‘Oh, my dear! Just think what this means! Nobody who has witnessed the very close attention he has been paying you could possibly mistake Lord Ledbury’s intention.’
Well, clearly they could, thought Lady Jayne bitterly. The fact that she was on the guest list did not mean that he wanted to marry her. He was just killing two birds with one stone. Forging ahead with his campaign to make a brilliant match, whilst doing his chivalrous best to offer a friend for whom he felt sorry some respite from the nightmare her Season had become.
‘Naturally you will not be the only young lady who has been invited,’ Lady Penrose continued. ‘That would look too obvious. But I am sure you are the one he intends to offer for. Only think of the gallant way he came to your rescue after that masquerade. The posies he sent you every day…’
‘I do not think I wish to attend.’ She had thought long and hard about it, and come to the conclusion that there was nothing she could do to sway a man of Lord Ledbury’s determined nature. All she would achieve by attending his wretched house party would be to make herself more miserable than she already was.
Lady Penrose’s mouth gaped. ‘You cannot mean that!’ She looked intently into her face. ‘Or perhaps you do.’ She laid her hand briefly over Lady Jayne’s. ‘It was your grandfather’s idea you should find a husband this Season. Not yours at all. And if you do not wish to marry Lord Ledbury then you are quite right. We ought to refuse this invitation. It would not do to raise false hope in his breast. That would be unkind.’
‘It is not that…’ There was no hope in his breast at all. But how to explain her certainty without confessing the nature of their entanglement?
Lady Penrose clucked her tongue and shook her head. ‘I see. You enjoy his company but you are not ready to make such a momentous decision. Well, I never did think you were old enough for a London Season. I told your grandfather that it would have been better to take you to Bath, or Harrogate, or perhaps a seaside resort this year—just to try your wings in public, without all this pressure to settle down—but there. What could I do?’
Lady Penrose laid the invitation aside with evident regret.
‘Now, while we are on the subject of your grandfather, I think I had better tell you at once that I have received a rather…unsettling letter from him.’
Her heart sank. He must have finally announced that she had fabricated prior knowledge of Milly, and Lady Penrose was going to take her to task for the deception.
‘I am sorry if he is angry with you about Milly. But you see, I…’
‘Milly? How can he possibly be angry about Milly when he knows nothing about…’ Lady Penrose trailed off, looking a little uncomfortable.
‘You did not mention my friendship with her?’ Lady Jayne was astounded.
‘No.’ She flushed. ‘I knew full well that your grandfather would disapprove of her. But he left you here under my care. And in my judgement the fact that she is of lowly birth is outweighed by the fact you enjoy her company so much. I have noticed that you do not make friends easily. That, of course, is because your grandfather would not allow you to mix with anyone except long-standing connections to the family.’ She pulled a disapproving face. ‘Only when you are with Miss Brigstock do you unbend and become the carefree girl you ought to be at your age. She makes you laugh. For that alone I would defy a hundred cross old earls. But that has nothing to do with the case. Here,’ she said, thrusting the page towards Lady Jayne. ‘You might as well read it for yourself.’
Lady Jayne’s astonishment increased. Lady Penrose had never permitted her to look at any of the letters her grandfather had written before, even though they referred to her. But then she was clearly still a bit flustered after her admission that she’d deliberately defied Lord Caxton by omitting to mention Milly to him.
Well, well. It seemed Lady Jayne was not the only one who instinctively rebelled against her grandfather’s high-handed attitude.
With a little smile upon her face, she bent her head to peruse his letter. But after she had scanned only the first few lines she felt as though her world had been turned upside down.
He had received confirmation that her scandalous aunt, Lady Aurora, had died some years previously. But her daughter had recently returned to England and, due to what Grandfather referred to as a stroke of good luck, had been made known to him. Her breathing grew faster, and more shallow, as she read with increasing resentment how this girl, Aimée, had spent her childhood jaunting all over Europe, having—just as she had imagined—all kinds of adventures, before marrying the Earl of Bowdon and making her home in Staffordshire.
But what hurt her beyond anything else was the list of instructions he gave Lady Penrose regarding Jayne’s reception of this Aimée when she came to Town.
As if she was not quite capable of knowing how to behave!
And to think of this cousin, experiencing the delights of Rome and Paris and Naples, whilst she had been immured in Kent, hedged about with draconian governesses! Or occasionally escorted to the houses of families she had known from birth, where she was not even permitted to walk down a corridor without a maid to dog her footsteps. And now he admonished—yes, that was the word he had used—admonished Lady Penrose to ensure her compliance with his plans to reinstate cousin Aimée into Society. The family had to stand together in this, he had insisted, underlining the word together twice. The girl was not to be held accountable for the sins of her parents.
Suddenly she knew exactly how the stay-at-home brother had felt when his father killed the fatted calf to welcome the prodigal home. She had always thought him a rather mean-spirited sort of fellow when hearing the parable expounded before, but here was her grandfather, expecting her to drop everything and—and perform for him like some kind of trained poodle, with Lady Penrose flicking the whip to guarantee the quality of her performance. Well, she would not have it!
‘This is rather inconvenient, is it not?’ she said coldly, handing the letter back to Lady Penrose. Inside she was seething with resentment and hurt. But nobody would ever have guessed. She did not know it, but she had never resembled her father so much in her life.
‘Inconvenient?’
‘Well, yes. Because, having given it careful thought, I have decided I ought to accept the invitation to Lord Ledbury’s house party. So I will not be in Town when this long-lost cousin arrives, will I?’
Lady Penrose looked at the letter, then to Lady Jayne’s face, and to the writing table by the window on which all the invitations lay scattered.
‘You have changed your mind about the house party…?’
‘Made up my mind, Lady Penrose. Don’t you think it is positively my duty to go? After all, Grandfather sent me to London for the express purpose of finding me a husband.’ Get the chit married off, had been his exact words, she recalled bitterly. ‘And I do seem to have captured the interest of a man of whom he would thoroughly approve. If I do not attend this house party,’ she said airily, ‘Lord Ledbury might slip right through my fingers.’
A smile of comprehension spread slowly across Lady Penrose’s face. ‘Oh, indeed, yes. It is your duty to do all you can to attach the kind of husband of whom your grandfather would approve. And I,’ she said, taking up her pen with an air of unholy glee, ‘am going to take great pleasure in writing to inform him that his plans to come to Town and make us all dance to his tune will just have to wait a week or two.’
Chapter Nine
Lady Jayne twisted her hands together
in her lap. She couldn’t believe she’d done it again. Had she learned nothing from the scrapes she’d got into in London?
Making Lady Penrose her accomplice to get her into the Lambournes’ masquerade was as nothing compared to this. It made not a scrap of difference that her chaperone was thoroughly enjoying flouting her grandfather’s wishes. She had let her temper get the better of her, and not only was she going to Lord Ledbury’s house party but…
She darted a glance at the other occupants of the carriage, who were chattering away as though neither of them had a care in the world.
She should never have dragged Milly into it. And yet at the time, with her temper raging so hot, it had seemed like the perfect solution. Well, that was because she hadn’t stopped to calm down and think rationally. She had just told Lady Penrose that she would enjoy the house party much more if she had her dear friend with her, and her chaperone had made all the arrangements.
With the result that here they all were, travelling down to Courtlands together.
She turned her head sharply and looked out of the window, lest the other two should attempt to include her in their conversation. She didn’t know what to say to them. How to deal with the guilt she felt at the disaster that was looming. Lord Ledbury was going to be so…angry. Confused. Hurt.
Why hadn’t she taken his reaction that night she’d taken Milly to the theatre into consideration? When she had thought it would be a lovely surprise for him to see how beautifully Milly could cope with polite society. But it had been no such thing. She might as well have taken a dagger and plunged it into his heart. And this…this sneaking of her into Courtlands would be ten times worse. For he was actually steeling himself to propose to someone. Only of course she hadn’t thought of that in the moments immediately after reading her grandfather’s letter. She had just thought that men were so stupid, and so tyrannical that what could any woman with an ounce of spirit do but thwart them at every turn?
It wasn’t even as if she had been angry with Lord Ledbury, either. But somehow her determination to thwart male stupidity had spilled over into her muddled thoughts about his house party and before she knew it she’d decided to get Milly down there to stop him proposing to any of those women who were bound to make him miserable. She knew he wouldn’t listen to any arguments she might put forth. But he surely couldn’t withstand the appeal of Milly herself? Surely he couldn’t do anything so cruel as to propose to another woman whilst Milly was under his roof?
And before she knew it not only was Lady Penrose up to her neck in schemes to defy their menfolk, but Milly, too, was gleefully anticipating seeing the look on Lord Ledbury’s face when she walked into Courtlands through the front door.
So even when she’d begun to have second thoughts she hadn’t been able to back down. Milly would have been so disappointed if she’d tried to put her off. But it hadn’t been until they’d actually climbed into the coach this morning that she’d begun to consider there would be even further-reaching consequences. For that poor cousin of hers.
It was not going to be easy for Aimée to carve out a place for herself in Society, even if she had now married an earl. And, had Grandpapa not ordered her about in his usual overbearing, not to say insulting manner, she would have been thrilled to be meeting her and hearing all about her adventures.
Oh, bother her temper! Well, she would make it up to her cousin once this house party was over. She would most definitely not stand for anyone turning their noses up at her just because she was unfortunate enough to be the product of a runaway marriage. Really, the rules that governed Society were ridiculous! If not for those rules her aunt Aurora would never have had to elope in the first place. And Lord Ledbury could just marry Milly, and then there would have been no need for her to have resorted to such underhanded tactics.
Though it was no use trying to lay the blame elsewhere. She held herself entirely responsible for the disaster that was about to unfold. Lord Ledbury was going to be so angry with her for meddling. He had been most tolerant of her behaviour up to now, but this latest escapade was completely unforgivable…
And then it was too late, for the carriage was slowing for the turn between the two gateposts guarding the entrance to Courtlands.
Milly fell silent. Both girls pressed their noses to the window, straining for their first glimpse of Lord Ledbury’s ancestral home.
It didn’t disappoint. Not that it was anywhere near as imposing as Darvill Park, her grandfather’s mansion in Kent, for it was a scrambling mixture of styles, as though it had been added to by successive generations in accordance with the architectural style of the day. But it did look welcoming.
Even the immense grey-stone porte-cochère, under which their carriage drew up, looked as though it had been added for the comfort and convenience of guests, rather than to blend in with the ivy-clad redbrick frontage of the house.
She was glad of its shelter, for it had been raining steadily all day. But her knees were trembling as she climbed out of the coach, dreading Lord Ledbury’s reaction.
She grasped Milly’s hand as they climbed the four shallow steps to the front door. Her guilt redoubled. Milly had far more to risk from this venture than she did. What had she done?
She went quite faint with relief when she saw a housekeeper standing in the open door, rather than their host. It only delayed the inevitable confrontation, but once Mrs Hargreaves had shown them up to their suite of rooms at least she no longer had to fear the prospect of being turned away altogether.
‘This is lovely,’ said Milly, wandering over to look out of Lady Jayne’s window, which was right over the porte-cochère, at the front of the house.
‘What is your room like?’ Lady Jayne crossed their shared sitting room and opened a door on the far side. ‘It is a bit small.’
‘I’ve slept in far worse,’ said Milly with a grin. ‘And at least we’ve got this—’ she indicated the sitting room ‘—to escape to if things get a bit uncomfortable downstairs.’
‘Oh, Milly, I’m beginning to think I should not have brought you here. Lord Ledbury is bound to be angry. What if I’ve ruined everything for you?’
‘I wanted to come here,’ said Milly, and turned away with a pained expression on her face. ‘At least I can see what it would be like to live as a fine lady, if only for a few days.’
Lady Jayne recalled Lord Ledbury’s words on the night of the theatre, that it wasn’t kind to show Milly a world in which she could never have so much as a toehold. And she felt more ashamed of herself than ever.
They had both washed and changed out of their travelling clothes by the time Lady Penrose came to their room. She had her own suite of rooms, she told them, on the same corridor, but with quite a different view. And not nearly so large.
‘But then, I have it all to myself,’ she said, with a smile for both girls. ‘Are you ready?’ She ran her eyes over their outfits, though Lady Jayne knew she would find nothing about Milly’s appearance with which to find fault. Only Lord Ledbury would know she was not a perfectly respectable young lady, brought along to act as her companion. What was more, it was not only her appearance that Lady Jayne had changed. She had spent hours drilling her, so that she now knew as much about how to behave during a country house party as any young lady who’d been bred to it.
Lady Penrose gave her nod of approval and rang for a footman to escort them all downstairs to the rose salon, where Mrs Hargreaves had told them guests assembled before going in to dinner.
<
br /> Lady Jayne’s heart was pounding erratically by the time their footman opened a door, bowed and withdrew, to indicate they had arrived. She peeped anxiously past Lady Penrose’s shoulder. Lord Ledbury was standing just inside the door.
When he saw Milly, the bland smile of welcome died from his lips. His hand clenched convulsively on the back of the chair on which he’d been leaning, his knuckles turning white. While he said all the correct things to Lady Penrose, Milly sidled past him and scuttled into the room. Lady Jayne could not blame her for running for cover. He was quite fearsome when his eyes turned all wintry like that.
When he’d finished greeting Lady Penrose, he turned the full force of his disapproval upon her.
Out of long habit of enduring blistering scolds from her grandfather, she composed her features and looked straight back at him. Though she fully accepted she was the one Lord Ledbury would blame for leading Milly astray, she had no intention of cringing or making excuses. Not here, in the doorway, with all those beady eyes watching avidly from behind their languidly waving fans.
‘Lady Jayne,’ he said, through gritted teeth that from a distance might have passed for a polite smile. ‘I had no idea you would be bringing Mi…Miss Brigstock.’ He leaned in closer and whispered right into her ear, in a furious undertone, ‘What on earth possessed you to do such a thing? Are you mad?’
She smiled up at him, and playfully tapped his shoulder with her fan, as though he had made some flirtatious remark. ‘Determined,’ she replied.
‘Determined to do what?’
She shook her head and wagged her finger reprovingly. ‘You will thank me later. I know you will. So don’t pretend to be cross.’
‘I am not pretending, da…dash it all. Oh, this is intolerable,’ he hissed, darting a glance over his shoulder to see exactly how many of his guests were watching their interplay. Leaning in close again, he growled threateningly, ‘We will have to speak privately about this. Later.’
An Escapade and an Engagement Page 13
