one understands Loughcroft, Jack! He's an excellent, fashionable fellow, but hardly a downy one."

  "That was not my impression, mon ami, but I suspect he would be happy to learn you regard him in such a way," replied his friend before turning his attractive smile back to Miss Hemsworth. "Did I understand ma cousine's husband correctly?"

  The girl actually giggled. Cordelia wasn't sure she would have believed it had she not witnessed it with her own eyes.

  "Not quite, monsieur, but if you like I... I can recount the true tale in French for you?"

  From the look of delight on Jacques' face, one would believe that not a single person in the country had addressed him in his mother tongue since his arrival.

  "Oui, Madamoiselle! J'apprécierais beaucoup!"

  As her timid friend recounted a halting story of the fatal duel between the Duke of Hamilton and Baron Mohun outside of the Cheesecake House some hundred years earlier, Cordelia took the chance to truly consider Jacques Gautereau.

  He continued to wear his hair unfashionably long, with the brown hair curling out from beneath his beaver hat and resting on the high collar of his blue coat. His dark eyes were full of lively intelligence, and she could tell that he was not merely humouring Miss Hemsworth, but that he was enjoying her company. She half expected him to start teasing the girl like he would a younger sister, and it was impossible to deny how handsome that show of kindness made him when compared to the boredom or worse, the distaste that many supposed gentlemen showed towards her shy, untitled friend. She could understand why Henrietta was so determined to bring him into the Cartwright fold, for he was just the sort of man that would make any family proud.

  It was such a pity that he was a foreign nobody, she thought, and then winced at the term.

  She missed the end of Miss Hemsworth's story, but it caused Jacques to let out a roar of laughter that made her jump in surprise.

  Christopher, who was also laughing, turned his grin towards Cordelia.

  "Laughs like a bear, doesn't he? I've told him that it's not fashionable to be in such good spirits all the time, but he doesn't listen to me about anything."

  She was about to reply that it was a good thing, too, but Miss Hemsworth got there first.

  "I like people laughing," she said quietly, a faint smile making her look quite pretty. "My mother says I must look bored by everything if I want to be refined."

  "Mon dieu, how dull!" said Jacques, glancing at Cordelia for confirmation of this fact.

  Cordelia, who could project a sense of ennui that the finest actors on Drury Lane would be proud of, nodded in agreement.

  "How could anyone possibly be bored when Miss Hemsworth is telling such entertaining stories! You should talk with my cousin and her husband, Mr Drake, about writing some history books, my dear, for I would love to learn more about such events! Oh, could you imagine if such duels were still fought now?"

  Miss Hemsworth went white at this suggestion, but was saved from answering by Christopher.

  "Duels are still fought all the time, Cordy, but we try to keep the gentler sex unaware of them," he said with a condescending smile.

  "I know that duels are still fought," said Cordelia, irritated by his tone. "I meant that they rarely end with anyone dying, let alone both participants. Why, Lord Colbourne and Lord Snowley fought one in the not so distant past, and even we gentle females were aware of it."

  "But you know everything," he said with a chuckle that she thought was supposed to be complimentary, but definitely felt insulting. He turned his attention to Miss Hemsworth, and his tone was noticeably more paternalistic as he addressed her. "I am sure the stories of such exploits did not reach a delicately bred lady such as yourself."

  "Bella told me all about it," said Miss Hemsworth, in perhaps the longest sentence she had ever addressed directly to a man of marriageable age, although the effort drove her back into her habitual silence.

  Christopher looked genuinely surprised, while Jacques had been amused.

  "I think you forget, mon ami, that the women of London are as strong and as capable as those in Montreal."

  "I never doubted anything of the sort!" announced Christopher. "If anything, I'm strongly of the opinion that the women of England are the most refined in the world!"

  If he had thought such a comment would draw approval, he seemed to have mistaken his audience, thought Cordelia, for Jacques' mothers and sisters were all born and raised in the North American colonies, Miss Hemsworth was from Ireland, and she was immune to such bland compliments.

  He'd been much quieter for the rest of their excursion, but Jacques had turned the conversation into safer waters by telling them the story of his first fur trapping expedition with his stepfather, where instead of bravely facing down a grizzly the size of a mountain, he'd found himself face to face with an odd-sounding creature called a hoary marmot that had been singularly unimpressed with his bravery.

  Christopher had countered with a tale of his own addressed directly to Cordelia, from which it could be inferred that he single-handedly saved a small settlement from an ice storm armed only with his intellect and determination.

  Jacques had smiled, but had not said anything to confirm nor deny the story. Cordelia, for the first time, found herself hoping that Christopher would stop paying her any sort of attention, and let his Canadian companion talk instead.

  On Tuesday, Cordelia had visited the Cottinghams at home with only her maid for company. The gentlemen were out upon her arrival, but as this allowed her an hour to play with and fuss over Henrietta's delightful baby, she did not consider it much of a loss. She was laid out on the floor, demonstrating to little Hart how to crawl about in the correct manner, when the parlour door opened to admit the Douglas brothers and Monsieur Jacques.

  "We were not expecting you back for an age," said Henrietta as she approached her husband with her arms outstretched. "How wicked of you to catch us at playing with the baby!"

  "There is nothing more delightful, I promise," said Cottingham as he unapologetically kissed his wife on the cheek, despite there being an audience.

  "Do you need help to stand, Cordy?" asked Christopher, rushing forwards as though concerned she had hurt herself.

  She couldn't help laughing at his demeanour. "No, for I am suffering from nothing but a touch of mortification! I am perfectly able to get to my feet, I promise."

  "But your hair," said Christopher with a dismayed look at the top of her head.

  Cordelia's hands went to her curls, where she could feel several pins that had fallen loose. "I blame your nephew, Christopher! I shall count myself lucky that he has only dribbled on me a little, but how else can we teach him to be a gentleman?"

  "Perhaps I should not play with him then," said Jacques as he picked up the child in question. "I will teach him many bad habits, non?"

  "I don't believe it for a second," declared Henrietta, content to let her cousin rock her giggling child. "Besides, he has taken a shine to you like no other, Jacques!"

  "Indeed, I think he prefers you to his own father," laughed Cottingham with no malice.

  Cordelia made her way to the fireplace so she could use the oval mirror to help fix her hair.

  "I thought you did not like children, Monsieur Jacques?" she asked, which provoked laughter from everyone else in the room.

  "He might pretend he doesn’t but ask him who is most likely to be bouncing my son upon his knee before nap time?" said Cottingham with a shake of his head.

  "Or who whittled him a teething toy as soon as he spied that Hart's gums were so angry," added Henrietta, but this praise was too much for her cousin.

  "Oui, a teething toy that Nurse took away the
moment she saw it," he said with a shake of his head. "Only a foreigner such as I would have made such a mistake of making it from wood and not coral."

  "Nurse is a tyrant," said Henrietta with obvious affection for the old woman, "but even I draw the line at some of her teething remedies. You do not want to know her last suggestion, for it caused quite the argument with my mother-in-law, and was only dropped when I threatened to turn her off if she continued to be disrespectful!"

  "I do not think Nurse would survive a battle of wills with maman," said Jacques as he playfully tapped Hart on the nose, "but with eight of us children in the family, few have the expertise to argue with her."

  Cordelia, struggling to pin up the last few curls at the back of her scalp, watched his reflection in the mirror. Hart cooed and gurgled happily as Jacques teased him, and while Christopher watched with a smile, he made no move to scoop up his nephew for himself.

  It was understandable, thought Cordelia. Jacques was from a large family and was thus used to small children, while Christopher was not. She had often been told that many gentlemen were not fond of babies unless they were their own offspring.

  Jacques looked up and caught her looking at him. She averted her eyes, pretending to have been concentrating on her uncooperative ringlets the entire time.

  "Here," she heard Jacques say as he passed Hart over to Christopher. "Entertain your nephew!"

  Before she could understand what was happening, Jacques had come up close behind Cordelia and taken the hairpins from her hand.

  "Allow me, Mademoiselle Cordelia. I have many sisters, and was long ago taught how to fix their hair in an emergency."

  Even had she wished to stop him, Cordelia lost all ability to speak as his fingers traced up the back of her neck as he gathered up the loose strands of hair before twisting them up and pinning them back in place. His hands had touched her for barely a moment, and yet it felt like her skin was both hot and cold at once.

  "Thank you," she stammered, looking anywhere but at the curious eyes of Henrietta.

  Cottingham, on the other hand, seemed deeply amused. "A maid as well as a nurse, hey, Jacques? Be careful, for if word gets out among the ladies of the Ton you'll have them fighting over you!"

  Jacques scoffed at this assessment. "As though any man with an army of sisters would be able to live without such knowledge."

  "I am almost certain that Lord Snowley would not have the vaguest notion of how to pin a curl," said Cottingham.

  "I'll lay you a pony that he does," said Christopher. He was holding Hart as far away as possible without incurring Henrietta's wrath.

  "Done!" said his brother. "I'll set up a little card game for us all, and we can ask."

  "Gambling," sighed Henrietta with a shake of her head.

  "Copper stakes for the sake of entertainment," Cottingham informed her. "Snowley's given up his rackety ways, after all."

  "I was referring to you and Christopher," replied his wife. She got to her feet so that she could rescue Hart from her brother-in-law, who handed him over with obvious relief. "Do you see what I must put with, Cordelia? There are times when I envy you your freedom, my dear."

  It was not appropriate to tell Henrietta that Cordy would trade everything with her friend in a heartbeat if she could, so she was content to settle for a lazy smile.

  "Wait until you tell Thérèse that you helped a real Lady with her coiffure," laughed Christopher as though he had told a great joke. "Your sisters will all demand you style their hair, and then tell their friends that it was fixed by the same hand that dressed Lady Cordelia Delby's curls!"

  Jacques smiled, but it was not an amused expression aimed at his friend. "They already demand it, mon ami, and are not likely to be impressed by my chivalry. They are much more likely to be angry at me if I did not help in such a situation."

  "Your family sound very sweet," said Cordelia as she tried and failed to picture her little brother helping to pin up her hair. "You must be close to them."

  "Oui," he replied with a hazy smile that suggested his thoughts were now far away. "The youngest is seven now, and the eldest, Marie-Thérèse, was almost as tall as I am when I left. They cried when it was time for me to go, and will no doubt cry all over me upon my return! I miss them all, even more than I did when mon pere took me to see the trading outposts. I look forward to being back with them soon."

  His words dampened the mood of the room, for Henrietta looked heartbroken, and even Cordelia was aware of some disappointment in the knowledge that Jacques was pining for Montreal. She was not easily daunted, however, so she committed herself to her endeavor of convincing Jacques that he would be much happier remaining in England.

  "I am sure any dutiful son and brother would feel that way," she assured him, "but that does not mean you cannot enjoy yourself in the meantime. Wait until you see what I have planned over the coming weeks, and I promise that by the end of it you will agree that London is the greatest city on earth!"

  He inclined his head, but did not comment. His eyes were still full of a longing for home.

  Wednesday evening would see them at different entertainments, but Cordelia had successfully put together a small party to visit the British Museum, which would allow Jacques the opportunity to view some of the antiquities on display there. As anyone who dressed well could be admitted between 10am and 2pm three days a week, it had taken all her power of ingenuity to ensure that her friends would all arrive for the opening. Even then she had been forced to include a drive to Gunters for ices to persuade half of them to attend, for they had all visited the antiquities displays on several occasions for the sake of fashion and in general has little interest in the past. The exception to this was Miss Juneberry, whose simple enthusiasm for the trip had quickly endeared her to Monsieur Gautereau, and the two of them were soon strolling, arm in arm, through the Gallery as they discussed the Roman and Greek sculptures on display.

  Cordelia, pointedly ignoring her friends William and Herbert as they tried to impress their wives with increasingly improbable histories of various artifacts, was content to saunter about the rooms of Montagu House on the arm of Christopher Douglas. She was very proud of her outfit that day, having spent hours agonizing over the addition of ostrich plumes to the side of her capote, and safe in the knowledge that her blue spencer with puffed sleeves and white muslin walking dress was the height of fashionable attire. She was a little put out that Christopher was wearing a coat of blue superfine that did not complement her own outfit, although she was forced to admit that it was well cut and very becoming on him. She even knew it was unreasonable to feel that he should have naturally known to wear green or black that day, or at least to have had his coat made in the shade of blue she was known to favour, but the niggling disappointment was there.

  Especially when she caught sight of Monsieur Jacques wearing a splendid bottle green that would have complemented her spencer to perfection.

  "Do you have an interest in classical architecture, Cordy?" asked Christopher as he frowned at a pair of damaged Doric columns. "I confess that I don't see the appeal in coming to look at old bits of stone when we have much better examples on our own buildings here in London."

  "They were not graced by the ancients themselves," she said, glancing over at Jacques as his laugh boomed through the corridor. "What do you think could be so funny about ancient sculpture, do you think?"

  "The fact that people pay so much for it," replied Christopher. "It would be half as much to pay a local stonemason to make one instead."

  "But that wouldn't be old."

  "I don't see how that matters," he replied. "We're always pulling down old things to make way for new ones. Why not just keep some of our own broken sculptures instead of paying a fortune to bring it here from other places?"

  She opened her mouth to argue with him, found that she couldn't think of anything coherent to say in response, and so closed it again. She looked over her shoulder to see Herbert pulling William back from his attempt to
clamber up a plinth and embrace a statue, while Lady Standish and Mrs Filey looked as though they couldn't decide whether to laugh or die of mortification.

  "Would you prefer to visit one of the other exhibitions?" she asked Christopher, making her smile radiant. "We could go and look at the modern marvels if you prefer those to history."

  He smiled and patted her on the hand. "Good old Cordy! Always looking out for the comfort of others, aren't you?"

  She acknowledged the compliment with an incline of her head. "It is the role of a good society hostess to ensure that her guests are having an enjoyable time."

  "And it's something you excel at," he replied. "I was only telling Jack the other day that you're the best of creatures."

  She straightened her back a little, inordinately pleased at this disclosure. "How kind of you, Christopher!"

  He nodded enthusiastically. "My mother always says it's important to acknowledge the accomplishments of ladies, especially when you have so much competition to be noticed. It must have been hard for you when Beatrix was getting so much attention for her writing. I wish I had been here to support you, my dearest Cordelia, for I could have reassured you that while you might lack the artistic talent of your cousin, you more than make up for it with your ability to make others comfortable."

  She blinked a few times. "Who told you it was hard for me when Trix had her book published? It was nothing of the sort, I promise you, for I am monstrously proud of my cousin."

  His smile was almost pitying. "Which is even more to your credit, and speaks volumes for your character that you will not say a word against her, even to me."

  "I won't say a word against her because there's nothing to say," she replied, starting to feel exasperated.

  He patted her hand again, and it was a struggle not to wrench it away in disgust.

  "I understand, and I will not tease you about it further. Suffice to say that while some may feel that a woman's desire to provide for herself is laudable, I much prefer those who revere the more feminine arts of taking care of the household, her husband, and her guests," he said.