Lord Wraybourne's Betrothed

by Jo Beverley

  “I discover myself in a quandary, Mr. Brummell.”

  “If it is a matter of how to hold your gloves or the color for your stationery, I am sure I will be able to assist you, Miss Sandiford.”

  “Nothing so simple, I am afraid, Sir.”

  “Simple! Miss Sandiford, I thought you to be one of my most promising pupils. Such details are complex and crucial.”

  She smiled, aware that he was playing his part, not speaking seriously. “I am afraid, Mr. Brummell, that it is more a question of scruples and, perhaps, etiquette.”

  “Ah, etiquette.” The Beau waved an elegant and perfectly manicured hand. “There, Miss Sandiford, I am an expert. Inquire away.”

  Jane found it very difficult, now the moment had come, to put her problem into words without revealing too much. “My question is, would it be proper for me to approach a gentleman of my acquaintance in order to discuss matters personal to him and a friend—a lady friend?”

  “Proper? Most definitely not. But, perhaps, desirable. I cannot tell.”

  Jane met his smiling, heavy-lidded eyes. He was being quite sincere for once. At times, she had observed, he was the kindest of men. She understood why so many people were devoted to him despite his annoying ways.

  “I do not think I can say more . . . ,” Jane admitted after a moment. “But, a year or two ago, if I had been acquainted with Lord Byron, would it have been desirable for me to have asked him to stay away from Lady Caroline, for the lady’s sake?”

  He smiled delightedly. “What a wonderful hypothesis, Miss Sandiford. If you had been a fortune-teller, yes, I believe it would have been desirable, but I fear you would have been renamed Cassandra. They would both have laughed at caution. My dear lady, if you are attempting to manage matters of the heart, I say to you, desist. Not for reasons of propriety, but because you might as well stand on London Bridge and tell the Thames to stop flowing.”

  Jane sighed. “Must we stand and watch our friends hurtle towards disaster then?”

  As she said it, she thought the words could apply to the Beau himself. From all accounts, he was following a disastrous course of gambling and debt, and his friends were unable to turn him from it. Maybe it was the same thought that caused his famous smile to twist slightly.

  “That, or turn away. But it is the fate of true friends to stand and watch, Miss Sandiford. A painful experience, though sometimes there are pieces to be rescued after the debacle.”

  If this conversation gave Jane little consolation, she would have been even more distressed to realize that Sophie had drawn Lord Randal apart into a small salon off the refreshment room.

  Lord Randal was not best pleased, either. “This is most improper, Sophie.”

  “Randal. Don’t tell me you are going to start preaching at me too,” Sophie said with a laugh.

  He extracted a delicate snuffbox and took a pinch. “I choose where and when I go beyond the bounds of propriety. If you wish to speak to me privately, can it not wait until tomorrow? I will call on you.”

  “And Maria will insist on sitting with us. You are wasting time. Listen to me. Jane has received an anonymous note saying that David is off in Harrogate with a pregnant mistress.”

  His hand was arrested midway to his nose. “The devil you say!”

  “She is trying to make light of it, but I can see it has hurt her. Is it true?”

  “Of course it ain’t. He was in Harrogate, but it was on business for your uncle.”

  “Uncle Henry! What kind of business can he have that would involve David?”

  “Never mind. But you can reassure Jane that he is now in Exeter, or quite likely on his way back. So, unless she cares to think that he has enceinte convenients all over England, she can put her fears to rest.”

  “Could you tell her, Randal? She would believe you, I think.”

  He shrugged. “Very well. Now let us leave this room before someone finds us here.”

  “Would it be so terrible?” Sophie asked archly, leaning against the door to prevent their exit. “After all, we are behaving with total propriety.”

  “But no one would believe that, minx, as you well know. Stop fooling, Sophie, and move. You’ve no more desire to create a scandal than I have.”

  “Have I not? What could happen? They would all fuss and go red in the face. It could be amusing. Perhaps,” she said with a grin, “they’d say you had to marry me.”

  “It’s more likely that David would run me through. What mad idea have you got into your head now?”

  “Might it not be fun for us to marry, Randal? You wouldn’t be always preaching at me and improving me.”

  His eyes had hardened. “A few minutes ago you complained of just that. If that was a proposal, Sophie, the answer is no,” he said flatly.

  Sophie moved away from the door and reached up to touch his cheek, feather light. Then her fingers ran over his lips in a caress. He stood quite still, eyes locked with hers.

  “Why no?” she asked softly.

  But she had made a strategic mistake. He sidestepped her and opened the door, then glanced outside to make sure that all was clear.

  “Because you’d have me gray before my time. Go and find Jane. I’ll wait here for a few moments and won’t be surprised if she doesn’t lend herself to this kind of improper behavior.”

  “Being much more of a lady than I am, I suppose!” snapped Sophie. She took a breath and smiled, with her lips, at least. “Sometimes, my friend, I fear you are growing sober. It must be old age.”

  With that she swirled out of the room. Slowly and thoughtfully, Lord Randal took a pinch of snuff, carefully dusting off his jacket afterwards. His thoughts were obviously far away. He was still standing there when Jane came hesitantly into the room. She had been reluctant to keep this tryst, not just for sake of propriety, but because it went against Lord Wraybourne’s advice to avoid being alone with any man. Though Lord Randal was surely safe.

  “Very strange behavior for Almack’s, is it not?” he said with a reassuring smile as he closed the door. “But this will only take a moment.” He quickly recounted his conversation with Sophie and his reassurances.

  “Thank you,” Jane said, feeling suddenly as if a cloud had moved to allow the sun to shine through. “David told me that he was going to Exeter, but I let that silly note throw me into a panic. So if he was meeting a woman in Harrogate, it would be for his uncle?”

  “Yes. I cannot go into more detail, but I am certain he could have no personal interest in her.”

  This made Mr. Moulton-Scrope seem a little peculiar, but that was no concern of Jane’s. She suddenly realized she could now speak to Lord Randal if she had the courage. Though it might achieve nothing, she knew she had to try.

  “Did Sophie say anything else, Lord Randal?” she asked.

  She knew, from the flicker of emotion in his eyes, that something had indeed occurred.

  “Nothing of importance, Jane. We really should leave here.” He went to open the door again.

  Gathering desperate courage, she said, “Sophie loves you!”

  He stopped abruptly, and Jane noticed that, sudden as the arrest of motion had been, a sculptor could have taken the lines of his body and made of them a masterpiece.

  “She is playing games,” he said simply.

  “No. She loves you. I know this is an embarrassment to you, but I felt you should know. If you could see less of her, perhaps the feelings would pass and she would be able to fix her affections on someone who can return them.”

  He turned to her, a half smile on his lips. “Dear Jane. Are you implying I am unable to feel the tenderer emotions?”

  “Good heavens, no!” Jane was heartily wishing she had held her tongue. “But if you were going to fall in love with Sophie, you would have done so long ago. And Lord Wraybourne has told me you want to join a regiment.”

  “What a very simple view you have of love, to be sure. But you are, of course, right in this case. If Sophie has taken a mad fancy in h
er head to imagine herself enam ored of me, then I should by all means avoid her to give her time for a return of sanity.”

  With that he steered Jane out of the room and back into the glittering company.

  14

  JANE COULD NOW anticipate Lord Wraybourne’s return with pleasure and feel the noble satisfaction of having done her best to steer her friend from disaster. It was painful, of course, to watch Sophie’s sadness as Lord Randal discreetly avoided her. If they met, he was always in the company of his sisters. On many occasions, Lady Caroline or Lady Cecilia would explain that he was otherwise engaged.

  “Poor Randal,” said Lady Caroline one day in Hook-ham’s. “He has really been very kind to give up so much time to the entertainment of mere sisters, but now we have many willing escorts.” This was said with a delicate coloring on the faces of both twins. “He feels able at last to engage in activities of his own choosing, horrid things such as prizefights and mechanical expositions.”

  It was true that both sisters were well on the way to finding husbands. The world was expecting Viscount Daubry to make an offer for Caroline any day, and Lady Cecilia was seen to spend a great deal of time with Mr. Jeremy Hythe. To be sure, he was a commoner, but a wealthy man all the same, who was making a name for himself in the business of state and expected to go far.

  This further felicity, and that of many other young ladies who were choosing and being chosen, did nothing to lighten Sophie’s spirits. In fact, she only achieved her usual animation when engaged in the planning of the masked ball. Jane encouraged Lady Harroving to busy Sophie with this as much as possible.

  Meanwhile, Jane received a brief note from her betrothed, telling her to expect his return on the twenty-eighth of May. The missive was accompanied by another gift, this time a charming onyx box, bound with silver. She thought at first it might be a snuffbox, though she could not imagine what she would do with such; but when she opened it, she found the compartment lined with creamy silk upon which rested a faceted ruby in the shape of a heart.

  For the next forty-eight hours the household grew accustomed to treating Jane as if she were a sleepwalker, usually to be found wandering around in a daydream. The staff, now working frantically to prepare for the ball, would detour around her with a load of china or a large vase, knowing that to ask her to excuse them and step aside would take far longer. Sophie lost all patience with Jane’s constant wish to talk about her brother and snorted in disgust when she found Jane in her room, sitting in dreamy contemplation of her wedding dress, newly arrived from the modiste and ready to be taken with her to Carne in a week’s time.

  Jane’s excitement reached its apogee on the day appointed for Lord Wraybourne’s return, then slowly evaporated over the long day when he did not arrive. Though Jane’s dreamy happiness had irritated Sophie, she could not stand to see her disappointment now.

  “Travelling is always a chancy business, Jane,” she consoled.

  “But what if there has been an accident?”

  “Then we will know, sooner or later. Come and help me with these flowers, Jane,” she insisted. “It was mad of Maria to invite twenty for dinner only two days before the ball. The staff are going demented.”

  In one way or another, Sophie kept Jane busy throughout the remainder of the afternoon and evening and bullied her into dressing for the evening when she said she would rather eat in her room.

  “David will likely come here as soon as he reaches Town, knowing you are expecting him. How will you like it if he finds you in your working dress?”

  Jane was glad of Sophie’s wisdom when, as she waited with the glittering company to go into dinner, Lord Wraybourne was, in fact, announced. He was tired and dirty and still in his travelling clothes, but even before apologizing to his cousin for appearing so, came directly to Jane.

  “I’m sorry I was not able to keep our appointment,” he said softly, with an intimate smile, then added in a louder voice, with a rueful twist to his lips, “I have had the very devil of a day.” He turned to include the rest of the group. “Maria, I hope you can excuse my dirt. I stopped at Welwyn last night so I only had a matter of thirty miles to cover. A couple of hours, I thought.”

  He had the attention of the whole group. They could sense a good tale.

  He sighed. “First I was delayed in setting out when the ostler discovered one of the traces to be worn through. Then, only a few miles out, my leader went lame. We unhitched the team and walked them to the next inn. I left them there with the groom and proceeded on a hired hack.”

  He was a skillful raconteur, and everyone was following his misadventures in smiling sympathy.

  “It still should not have taken me all day to arrive here? Of course not. And it wouldn’t have done if I had not come across an overturned stage.”

  He acknowledged the disbelieving laughter. “I assure you! Wailing women and cursing men all over the road. No fewer than three children, though it seemed more, all screeching.

  “I could hardly ride by with a wave. Fortunately, there were no serious injuries but many minor ones, and one man had been knocked unconscious. I restored what order I could, then sent a young fellow off to the next village for help—on my horse.

  “There was a long wait but help did come in the form of a couple of old gigs which conveyed those unable to walk. Eventually, we came to the village of Hadley. There I discovered the messenger had continued on his journey—on my horse!”

  He interrupted his story to address his cousin. “I hope you are going to feed me, Maria, even though I am in such a disreputable state. I am not sure that food has passed my lips since breakfast.”

  “Of course I am, David,” she said gaily. “We are all waiting for more of your adventures. I am sure there are more. But you seem to be a jinx today. If this house burns down, I will expect you to recompense us!”

  “At this moment I would pay you the cost of this house for a square meal,” he announced.

  Choosing his time to a nicety, Nuttall announced the meal, a discreet nod of his head assuring Lady Harroving that he had anticipated the need for an extra place at table.

  Lord Wraybourne offered his arm to Jane. “I expect you have waited in all day for me and are justifiably cross,” he said softly.

  “It would serve you right if I had forgotten you were expected.”

  When he first entered she had been overwhelmed by her emotions and doubted she could have been coherent, but the interlude had allowed her to regain a superficial composure, beneath which her nerves hummed and she felt bubbly and light, like champagne. She was proud to be able to converse in an everyday manner.

  “I am not cross, however,” she went on. “I have been busy with my costume for the masked ball.”

  He was startled. “Good Lord, I had forgotten that would be coming up!” It appeared he would be angry, but he suddenly laughed. “I find I am too weary to care. Only tell me your disguise.”

  “No, My Lord,” she replied with a mischievous look. “That you will have to discover for yourself at the time.”

  Once the party was seated, Lord Wraybourne continued his story.

  “I will be brief, or I will never get to eat. It was now two in the afternoon and there was no riding horse in the village. The locals were most helpful, suggesting a lad be sent to various houses in the area in search of mounts. Someone even recommended the doctor’s cob but I was spared that as he was found to be elsewhere that day.

  “I resisted the urge to collapse in that place.” He flashed a meaningful look at Jane. “Which was not difficult as the only inn was full of the aforementioned wailing women, cursing men, and screaming children—all still doing same. I bought—bought, mind you—one of the broken-down gigs and continued my journey.

  “Being on a busy road, I expected to soon find another village where a suitable mount would be available, and I did. I was within sight of London by five o’clock”—he paused—“when the horse lost a shoe!”

  The whole company burst into l
aughter.

  Lord Wraybourne regarded them plaintively. “I gave up. I hitched the nag to a nearby bush and walked, leaving word at the next habitation of where he was to be found and a few coins for the trouble of bringing him into town. And here I am.”

  “But surely you did not walk to this very door, Wraybourne,” said one of the men. “You took a cab.”

  “A cab?” said his lordship in horror. “After today I was going nowhere near the equine species, nor will I until the day is over.” He then applied himself hungrily to his food.

  All present were very pleased with this saga and began to contribute their own tales of travelling mishaps. Jane was content to listen. He was a wonderful man. She watched him unself-consciously, not bothering to eat or converse with the gentleman on her other side.

  Eventually, he turned to her. “I am a dreadful partner, Jane. But I was truly famished. How have you been?”

  “Very well,” she said. “I must thank you for the gift. It is delightful.”

  “I bought it because I thought it beautiful, but it is intended to be set. I will have it done.”

  “If you please, I would rather not,” she said quickly.

  He looked inquiringly at her and she explained, “It is a personal treasure at the moment. I would not like to exhibit it.”

  His eyes met hers, and he raised his glass slightly in a silent toast. She responded in kind, smiling gently.

  Lady Harroving’s voice broke into their moment. “Come, you two! Why are you forever billing and cooing at the table?” With a malicious glint in her eyes she added, “David, tell us what you have been about on your journeys. We are all agog.”

  There was a stirring of interest, for a number of the guests had heard Peel-Saunders’ Harrogate story.

  Lord Wraybourne raised his brow slightly and looked around. “My business is boring routine, Maria, I assure you, of no interest to you except for the strange misadventures I suffered on the way back.”