Marriage Gamble

by Oliver, Marina

  Damaris thought of the roaring fires at Frayne Castle, which toasted her in front and left her back freezing. She would purchase several shawls.

  Most of the muslins, Damaris saw, were of paler colours, so she permitted Madame to drape some of them over her shoulder, and agreed without caring a great deal that she would order day dresses in lemon, pale pink, a soft green and a pretty white sprigged material, though she resolutely refused to contemplate plain white fabrics.

  Madame then showed her illustrations from La Belle Assemblée, and Damaris made a swift selection, but when Madame attempted to discuss the relative merits of embroidery with silks of the same or different colours, or seed pearls, or lace, and which would help to make her look taller, she grew bored and told her to do whatever she thought best for decoration.

  'For you are the expert on fashion, are you not?'

  'As you wish, Mademoiselle. It is a pity you are not just a few inches taller, but I can arrange the decoration, as you call it, to exaggerate your height. And now you need some pelisses, and you must have at least two shawls to go with the gowns. I will suggest the best milliners, and where you can obtain shoes and slippers, and excellent riding habits, for I do not make these. I will give you samples of the materials you have chosen so that you may match them with hats and gloves and reticules. Now, pray permit my assistant to take your measurements.'

  By the time Lady Gordon returned Damaris was holding in her temper with some difficulty.

  'I swear I am not purchasing another thing!' she said when they were in the carriage and on the way back to Cavendish Square. 'I have ordered enough gowns and pelisses and shawls to last me several years. The hats and shoes and riding habits I already own will suffice. I will not endure being patronized and disparaged for my lack of height or colour of hair! If the carriage had been there I would have walked out!'

  'Oh, my dear, I am so sorry! But she is one of the most talented modistes in town, and you deserve the best.'

  'If I am to attract the notice of eligible bachelors!'

  Damaris laughed suddenly.

  'Oh, Lady Gordon, forgive me! I will behave, I promise. Did you find a nurse?'

  'An excellent woman. Her last charge has just been sent to school, which is why she is free. With such excellent references. And do call me Mary, it makes me feel old for you to use my title. I am, after all, only half a dozen years older than you. My sister Jane was ten years older than I.'

  'Dear Miss Drayton. I wish she could have come with us.'

  'She does not like London.'

  'I know, and when your sister Sarah invited her to spend a few months in Scotland, how could I deny her? She's devoted herself to me for fifteen years.'

  *

  Humphrey pushed aside the ledgers and sat staring out of the window of his office towards the wharf where his latest boat was being fitted out. He could not concentrate on accounts while his thoughts were following Damaris to London. It was pure chance he had discovered she had already left the Castle some days ago, and he was furious at the realization he had been outmanoeuvred. One of his customers, a landowner who lived a few miles from Frayne, and who spent a good deal of time in boats, had mentioned it the previous day. She would by now be in London, and up to whatever knew mischief. He had been intending to try and delay her departure, with the excuse he needed to discuss with her how things were to be organized when she came of age in July.

  That had been the only plausible way he could devise to keep her in Yorkshire, for some time, at least, and now he had lost the opportunity. He could not forbid her outright, for the crafty old devil, her grandfather, had forced him to agree, in front of his solicitor, that she should be given the opportunity of a Season. Luck had attended his wishes so far, preventing her from going, but this year nothing had intervened, and she had evaded him by leaving Frayne Castle without informing him, as was her duty, of her movements. He would have something to say about that, and to Lady Gordon, who must have abetted her in helping her to sneak away in such an underhand fashion. Now he was terrified she would be trapped into marriage with some plausible rascal who wanted her only for her fortune. Well, he still had to give his consent, and he would never do so.

  If only something had delayed the visit until next year, when she would have been his wife, and he could have insisted they spent a mere week or so in London, thus complying with old Hallem's demands.

  He fully intended to marry her. To that end he had managed her inheritance with as much care as he did his own affairs, for it would eventually become his. Perhaps he ought to have made sure of her before her birthday, before she became independent, but fear of the condemnation of his acquaintances had prevented him. They had been outspoken about a similar case a year or so back, when a much older man had married the young heiress who was his ward. He was well aware the man in question had been ostracized by the higher sticklers. Some of these were his customers, and he could not endure to lose either their business or their acquaintance.

  He suddenly made up his mind and called in his foreman. Loth though he was to leave his business in another's hands, old Lloyd had worked for him and his father for over forty years. He could be relied on not to do anything stupid, while he went to London and made sure Damaris was not being deceived by men who wanted only her fortune. And if he found an excuse, he would be within his rights as her guardian to force her back to Yorkshire. That ought not to be too much of a problem for a man as much up to snuff as he was. She would have had a few weeks in London, so his conscience would be clear that he had kept his promise to the old man.

  *

  'Have you met your intended yet, Luke?'

  Lord Frayne paused and looked across at Francis who had just entered Manton's shooting gallery. He almost wished he had not told Frank about his plans. Now his best friend, who already had a grin on his face, would be watching his progress closely.

  'I have not. I understand she will be in town tomorrow.'

  'Your intelligence is out of date. She's here already. I just saw young George Fanshaw. He and his parents dined in Cavendish Square last night.'

  'Fanshaw? That puppy? But he's barely one and twenty. Surely he's not ready to be rivetted.'

  Luke felt a momentary qualm. He'd not anticipated having any serious rivals until he had been able to fix his interest with the wench, overawe her with his title and the lavish attentions he meant to pay her.

  'He needs an heiress if what I hear about his father is correct,' Frank said. 'Old Fanshaw has been speculating, and one of the ships he's got a half share in was either sunk or captured by Barbary pirates. He's having to sell some land.'

  'I see. Well, I'm not afraid of a schoolboy as a rival,' Luke declared, while vowing to make Miss Hallem's acquaintance as soon as possible.

  'No, but the Marquess of Ryecot's son and heir is a different kettle of fish. He's five and twenty, looking most romantic, carrying his arm in a sling, and back from Spain telling all sorts of stories about his exploits.'

  The Earl was looking thoughtful.

  'Is he, indeed?'

  'You'd better get back to your shooting practice,' Francis said with a laugh.

  'So that I can dispose of my rivals? No, Frank, it won't come to that. I have other methods. But have you heard what she is like?'

  'I haven't spoken with Ryecot or young Fanshaw. You will have to go and see for yourself.'

  He waved and left. Lord Frayne thoughtfully returned to his shooting, but his concentration was lost, and when he missed half the wafers he gave up in disgust. His early notion of a leisurely pursuit of Miss Hallem might have to be abandoned, if other men were already sniffing round the heiress. He must contrive an introduction as soon as possible.

  *

  One of Damaris's favourite hacks had been sent to London earlier, and having reassured herself that Bonny was completely rested after the journey, Damaris ordered her to be saddled two mornings after the dinner party. She recalled going with her governess to watch the fashionable
s promenade in Hyde Park one afternoon, but Mary had assured her very few people would be riding there so early in the day.

  'You must take a groom with you,' Mary said. 'It is not done for a young girl to ride alone.'

  'I'll need to, as I don't know my way to the Park,' Damaris said, but promised herself she would not be requiring his company once she knew how to get there. After all, she was almost one and twenty, not a young girl, and had ridden the Yorkshire moors alone for years.

  She was standing on the mounting block, waiting for Bonny to be brought out of her box, when she noticed a young groom, only a boy, sneaking round the end of the carriage house. As soon as he was through the gateway he glanced behind, then set off at a fast run. What errand was he on, she wondered, and why the caution? It seemed as though he did not wish to be seen. She shrugged. It was none of her business, and she forgot him as she made a fuss of Bonny and then mounted.

  The groom detailed to accompany her, Whitfield, an elderly Yorkshireman, led the way and soon they were at the entrance to Hyde Park.

  'No galloping, Miss, it's frowned on,' Whitfield warned as he dropped back to ride behind her.

  'A pity, but maybe soon I can ride out to Richmond, or somewhere Bonny can stretch her legs.'

  There were not many riders, and Damaris longed for a swift gallop, to feel the wind in her hair as she could on the moors at home. She shrugged, and urged Bonny into a sedate canter. She had made a circuit of the Park and was approaching the gate where they had entered when two horsemen came in, accompanied by a huge mastiff. She tightened the reins. Bonny was normally well-behaved, but she detested large dogs. She wasn't very fond of small ones, either, Damaris thought, as she recalled an occasion when a tiny terrier had barked at Bonny and caused her to take off in fright. This dog, however, was held on a lead.

  The approaching horsemen were twenty yards away when the mastiff saw Bonny and began to strain to get free. The man holding it, who looked like a groom, was almost pulled from the saddle, and suddenly let go. The dog leaped forward, barking, and Bonny reared, then swung round and set off in panic across the Park. Damaris almost lost her seat, but grabbed at Bonny's mane and hung on.

  I'm having my gallop after all, she thought, grinning, and making no attempt to bring Bonny to a halt. She knew it would be useless until the mare calmed down, and she was enjoying the unexpected gallop. She glanced back, and saw the dog had given up the chase, but a horseman on a big black horse was rapidly gaining on her. As he drew alongside he stretched out a hand towards Bonny's bridle, only to draw back, wincing, as Damaris swung her riding crop and slashed him across the face.

  'Let go, you fool!' she gasped. 'You'll only terrify her more.'

  ***

  Chapter 2

  Frances Willett was grinning as he entered White's that evening. Luke glanced round from the card table where he was playing piquet with young Fanshaw, and nodded to Frank, who grinned even more, and settled down with a glass of port to wait for the game to finish. When it did Luke went across to sit beside him.

  'You look mightily pleased with yourself,' he said.

  'I am. I've stolen a march on you. I met your Damaris this afternoon. She and her chaperone, Mary Gordon, came to pay a call on Mama.'

  'And you were there, doing the pretty?'

  Luke wondered exactly what exactly had motivated Frank. Mere curiosity, or something else?

  'Mama mentioned she hoped they would call so I decided to grace the family home with my presence. I almost sent for you, but decided not to interfere.'

  'Mighty good of you. Well?' Luke went on when Francis did no more than grin at him.

  Instead of explaining Frank shook his head, and Luke tried to disguise his eagerness to hear what his friend thought of the Hallem wench.

  'What's young Fanshaw been telling you about her? I haven't seen you paying him any attention before.'

  'One has to follow every possible avenue,' Luke said. 'He was, he tells me, not impressed, for she's no beauty, and has no conversation.'

  'Then you don't fear competition from that quarter?'

  'I didn't before, but it's satisfying to have one fewer rival, if you consider him one. But what's your judgement? We all know you are a connoisseur of female charms.'

  Francis shook his head, sorrowfully.

  'You really must change your mind, Luke. She's not a fit wife for you. She's a poor little dab of a girl. Small, thin, with nondescript hair, and barely a word to say for herself. A gown at least three years out of fashion. Pretty eyes, I grant, if she permits you to see them, but most of the time she kept her head lowered and only spoke a few words. I tried to ask what she liked doing, trying to help you, you see, old man, but every time I asked if she liked dancing, or riding, or listening to music, she just nodded. You'll have a hard time of it, making up to her.'

  Luke stroked his chin, and turned to face Francis so that he could see the livid mark on his cheek. He saw, his own eyes cynical, his friend's shock.

  'My God, Luke, what's happened? How did you get that? It looks like a whip lash.'

  Luke had deflected all other enquiries, but he had to tell Frank the truth.

  'It is. Administered by your poor little dab of a girl. And she was not short of words then. I had a worse tongue lashing than the time I let my father's hens out and the fox got them all.'

  Francis was clearly trying not to laugh, while at the same time looking rather bewildered.

  'You, Luke, horsewhipped by a female? How in the world did you allow that to happen? Lord, if this gets about you'll be a laughing stock. But I don't understand. How did you meet her, and why should she whip you?'

  'I trust you won't spread the news. It was in the Park, early this morning. My mother's damned dog, which Barbara insisted on bringing to town, got loose and frightened her horse, which bolted. I was trying to stop it and received this for my pains.'

  'Tell me. How did you know it was her? And you are not accustomed to take early rides. Nor do you take that brute of a dog out with you.'

  Luke shook his head. It had not been one of his better ideas, and had certainly not worked out as he had anticipated.

  'It was my cunning plan to meet her,' he said, and suddenly laughed. 'It serves me right, I suppose, but I'll see the little wretch pays for it. It will be my pleasure to punish her when we are married. I'll fill the house with dogs.'

  'What plan?'

  'The dog wasn't part of it, but Barbara saw me on my way out and reminded me I'd promised to exercise the brute while Alex was away. I only agreed because I meant to get a groom to do it.'

  'And because your little sister can twist you round her little finger. But how did you know she'd be in the Park?'

  'I bribed one of Sir Thomas Gordon's grooms to come and tell me when she went riding. I confess I didn't expect it to be so early, but getting up then was in a good cause. I went to the Park, hoping to meet her, and I even tied my cravat in less than ten minutes.'

  'Fop!'

  'Well, it was a sacrifice, but in a good cause, I thought. I know all Gordon's grooms by sight, so it was easy to know who she was. But that fool man of mine I took with me to look after the brute let go of the dog. Her horse bolted, and I thought I'd lose all chance of getting Frayne Castle back if the chit broke her neck, so I went chasing after her. And this is all the thanks I get.'

  'I take it you didn't stop the horse?'

  'I tried to. What man wouldn't? But she cursed me and used her whip on me. She pulled the mare up a few yards further on, and then turned and called me the sort of names I'd only heard in the stable yard before. Then she departed.'

  Frank was trying not to laugh, and Luke, rueful, could not help grinning.

  'So what do you propose to do now? Still planning to marry such a termagant?'

  'Why not? It could be amusing taming her. I intend to find out when Lady Gordon is at home, and pay my respects.'

  'And offer your apologies for trying to save the chit's life?'

  'Tha
t too. At least she will have cause to remember me.'

  'Meanwhile, how do you account for that mark on your cheek? A jealous husband? Footpads? Falling downstairs when in your cups?'

  'I won't mention it. If anyone asks I will say a demented cat scratched it.'

  *

  Damaris told herself she was merely suffering from reaction to the shock of having Bonny suddenly bolt. It was nothing to do with her deplorable loss of temper with the man who had, after all, only been trying to help. He could not have known she was able to control the mare. She had acted instinctively, lashing out at him like that, and calling him all the offensive names she could think of. She blushed to recall some of them. They were words she had never before used, though she had heard them often enough in the stables, when the grooms at Frayne Castle had not been aware she was present.

  She had ridden away afterwards, as fast as she could, and rejoined the anxious Whitfield who had halted some yards away when he saw she was in control of Bonny. Had he heard her diatribe? The thought caused her to blush. Had she injured the wretched man with her whip? She had not waited to see, and had been unable to look at him after her first furious reaction.

  'The dog's gone,' the groom told her, and she had merely nodded and led the way back to Cavendish Square.

  Ought she to find out who he was, and offer an apology? Damaris shuddered. She did not think she could endure to face him again. And how, she asked herself, could she discover who he was? She was certainly not prepared to ask Whitfield, and no one else could tell her, even if she was prepared to confess what had happened to anyone else.

  She might meet him again if she came to the Park on other mornings. Did she want that? Her conscience was telling her she owed him an apology. She might never meet him again. There were hundreds of men in London for the Season, and surely she would meet only a few. There was a good chance he would not be one of them. If she did by great misfortune meet him, in circumstances where she could not avoid his company, she would certainly apologize.

  She went through the rest of that day in rather a daze. Fortunately Mary assumed it was exhaustion after the journey, and said she must have an early night as they had tickets for the opera on the following evening. They made some morning calls on a few of Mary's friends, but afterwards Damaris could not recall any names or faces.