Regency Buck

by Georgette Heyer

  Miss Taverner tore this civil letter up in a rage. To be obliged to bottle up her wrath at Worth’s daring to refuse all her suitors (none of whom she had the smallest desire to marry) without consulting her wishes, for as much as three days, and very likely more, was so insupportable that she could not face the weekend with any degree of composure.

  However, it was not so very bad. A card-party on Saturday helped to pass the time, and Sunday brought her a new and rather awe-inspiring acquaintance.

  She and Mrs Scattergood attended the Chapel Royal for the morning service. Mrs Scattergood frankly occupied herself with looking about her at the newest fashions, and was not above whispering to her charge when she saw a particularly striking hat, but Miss Taverner, more strictly brought up, tried to keep her mind on what was going forward. This, when all her thoughts were taken up with the impertinence of her guardian having announced that he should not give his consent to her marriage, was not very easy. Her mind wandered during the reading of the first lesson, but was recalled with a jerk.

  ‘And Zacchoeus said: “Behold, Lord, the half of my goods I give to the poor,”’ read the clergyman.

  A voice which came from someone seated quite near to Miss Taverner suddenly interrupted, saying in a loud hurried way: ‘Too much, too much! Don’t mind tithes, but can’t stand that!’

  There were one or two stifled giggles, and many heads were turned. Mrs Scattergood, who had craned her neck to see who it was who had lifted up his voice in such an unseemly fashion, nipped Judith’s arm, and whispered urgently: ‘It’s the Duke of Cambridge. He talks to himself, you know. And I think it is his brother Clarence who is with him, but I cannot quite see. And if it is, my love, I believe it to be a fact that he is parted from Mrs Jordan, and is looking about him for a rich wife! Only fancy if he should think of you!’

  Miss Taverner did not choose to fancy anything so absurd, and quelled her chaperon with a frown.

  Mrs Scattergood was right in her conjecture; it was the Duke of Clarence. He came out of church after the service with Lord and Lady Sefton, a burly, red-faced gentleman with very staring blue eyes and a pear-shaped head. Mrs Scattergood, who had lingered strategically on the pretext of exchanging greetings with an acquaintance, contrived to be in the way. Lady Sefton bowed and smiled, but the Duke, with his rather protuberant eyes fixed on Miss Taverner, very palpably twitched her sleeve.

  The party stopped, Lady Sefton begged leave to present Mrs Scattergood and Miss Taverner, and Judith found herself making her first curtsy to Royalty.

  The Duke, who had the same thick utterance that belonged to all the King’s sons, said in his blunt, disconnected way: ‘What’s that? What’s that? Is it Miss Taverner? Well, this is famous indeed! I have been wishing to meet Miss Taverner these three weeks. How do you do? So you drive a phaeton and pair, as I hear, ma’am? Well, that is the right tack for Worth’s ward!’

  Miss Taverner said simply: ‘Yes, sir, I do drive a phaeton and pair.’

  ‘Ay, ay, they tell me you shake the wind out of all their sails.

  I shall keep a weather eye lifted for you in the Park, ma’am. I am acquainted with Worth, you know: he is a particular friend of my brother York. You need not fear to haul to and take me aboard your phaeton.’ ‘I shall be honoured, sir,’ replied Miss Taverner, wondering at his bluff geniality. She could not imagine why he should want to be taken aboard her phaeton, as he phrased it, but if he did she had not the least objection. He seemed a good-humoured easy-going Prince, not at all awe-inspiring; and (though rather elderly and stout) quite likeable in his odd way.

  The Duke of Cambridge, who, unlike his brother, was extremely tall, with a fair handsome countenance, came towards the group at this moment, and the Duke of Clarence said with his boisterous laugh: ‘Ah, you see, I am overhauled; I must be off. Did you ever know such a fellow as my brother, to be talking out loud in church? But he don’t mean it, you know; you must not be shocked, my lady. I shall look for you in the Park, Miss Taverner; don’t forget I shall be looking out for you!’

  Judith curtsied and moved away with Mrs Scattergood, and beyond describing her encounter with a good deal of humour to Peregrine that evening, thought no more about it. But sure enough the Royal Tar did look out for her. She did not visit Hyde Park the next day, but on Tuesday she was there with her groom beside her, and had not gone very far when she saw the Duke waving to her from the promenade. He was walking with another gentleman, but when Miss Taverner drew up in obedience to his signal, he left his companion abruptly and came to the phaeton, and wanted to know whether she would take him up.

  ‘I shall be honoured, sir,’ she said formally, and signed to the groom to get down.

  The Duke climbed up beside her, saying: ‘Oh, that’s nonsense – never stand on ceremony. Look, there goes my cousin Gloucester. I daresay he envies me perched up here beside you. What do you say?’

  Miss Taverner laughed. ‘Nothing, sir, how can I? If I agree, I must be odiously conceited, which I hope I am not; and if I demur you will think me to be asking for reassurance.’

  He seemed to be much struck by the frankness of this reply, laughed very heartily, and declared they should get along famously together.

  He was not at all difficult to talk to, and they had not driven more than half-way round the Park before Miss Taverner discovered him to have been a firm friend of Admiral Nelson. She was in a glow at once; he was very ready to talk to her of the admiral, and in this way they drove twice round the Park, extremely well pleased with each other. When Miss Taverner set him down, he parted from her with a vigorous handshake and a promise that he should bring to in Brook Street at no very distant date.

  Seven

  THE TAVERNERS WERE BOTH AT VAUXHALL THAT EVENING with a party, to partake of ham-shavings and burnt wine in a box, and after to see Mr Blackmore performing feats on a slack-rope, followed by the usual display of fireworks. It was not until the small hours that they were set down at their own door again, and they were both extremely sleepy, Peregrine rather more so than his sister, since he had drunk, in addition to burnt wine, any quantity of rack-punch. He went straight off to bed, yawning prodigiously, but Miss Taverner was not too tired to look over a little pile of notes awaiting her on the marble-top table in the hall. They had most of them the appearance of invitations, and since she had not been in town long enough to think invitations dull, she gathered them all up to take with her to her bedchamber.

  While her maid was brushing her hair she ran through them. Midway through the pile she came upon Mr Blackader’s fist, and at once pushed the rest aside and broke the seal. It was a brief note informing her that the Earl of Worth would call at Brook Street the following morning.

  Miss Taverner, who considered that the commonest civility should have prompted his lordship to inquire when it would suit her to receive him, immediately made a plan to spend the whole morning at the Botanic Gardens in Hans Town.

  This plan was ruthlessly carried out, in spite of the protests of Mrs Scattergood, who had no extraordinary interest in gardens. A message for Lord Worth was left with the butler, intimating that Miss Taverner was sorry that she had not received his obliging note earlier, since she was engaged elsewhere that morning.

  The message was never delivered. Miss Taverner returned from the Botanic Gardens to find that the Earl had not called at all, but had sent round a footman with a note instead.

  Miss Taverner, thinking indignantly of a whole morning wasted amongst plants, broke the seal and spread open the letter. It was the ubiquitous Mr Blackader again, regretting that his lordship was unfortunately prevented from fulfilling his promise, but trusted to be able to visit Miss Taverner within the course of the next few days.

  Miss Taverner tore the letter into shreds, and swept upstairs in a mood of considerable exasperation.

  She dined at home with only Mrs Scattergood for company, but in the expectation of receiving her cousin later in the evening. He had promised to bring her a volume from his libr
ary which he believed she would like to read, and would call at Brook Street on his way home from Limmer’s hotel, where he was engaged to dine with a party of friends.

  At ten o’clock, as the butler was bringing in the tea-table, a knock was heard. Mrs Scattergood was just wondering who could be calling on them so late, and Miss Taverner had gladly put away her embroidery frame, when not her cousin, but the Earl of Worth was announced.

  ‘Oh, is it you, Julian?’ said Mrs Scattergood. ‘Well, to be sure, this is very pleasant.You are just come in time to drink tea with us, for we are alone this evening, as you see, which has become a very strange thing with us, I can tell you.’

  Miss Taverner, having bowed slightly to her guardian, picked up her embroidery again, and became busy with it.

  Mrs Scattergood began to make tea. ‘I thought you was out of town, my dear Worth. This is quite a surprise.’

  ‘I have been at Woburn,’ he replied, taking the cup and saucer she held out to him, and carrying it to Miss Taverner. ‘I am fortunate to find you at home.’

  Miss Taverner accepted the cup and saucer with a brief word of thanks, and setting it down on the sofa-table at her elbow, continued to ply her needle.

  ‘Yes, indeed you are,’ agreed Mrs Scattergood. ‘We have been about for ever this last week. You can have no notion! Balls, assemblies, card-parties, and actually, Worth, an invitation to Lady Cork’s! I tell Judith nothing could be better, for all she may think it tedious! No cards, my love – nothing of that sort, but the company of the most select, and the conversation all wit and elegance. I am sure we have to thank that dear, delightful Emily Cowper for it!’

  ‘On the contrary, you have to thank me for it,’ said the Earl, sipping his tea.

  ‘My dear Worth, is it really so? Well, and why should I not have guessed it? To think I should forget the terms your poor Mama was upon with Lady Cork! Of course I might have known it was all your doing. It is very prettily done of you; I am excessively pleased with you for thinking of it. Is that why you are here? Did you come to tell us?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said the Earl. ‘I came at the request of Miss Taverner.’

  Mrs Scattergood turned a surprised, inquiring look upon Judith. ‘You never told me you had invited Worth, my dear?’

  ‘I did request Lord Worth to call here,’ said Miss Taverner, carefully choosing another length of embroidery silk. ‘I did not, however, mention any particular day or hour.’

  ‘True,’ said the Earl. ‘I had had the intention of calling on you this morning, Miss Taverner, but – er – circumstances intervened.’

  ‘It was fortunate, sir. I was not at home this morning.’ She raised her eyes momentarily from her work to find that he was regarding her with a look of so much sarcastic amusement that the unwelcome suspicion crossed her mind that he must have seen her drive out, and changed his own plans immediately.

  ‘This morning!’ ejaculated Mrs Scattergood, with a strong shudder. ‘Pray do not be talking of it! Three hours – I am persuaded it was no less – at the Botanic Gardens, and I not having the least notion that you cared a rap for all those odiously rare plants!’

  ‘The Botanic Gardens,’ murmured the Earl.‘Poor Miss Taverner!’

  She was now sure that he must somewhere have seen her. She got up. ‘If you have finished your tea, sir, perhaps you would do me the kindness of coming into the other drawing-room. You will excuse us, ma’am, I know. I have something of a private nature to say to Lord Worth.’

  ‘By all means, my love, though I can’t conceive what it should be,’ said Mrs Scattergood.

  Miss Taverner did not enlighten her. She went out through the door his lordship was holding open for her into the back drawing-room, and took up a stand by the table in the middle of the room. The Earl shut the door, and surveyed her with his air of rather bored amusement. ‘Well, Miss Taverner?’ he said.

  ‘I desired you to visit me, sir, to explain, if you please, this letter which you wrote me,’ said Judith, pulling the offending document out of her reticule.

  He took it from her. ‘Do you know, I never thought that you would cherish my poor notes so carefully?’ he said.

  Miss Taverner ground her teeth, but made no reply. The Earl, having looked her over with what she could not but feel to be a challenge in his mocking eyes, picked up his eyeglass, and through it perused his own letter. When he had done this he lowered his glass and looked inquiringly at Miss Taverner. ‘What puzzles you, Clorinda? It seems to me quite lucid.’

  ‘My name is not Clorinda!’ snapped Miss Taverner. ‘I wonder that you should care to call up the recollections it must evoke! If they are not odious to you –’

  ‘How could they be?’ said Worth. ‘You must have forgotten one at least of them if you think that.’

  She was obliged to turn away to hide her confusion. ‘How can you?’ she demanded, in a suffocating voice.

  ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ said Worth. ‘I am not going to do it again yet, Clorinda. I told you, you remember, that you were not the only sufferer under your father’s Will.’

  Her cousin’s warning flashed into Miss Taverner’s mind. She said coldly: ‘This way of talking no doubt amuses you, sir, but to me it is excessively repugnant. I did not wish to see you in order to discuss the past.That can only be forgotten. In that letter which you are holding you write that there is no possibility of your consenting to my marriage within the year of your guardianship.’

  ‘Well, what could be plainer than that?’ inquired the Earl.

  ‘I am at a loss to understand you, sir. Certain applications have been made to you for – for permission to address me.’

  ‘Three,’ nodded his lordship. ‘The first was Wellesley Poole, but him I expected. The second was Claud Delabey Browne, whom I also expected. The third – now who was the third? Ah yes, it was young Matthews, was it not?’

  ‘It does not signify, sir. What I wish you to explain is, how you came to refuse these gentlemen without even the formality of consulting my wishes.’

  ‘Do you want to marry one of them?’ inquired the Earl solicitously. ‘I hope it is not Browne. I understand that his affairs are too pressing to allow him to wait until you are come of age.’

  Miss Taverner controlled her tongue with a visible effort.‘As it happens, sir, I do not contemplate marriage with any of these gentlemen,’ she said. ‘But you had no means of knowing that when you refused them.’

  ‘To tell you the truth, Miss Taverner, your wishes in the matter do not appear to me to be of much importance. I am glad, of course, that your heart is not broken,’ he added kindly.

  ‘My heart would scarcely be broken by your refusal to consent to my marriage, sir. When I wish to be married I shall marry, with or without your consent.’

  ‘And who,’ asked the Earl, ‘is the fortunate man?’

  ‘There is no one,’ said Miss Taverner curtly. ‘But –’ The Earl took out his snuff-box, and opened it. ‘But my dear Miss Taverner, are you not being a trifle indelicate? You are not proposing, I trust, to command some gentleman to marry you?

  The impropriety of such an action must strike even so masterful a mind as yours.’

  Miss Taverner’s eyes were smouldering dangerously. ‘What I wish to make plain to you, Lord Worth, is that if any gentleman whom I – if anyone should ask me to marry him whom I – you know very well what I mean!’

  He smiled. ‘Yes, Miss Taverner, I know what you mean. But keep my letter by you, for it tells you just as plainly what I mean.’

  ‘Why?’ she shot at him. ‘What object can you have?’

  He took a pinch of snuff, and lightly dusted his fingers before he answered her. Then he said in his cool way: ‘You are a very wealthy young woman, Miss Taverner.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Judith, ‘I begin to understand.’

  ‘I should be happy if I thought you did,’ he replied, ‘but I feel it to be extremely doubtful. You have a considerable fortune in your own right. More important than this is the fact t
hat under your father’s Will you are heiress to as much of your brother’s property as is unentailed.’

  ‘Well?’ said Judith.

  ‘That being so,’ said Worth, shutting his snuff-box with a snap and restoring it to his pocket, ‘there is little likelihood of gaining my consent to your marriage with anyone whom I can at the moment call to mind.’

  ‘Except,’ said Miss Taverner through her teeth, ‘yourself !’

  ‘Except, of course, myself,’ he agreed suavely.

  ‘And do you suppose, Lord Worth, that there is any great likeli hood of my marrying you?’ inquired Judith in a sleek, deceptive voice.

  He raised his brows. ‘Until I ask you to marry me, Miss Taverner, not the least likelihood,’ he replied gently.

  For fully a minute she could not trust herself to speak. She would have liked to have swept from the room, but the Earl was between her and the door, and she could place no dependence on him moving out of the way. ‘Have the goodness to leave me, sir. I have no more to say to you.’

  He strolled forward till he stood immediately before her. She suspected him of meaning to take her hands, whipped them both behind her, and took a swift step backward. A large cabinet prevented her from retreating further, and the Earl very coolly following, she found herself cornered. He took her chin in his hand, and made her hold up her head, and stood looking down at her with a faintly sardonic smile. ‘You are handsome, Miss Taverner; you are not unintelligent – except in your dealings with me; you are a termagant. Here is some advice for you: keep your sword sheathed.’ She stood rigid and silent, staring doggedly up into his face. ‘Oh yes, you hate me excessively, I know. But you are my ward, Miss Taverner, and if you are wise you will accept that with a good grace.’ He let go her chin, gave her cheek a careless pat.‘There, that is better advice than you think. I am a more experi enced duellist than you. I have brought you your snuff, and the recipe.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse both, but she bit back the words, aware that they would sound merely childish. ‘I am obliged to you,’ she said in an expressionless voice.