As she drew closer, she frowned.
What on earth? She gasped. Linton was with Lady Ashby. Her throat closed. He was escorting a courtesan, his courtesan, to the races, when he knew that his betrothed was also there.
Lady Ashby pressed herself closer to Linton. Then she drew his head down to hers for a kiss.
Melly froze. She pressed her lips together, and stood, watching. Linton moved away from the woman. Then not a moment later, he kissed her again.
Linton had said that he had given up his mistress. Apparently he had taken her back.
She should leave. Hexham took her arm, trying to guide her in another direction. "Come, we must —"
"No," she said firmly.
She waited. Finally Lady Ashby moved away.
Melly's shock faded, to be replaced by anger.
Linton looked up and saw her.
Taking a deep breath, Melly forced a small, tight smile. If she made a scene, she would appear foolish. This was how the ton acted, she knew. Although there was no chance of her and Linton marrying, she knew that if she were his wife, rather than his faux betrothed, she would be expected to be blind, deaf, and dumb to his chères amies.
"Lord Linton," she said, amazed that her voice could be steady when she felt anything but calm. "Captain Lord Hexham and I have come to wish you luck." She knew that her face had lost color, she could feel it. Nevertheless, she took a deep breath, and went on speaking. "I have placed bets on all of your horses, my lord. I hope they win."
"Mel –" he said. He ran a hand through his hair.
Hexham tucked Melly's hand under his elbow. She tightened her fingers on his biceps, grateful for Hexham's support because she wasn't sure that her legs would continue to hold her.
She looked up at Hexham. "We must go, so that we can watch the first race."
"Of course," Hexham said calmly. "Lord Linton," he nodded at Linton, and guided her away.
Linton didn't try to stop them. No doubt he was pleased that she hadn't made a scene. She hadn't been able to read the expression in his gaze.
The day seemed as if it would never end but somehow Melly survived it. By the time the last race was over she felt as if she had run each race herself. She watched races and cheered winners, placed bets, chatted with everyone — with Captain Lord Hexham, her mother, sisters, and their friends.
She even chatted pleasantly with Lord Linton, who looked wary. He expected her to remonstrate with him, she thought, and decided that she wouldn't give him any indication that she was unhappy in any way.
Catherine sensed that there was something wrong, as did Anne.
Melly knew that by the glances they threw at her. However, with so many friends from London at the races, as well as Captain Lord Hexham's mother and Lady Linton to entertain, they were too busy to interrogate her.
Anne welcomed a subdued Lady Burnley to her own group of friends.
Melly saw that Christobel was quiet, and seemed in awe of the the older, more fashionable women surrounding her. No doubt she was grateful that no one cut her. The ton had gossiped about her and Lord Carradine, and curious gazes were cast at her. However, since it was obvious that Mrs. Eardley and her daughters supported Lady Burnley, there was no overt hostility.
Pierce left his intended with Anne, while he spent most of the time with Lord Linton and his fashionable sporting friends.
Sir Robert found Melly accepting a glass of champagne from a waiter at Lady Linton's picnic. It was just after the third race. Linton was at the stables, Melly knew.
"My dear," he said softly, "a word."
He held out his arm, and she rested her fingertips on it. Speaking more loudly, so that Catherine and the other ladies would hear, he told her that he'd had a tip on a horse in the fourth race. "I intend placing a wager — come and see the horse."
He stopped when he'd escorted far enough away so that no one would hear what they discussed. "I wanted to speak with you."
About Lord Linton. She knew that he meant to be kind. "Sir Robert, there's no need."
He was not looking at her but watched two horses led out by their trainers, accompanied by grooms, and two well-dressed men who had to be owners. "You do know that Lord Linton no longer has any connection with Lady Ashby, do you not?" He asked quietly. "Linton had no idea she was at Newmarket. The woman surprised him, and set out to make trouble."
"Did Linton ask you to speak with me?"
When she glanced at his face, he looked at her, genuinely shocked. "No — Linton has no idea, I assure you."
Poor Sir Robert, Melly thought. His ears were pink, as were his cheekbones. He had to be uncomfortable, speaking with his friend's fiancee about his friend's mistress. "Thank you," she said politely. "Have you placed a wager in the next race? I'm in two minds myself. I can't decide between Daisy's Luck and Summer's Gift. Or did someone truly give you a tip?"
"I admit that the tip was a ruse." Sir Robert sighed, but took her lead, and they spoke about horses. Then he escorted her back to the picnic.
Although Melly couldn't ignore Lord Linton, she could ensure that she spent little time in his company. She was pleasant and interested when he took her and her family to see his horses. Although she took his arm when he offered it, she escaped as soon as she could.
She felt disoriented, as if she were watching herself from a distance. But she spoke, and smiled, and watched the races with interest. However, at the back of her mind, she still saw Lord Linton kissing Lady Ashby.
Pretense
As soon as the last race was over, Melly asked a groom to collect their mounts, but Catherine wasn't ready to leave. She was deep in conversation with Captain Lord Hexham's mother, and waved Melly away.
Hexham had already left the racetrack, keen to sell three of his horses. He excused himself to Melly, so that he could take his buyer to a tavern in Newmarket.
Melly rode back to Durham Ward Lodge alone, in company of a groom.
When she reached her rooms, she asked Bessie to organize a bath for her. Lady Linton planned a dinner party, so Melly had to be ready by seven. The races stretched over three days, and there would be more parties to come.
She was exhausted, but told herself that she had to act as though nothing perturbed her. She dreaded seeing Linton again. Luckily, he had a previous engagement with some of his cronies, and didn't come to the dinner party.
When the ladies retired after dinner, Catherine beckoned to her and took her to the side of the large drawing room for a private word. "Sir Robert told me that that wretched woman was at the races today," Catherine said softly. "She's lucky that I didn't see her, nor my fool of a husband, if he was with her. Where did you see her?"
So Sir Robert hadn't told Catherine about the kiss.
Melly exhaled a long sigh of relief, and eyed Lady Burnley who stood at the other side of the room. She knew that if she told Catherine what she'd seen, Catherine would be outraged. Lady Burnley would relish that, and she couldn't risk it.
"Lady Ashby was at the stables — I didn't speak with her," Melly said firmly. "She merely startled me, that's all."
"Did you see Grove?"
"No."
Catherine frowned, and tapped her chin with her fan. "That's just as well. If he dared to escort her to Newmarket, I'll make him suffer — Bond Street was bad enough. I told him I'd shoot him if he dared to humiliate me again, and so I would… in the kneecap."
She eyed Melly thoughtfully, and patted her cheek. "You mustn't allow that woman to upset you. Linton broke with her. He didn't know that she would be at Newmarket. I'm proud of you."
"What?"
"You've been the soul of discretion. Only someone who knows you well would realize that you're troubled — so, well done, my dear."
"Do we have to stay the full three days?"
Catherine met Melly's gaze, and Melly saw kindness and understanding, which brought her close to tears.
"We need to stay at least another day," Catherine said gently. "Tomorrow, I'll have Mot
her make an excuse which takes us back to London early — the big races will be over tomorrow. Monday's races are for young horses. Many people won't bother attending, and it won't be though odd in us that we return to London… I know that Lady Linton is returning early too, to prepare for her ball."
On Sunday Melly made no attempts to avoid Lord Linton. On the other hand, nor did she seek his company. She spoke when he spoke to her, and even asked him some questions, but any feeling that she had had that he was her friend had vanished.
She wondered why he had asked her for the pretend engagement. Was it really because of Lady Burnley, or did he have some other motive? She had no idea what that other motive might be. Perhaps he was simply amusing himself.
Whatever his motive, he had taught her a great deal. Although she wasn't completely naïve, she was well aware that people lied and that they said things that they didn't mean, and often even said things which were the total opposite of the way they felt. But she wasn't hardened, and she realized that she needed to be less trusting.
He didn't know it, but Lord Linton had taught her lessons that she would take with her into her season. She thought about her sisters. Catherine was deeply unhappy in her marriage to Major Grove. Anne was a widow, and although she never spoke of her marriage, how could she have been happy? She had been married to a man who was much older than she was.
Perhaps she wouldn't marry at all.
She was disappointed in herself. She realized that she had nourished a small hope that somehow Lord Linton would decide that their betrothal was real. She denied the hope, but it had existed, and it was foolish beyond permission. Lord Linton was much older, he was much more sophisticated, and as had been pointed out to her many times, he was well used to going his own way.
He was no possible match for her, and she'd been betrayed by her own pretense into having pretensions. That realization was hard to bear.
Melly began to think that she would escape back to London without having any private conversation with Lord Linton at all.
On Sunday night after dinner, she left the drawing room and Lady Linton's chattering guests to ensure that Bessie had completed their packing.
Looking up, she saw Lord Linton leaning against the wall in the long hallway. He was waiting for her. She winced. He looked tall, elegant, powerful, and attractive. How could she have imagined that a man such as he would seriously consider her as a potential wife?
He straightened, bowed, and extended his arm to her. Without saying a word, he escorted her to a small sitting room several doors away from the drawing room. He closed the door.
"You're returning to London," he said without preamble. "I wished to speak with you before you leave tomorrow. I knew that you would make no attempt to seek me out… I don't know what you think you saw yesterday, but I assure you that the situation was not as it might have appeared."
"I've no wish to discuss the matter." She stood, as he did, and folded her hands in front of her. Although it was hard, she met his gaze, and kept her expression politely interested.
"You may not wish to, but I most certainly do. I am not a liar, Mel. I told you that I'd handed my mistress her congé. I had."
"As you say."
He shook his head at her. "You're so cold that you give me frostbite. What will it take for you to forgive me? We need to get past this — this incident. It has no meaning at all. She accosted me."
How dare he say that the woman accosted him? She forced her gaze to widen. "Of course, I understand… and it seems that I have nothing to forgive you for, my lord." Although she tried to keep mendacity from her tone, she didn't succeed.
He shook his head, then gazed down at the Aubusson carpet for a moment, as if a solution to their impasse might be written there. Then he ran a hand around the back of his neck, and looked up. "Very well, you need time to forgive me. I can see that. I trust that I will see you at my mother's ball."
"Yes of course," she curtsied slightly, and walked straight past him out of the room.
He didn't try to stop her, and she closed the door gently on her way out and hurried to her rooms upstairs.
Bessie looked up when she entered. "Ma'am? I've finished packing." She pointed to a trunk and three bags in the center of the room.
"Thank you — just undo the back of my dress, would you? I wish to retire, and you may go to bed too."
When Bessie had finished helping, Melly locked the door after she'd left.
How could she face Linton at his mother's ball?
11. Peter Partridge
Major Grove was away from London on army business, which meant that Lady Ashby could set her new plans in train. Back in Half Moon Street, on Tuesday after the Newmarket races, she was taking tea in her drawing room with an old and trusted friend, Peter Partridge.
The tall, bulky middle-aged man handled the delicate porcelain cup gently. The vivid blue scroll tattoos on his forehead and cheeks revealed his history as a seaman. His crooked nose, obviously broken and broken again, showed the rest of his past: as a prize fighter. "Do you think he can do it?" He rumbled.
"Of course he can." Lady Ashby sipped her own tea, and paused for a moment. "I think he's grown fond of Miss Eardley — so he won't take her and keep her overnight. He's had many opportunities to do so — he's been riding in the park with her. It would have been easy at Newmarket, too. I don't know what it is – I imagine that he's terrified of Linton. He thinks that Linton would call him out."
"And so he might."
"At least this way, he doesn't need to get his hands dirty." Lady Ashby's tone was dry. She's completely lost faith in Hexham, but she needed him. With this new plan, there was so little that he needed to do, that surely even he would be able to do it.
Lady Ashby was proud of her performance at Newmarket. Melisande Eardley had frozen, with a shocked look on her face when Valerie kissed Linton.
Unfortunately the little chit showed backbone. She hadn't run back to London as she hoped she would do. That was disappointing.
Something had to be done. Lady Linton's ball was just a few days hence. She couldn't allow the engagement to go on. People were coming back to London just for the ball. After the ball, the Eardley chit and Linton would be connected in people's minds. It would be much more difficult for him to cast her off.
She had worked with Peter Partridge before. Not only could he protect her physically, he was a wonderful source of information about any men she was considering as protectors.
She'd known him since her first arrival in London. He was a guard at the fancy house where she'd been introduced to her first protector. She'd made friends with Peter at once, and they had been friends ever since.
Peter would do anything for her. He'd proved that. Her third protector had beaten Lady Ashby badly. When she looked in a mirror, she was terrified that she would be scarred and would lose her livelihood. The man had disappeared, no one knew where he had gone. He had debts, so his family imagined that he had run away. That man would never reappear — Peter had seen to that.
They heard a knock at the door, and a deep voice greeting the maid who opened it. A moment later Hexham entered the room. He nodded to Peter, wariness dawning in his gaze, then sat beside Lady Ashby on the sofa and kissed her.
"You wanted to see me, my sweet?" Hexham asked, lounging back on the sofa.
"That I do. Peter and I have come up with a new plan. I think you'll like it. It casts you as a hero… You'll save Miss Eardley and she will be very grateful to you. My darling, if you can't turn that into an eager acceptance of your marriage proposal then you're less of a man than I thought you were."
"A plan." Hexham looked cautious.
"It's simple. Peter will snatch Miss Eardley. After a suitable interval of a day or two, you will rescue her. See? Totally simple."
Hexham sat up. "No – I won't be part of that. That's abduction, and means I'll dance on the hangman's noose."
"You'll do it, because you must. You will be paid," she continued cal
mly. "Peter is receiving £5000. I know you have gambling debts and that your mother isn't aware of them. You've mortgaged Far Crossing. Unfortunately, the property isn't yours to mortgage. What do you think that information will do to your mother, when she discovers what you've done?"
She paused, to allow Hexham to understand his situation. "Your mother never need find out… I'll pay you £2000 for your rescue of Miss Eardley."
"£2000 won't be any good to me if I'm dead," Hexham said sourly.
He was very pale.
Lady Ashby curbed her impatience. She knew what this man was. He might show his bravery on the battlefield, but off the battlefield he preferred an easy life. "Very well," she said. "You may leave."
"What?" Hexham stared at her, then stared at Peter Partridge.
Lady Ashby let him think for a moment. She said nothing at all, and Peter merely looked intimidating. Now that they had told him of their plans, he had to join them, because he knew too much.
Hexham wasn't a fool. He threw up his hands. "Oh hell," he muttered under his breath.
She rose and went to a sideboard. She drew out a package in brown paper wrapped with string and handed it to Hexham. "£2000. Some money for your creditors. It will hold them until your engagement to Miss Eardley is announced. It's a gift – you can't lose."
"I don't want to be involved," Hexham said. "I never expected this."
"Calm yourself," she said. "Peter will guide you."
Hexham stared at Peter Partridge, who stared back blandly.
"It's a simple plan as the best plans always are," Lady Ashby said. "Miss Eardley and Miss Henrietta Eardley have taken to riding in the park early each morning. They are always alone, except for two grooms. Miss Henrietta is a keen rider, and always outpaces her sister — and Miss Eardley sends the grooms after her… So she is alone. Peter will be waiting in the park with two of his colleagues early tomorrow morning."
"But others will be in the park!"
Lady Ashby raised her eyebrows at him. "What of that? Grooms. Perhaps a gentleman or two." She tilted her head at Peter. "Do a few onlookers matter?"
The Lady and the Rake: A Scandalous Arrangement (The Eardleys of Gostwicke Hall Book 1) Page 13
