by May Burnett
Lady Russell, eager to impress the company with her inside knowledge, was not to be so easily stalled. “Harrowing is one way to describe it, I suppose,” she said with a roguish smile. “To travel with a young officer as only companion and chaperon would certainly strain the nerves of any lady of the slightest sensibility.”
Monique drew a deep breath, schooling her face to impassivity at the mortal blow so casually delivered. This silly, self-important woman had just struck down her reputation and future. Why had Sir Claud confided the story to her? But should Monique have expected anything better from a provincial oaf?
“What can you mean?” half a dozen eager voices, from both men and women, avidly repeated. “And how can you know of the matter, Lady Russell? I thought you had only just met each other?”
“Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours is a guest in this house,” Aunt Charlotte said with a warning look at Lady Russell, “and the daughter of an old family friend. I would not care to listen to any ill-founded gossip about a young lady I hold as dear as another daughter.”
Lady Russell gave a braying laugh. “If you are so fond of the young lady, I daresay you will be anxious not to have her adventures talked about; but take it from me, Mrs. Ellsworthy, scandal will out, however much you might try to prevent it.”
It certainly would, when gossipmongers like Lady Russell were involved. Monique put her most bored, supercilious look on her face. “Do I understand that you have some information that reflects on me? I find that difficult to imagine, Ma’am.”
The conversation had attracted additional listeners. Aunt Charlotte and Monique, and the horrible Lady Russell, were surrounded by a good dozen or more guests, all straining their ears and looking hopeful of some exciting titbit.
She was not going to allow this ill-bred woman to tell the tale. Monique raised her chin and faced the crowd of would-be accusers, fleetingly conscious of Violet’s shocked face and her cousin Bertrand’s uncomprehending frown.
“It is true,” she said as calmly as she could manage, “that due to a series of unfortunate accidents, my companion and servants all fell ill and I had to complete the journey here with the escort of Captain Kinninmont, whose behaviour throughout those trying days was all that was gentlemanly and virtuous.” She stared at Lady Russell, daring her to contradict her version.
“Days? You were with him for several days?” a middle-aged gentleman said with a heavy frown. “No matter how innocent, that is simply –”
Monique took a deep breath, and ruthlessly interrupted him. “I have spent enough time at court, and among people of rank, to realise what is owed to my honour. It was to be kept private for now, but the Captain and I are engaged to be married.”
A stunned silence greeted her announcement.
“Engaged!” Lady Russell exclaimed. “How can you be engaged to a man accused of a felony?”
It took all of Monique’s control not to slap the infuriating woman.
“He will be vindicated soon enough,” Monique said coolly. “It is somewhat tedious, if you will permit me the remark, to discuss your husband’s cases at a dinner party.”
“We were going to announce the betrothal as soon as that other question had been cleared up, and the Marquis informed as is only proper,” Aunt Charlotte said, glaring at Lady Russell. “Alas, some people cannot keep silent on the most confidential and private subjects.”
“Where is this Captain? What other question?” eager voices demanded.
It was with profound relief that Monique heard the announcement that dinner was served, and took the arm of Viscount Tartleton, her dinner partner.
Unfortunately the young man had been hovering nearby, waiting for the signal, and had caught the entire exchange.
“You break my heart, accepting another fellow,” he said as he seated her on her chair before sitting down at her side. “What was that all about? Are you really betrothed?”
Monique gave him an expurgated version of the circumstances, conscious of several other listeners in nearby seats. They pretended to be fascinated by the food and did not speak to each other, so they would not lose one word of her revelations.
“Outrageous! You were nearly killed, several times?” Lord Tartleton looked upset when she concluded her tale. “I am glad you had a champion to protect you, but how unconscionable that such dangers should hound a gentlewoman in England in this day and age! I would not have believed it, had anyone else but you told me this tale of horrors!”
“This Captain Kinninmont who you plan to wed, is he very handsome?” a pert young lady asked across the table.
Monique was spared the necessity of answering when the gentleman on her left side said, “I believe he was introduced to me earlier, outside. He is present here tonight?”
“Yes, at Lady Verena’s table,” she admitted. “As to his looks, but he is not one of those fellows who go around setting handsome poses or looking into mirrors. More manly than beautiful, as befits a soldier.”
“But who are his family? What are his connections?”
“He is from Scotland. I believe his parents are deceased.”
“Kinninmont,” one of the ladies nearby mused. “To be sure it is a Scottish name, but not connected to any important title, as far as I am aware.”
“A Scot, is he? Make sure he leaves part of your fortune in your sole control, they tend to be stingy,” an older lady advised.
Monique said as little as possible in response to a shower of comments and advice. The Captain was as yet unaware of their engagement. How would he react? Would he understand that she’d had no choice? It was either marriage, or permanent ostracism from respectable society. For her family’s sake, she could not risk the latter. It was not the kind of future she had ever anticipated, but they would still be very wealthy, and could live however and wherever they pleased.
Wherever the Captain pleased, she realised with a small frisson. All her money would be his, and she would be expected to obey him. He was in a position to demand whatever he wanted, and under no obligation to provide adequate settlements for her. A moment’s reflection told her she need not worry – the Captain would hardly withhold her own money, at least enough to get by on. But what if he wanted to resume his military ambitions, to buy a commission in a more expensive regiment? What if he hated France and never allowed her to visit her family, her childhood home?
But no, Captain Kinninmont was not the kind to turn into a domestic tyrant. She had trusted him before; she would trust him again.
A new fear struck her. What if one of the bystanders talked of their putative engagement at the other table and the Captain repudiated her claim? She would look a prize fool, and never live down the humiliation. Would he have the wit, and the nerve, to play along until they could get their stories straight?
Pretending to listen to the Viscount, who was recounting a tedious hunting expedition, she grappled with the new reality. It was so new still, so shocking, that all the implications had not yet sunk in. She had considered the possibility earlier, but then she had still believed that there was some escape, that this ill-fated journey to England could be struck from general memory and forgotten.
She had been a fool.
“And when I jumped that second fence, somehow Aladdin misjudged the distance, and I nearly went head over into the ditch. Only my long experience and iron grip in his sides preserved me,” the Viscount was prattling.
“How fortunate,” she murmured automatically.
There was one positive consequence: she would no longer have to field constant attentions and proposals from assorted fortune hunters. All anxiety and speculation about the most suitable match was over and done with. In retrospect, it had been a monumental waste of time and care. Fate had played a trick upon her, and the Captain too. They were caught as fast as birds in the bird catcher’s net. More securely, in fact, for a bird might yet fly away in a moment of his captor’s inattention; but the demands of honour were tighter than any cage or prison, stronger tha
n stone walls.
So, then. She would shortly have to explain to the Captain why he was now betrothed to her. He had not sounded too enthusiastic when they had discussed the possibility, but the kiss they had shared under the pear tree gave her hope he would not mind too much. Now she could kiss him again, would even be expected to do so, and more eventually…
Unless his enemies could yet confound and eliminate him, as they had been trying so assiduously just a week earlier.
Not if she could prevent it. Captain Kinninmont – she might as well start thinking of him as Duncan – was to be hers. Monique protected what was hers.
She was his in turn, and when she pictured in vivid detail what that would imply, once those vows were spoken and they found themselves sharing a private room, she felt another blush slowly rising up over her whole body.
Chapter 27
Duncan’s frame of mind had been lightened by the safe arrival of his beloved Emperor earlier in the day, and a gallop through Amberley’s extensive parks to celebrate their reunion. One more thing he had Monique and his hosts to thank for. He had written to his brother for funds, to repay the cost of fetching his animal.
His dinner partner was Miss Rosewood, all of eighteen. That lively damsel informed Duncan within five minutes of their introduction that she was the youngest and only unmarried daughter of a vicar who held three comfortable livings in the area. As she burbled, Duncan encountered a murderous glare from Bertrand de Montalban, whose face he had never yet seen other than vacantly amiable.
The Frenchman was seated opposite Miss Rosewood, who proceeded to regale Duncan with descriptions of her parents, her married sisters, and her brother in the Navy; but eventually she too noticed de Montalban’s ferocious expression and subsided with a questioning look.
Since social custom prescribed that conversation at dinners must be confined to one’s immediate neighbours, Duncan could not ask the fellow what irked him. He supposed he would find out soon enough, and tried to enjoy the superb meal as best he could. Yet as the first course progressed a number of people from his own and the other two tables stared at him in turn, and Lady Verena looked at him sharply from the head of the table. What on earth could be the matter? Despite himself, his neck grew hot under the tight starched collar.
The matron next to the young Frenchman eventually grew tired of his inattention. “You seem to harbour some animosity towards the gentleman opposite,” she said, loudly enough so Duncan and Miss Rosewood could hear. “I fear for your health, young man, as the digestion must be affected when you eat in anger. Perhaps it would help to unburden yourself of your feelings?”
Miss Rosewood, Duncan, and two or three other people nearby looked at de Montalban expectantly.
The young Frenchman winced at her public reproof. “Pardonnez-moi, Madame, if I have failed to properly entertain you. I have just learned that my relative, Mademoiselle de Ville-Deuxtours, is engaged to a fortune hunter without proper pedigree. A man who has taken advantage of a vulnerable moment, to compromise her into marriage.” His baleful stare at Duncan left no doubt to whom he referred.
There was a dead silence for two long seconds. Manners be damned, Duncan could not let this new slur rest upon him. “From whom did you learn this, pray? There is no question of my having compromised your cousin, Monsieur. I entertain the greatest respect for her.”
“And for her fortune too, I make no doubt,” de Montalban returned with a grimace. “I do not mind for myself, you understand, but my older brother Matthieu, the current Count, will be greatly upset when the news reaches him.” With a visible effort, he added, “However it has come about, we shall be connected through marriage, and I suppose I should proffer my felicitations. I shall require some time, until I can do so with any sincerity.”
Duncan’s mind raced, as he struggled not to betray his shock. The young man had announced the engagement as a fait accompli. Could it be true? If Duncan contradicted it, he might cause harm to Monique. Of course, if it was untrue, not to say so at once would be fatal too. He held on to one incontrovertible fact: until his name was cleared, any public betrothal must be out of the question.
“This is not for general consumption, nor is it official as yet,” he said with what nonchalance he could muster. “There are circumstances, such as the lady’s parents being absent … who told you, may I ask?”
“My cousin herself, after that horrid Lady Russell claimed you had been travelling all alone with her. But surely that cannot be true. I am not well acquainted with my cousin, but she has been brought up as a perfect lady in all respects, and I refuse to believe she would ever willingly do anything so scandalous.”
“As you say, Monsieur, your cousin is a lady of impeccable virtue. Her temporary separation from her companion and servants was the result of an unavoidable, freak accident,” Duncan assured Bertrand, as well as the avid listeners all around him.
“A happy accident for you, Sir,” the matron said with a wide smile. “It seems to have won you a fair lady and one of the greatest fortunes in France.”
De Montalban scowled at the reminder. Duncan frowned. “I care nothing for her fortune. Any man upon whom such a lady chooses to bestow her hand is already favoured far above other mortals, even had she nothing at all.”
“How romantic.” Miss Rosewood’s eyes glowed. “My congratulations on your good fortune, nonetheless!”
Others around them joined into her sentiments. Even de Montalban simmered down quickly enough. Duncan owed him thanks for the timely warning, but could hardly say so. Under the circumstances, the Frenchman’s initial annoyance was understandable, and he would not hold his insulting remarks against him.
The subsequent ninety minutes, when he had to sit still and make small talk with Miss Rosewood and the lady at his other side, were sheer torture. Duncan badly wanted to jump up, grab Monique and carry her outside for a thorough explanation. Did she intend to go through with the match? How could she, when Duncan was still accused of a serious crime? Not to mention those other slurs in Portsmouth… however you looked at the matter, he had to be the least promising suitor imaginable for any young lady, let alone an heiress of her rank.
But if it were possible … if she actually wed him … he fell into a most inappropriate daydream while Miss Rosewood described her sister Elaine’s splendid wedding, and how she planned to improve on it when her turn came. What would it be like to spend the rest of their lives together, furnish a home where she could be happy… of course, Monique was French, and might prefer to live in her own country. If so, he could adapt. France was said to be just as beautiful as England, and the climate in the south more pleasant.
But as delightful as such a marriage would be, what would Duncan do with himself, as the husband of a rich woman? Making love to her would be sweet, but you could not do that all day, all week. How could she respect him if he brought nothing to their match but his undistinguished name? If Duncan was bored and restless within a few short days of resigning his commission, how dissatisfied would he be with a lifetime of idleness? No, that would never do.
They would have enough capital to engage in business ventures, but would it not also reflect on his wife if her husband dabbled in trade? On the other hand, there were her step-mother’s breweries. Perhaps she would not mind all that much.
Every few minutes he sternly told himself not to let hope out-gallop his good sense: it might be better for both of them if all this turned out to be a mirage, a pipe dream that would soon yield to sober reality. Yet if so, it would take Duncan a long time to overcome a crushing sense of disappointment, now that he had permitted himself to hope.
After the dinner Lady Amberley had scheduled a variety of musical performances. Having to sit through a series of piano pieces and ballads in his present state would drive him out of his mind. He must talk to Monique immediately, find out exactly what her plans were.
From the moment Duncan had come across that stranded coach, their lives had become more and more firml
y entangled. Was it fate? And if so, should he not yield with good grace? He had not done anything to be ashamed of since their first meeting. Even the kiss they had shared in the gardens had happened upon her explicit invitation, though one might argue that he should have been stronger, should have resisted. But no red-blooded man could have done so at that moment. The memory of her sweet mouth, of her body’s delicate curves nestling so trustfully against him, kept him awake at night.
Could it be true? Was Monique to be his wife, his to cherish and ravish and protect for the rest of their lives?
As the guests streamed into the Red salon for the promised musical treats, Duncan hung back. There she was … he moved in Monique’s direction without even seeing the others, against the crowd, and presently felt her light hand on his arm. “We need to talk,” she said in a small voice. Her face was endearingly anxious, and he felt an overpowering impulse to enfold her with his arms. But not here, in front of all these strangers.
“Come, my dear.” He drew her into the deserted library. “Your cousin Bertrand informed me, during the first course, that we are engaged.”
Her big dark eyes met his. She bit her pink lips in what looked like mortification, even distress. “I feared something like that would happen. I hope you did not deny it?”
“Of course not. But by not denying it, I affirmed the general impression that we are indeed betrothed. I said that until your parents could be contacted, nothing was official. That way it might be explained away, if nothing comes of it in the end.” It cost him to add the last sentence, but whatever others might think of his ethics, he could never trap her in an unwanted and unequal match.
“Oh, good.” She breathed out in relief. “I had to announce the engagement when that odious wife of the local justice, Lady Russell, blabbed about our unchaperoned journey to all and sundry. That hen-witted harridan wanted to impress the other guests with her special knowledge.”
