Regency Admirer/The Merry Gentleman/The Gentleman's Demand

by Meg Alexander

  Sophie blushed as she struggled to free herself. ‘We must be mad!’ she cried.

  ‘Of course we are! But love is sweet madness, is it not?’ His arm stayed firmly about her waist.

  ‘But I did not think that you...I mean, I had no idea that—?’

  ‘That I cared for you, my darling? Sophie, you must be blind!’ He began to laugh. ‘There isn’t a soul within this place who hasn’t been convinced of it for days.’

  ‘But you said that you were play-acting...’

  ‘I lied, my love.’

  ‘Oh! When did you first realise...that it wasn’t simply a part of your plan?’

  ‘It was never part of my plan to fall in love with you, and I struggled against it mightily, but to no avail. I was lost from the first moment I saw you, though I did not know it at the time.’

  ‘I thought that you disliked me,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘Then I must be a better actor than I had imagined. I was unsure of you, my darling, and, speaking of dislike, I did not dare to hope that you could ever care for me. I have treated you so ill...’ His face grew sombre.

  Shyly, Sophie reached up and pressed her lips into the hollow of his neck. ‘That isn’t true! I didn’t understand at first, and that was why I fought you. Now I know that you only did your duty.’

  ‘Drawing a woman...any woman...into danger is a most unpleasant duty. I hated threatening to turn you out of your home, and playing upon your fears for Kit. I’m not proud of my actions.’

  ‘You should be, sir, especially as they must have cost you dear.’

  A large hand ruffled her hair. ‘Sophie, do you feel that you could unbend sufficiently to call me Nicholas? It is my given name, you know, and we cannot continue to stand upon formality.’

  ‘I’ll try!’ The colour flooded her face once more. ‘It will seem strange. I know so little about you.’

  ‘Not true! Aside from the fact that I have three cousins, you are well aware that I am an unfeeling, deceitful and arrogant brute. In fact, the ideal husband!’

  Laughing, Sophie hid her face in his coat. ‘Did I really say all that?’ she whispered.

  ‘You did, and more besides. I wonder that I had the temerity to make you an offer. It took some courage, I can tell you.’

  ‘What persuaded you to speak?’ she asked in muffled tones.

  ‘Sheer desperation, my love. I’d resisted it so often, believing that you’d laugh me to scorn, but today, when I took you in my arms, I thought there might be hope for me.’

  ‘You know it, Nicholas. When you kissed me... well...I too was lost. Oh, my dear, is this not sheer folly? You have given me no time to think...to consider...’

  ‘What is there to consider? If we love each other, that should be enough. Do you love me, Sophie?’

  ‘I do, with all my heart, but it has come as a shock. I might have suspected, if I’d had any sense at all, but I never thought of it. I missed you dreadfully when you went away, but I told myself that it was because I’d been left without protection.’

  ‘You had my men here,’ he protested with a smile.

  ‘It wasn’t the same. I needed to see you, to be with you, and to know that you were close at hand.’ She gave a rueful sigh. ‘In these matters, Kit is wiser than I am myself. He thinks the world of you.’

  ‘I am the luckiest man alive!’ Hatton raised her hand to his lips. ‘Sophie, this must be our secret for the moment. If Harward were to hear of our betrothal, you might be in danger.’

  ‘How so?’ Sophie was puzzled.

  ‘At this present time he believes you to be without protection and vulnerable. With no one to advise you, you have fallen in with all his plans. The prospect of an imminent marriage for you will not suit him in the least.’

  ‘But I’d still allow him to move his cargo,’ she objected.

  ‘A husband might not be so gullible.’

  ‘I could promise not to speak of it.’

  ‘You think he would believe you? You must have heard of pillow-talk, my dear. Harward would think it more than likely that you would confide in your beloved. He won’t risk it.’

  Sophie’s eyes widened. ‘You believe that he might try to stop me?’

  ‘You know too much, my darling. Let him continue to believe that you have not thought of marriage. All that concerns you is a secure future for yourself and Kit.’

  ‘Are you talking about me?’ Kit came into the room and stared. ‘Hatton, why do you hug Mama? Has she given you a present?’

  ‘The best present in the world, Kit, but it is a secret. We shall tell you of it in a day or two.’

  Kit was too full of his own concerns to object. He walked towards Sophie with his arms stretched out before him. In his upturned hands he held a box.

  ‘I have a present for you, Mama. I made it myself.’

  Sophie looked down at the jewel-like object resting in the folds of paper. It was a brightly coloured fishing fly.

  ‘This is truly beautiful,’ she exclaimed. ‘Did you really make it, Kit? It must have been very difficult.’

  ‘It was,’ he admitted. ‘Reuben made me do it six times. I nearly gave up, but he said—’

  ‘Yes?’ Hatton prompted.

  ‘He said I’d do it in the end, and I did.’

  ‘You did indeed, my darling, and I shall treasure it.’

  ‘It might make a brooch, Mama, or you could wear it in your hat.’ Kit climbed on Hatton’s knee and dropped a kiss upon his cheek.

  ‘I’d like another one of those,’ Hatton told him.

  Chubby arms encircled his neck as Kit obliged. Then he looked at his mother. ‘I love Hatton,’ he said.

  ‘Better than Reuben?’ Sophie teased.

  Kit’s reply required long and careful thought. ‘Both the same,’ he said at last.

  ‘I see that I am promoted,’ Hatton chuckled.

  ‘Then you must take care that you are worthy of your god-like status,’ Sophie joined in the joke.

  It warmed her heart to see the loving relationship between her son and this stranger who had appeared so unexpectedly in their midst.

  Not for the first time she mused on the caprice of fate. Three weeks ago she’d had no idea that Hatton existed. Almost crushed by the blows that life had dealt her she’d felt numb with misery and only half-alive. Now she contemplated her future in a daze of happiness. All her doubts were stilled.

  What she had mistaken for dislike had been an unwillingness to commit herself to love for a second time. How she’d fought against it, refusing to see any merit in this man who now possessed her soul.

  When had she changed? She couldn’t quite decide. She’d even suspected Hatton’s kindness to her child, believing that he must have some ulterior motive. It had taken time to convince her that this apparently unfeeling brute had a gentler side to his nature.

  Now Kit was playing with the fobs on his watchchain.

  ‘Could you skate when you were as old as me?’ he asked.

  ‘No! I learned later when I went to Holland. The men there race each other along the frozen canals in winter. I wanted to try it.’

  ‘I’d like to see them. Will you take me one day?’

  ‘One day. You have my word on it.’

  ‘Promise?’ Kit’s face was solemn.

  ‘It’s a promise.’ Hatton set the child down. ‘Sophie, I must go. There is much to do before tonight. We can’t risk mistakes. I may not see you for some time.’

  Sophie couldn’t hide her dismay. So much had been left unsaid. She wanted to assure him of her love once more, to say that he would be always in her thoughts, and to beg him to be careful. She turned to Kit.

  ‘Will you ask Bess if she has some food for us, my pet? Mr Hatton has to leave quite soon. He must not be delayed.’

  Kit’s face fell. ‘Hatton, you will come back, won’t you?’ His lower lip was trembling.

  ‘Nothing is more certain.’ Hatton held out his hand to the child. ‘Take care of your mother, Kit.
I shall be back before you know it.’

  ‘Must you take Reuben too?’

  ‘Yes, but we shan’t be gone for long. For the time being you must rely on Bobbo to keep you company.’

  Kit’s face cleared. Then, humming a little tune, he hopped out of the room on one foot.

  Troubled though she was, Sophie was forced to smile.

  ‘That’s the sign of a particularly happy day for Kit, my dear.’

  ‘The hopping and the singing? Perhaps I should follow his example. It is certainly a particularly happy day for me.’ His expression was quizzical as he looked at her.

  ‘I beg that you will not. There are many fragile objects in this room. I should not care to see them broken.’ Sophie’s laughter did not reach her eyes. She knew what he was about. The joke was an effort to lift the tension in the air.

  Now she wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg him not to leave her. It took all her self-control not to do so. Her throat was dry and she found it difficult to speak, but she managed it at last.

  ‘I was surprised to hear you speak of Bobbo. When did Kit tell you of his imaginary friend?’

  ‘It was at our first meeting. Since then he joins us every day. A difficult chap, this Bobbo! He and I do argue on occasion. He has some curious notions as to what is best for Kit, but between us Reuben and I have Bobbo well in hand.’

  Sophie burst into tears.

  ‘What is it, my love?’ Tenderly, Hatton took her in his arms. ‘Are my jokes as bad as that?’

  ‘Don’t!’ she sobbed. ‘Pray don’t make light of what you are about to do. I’m so afraid for you...’

  ‘I shan’t be alone, Sophie, and you’ve seen my bruisers. Don’t they give you pause? Personally, I shouldn’t care to meet them in a dark alley if they were my enemies.’ He slipped a finger beneath her chin and raised her face to his. ‘They’d lay down their lives for me, you know, but hopefully that won’t be necessary.’

  ‘But you will be careful?’ she pleaded.

  ‘Yes!’ His ardent gaze brought the colour to her cheeks. ‘I have much to live for. Don’t trouble your head about me. Now, for your own part, you will remember my instructions?’

  Too overcome to speak, she nodded.

  ‘No heroics, mind! Follow Harward’s plan to the letter. It will take courage to go into the cellars and open the outer door, but you alone can do it. You may be under observation and Matthew must not be seen to have any knowledge of the store. Everyone must be warned beforehand to keep their shutters closed. They must be blind and deaf to any sound outside the inn in the early hours. We have come too far to risk a mishap now.’

  He took Sophie in his arms once more. ‘Don’t be afraid!’ he urged. ‘These men need you, Sophie. They have no reason to distrust you. They believe you to be a willing accomplice. You won’t be in the slightest danger as long as you follow their instructions. Open the outer door, don’t look back, and then go to your room.’

  Then his mouth found hers and she melted into his embrace, her arms about his neck.

  ‘Come back to me!’ she whispered. ‘I couldn’t live without you.’

  ‘You worry too much!’ He dropped a kiss upon the tip of her nose. ‘Take heart, my love. All this will soon be over. Then it will fade from your memory like a bad dream.’

  ‘I pray that you are right.’ She clung to him once more in a last embrace. Then she disengaged herself. ‘Come,’ she said. ‘You must eat before you leave. You shall not go away unfed.’

  Her smile was uncertain, and, looking at her, Hatton knew that she was trying to bring her courage to the sticking point.

  ‘The sooner I go, the quicker I shall return,’ he told her lightly. ‘Shall we join the others?’

  They found a merry party at the dining-table and Sophie saw to her surprise that Kit was with them, propped up on several cushions to bring him level with his plate.

  Any fears she might have had about his normally finicky appetite were soon dispelled. Too absorbed in chatter to quibble, he demolished a bowl of mutton stew almost without noticing.

  So much for coaxing him into eating just another mouthful, she thought wryly. Evidently the thing to do was to ignore the problem and leave him to it. Her son was leading a most unusual life. Other children of his age would have been banished to a nursery and warned that they might be seen but not heard at a set time each day.

  Well, it would not do for her, no matter how unconventional her treatment of her son might appear to others. These years of childhood were too precious. Kit must feel always that he could come to her and join in whatever life she could offer him.

  She looked at Hatton, half-fearing to see a look of disapproval, but he was smiling broadly at Kit.

  ‘You’ve joined the other men, I see.’ He drew out a chair for Sophie. ‘Are you keeping them in order?’

  ‘We are thinking of making Kit the president of our club,’ the man named Wentworth told him. ‘A magician must take first place. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Undoubtedly!’ Hatton peered at his plate. ‘This stew now. It could be from an ancient recipe. What do you say, Kit? Will it turn us into tadpoles?’

  Kit was too convulsed with glee to answer him. It was Wentworth who replied.

  ‘My dear sir, you need not fear to eat the dish. Kit murmured an incantation before we took a bite. Any spell there may have been is broken.’

  Hatton looked at the grave face and his shoulders began to shake. He bent his head and began to eat.

  Sophie too was trying hard to hide her laughter. At the same time she was warmed by the kindness of the young men about her table. Clearly, they had made it their business to take an interest in her son, and she liked them for it.

  Their banter was both witty and entertaining, and gradually she was persuaded to join in. Later she was surprised to find that she too had cleared her plate almost without noticing.

  Slowly and imperceptibly her spirits lifted, and by the time they took their leave of her she was able to return their thanks with the assurance that she had enjoyed their company.

  Hatton, she noticed with a pang, had decided to leave with them. Throughout the meal she had watched him closely as he spoke to the other men. He’d given no indication that Wentworth and two of the others were his cousins. As far as her servants were concerned the gentlemen were travellers met together in the casual way of customers at any hostelry.

  She schooled her own expression to no more than friendliness as she watched the little party ride away. Then she went back to the parlour.

  As always the place seemed empty without Hatton. Life was very strange, she mused. Call it fate, or luck, or chance...whatever it was, she could only wonder at the quirk of fortune which had led her to this point in her circumstances. A delay of only half an hour would have caused her to miss the visit of Richard Firle to her father’s home all those years ago.

  If she hadn’t fallen in love with him on sight, she might have married any one of half a dozen suitors for her hand. Somewhere she had read that human beings were no more than playthings of the gods. They had been more than ordinarily capricious in her own case if that were so.

  Then she dismissed the thought. Chance might play a part in determining one’s future, she decided, but human beings always had a choice. She’d chosen Richard, and it had been a mistake, but now she had been given a second chance to find happiness. She would not let it go.

  Her ill-starred marriage had brought her to this place, but without it she would not have had Kit, nor would she have met Hatton. Perhaps in time the gods grew tired of cruelty and decided to relent.

  She was still lost in thought when Abby came to find her.

  ‘Will you come to the kitchen, Mistress Firle? Me and Mother...well...we’re that worried!’

  ‘What is it, Abby? Everyone enjoyed their meal. No one found fault with it, though mutton stew is not a favourite of mine. Only your mother can make it taste delicious.’

  Abby did not answer her question. S
he shook her head and set off for the kitchen without further comment. There she walked over to her mother’s side and both women turned to face their mistress.

  Sophie knew at once that there was something sadly wrong.

  ‘Has someone been hurt?’ she asked anxiously. ‘What is it, Bess? Pray don’t keep me in suspense.’

  ‘You’d best sit down,’ the woman told her bluntly. ‘What I have to say won’t please you.’

  ‘Very well. I’m waiting...’

  ‘It’s Nancy Tyler, mistress.’

  Sophie sighed with relief. ‘Is that all? Have you quarrelled with her? If she isn’t doing her work, I’ll speak to her myself.’

  ‘That isn’t all, ma’am. She works too hard if anything. Fair runs herself into the ground, she does. ’Tis the nights, you see.’

  ‘What on earth do you mean? Does Nancy go out at night? She needs no permission to do so...she may like to walk.’

  ‘She don’t go out.’ Bess’s mouth set in a tight line. ‘She locks herself in her room.’

  ‘Bess, she is entitled to some privacy. I wonder that you begrudge it to her.’

  Bess shook her head. ‘You don’t understand. Abby, you had best tell the mistress what you saw.’

  ‘I weren’t spying, Mistress Firle,’ the girl said in her own defence, ‘but Nancy’s room is next to mine. She talks all night, and I can’t sleep.’

  Sophie frowned at her. ‘Nancy has had a tragic life. No doubt she has bad dreams. Won’t you be patient for a while? In time she may not suffer so—’

  ‘She weren’t dreaming, ma’am. She were quieter when she came here, but I could hear her clearly. At first I thought she had someone in the room with her...it were like...well, like a conversation with another person.’

  ‘That can’t be so,’ Sophie protested. ‘Nancy has no friends here whom she might ask to visit her.’

  ‘No, ma’am, I know that.’ Abby was clearly uncomfortable, but a look from her mother urged her on. ‘I didn’t know what she were up to, so I...well, I took the knot out of the wall.’