As he walked home later that night, having sent Clarence back to the ball with the reminder his mother would be expecting him to escort her home, he tried to analyse his feelings. He had no need to dance attendance on Miss Hallem at balls, for he would see her soon, and was committed to the chess games. Or, he amended with a rueful grin, one more game at least. So why should the thought of Ryecot paying attention to her be of any concern? Was it solely because he despised the man?
He had reached Upper Brook Street before a possible solution crept into his mind, and he came to an abrupt halt while he thought it over. He was, despite himself, beginning to like the girl, and his original notion of marrying her suddenly became more attractive. Was Ryecot of the same opinion? If so, would he still want her if she lost Frayne Castle?
*
Damaris forced herself to be amused by Lord Ryecot. It was preferable to being irritated by him. At the ball the previous night he had clearly wanted to impress her, being excessively polite and solicitous of her welfare, but having little other conversation apart from condemning the tactics the commanders in the Peninsula were using. His dress had been immaculate, his shirt points high but not excessive, his shirt and cravat sparking white, the latter tied in an intricate knot he had informed her was his own creation. He had shown her a new snuffbox, encrusted with diamond chips, which he expected her to praise, but which she found vulgar and ostentatious. She had been hard put to it not to laugh when he flipped open the lid one-handed and inhaled a pinch with a superior air. Damaris found him pompous and too full of his own importance.
Mary had insisted they attend the ball, saying she had missed enough of the Season's events while the children had been ill, so had to make up for it now. Understanding that Mary felt guilty, Damaris had agreed to go, though she would have preferred an evening sitting beside the fire and reading. She had been bored, finding the occasion flat, not knowing many of her partners, and thankful to return home. If only Lord Frayne had been there. Somehow she found his company stimulating, his conversation interesting, and the prospect of the chess games giving an edge of excitement to their meetings. She refused to acknowledge the thought that she enjoyed his company for its own sake.
She changed into a walking dress in preparation for the drive with Lord Ryecot, and looked hopefully out of the window. It was hot and sultry, and in the distance she could see dark thunder clouds building up. If only they would arrive soon and let go of their rain before Lord Ryecot arrived, so that the drive could be postponed.
Damaris wasn't entirely sure why she did not relish the prospect of a drive with him, except that she did not like him. She had been well aware of the envious glances cast her way by less fortunate girls last night, and would have been more than happy to allow them to change places with her. If they could tolerate his pomposity they were welcome to his attentions. Perhaps she was just tired, still weary from the days and nights spent looking after little Amelia.
She moved quickly back from the window when the smart curricle drew up outside, and Lord Ryecot, wearing a many-caped driving coat which was surely unnecessary in this weather, sprang down, handing the reins to his groom. Damaris cast a last suppliant glance at the clouds, but they hovered in the distance and were not about to rescue her. She sighed and picked up her hat.
With great solicitude Lord Ryecot tried to assist Damaris climb into the curricle. In his eagerness he got in her way, taking her arm when she stretched out her hand to grasp the side and in so doing unbalancing her. She bit back a sharp retort, and suffered his unsteady help. For a moment she wondered whether he had been drinking, but his driving was competent enough, and he did not encourage his horses to go at more than a walk.
He dismissed the groom and they set off towards the Park.
'A good ball, last night,' Lord Ryecot said after a few minutes.
'Yes,' Damaris agreed.
'A good orchestra too.'
'Yes, it was.'
'The supper was excellent.'
'And the gowns were very pretty,' Damaris countered, feeling than mere agreement could go on for some time if he commented on the quality of the champagne, the decorations, and the company.
'Eh? Oh yes. I thought yours was the prettiest there.'
Oh dear, had he thought she was fishing for a compliment?
'Thank you, my lord.'
Ought she to comment on the way his cravat was tied? She tried to steal a glance at how he was wearing it this afternoon, but her view was impeded by a huge carnation pinned to the collar of his greatcoat.
He relapsed into silence as he negotiated the turn into the Park, but then shook the reins to encourage the horses to break into a sedate trot.
Once they were going steadily he began to talk about the people at the ball, asking Damaris if she knew them. Once she had said she did he passed on to others, and when she confessed her ignorance gave her a brief summary of their family connections and presumed fortunes.
'Frayne wasn't there,' he said after a pause.
Damaris wondered despairingly whether he was about to start enumerating all the ball's absentees, but that, it transpired, was not his intention.
'He's notorious for raising the hopes of foolish debutantes, and then disappointing them,' he went on. 'I trust he is not taking you in with his attentions?'
'I think I can be trusted to know when a man is serious,' Damaris said, struggling to keep her voice even, though she wanted to shout at him that it was none of his business.
'He wants Frayne Castle,' Ryecot went on.
Fortunately, Damaris thought afterwards, before she could reply the rain came, big heavy drops which wet her through in moments.
Lord Ryecot appeared to consider the downpour a personal insult. He looked round for help, but none was forthcoming.
'Dammit, why isn't that fellow here? I can't raise the hood on my own!'
Damaris refrained from reminding him he had sent his groom away.
He halted the horses, dropped the reins, and twisted round to try and pull the hood of the curricle up. At that moment there was a flash of lightning and a rumble of thunder. One of his horses tried to rear, and they set off across the grass at an uneven gallop which threw Lord Ryecot back on the seat and caused the curricle to bounce alarmingly and sway from side to side.
Damaris grabbed for the reins, and was just in time to prevent them from being flung over the side, out of reach. Lord Ryecot was moaning, making no attempt to get up. She tried to sort out the reins, struggling against the wetness of the leather, but eventually had them straightened out, and gradually brought the terrified horses under control. She managed to make them drop into a canter, and then a trot, but by now they were at the far side of the Park, and there were few other people in sight.
Lord Ryecot wriggled round to sit on the seat, clutching at his arm.
'I think it's broken,' he said, wincing with pain. 'Can you get us under those trees, where we can shelter.'
'I have always been told never to shelter under trees in a thunderstorm,' Damaris said. 'If you cannot handle the reins, or raise the hood to shelter us, I think I had best drive back to your house, and your groom can drive me back home.'
'I said to shelter under those trees! How can a mere girl control my horses, through the streets, as well!'
'If you wish to shelter there I will happily hand you the reins and get down, and walk home,' Damaris said, permitting her temper to show.
She offered him the reins, but he just moaned and nursed his arm.
'Don't be such an idiot! I cannot drive with a broken arm.'
'Then you will have to accept my suggestion.'
There was another crack of thunder, but Damaris had been prepared for it, and she held the horses back despite their attempt to bolt. When they had calmed down again she put them to a trot, and went as rapidly as she dared back across the park. Most of the riders and drivers had departed, she noticed, though a few were sheltering under the trees.
'You see, they are n
ot afraid to take shelter,' his lordship said in a petulant tone. 'I'm getting wet through, I shall no doubt catch my death of cold, thanks to your timidity.'
Damaris considered telling him that his greatcoat, with its many capes, was a good deal more likely to keep him dry than her own pelisse, but decided she could not summon the energy to argue with such a stupid, arrogant man.
'Where do you live, my lord?' she asked as they approached the gate.
'Grosvenor Square,' he replied. 'Ryecot House is on the north side. Watch out for that dray!'
Damaris ignored him. She had steadied the horses to a walk, and was in no danger of colliding with the dray. She determined to control her temper during the rest of the short drive, but found it difficult, for his lordship persisted in giving her quite unnecessary warnings and instructions, and on one occasion as they turned into Upper Brook Street snatched at the reins and almost caused the curricle to swerve into a post chaise standing outside one of the houses.
That was too much, and Damaris thoroughly lost her temper and berated him for an incompetent fool who was incapable of behaving sensibly and who ought never to be in control of anything bigger than a dog cart on an empty road within a private estate.
'We're here,' was all he replied, and reached for the reins. 'If you can get down and ask for my groom to be sent for, I will see to it you are escorted back to Cavendish Square.'
'Get down yourself,' Damaris replied. 'I don't trust you to keep these horses under control, they are still nervous.'
Fortunately, before he could argue further, the door opened and a butler and footman emerged.
'Help his lordship inside, he thinks he had broken his arm, and send for a groom to take charge of this carriage,' she ordered briskly.
Another footman appeared and went to the horses' heads. Seeing he looked capable of holding them Damaris climbed down from the curricle.
'Tell his lordship not to bother sending me home, I prefer to walk,' she informed him, and before he had closed his mouth, she set off.
***
Chapter 11
Luke, having helped his sister and her husband into the post chaise, stood watching Damaris driving Ryecot's curricle towards Grosvenor Square. He was oblivious of the rain, and did not hear Barbara's last minute instructions as to the care of her dog. He was transfixed by the fluency of Damaris's invective as she berated the unfortunate man sitting beside her, clutching one arm to his chest. He wondered what in the world had happened to put her in such a pother. And how she came to be driving Ryecot, who was noted for his utter refusal to permit any female to handle the reins of his carriages? He looked forward to their next meeting, when he might hear what had happened.
Chuckling, he turned to wish the travellers bon voyage. They were off to visit Sir Alex's mother who lived in Cambridgeshire, and staying the first night with his sister in Hatfield.
They should have departed hours since, but a series of small catastrophes had delayed them. Alex had received letters he felt needed instant replies. Barbara had been unable to find the heirloom necklace her mother-in-law had given her as a wedding present, and dared not go without it. The search had involved completely unpacking their luggage. The dog, perhaps sensing the excitement, had escaped from the stables where he was supposed to remain and chased a neighbouring cat up a tree. Barbara refused to leave until the groom sent to catch him had returned. Then the thunderstorm had delayed the appearance of the post chaise, the postillions explaining that the horses had been fractious and it had taken longer than usual to harness them. Barbara, swallowing tears of frustration, had declared she would call off the entire visit, until Mrs Frayne had emerged from her room to ask what all the commotion was, and demand some quiet so that she could rest.
Muttering that even her mother-in-law was preferable to her aunt, Barbara had finally left the house. Luke waved them off, and considered strolling along to the square to see if he could discover anything more about Ryecot and Damaris, but another crack of thunder, and the dampness he could feel seeping through his clothes, decided him to wait until the following day, when Damaris was pledged to drive with him.
Changed into dry clothes, he went into the refuge of his book room. If he had known Ryecot was squiring Damaris, and she had turned down his invitation in favour of driving with him, he might have been concerned, after what Clarence had reported the previous night. Now, though, after whatever it was that had put Damaris into such a temper with his lordship, he knew he had little to fear from the man.
Fear, he asked himself? Where had that word come from? After last night, when he had wondered if, in spite of it all, he was becoming fond of Miss Hallem, did he fear potential rivals? He had, in the clear morning light, dismissed the notion that he might have come to like her more than he liked other females, telling himself it had arisen from a combination of too much port, the fresh night air as he walked home from White's, and annoyance that, by not attending the ball, he had permitted a man like Ryecot to make advances to her. Now he was not sure. Were his feelings of last night, or those of this morning, the truest?
When he saw her again, on the following day, he might know. He glanced out of the window, to see the rain still falling heavily, and hoped it would have ceased by the following afternoon. Yet if it did not, he reassured himself, he could talk to her inside the house, for they must soon arrange the second chess game.
*
By that evening Damaris had begun to sneeze and shiver.
'You should not have walked home in all that rain!' Netta scolded as she helped her undress. 'You'll be lucky not to catch your death! You know when you catch cold it goes to your chest, like it did last year. You should have waited, made that nasty little man send you home in a closed carriage.'
'I was already wet through to the skin,' Damaris said. 'It would have taken as long for that to be arranged as it did for me to walk home. At least the walking warmed me a little.'
'What he was thinking of to allow it, I don't know! And he the son of a Marquess!'
Damaris chuckled and began to cough.
'He was in no state to worry about me,' she said when she could speak again. 'Besides, I'd given him such a dressing down, and in public, I imagine he would have been happy to see me drown.'
'That's no way for a gentleman to behave.'
'Then he isn't a gentleman. Grandfather was right, men from all walks of life can be gentlemen, or otherwise.'
Netta sniffed and went to pile more logs onto the fire.
'Though you shouldn't have let your temper get the better of you. One of these days you'll go too far. I've always said it. You don't want to get a reputation, and have the nobs snub you.'
Damaris decided she could dispense with brushing her hair for one night, and tied a fetching nightcap over her locks.
'I am not enamoured of the ton, Netta, and it would not sadden me never to see London again.'
'That's weakness talking.'
'Perhaps.'
Damaris wondered whether it was the truth. Would she care if she never saw Lord Frayne again? She did not know, and was too weary to try and decide.
'Well, you won't be driving out with that nasty little man again, that's for sure. Now get into bed and drink this tisane.'
Damaris complied. She was feeling surprisingly weak, and supposed it was partly a result of all the nursing and broken nights while she was caring for Amelia, as well as getting so wet.
She was almost asleep when she recalled she was to drive with Lord Frayne on the following day. She would have to send a note excusing herself, and must remember to ask Mary to arrange it in the morning.
*
When Lord Frayne was announced the following afternoon Mary looked at him in astonishment.
'My lord? I was not expecting visitors.'
'I came to drive with Damaris – Miss Hallem. Is she not here? Has she forgot?'
He felt a stab of disappointment, and realized he had been looking forward, not just to hearing about the scene h
e had witnessed the previous afternoon, but to her company.
Mary shook her head.
'I'm afraid she is unwell, and must have forgotten to ask me to send you a note. But do sit down. Would you care for a glass of Madeira, or brandy?'
'Not the measles?' he asked in alarm. 'No, thank you, nothing to drink. She hasn't caught the measles from the children?'
'No, not that, but she came home yesterday wet to the bone, and has a fever and a cough. She has a susceptibility to them.'
'I see. She was driving in the Park, I think, when the thunder came on, and got wet yesterday. I saw her.'
'Not only that, she walked home from Grosvenor Square. If only I could have five minutes with that wretched Lord Ryecot he would know my opinion of him, allowing her to do that instead of taking her into his house and making his mother find her some dry clothes! I don't care if he did break his arm! I only wish it had been both legs!'
'So that explains it. Lady Gordon, I feel responsible.'
'You? But she was not driving out with you.'
'No, but I saw her coming back. She was driving his curricle, while Lord Ryecot huddled in the seat. I wondered what was wrong with him. He had not put up the hood, so she must have been wet through then, the rain had been so heavy. If I had realized he would neglect her in that fashion I would have insisted she came into my house. Please, will you keep me informed how she goes on?'
'Of course. You must be anxious to arrange the next chess game. But Damaris will not be well enough to play for some time. These attacks of hers usually last for several days, and she was already tired from all the nursing.'
'That's not important. The chess, I mean. She must be completely recovered before we have the next match.'
Marriage Gamble Page 13
