Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed

by Jo Beverley

  Hotly, Major Heckleton spoke up. “Fallwell here will just not admit the truth. At Valladolid a few months ago we were given a choice of billets. From the outside the houses looked the same, but I found myself sharing quarters with a half-mad old couple who lived on gruel. He settled in with a family of pretty daughters who could cook like angels. I don’t object to him taking the advantage,” he continued angrily. “But I wish he would admit that he had prior information and not say it was just his good fortune.”

  “And I wish you would accept my word,” replied the Irish captain in disgust. “I tell you I have the gift. If that is prior information, I admit it. But other than that I had none.”

  “Gammon! No one can be expected to believe such stuff,” snapped the major. “Next you’ll be telling fortunes at the fair.”

  The captain colored angrily and would have risen had Lady Caroline not pulled him back. “Perhaps you can show your skills here, Captain Fallwell,” she said gently.

  “I am not a fairground performer,” he retorted bitterly. But after some persuasion he agreed to attempt his inspired guesswork if anyone could think of something not known to all.

  “It must be something close by,” he declared.

  A number of suggestions were made—colors of handkerchiefs, coins in pockets, but these were rejected as being too easy to guess or possibly known. Then someone, it was never recalled who, said, “Tell us the color of Miss Sandiford’s garters!”

  Some were taken aback but others acclaimed the suggestion mightily. Rather pink, the young captain protested that Miss Sandiford would not agree and certainly the Ashby sisters looked horror-struck.

  Jane had opened her mouth to refuse but she could sense the explosive nature of the atmosphere around her. She glanced about for guidance.

  Lord Randal would know how to handle this situation. He had been seated only a few tables away with Sophie and some others. Now she saw only Sophie watching the scene with amusement, and realized that soon other people would be drawn by the raised voices. She just wanted this scene over before it attracted more notice.

  “I am perfectly willing for the test to go on,” she said quietly, “as long as my word is taken as to who is the winner. I assure you no one has seen my garters this evening and no one is going to.”

  It was agreed that Captain Fallwell should write his guess on a card and then Miss Sandiford would give them the answer. As the captain sat and thought, Jane silently begged him to hurry. She did not notice Lady Caroline and Lady Cecilia slip away.

  When he had finally written his prediction, Jane said, “Silver lace” and Captain Fallwell shouted in triumph. Picking up his card he showed the word “silver” upon it. In the midst of the exclamations and reconciliations Lady Harroving surged forward with the concerned Ashby sisters behind. With horrified exclamations and apologies she managed to convince everybody that she was covering up a scandal.

  “Jane, Sophie, we must leave!” she whispered, amazingly loudly. They found themselves hurried along, Sophie protesting but Jane trying not to make the scene worse.

  “Good evening.” The three ladies looked up to see Lord Wraybourne at his most sartorially perfect, smiling at them with just a touch of amazement.

  “David, thank heavens!” gasped Lady Harroving.

  “Thank heavens, indeed,” echoed Sophie angrily. “Maria has gone mad!”

  Jane merely stared at him in mute horror. This was not how she had planned to face him when he finally deigned to return. He quickly assessed the situation and made a small gesture. A moment later, Sophie was being led off by Lord Randal, the two chattering amiably as usual, and Lady Harroving was dismissed to the card room, her favorite haunt. Lord Wraybourne held out his arm and Jane hesitantly placed hers upon it. Casually, they began to stroll around the room.

  “Smile, Jane. Whatever has been happening will disappear under a smile. And you really should look pleased to see me, you know.”

  Jane was about to protest, but she realized that he was right on all points. It was essential that she appear pleased to see him if they were to avoid a scandal, and there was no need of pretense. Despite his behavior and her hurt, her unruly heart was humming to be with him again. He was even handsomer than she remembered. His lazy eyes held that touch of humor and hint of strength. Excitement was once again sizzling from the brief point of contact, her hand upon his sleeve.

  Still, he did not deserve to know quite how she felt and so she merely said, through smiling lips, “Lady Harroving made a simple matter into a major scandal.”

  “Then we had better smile a lot, I suppose,” he remarked dryly.

  Jane detected a note of censure in his voice, and that strengthened her resolve to remain cool. What right had he to censure her? She had not imagined that scene in Clarke Street. She raised her chin and looked at him, still smiling but tauntingly. Attack is the best form of defense, she reminded herself.

  “It will take a great deal of good humor to wipe out your absence these past ten days.”

  His smile did not waver, but an arrested look came into his eyes to be quickly hidden by lowered lids. “Don’t fight with me here, Jane. Tell me instead about Mrs. Cuthbert’s musical soirée. From the gossip, I regret missing it. Was Admiral Finchley really found with Lady Storr?”

  Jane giggled as he had intended. “So they say, but it was smoothed over. Of course, there can have been nothing to it. They are both so amazingly old. But Lord Randal says a duel between a Mr. Morgan and a Captain Youngman all came about because of that night. They both fired into the air.”

  “Very wise. As I remember, Mrs. Cuthbert’s musical soirées deserve to be livened up in some way. If you are free tomorrow night, I would like to take you to hear some real music. A friend of mine holds impromptu musical evenings every Friday.”

  Jane remembered the other occurrence at the soirée and wondered nervously whether Lord Randal had told him of the whisperer yet and if Lord Wraybourne considered her at fault in laying herself open to such insult. Her stability was further undermined by his free hand, which he had placed over hers. He was gently teasing her fingers, to amazing effect, and Jane found herself staring up at him as if mesmerized. Clarke Street, she said to herself, like a defensive incantation, but it did no good.

  She dragged her mind back to his invitation for a musical evening. “I would like that,” she said softly.

  “Good.” He held her attention a moment longer, knowing the impression they were creating of a couple deeply bound up in each other. Then he broke the contact gently.

  “A set is forming. Will you dance with me, Jane?”

  She agreed. She knew she really should be very angry with him, and yet she could not manage that at the moment. She told herself that she was helping him to ease away the scandal but acknowledged that she had little control over her actions. All her confused feelings suddenly focused. She loved him. She could not possibly give him up to another woman. Jane would make him love her in return. These past weeks in Society had built her self-confidence and convinced her that she had attractions other than birth and money. Unconsciously, her hold upon his arm tightened and he looked down. As they moved into their places in the set he kissed her hand and gave her a warm and genuine smile. He could not possibly be indifferent, she told herself, and smile at her like that. Perhaps she would not have too much work to do.

  At the end of the set, Lord Wraybourne was satisfied that the scandal had been stillborn. When Crossley Carruthers came up to claim Jane for the country dances, Lord Wraybourne gave her up with only the slightest hesitation. After a moment spent watching them thoughtfully, he moved through the room, exchanging pleasant words and letting drop in many ears how delighted he was with his bride-to-be. Then, he went towards the card room and came upon his cousin, conducting a meaningful flirtation with a military man.

  “Good evening, Maria.”

  “David!” she exclaimed with an uneasy titter. “Allow me to present Colonel Sawyer.”

 
Lord Wraybourne was perfectly polite, but for some reason the colonel decided it would be expedient to move elsewhere for a while.

  “Well, really, David,” said Lady Harroving, watching the desertion of the military. “That was just becoming promising.”

  “Does it occur to you that you are quite unsuited to the care of two debutantes?” he said in exasperation.

  “All the time,” she complained. “I said as much to Aunt Selina, but she begged me so.”

  “Let us promenade, dear cousin, so that we will be less conspicuous.” As they began their leisurely perambulation he said calmly, “Having taken on the post, Maria, I suppose it was too much to expect that you might apply yourself to it?”

  “I agreed to bring out Sophie,” she said sharply. “She has been no trouble for she knows what she’s about and, with her looks and fortune, Society will turn a blind eye to any number of pranks. Heavens, she can even be seen everywhere with Ashby without a brow being raised. Your dear Jane, however, was foisted upon me and has a wild and stubborn streak all of her own. I wish you well of her,” she added waspishly.

  “Thank you for your felicitations,” he said with a dangerous smile. “Speaking of escorts, I would much rather you did not make so much use of Carruthers, Maria.”

  “But Crossley has such an air,” she protested. “If you are tolerant of Ashby, I cannot see why you would balk at Crossley.”

  “I trust Randal implicitly. I wouldn’t trust Carruthers with a bent farthing. I don’t actually concern myself that Jane would be imprudent with him, I just do not think it adds to her consequence to be seen with him.”

  Lady Harroving was not misled into seeing his mild comments as anything less than a command and fury ate at her. “I am amazed you have such trust in the chit! She has no sense of decorum at all. The scandals I have had to avert—”

  He cut her off quietly. “I am pleased you have been so assiduous in your duties.” She heard the steel beneath the velvet tone. He was not yet ready for outright criticism of the baggage.

  “It is all her mother’s fault, of course,” Lady Harroving said hurriedly. “She has kept her walled up in the country and then turns her loose. She’s like a river in flood,” she announced with unusual poetry. “There’s no stopping her.”

  He seemed undeterred. “More exciting than a placid brook, don’t you think?”

  “I have always found a quiet stream most appealing,” she persisted, casting a glance at Mrs. Danvers on the dance floor.

  “You amaze me,” he said with genuine amusement and added wickedly, “Flood waters, suitably harnessed, can be a powerful benefit to man. Excuse me, Maria. I see the dance has ended. Perhaps I should go and—control the torrent again.”

  Lady Harroving glared after him in rage. How could men be so stupid?

  Her original plan to wreck the betrothal had been idle mischief coupled with the desire to assist her friend to an advantageous match. She was spoiled, however, and the failure of her plans had led to a genuine dislike of Jane. The girl must be a witch to have managed to avoid the nastier traps laid for her.

  Jane had happily allowed Lady Harroving to spend vast quantities of her parents’ money on clothes but despite encouragement had chosen not a single unsuitable outfit. She had even managed to carry off that Grecian gown, which many a more sophisticated woman would have hesitated to wear, and thus started a minor classical revival.

  Lady Harroving had in desperation ordered for her a silk evening gown so fine as to be transparent, with a bodice cut down to the nipples. It had been unworn. Finally she had persuaded the girl to wear it and the wretch had ruined the effect by wearing a heavy slip beneath and a great fichu of lace at the top. There was not even the consolation of her looking ridiculous, which she surely did. The style was taken up, and for days everyone was wearing old-fashioned fichus and calling them Sandiford shawls. It was all too much. Lady Harroving resolved to make a final push to puncture the girl’s defenses in some way.

  Lady Faverstowe, meanwhile, discovered that her ball had suddenly soared from a mundane affair to one of the events of the Season. Those who had refused her invitations would be sorry. Delicious rumors of scandal were weaving through the guests. Lady Harroving would have been appalled to know that one version had her tying her garter before a bunch of officers, and Lord Wraybourne, normally the most perfect of gentlemen, was conspicuous by the fact that he refused to dance with anyone except his betrothed. He partnered her four times!

  Mrs. Danvers maintained admirable composure in the face of all this, apparently enjoying the company of the ugly but witty Marquis of Dromree, but Lady Harroving was so cross she forgot to pursue the promising colonel and saw him snatched up by another matron. When she slyly attempted to discuss matters with her usual gossips, hoping to make them see the whole business as tawdry, she found them delighted by the romance of it all.

  Lord Wraybourne completed his evening’s work by sitting out a dance with his sister, to the dismay of her chosen partner for that set.

  Deciding that attack was called for, Sophie said, “It is about time that you paid some special attention to Jane.”

  “It’s about time I paid some special attention to you too, I think,” he replied without rancor.

  “Are you going to be stuffy?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  “I won’t listen to you,” she said with a toss of her head.

  “Then I will send you back to Bath.”

  She flushed but retorted with cheek, “I can cut as many rigs in Bath as here, so it will serve no purpose.”

  “Thank you for warning me. Then you had better stay with Great-Aunt Clara in Yorkshire.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she declared, eyes wide.

  “Do you care to try me?”

  “I think you are the horridest brother in the world!”

  “I have certainly been the most neglectful. Come now, you can’t throw a scene here. I’m not expecting you to become a pattern card of perfection, just be a little more sensible.”

  She refused to reply, her mouth set.

  “I am also hoping,” he continued, intending to distract her, having made his point, “that you can make sure Jane does not do anything too outrageous in the next few days.”

  “Why in the next few days?” she asked, intrigued.

  “Because I have to go out of Town again.” He raised his hand in acknowledgement of her cry of exasperation.

  “This will be my last journey, and it is not so long now before the wedding. I would rather not return to find her off to Gretna with Carruthers.”

  Sophie nodded with disconcerting maturity. “I’ll guard against that,” she agreed, “though I truly do not think there is any danger of it. Jane has lost the taste for his flowery compliments and for disorderly behavior. Did Randal tell you of her unpleasant encounters?”

  He nodded. “I will handle it, but meanwhile they are not to be taken lightly. Behave correctly and you will both be safe.”

  “Do you know who it is?” she asked in amazement.

  “I have a suspicion. As I said, he will take no risks so do not be alone with any men and avoid isolation and you will be safe.”

  “It’ll be dreadfully dull,” said Sophie with a teasing smile and then added, “Do you truly care for Jane? She deserves to be loved.”

  “I do truly care,” he said and added lightly, “Have you chosen your victim yet? Trenholme has spoken of you frequently.”

  She raised her chin. “He is far too old. I would drive him distracted.”

  “He is my age, and you are much of an age with Jane.”

  “That has nothing to do with it. Would I not drive you distracted?”

  He was forced to agree, but added, “If you loved, you would mind such a husband, especially if he loved you.”

  “I do not see how any man can say he loves if he wishes to change his loved one. I will only marry someone who admires me as I am, which Lord Trenholme undoubtedly does not these days.”

>   “Does it not occur to you that such an admirer would not be a reliable husband?”

  She was genuinely hurt. “Am I so terrible?”

  He reassured her that she was not. “But you cannot be wild forever, Sophie. One day you will wish for peaceful days and a husband you can trust and depend upon, particularly if you have children. If you marry someone who indulges your freakish starts now, you may not like him so well in a few years’ time.”

  She smiled at him, her spirits restored. “Then I must marry someone who will grow sober at the same rate as myself, David. Do not discount my own ability to tame a beast. I have my counterpart in mind, but I shall not tell you his name yet. So do not tease me.”

  “Do you mean to say he’s not yet enslaved?” he asked in astonishment. “I didn’t think there was a man in Town who was not at your feet. I understand any number have been trying to catch me in Alton Street.”

  “Then kindly continue your wanderings. You will only have to tell them all there is no hope.”

  “What of the Chosen One?”

  “He would not be so stuffy. He will sweep me off my feet.”

  “Is he suitable?” he asked. “I will not permit a misalliance, Sophie.”

  She burst into genuine laughter. “Do you not know me, brother? Of course he is suitable!”

  “And not yet in your trap?”

  “If he was to be so easily caught, I would probably not want him quite so much.”

  Lord Wraybourne escorted the Marlborough Square party home. Lady Harroving was disconcerted to find that he expected to be invited in.

  “It is very late, David.”

  “It is not yet two. The night is young,” he replied amiably. “I have a mind to speak with Jane.”

  Lady Harroving sent Sophie to her bed and then, her every step speaking annoyance, she led them to a small saloon. Lord Wraybourne surveyed the faded carpet, plain green walls, and sparse furnishings through his quizzing glass.

  “Presumably your room for receiving the better sort of tradesmen, Maria,” he remarked. “Never mind. It will suffice.” He then gently turned her towards the door. “Now you can send the servants to their beds. When you are sure they are out of the way, I suggest you follow their example.”