Harlequin Historical February 2021--Box Set 1 of 2

by Virginia Heath

  Not that she knew about Faith, of course. While they navigated the unfamiliar and unexpected waters of their fledgling relationship, tested the boundaries of their mutual fears and preconceptions, and figured out how to inform both sets of their parents of the increasing possibility of their impending courtship, no one did. They needed neither his mother’s meddling and her mother’s outright hostility, nor the inevitable scandal they were bound to create, to put more pressure on what was already a huge and momentous step for both of them.

  In the wee small hours of the morning his demons still reared their heads to remind him that he and Faith were chalk and cheese in many respects. She was bold, spontaneous and outgoing and he was sensible, cautious and introverted. But during daylight hours when it was just them, she made him feel interesting and attractive and almost confident about himself again—which was staggering really, after he was convinced his marriage had knocked all that out of him.

  The letter still clutched in his fingers pulled him reluctantly back to Constança. His tentative week-old blossoming romance aside, he wasn’t in any way fooled that his former wife’s decision to accompany the Portuguese delegation to London, for the banquet he happened to be organising, was any sort of coincidence. Any more than her new husband’s place in the same delegation was a coincidence. She was headed here on purpose, freshly married to her Duke, and doubtless dragging along their infant son too, simply to rub his nose in it.

  And the worst part was, if one ignored the uncomfortable fact that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, he only had himself to blame. If he hadn’t taken her with him when he had been posted to the Royal Court of Dom João, then she never would have met the Duque do Covilhã and she wouldn’t be able to still haunt him now.

  But then again, he wouldn’t be divorced either and free to pursue Faith. And as terrifying as that unforeseen and unfathomable state of affairs still was, it was eminently more pleasurable than being shackled to Constança for all eternity.

  ‘Every cloud…’ Especially as he was beginning to think the damage to his bludgeoned heart wasn’t as permanent as he had originally feared. As each day passed, it seemed to heal a little bit more and would stubbornly continue to do that despite Constança.

  Blasted Constança.

  The fresh acid in his stomach churned some more. ‘God help me.’ No matter which way he looked at it, her imminent arrival was beyond depressing. His former wife caused upheaval and upset like most people breathed. Mostly to him.

  ‘Is everything all right, Uncle Piers? Only you’ve been muttering to yourself for at least twenty minutes.’ In his misery, he had completely forgotten Isobel was under his desk.

  ‘Just more banquet nonsense.’ That blasted dinner was the bane of his life. The irony wasn’t lost on him that if he hadn’t suggested that in the first place, then this miserable letter wouldn’t exist. Yet another regret to go with the other five hundred he already had under his belt which also actively involved her. ‘But at least, now that I finally have a complete list of the Portuguese delegation, I can finish the stupid seating plan.’

  Or completely rewrite it more like. Piers had originally allocated the twenty guests of Dom João to seats nearest to him purely so he could act as a translator if any of them needed one. Now that he knew one of those seats would hold the bottom which he would have been delighted never to have to see again, it put a decidedly different slant on things.

  ‘Well, that’s a good thing isn’t it? It will all be done and dusted.’

  ‘As usual, there is now another fly in the ointment.’ One that was giving him some serious indigestion. As there was no point hiding from any member of his family, even from one of the youngest, that the woman they loathed above all others was coming to town, he passed the letter to his precocious niece so that she could read it for herself. He waited several moments for her to scan the list of names and heard her sharp intake of breath when she reached it.

  ‘The witch is coming!’ She scrabbled out from her camp, her immature face furious on his behalf. ‘The evil witch is coming here? How dare she?’

  ‘Well, apparently, she dares.’ Of course she dared. It was such a typically Constança thing to do. Even without the need to gloat at him, which probably would have been incentive enough, the chance of attending a state banquet was too good an opportunity for such a determined and shameless social climber to miss.

  ‘Grandmama is going to be furious!’ She stamped her foot. ‘I am furious!’

  And with that, she took off with the damning missive to hunt his mother down.

  Wearily, Piers trailed behind her to the drawing room, arriving just in time to hear his mother’s bark of outrage as she leapt to her feet. Opposite her was Faith, sat awkwardly behind her easel, the charcoal in her fingers still poised over her sketch and her lovely eyes filled with sympathy.

  ‘This is absolutely outrageous! After everything she has done!’ His mother scrunched the letter in her hand as if she were already strangling his former wife and enjoying doing it. ‘You must put a stop to it, Piers! Inform the witch that she cannot come. Better still, inform her that if she ever sets one foot on English soil, I shall not be responsible for my actions and a piece of my mind won’t be the only thing she will be receiving!’

  ‘Sadly, I cannot stop her from coming because she is part of Dom João’s delegation.’ And if his calculations were correct, she was also already ensconced on the royal ship sailing somewhere in the vicinity of the Bay of Biscay. His guts griped again and he resisted the urge to rub them. ‘His ship is expected to dock at Portsmouth by Saturday and we expect them in London by Monday.’ Which gave him seven interminable days to dread it. ‘If not sooner.’ Perhaps it might be prudent to get the kitchen to boil up some of the foul tea the physician in Porto used to give him to calm his roiling stomach? He hadn’t needed the putrid concoction of basil, mint and fennel in two years, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  ‘But you are in charge of the banquet!’

  ‘Which is in his honour, Mother. Dom João invited Constança and so she must have a seat at the table. I genuinely have no say in the matter.’

  ‘But you will also be sat at that table, my darling.’ Concern was written all over his mother’s face. ‘All on your own. I cannot bear the thought!’

  He shrugged, resigned but not quite as furious as he had thought he would be by this inconvenient turn of events. ‘I was dreading the damn dinner anyway, so I dare say a bit more hideousness hardly matters in the grand scheme of things, and it’s just one meal and one miserable evening.’ One utterly torturous evening—if he discounted all the preliminary talks which he would doubtless be expected to sit through where he would be constantly facing his illustrious replacement, and the welcoming and leaving receptions. ‘I am sure I can deftly avoid her for the rest of their visit.’ He would certainly give it a damn good try. Piers now realised his life was much happier when an entire continent sat between them.

  ‘Then I shall accompany you to the banquet! And your father will too! We won’t leave you to march into the lion’s den alone.’

  ‘That is very thoughtful of you…’ Piers emphatically shook his head. ‘But I am going to have to say no, Mother. While I appreciate the gesture, and lord only knows I could do with the moral support, I dare not allow you and Constança in the same room. Especially when the purpose of the banquet is to honour our Portuguese allies, not to insult the delegation because you want to give one of their number a piece of your mind.’

  ‘Oh, it’s not just one of them I’d give a piece of my mind to! That scoundrel who married her deserves a punch on the nose and the Prince Regent, Dom João, would also receive a few choice words. It’s outrageous that he brought her after the huge favour you did him!’

  ‘And you have just proved my point entirely, Mother. We’ve only just ended one war in Europe—let’s not start another one.’r />
  ‘Then at least take one of your sisters, Piers! You’ll need a friendly face in that nest of vipers, as well as someone to protect you from that harpy as I wouldn’t put it past her to say or do something spiteful.’

  ‘Take me.’ Isobel held up her hand. ‘I would make an excellent escort, Uncle Piers, and I’d stick up for you if the horrid witch dared try anything.’

  He smiled and stroked her hair. ‘I’m sure that you would too, brat—but sadly, state banquets are adult-only affairs.’

  ‘What about me?’ Faith grinned, her lovely eyes alight with the fire of battle on his behalf. ‘You’ve been my knight in shining armour, so I would be delighted to return the favour with some friendly moral support. As you know, I am entirely capable of being both pithy and disdainful if the situation warrants it, so I am more than a match for any harpy and a nest of vipers. I am also famously charming—or so it says in the gossip columns—so I might well be an asset on the night too.’

  She would undoubtedly be an asset and a friendly and dear face. The acid in his gut calmed as she smiled. ‘It will be a very long and very dull diplomatic dinner…’ And Piers wanted to hug her for her offer. There was no way the damn banquet could be completely hideous if he had Faith by his side.

  ‘Are you suggesting I am incapable of diplomacy, Piers, or is this your subtly diplomatic way of saying I am too scandalous a prospect for a state banquet?’

  Was that a test? Probably, but she didn’t need to worry on that score. Who wouldn’t be proud to have her on their arm? He was counting the blasted days until the damn family portrait was done so he could strut around with her by his side. And then, hopefully… He did not want to run before he could walk. And as frustrating as it was taking their relationship one day at a time, every day so far had been utterly perfect.

  ‘I am not suggesting either. I am merely pointing out that your noble act of altruism will come at a cost and you will probably live to regret it. The speeches alone are enough to send anyone into a stupor and I can pretty much guarantee you will have to sit next to someone either very pompous or very boring. Likely both. And then, of course, my escorting you to something so important is bound to make the newspapers after all the furore we caused with that waltz.’ Was she ready to dip a toe in that murky water? Was he? With their individual insecurities still not completely gone, and his former wife currently bobbing on the ocean towards them, did they need to put that added pressure on their relationship so soon?

  ‘Society will put two and two together, Faith, and make four.’ Instead of one hundred and sixty-three. Which was another momentous step because this time there would be some truth to the inevitable gossip. Hopefully, a great deal of truth in it. Such a public declaration would mean they would go from almost courting to officially courting. There would be no denying their intentions then.

  He could see she understood the stakes perfectly, but being Faith she brushed it off with a saucy shrug. ‘I am game if you are.’ But her eyes said she wanted to be there for him when he faced Constança and that alone meant the world. ‘Especially if it saves your mother from creating a diplomatic disaster. Nobody wants another war—not when you’ve only just stopped the last one.’

  ‘Then it’s settled!’ Never one to miss an opportunity to matchmake, and already doing her utmost to thrust them together at the minutest pretence, his mother treated the solution as a fait accompli. ‘Faith shall be my emissary and will protect you from Medusa.’ She beamed at her for good measure, making no secret of the fact that she saw this as a sign that there was something between them as she suspected. ‘And I cannot help but be delighted that the sight of you on Piers’s arm will severely put the shameless hussy’s nose out of joint. She always was so hideously vain and full of herself; it will do her the power of good not to be the most beautiful woman in the room.’

  * * *

  ‘He is escorting me to a state banquet, Mama, not Sodom and Gomorrah!’

  Faith couldn’t understand her mother’s objections, especially since her attitude towards Piers had softened considerably since he had stepped into the breach after her father’s accident. Only two days ago, she had conversed amiably with him over tea after he had called upon them to check on her father. At least that had been his believable excuse then. He had admitted the next day, when he had dropped into the ballroom for one of their many daily chats, that he had simply wanted to see her and had to use his initiative because it was a Sunday. Thoroughly charmed, after he had left, her mother had even remarked upon what a lovely and thoughtful gentleman he was and that she was prepared to concede, now that she knew him better, that she had been quite wrong to call him a beast.

  ‘Which is precisely why I take issue with it! At any sort of normal society function, I would happily give him the benefit of the doubt, but this is a state banquet, at St James’s Palace no less. And in the presence of royalty. It is bound to be overwhelming!’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And while you are in the grip of awe at being so close to the monarchy and are dazzled by all the grandeur of the palace, a girl of your humble background might be more susceptible to a seduction in such an unfamiliar environment.’

  ‘Oh, for goodness sake!’ She was sorely tempted to tell her overprotective mother that all Piers had to do was not shave or look a bit windswept, and she was already thoroughly seduced. Instead, she lifted her mother’s expensive Sèvres teapot from the breakfast table and pointed to it. ‘I am not sure my background is that humble, Mama!’ Because they all knew the Sèvres was her second-best pot and that she only ever deigned to use her beloved Wedgwood Queen’s Ware if they had company she wanted to impress. The Wedgwood had certainly been wheeled out for Piers last Sunday. ‘And if Lord Eastwood had seduction on his mind, then he certainly wouldn’t have insisted I bring one of my sisters as a chaperon!’

  A thoughtful caveat he had insisted upon when he had taken up her offer, and one she was both touched by and furious at in equal measure. It was beyond frustrating that he was determined to be a gentleman when every day she was becoming increasingly more tempted to embrace the wanton side of her. Until the doubts crept in of course and she remembered he wasn’t from her world.

  ‘Don’t look at me.’ Hope did not bother lifting her eyes from her breakfast. ‘I have already made plans to visit Grandfather in Whitstable next week. I need some quiet writing time if I am ever to get my book finished. This house has become Piccadilly Circus since Papa’s fall.’

  ‘That’s just selfish, Hope!’ Their mother instantly turned on her. ‘How could you do that when your dear Papa is still practically immobile and it is all hands on deck here at the moment?’

  ‘Ooh…let me think?’ Hope tapped her chin sarcastically. ‘You and Charity are out every evening at the theatre, plus the two afternoons when you also have matinee performances every Tuesday and Saturday, not to mention all the rehearsals you seem to need. While Faith is out from dawn to dusk working on her illustrious commission…which really means it’s mostly only my hands on deck—but apparently I am the selfish one because I am daring to still pursue my dreams too? Who knew stealing a few peaceful days in Whitstable was a capital offence!’

  Her mother had no answer to that perfectly reasonable summary of their current family situation, so went back to lambasting Faith. ‘And doubtless there is going to be more gossip and speculation if you are seen out in public with Lord Eastwood again! Especially after your foolhardy waltz—gossip which has only just died down.’

  Gossip which would flare back up again soon enough regardless of the banquet, if things between her and Piers proceeded in the wholly pleasant manner that they had so far. Because alongside the persistent and heady lust, and their growing friendship, was something which was dangerously bordering on something more than a little affection. It was so all-encompassing, she was eager to start their official courtship, which was a miracle in itself because she had closed
off her heart so thoroughly after her devastating experience with the snake.

  ‘If they are not gossiping about that, they will resort to gossiping about someone else around this table like they always do. So what if it’s me next week? It was Charity’s turn last week.’ Although Faith wasn’t entirely convinced her youngest sister was as innocent in that persistent rumour concerning her and a dashing cavalry officer at the Bulphan soirée as she had fervently proclaimed. She had definitely witnessed Charity sneaking out of the orangery instead of the retiring room where she had claimed to be heading a half an hour before, and she had certainly looked very pleased with herself about something.

  ‘Thank you for dragging that up again!’ Charity glared as she folded her arms. ‘And there I was about to offer my services as your chaperon seeing as Hope is off to Whitstable and abandoning us all.’ A comment which earned her a scowl from their mother.

  ‘You apparently need a constant chaperon, young lady! So it will be a cold day in hell before I allow you to be one! Out of all my daughters, you are the one I wouldn’t trust to behave herself as far as I could throw her!’

  ‘Well, that is hardly fair when I have at least offered to step into the breach! Hope is only headed to Whitstable in the first place because she said she’d rather gargle broken glass than sit through a dreary state banquet! Had you heard of her plans prior to five minutes ago?’ This earned her a narrowed glance from their middle sister which Charity met with an unrepentant shrug.

  ‘Then I shall have to be her chaperon!’ Her mother slapped the table, her expression as pious as a nun’s. ‘I shall cancel both of next Tuesday’s sell-out performances, or worse, send out my useless understudy, and disappoint all those loyal and devoted opera fans who have spent their hard-earned money on those tickets and I shall be forced to abandon your poor broken father to an entire night all by himself seeing as the rest of the family do not care about his welfare. Because somebody sensible needs to go and protect Faith from ruin!’