A Lady for the Brazen Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  It was clear that she was a little embarrassed and did not know what to say, and he could not help enjoying it. It was clear that she was attracted to him, despite the difference in their status, and he noted that he enjoyed that even more.

  Heath had dressed with great care that afternoon, as he always did, driving his valet to complete distraction as he tried on outfit upon outfit. In the end, he had settled upon crisp, light cream breeches with highly polished black knee boots. His shirt was immaculately white with an elaborate necktie, and over the top, he wore a medium weight waistcoat and tailcoat, both in a deep royal blue. He had once been told by a young lady that the blue of that particular tailcoat almost matched the blue of his eyes, and so it had become a firm favourite of his, appealing to his vanity greatly.

  “My dear Heath, I see that you are already eating,” his mother said, appearing suddenly at his side and sounding a little annoyed.

  Without a word, Heath amused himself by rolling his eyes dramatically at the young maid and, seeing her stifle a giggle, felt quite satisfied once more.

  “Well, I was hungry, Mother,” he said a little offhand as the two of them turned from the table of food. “And it is an afternoon buffet after all; are we not supposed to eat?”

  “One is supposed to eat, my dear. However, one is not supposed to tear straight into the room as if they were breaking free of the line at a soup kitchen,” his mother said with some disgust.

  “My dear mother, I really had no idea that you were so familiar with soup kitchens.”

  “There is somebody I should very much like you to meet, Heath,” she said, clearly choosing to ignore her son’s ridiculous humour.

  He smiled and nodded, knowing his mother to already have a plan of some sort in place. That she could chastise him for eating immediately amazed him when she had been in the room but a few minutes and had already settled upon a bride for him.

  “Is she pretty?” he said, cutting straight to the chase.

  “Oh, I think you will find her quite striking. There, she stands but a few feet from the door with her father.”

  “The young lady with the golden hair?” he said, feeling his interest increasing.

  “Yes, the very same. She is the Honorable Miss Jemima Ravenswood, and her father is Lord Jeremy Ravenswood, a baron.”

  “A mere baron, Mother?” he said, teasing her little. “Then I am quite surprised that his daughter has come to your notice.”

  “Lord Ravenswood, I am led to believe, has a vast fortune. He inherited well, by all accounts, and has invested it wisely in all manner of industries. Whilst his title is a minor one, Heath, his fortune is vast and would easily swallow our own.” As Lady Veronica spoke, her pale blue-grey eyes narrowed, and he could not help thinking, albeit briefly, that his mother’s schemes often showed upon her face.

  “Good heavens, you found all that out in the time it took me to eat two pastries?” Heath said, somewhere between disgusted and impressed.

  “No, Heath. Really, that you could even suspect me.” Veronica shook her head a little and seemed genuinely dismayed that her son could think her so calculating. “No, I already had the facts before we arrived. As you know, I took tea with Lady Seaton on Monday, and she gave me chapter and verse on everybody who was attending this afternoon.”

  “So, you had already decided that we would spend the afternoon trying to appeal to the Honourable Miss Jemima Ravenswood and her father, the captain of industry.”

  “He is not a captain of industry, Heath. Really, how vulgar.” Again, she shook her head, this time in annoyance. “He has invested in industry; he does not trouble himself with the inner workings of it, for heaven’s sake.”

  “A very fine distinction, Mother,” he said and did a very good display of turning his nose up, with no better aim than to rile his mother just a little.

  “So, you would rather that I did not introduce you, is that your preference?” she snapped and glared at him.

  Ordinarily, he thought his mother possessed a certain fading prettiness. Her own golden hair had faded out to an ashen colour as it had mixed with gray over time, and her skin had become paler as if it was doing what it could to match. Her eyes had always been an extraordinary pale blue, although they too seemed to have greyed with age. Veronica Montgomery had a certain grace although she did, perhaps, display just a little too much confidence in her position in the world.

  However, when she was annoyed or in the middle of some plot or scheme of her own, Heath could not help thinking that his mother was no longer pretty. Instead, she seemed to move differently, more slowly and with a certain amount of stealth, almost as a python might. And her eyebrows, dipped in the middle, made her look older somehow and much less graceful.

  “I cannot say that I am interested either way whether I meet the young lady or …” He stopped mid-sentence as Jemima Ravenswood turned to look around her.

  Not only was her hair beautiful, but her face was also. Her skin was flawless and peachy cream in complexion. She had a generous mouth with perfectly pouting rosy pink lips, and her eyes were large and round and the same blue as the sky.

  Jemima Ravenswood was tall and delicate, almost as if she was hardly of this world. She wore a pale blue gown with short sleeves which puffed prettily at her shoulder and a neckline that was just low enough to catch his eye. The thick satin band at the Empire line of her dress accentuated her curves, and the same satin decorated the hem as it breezed lightly around her feet.

  “Have you already been introduced to them, Mother?” he said hurriedly, his mouth a little dry in anticipation.

  “Oh yes,” Veronica said, her voice dripping victory as she spoke.

  “Then please do make the introductions,” he said, already beginning to walk in the direction of the Honorable Miss Jemima Ravenswood.

  Chapter 5

  “It does seem such a long time since I attended a ball, Adeline,” Imogen said as she turned this way and that looking at her appearance in the mirror.

  “You look lovely, my dear,” Adeline said, and it was clear that she meant it. “And your hair has been curled beautifully.”

  “That is my dear, clever Mabel here.” Imogen smiled as her maid blushed a little under the praise. “I cannot take any of the credit for it.”

  “Well, you have done a good job, Mabel. Your mistress looks very well indeed.” Mabel smiled her appreciation and bobbed a small curtsy before making her way out of the room.

  “Are you looking forward to the ball, Imogen?” Adeline said as she sat on the edge of the bed waiting for her friend to be ready.

  “I must admit, I am. Not just for the ball itself, you understand, but I am keen to get going on things. I say, would it not be wonderful if we came out of this evening with at least one little donation?”

  “And there is a very good chance of it, really there is. I was so pleased to find that one of the first balls of the Season is to be held by Lady Hanbury,” Adeline said conspiratorially.

  “And you know Lady Hanbury well?”

  “To be honest, she is nothing more than a very vague acquaintance. Still, I must have made some little impression to receive the invite,” Adeline mused. “And I do believe that she is a little acquainted with your father, so we are on good standing there.”

  “And what of the lady herself?”

  “I know her to be an intelligent sort of woman who is of good heart. She is involved in small charity works herself, although nothing quite as involved as the schemes which currently occupy us.”

  “So, she might well be very open to the idea of assisting?”

  “Indeed, I think she might. Lady Hanbury has been widowed these last two years, and by all accounts has struggled to come to terms with it all. I am told that her charity work has increased although it is widely assumed that that is to fill the gap which her husband left when he departed this world.”

  “Perhaps she might be interested in a little more than simple financial assistance. She might even be
interested in helping us in more practical ways,” Imogen said, her mind working fast.

  “I must admit, the thought had crossed my mind. However, this is the first real event of the Season, barring the Seatons’ very early afternoon buffet. Anyway, we must exercise caution on this first event, not take things too far, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes, I shall reign in my every instinct to push people,” Imogen said with a laugh.

  “If you think it is hard for yourself, think how hard that is for me,” Adeline said self-effacingly, and both women laughed heartily.

  “I am sure you shall manage, my dear friend.”

  “Well, we shall see how the land lays, shall we not? We will make a good study of everybody there and see if we cannot work out who our best targets are for the rest of the Season,” Adeline went on, becoming practical once more. “And, of course, you must dance a little and enjoy yourself.”

  “Well, we shall see,” Imogen said with a smile.

  In truth, she was really looking forward to the social occasion. In as much as she had not been particularly impressed with the London Season four years beforehand, Imogen had always enjoyed dancing. And, as much as she tried to deny the whole thing, she was very much hoping that she would have a chance of it that evening in the vast Mayfair mansion of Lady Hanbury.

  By the time they arrived in Mayfair, there was already something of a queue building. No doubt the good lady was giving everyone fair greeting without realizing that it was causing something of a bottleneck which trailed almost to the street.

  In all honesty, Imogen thought that she much preferred country mansions, for with them came land. In London, there was very little land to be had, particularly in the centre of things around Belgravia and Mayfair, and most mansions were nearly on the street. Lady Hanbury’s was no different, with nothing but a few feet between the immense double door of her mansion and the wrought iron railings which separated her vast home from the world outside.

  From the sheer number of carriages lining the Mayfair Street, Imogen could tell that the event was going to be inordinately well attended. She wondered if that was a good thing; after all, the more people in attendance, the more opportunities to secure funding. However, she could not help wondering if her own little charitable concerns might not get lost in the noise and bustle of so many people intent upon an evening of pleasure.

  As she stood contentedly surveying the crowd, Imogen saw a grand liveried carriage come to a halt in line with all the others. Two fine looking ladies were helped down by the driver, clearly mother and daughter if their ages were to be the true indicator. The daughter looked very pretty indeed, with dark hair which seemed to shine in the lamplight of the London street as she stepped gracefully down from her carriage. The other lady, her mother presumably, was as fair as her daughter was dark, although equally graceful. However, the mother held herself very differently from the daughter, displaying a regal sort of bearing which Imogen instantly thought she did not like.

  The two were very quickly joined by an extraordinarily handsome man of not yet thirty. He was extremely tall, so tall that it drew the eye, and as well-built as any farmhand. However, his immaculate clothing and cultured features declared him to be anything but. His hair was as dark as the young lady who had first stepped out of the carriage, and it too seemed to shine in the lamplight.

  As soon as all were safely down from the carriage, the tall, handsome man hurriedly led the two women through the crowd, all of whom were eager to let him pass.

  Imogen huffed a little under her breath, always having despised the custom of somebody with greater title marching their way straight up to the front of things. So, he was not a simple hereditary Lord or a baron, but something a little grander.

  “The Earl of Reddington,” Adeline whispered in her ear with some amusement.

  “Oh,” Imogen said airily.

  “Well, I heard you huffing under your breath, dear.” Adeline chuckled quietly.

  “I really do not know which annoys me the most; the fact that somebody is so vain that they would march up to the front in the first place, or the fact that everyone around them is so sycophantic that they are almost throwing themselves to the ground to give him access. Really.”

  “I do love you, Imogen. You are so like your mother and even a little like your father.”

  “Yes, I suppose I am,” Imogen said, her mood lightening as she laughed. “I am annoyed at the privilege that I witness, and yet I ought really to be concentrating on the man’s purse, did I not?”

  “You will not be the only young lady concentrating upon that man’s purse this evening, Imogen. Although I must say that you shall be the only one concentrating upon it with altruistic reasoning.”

  “Yes, indeed.” Imogen laughed again and was pleased that the little group of people began to move on, and they were no longer standing in the street.

  “Although I must say, I do not know the young man so I cannot say whether or not any attention towards him would bear fruit for our little cause.”

  “I suppose we ought really to concentrate on what we are most confident in,” Imogen agreed.

  “Yes, I think we must have some conversation with our hostess during the evening when she is free of her duties.”

  It had taken a good deal of the evening to finally secure the attentions of Lady Hanbury. She truly was a most attentive hostess, and Imogen had watched impatiently as that good woman had done the rounds of her guests ensuring that everybody was having a wonderful time and enjoying the food, drink, and music, not to mention the dancing. In the end, Adeline had insisted that she dance with the two young men who had asked her if only to put a lid on her impatience for a while longer.

  And it had worked for a while too, with Imogen enjoying the fact that both of her dance partners had been extremely efficient and clearly well practiced in the amusement.

  However, as much as she had enjoyed the dancing, it did not stop her from making a study of the other dancers. Imogen found that she was looking into faces, trying to see who it was who seemed to her to be the kindest in appearance if indeed countenance was a true indication of what was inside a person.

  While she was dancing with her second partner, a young man of firm good looks and little conversation, Imogen noticed that the tall and very proud looking Earl of Reddington was a part of their group. When she noted the young lady with whom he danced, Imogen almost laughed out loud. The woman could have been barely twenty years and so strikingly beautiful that she could have danced with any man in the room. Therefore, Imogen was reminded, somewhat humorously, of Adeline’s comments on the other young ladies who would have an eye on the Earl of Reddington’s purse that evening, and she could not help assuming the beautiful golden-haired young lady was but one of them.

  “And you still keep up your charitable works, Lady Redmond?” Lady Hanbury said.

  Lady Hanbury had been with them but minutes when Adeline turned the conversation to charitable ideas. From the moment the two had begun to speak, Imogen had fully engaged, concentrating hard and forgetting every notion of the dancing and the Earl and the young golden-haired lady with her eye on his purse. In fact, Lady Hanbury seemed so very interested in their plans that Imogen felt more excited and pleased than she had been all evening.

  “Yes, although I think this is probably our most challenging idea to date,” Adeline said and laughed.

  “Yes indeed. But I do think you are both so very brave. And to think that you will actually visit the workhouses yourselves, I cannot imagine it.” Lady Hanbury was hooked. “And yet, of course, you must, because somebody must. I have long since heard that there is a certain amount of corruption about the whole thing. Whilst I realize I am new to charity work really, I cannot support the idea at all that any charitable act is tainted by greed.”

  “My dear Lady Hanbury, I daresay most charitable acts are tainted by greed.” The three women turned as one to see none other than the Earl of Reddington standing nearby as he
waited for a footman to hand him the glass of fruit punch.

  “Lord Reddington, you really are naughty,” Lady Hanbury said, her smile one of an indulgent mother figure. “You cannot be quite so cynical as that, surely?”

  “It is not cynicism, Lady Hanbury, but fact,” he stated in a straightforward manner.

  “That is not strictly true,” Imogen said a little impatiently. “There are many people who find it easy to perform acts of charity without helping themselves along the way.”

  “Quite right, Lady Pennington,” Lady Hanbury said, smiling broadly. “Do let me introduce you,” she went on, turning back towards the Earl. “This is Lady Adeline Redmond and Lady Imogen Pennington.”

  “How very nice to meet you both,” he said and smiled in a way that Imogen found rather annoying. She thought it quite a self-satisfied smile and had, in truth, already decided that she did not like him.