The Unmarriageable Collection (Books 1–3)

by Lancaster, Mary

He frowned, staring at her with a strange bleakness that broke her heart. “That bird won’t fly,” he said abruptly. “I can’t limit myself to a nobleman’s constricting life.”

  “And yet you will be an earl.”

  “Will he?” Richard said, astonished.

  “Wishing it otherwise doesn’t change that and never will,” Henrietta pointed out. “Perhaps you should consider the advantages, instead of all those imagined constraints.” She held out her hand. “Goodbye, Captain. You know where to find us.”

  He took her hand, bowing over it. At the last moment, as though he couldn’t help it, he pressed a quick kiss to her fingers and released her to shake hands with each of the boys. It took an effort to leave him, for she had the uneasy feeling he was saying goodbye for good, but she forced herself to smile and to herd the boys up the path with her toward the inn.

  On the way, they decided to say nothing to Miss Milsom of their adventure, if she did not know they’d been gone.

  “After all, she is employed by Papa, and would probably feel compelled to tell them,” Henrietta said. “If we cannot avoid telling her, then I shall own up to Mama.”

  “We’d be better blaming it on me,” Richard pointed out. “Then Papa will put it down to my high spirits and you will avoid awkward questions. In fact, you’ll probably get praise for trying to rescue us at personal cost.”

  “Yes, but that wouldn’t be remotely true, would it?”

  “No.” Richard hesitated, then, “You like Captain Cromarty.”

  “Yes. Of course I like him.” She glanced behind her. “Come on, Horry! We’ll get breakfast at the Hart.”

  Lily was sweeping the front step as they walked across the inn yard, but at sight of them, she dropped her broom with a clatter and hurried to meet them. “Oh, thank God! What on earth happened to you? Where have you been?”

  “With Captain Cromarty,” Horatio confided with a shining grin. “But don’t tell anyone.”

  Instead of looking shocked, Lily only smiled. “Your secret’s safe with me, young sir.” Her gaze seemed a little more anxious as she scanned Henrietta’s no-doubt-exhausted face, but she said only, “You’ll be ready for breakfast. My mother’s already cooking it.”

  “Did you happen to look in on poor Miss Milsom?” Henrietta asked, walking into the inn.

  “Yes, I did. She just slept. But she seems better this morning.”

  “I’ll just go up and see her. Boys, go and wash your hands before breakfast.”

  She discovered Miss Milsom sitting up in bed, drinking tea and eating a slice of toast. She looked very pale still, but her eyes were much brighter and healthier.

  “Good morning, ma’am,” Henrietta greeted her. “I’m so glad to see you looking better. How do you feel?”

  “A little washed out, to be truthful. But I must apologize for yesterday. I just could not keep my eyes open and then I was convinced I was only having a half-hour nap while I slept away the whole day and the night, too!” She looked more closely at Henrietta. “But my dear Miss Maybury, you seem unwell now! You are quite pale and your eyes are shadowed.”

  Henrietta laughed. “You mean I look hagged? No, I assure you I’m quite well. I just did not sleep well.” Or at all. “We’re just going to have breakfast downstairs and then we’ll decide if you are up to travelling today. No arguments, if you please! Mama will expect me to look after your health.” Rather than abandoning the poor governess to warn a smuggler who was perfectly able to take care of himself.

  A smuggler who, in his own way, was aiding his country. And would one day be Earl of Silford whether he acknowledged it or not.

  Chapter Twelve

  The coffee room at White’s Club was quiet at this time of the morning, so Charles Cromarty was able to converse with Lord Rudd in privacy.

  “I’m not surprised you botched it,” Rudd said contemptuously. “What on earth made you do anything at the Hart? They were bound to warn him!”

  “Because I knew I would find him there,” Charles argued. “You told me I would. And I could hardly bribe enough men all along the south coast! Besides, it was a brilliant idea. He would not only be dead as a common smuggler but his reputation tainted by smuggling links to Bonaparte. It was perfect.”

  “Except it didn’t happen.”

  “He was there,” Charles insisted. “He just didn’t come in close enough.”

  “Well, it’s inconvenient. I was hoping to have him dead and discredited before I go back to Brighton. Now I must rely on the fair Lady Carew, who, as you might imagine, has a slightly different agenda to you and I.”

  “But I can still rely on your help?” Charles said anxiously.

  “For anything that benefits us both. What do you expect me to do? Hold him up for you to shoot?”

  Charles flushed. “Hardly. If I can follow his movements, there will undoubtedly be other opportunities. All I ask—”

  “Rather sooner than you imagine,” Rudd interrupted, drawling.

  Charles followed his gaze to the coffee room door and saw none other than his cousin Sydney Cromarty stride in. His stomach lurched unpleasantly and he found himself shamefully glad of Rudd’s presence. On the other hand, the chances of him looking this way were remote.

  Sydney nodded to a gentleman drinking coffee alone near the door. Then his eyes fell on Charles and Rudd and he walked straight toward them.

  Oh damn…. Charles looked pointedly up at the elegant, curved ceiling.

  “Good God,” Rudd drawled, “Are they accepting dashed bankers as members here, now? I might be forced to find another club.”

  “There is no need for panic,” Sydney mocked them quite blatantly. “I am not a member, but no one objected in the slightest to my coming in search of you.”

  “I don’t care to be bearded in my club,” Rudd said disdainfully.

  Sydney didn’t look at him. “I wasn’t talking to you. Cousin Charles, a word, if you please.”

  It went against the grain to jump to the bidding of the man whose existence he so detested. Besides which, fear still held him paralyzed. How much did Sydney know? Anything at all?

  “You can have nothing to say to me that others may not hear,” Charles said grandly.

  Sydney laughed. “Very well, then. Don’t send the revenue men after me. You’ll only come to grief. Consider it a friendly warning. Not a familial one, because you should know I have no sense of family at all. Good morning, gentlemen.”

  Somehow, he managed to make the word gentlemen sound like an insult. Then he strolled away, exchanging nods once more with the fellow by the door.

  “Insufferable!” Charles burst out. “How dare he threaten me in my own club?”

  “There, I cannot disagree with you,” Rudd said. “Get the matter done, old chap.”

  *

  Henrietta could not work up a great deal of enthusiasm for the removal to Brighton for a week. For one thing, she had not given up hope that Captain Cromarty might look for her at Audley Park. For another, although Miss Milsom seemed quite recovered, she did not like the idea of leaving all the children—plus Jane Verne during the days—in the governess’s sole care. And, frankly, the prospect of more parties, even one at the Pavilion on the Prince Regent’s own invitation, did not excite her as it would once have done.

  She wondered if she were growing like Charlotte, who had never cared for large parties. But then Charlie, giving her first ball as Duchess of Alvan, had seemed perfectly happy once her nerves had calmed. It was, Henrietta thought, a matter of moderation. Parties were fun only when they were not constant.

  However, it was not an argument that weighed with her parents. They were delighted that Lord Rudd had bestirred himself to obtain the Regent’s invitation and clearly hoped an offer of marriage would be forthcoming during or shortly after their trip. Which was another reason Henrietta did not wish to go. Although having no wish to disoblige her parents, she knew she could never bring herself to marry Rudd.

  She tried to tell her mothe
r this as they strolled together to the circulating library in search of the latest novels. Fortunately, Lady Overton was not one of those parents who disapproved of such frivolous reading matter.

  “I wish you were not so set on Rudd making me an offer,” Henrietta confided. “Because I do not believe I can accept him.”

  Her mother’s eyebrows flew up. “Why ever not? He is a perfect gentleman, and you like his company.”

  “Not enough to marry him, and in any case, I like him less now.”

  “Why?” Her mother peered at her. “Has someone else taken your fancy?”

  “No, no,” she said hastily, crossing her gloved fingers as though that could truly make up for a lie. “But I find him…of a more coercive disposition than I had imagined.”

  “In what way?” her mother demanded, frowning.

  “Oh, just something he said at Steynings. I can’t remember precisely, but it did frighten me a little. I think it was because I did not choose him for the waltz.”

  “Well, you didn’t have a lot of choice in the matter since that other gentleman all but carried you off.” She thought about it. “If that man truly was Silford’s heir, he would in fact be the better match, but he has shown no interest in you since. If you have no affection for anyone else, Rudd is still your best option.”

  “But Mama—”

  “A strong man makes a good husband,” her mother insisted. “And you are too keen to have your own way. You will like a firm husband in the end, far more than some milksop who bows to your every whim.”

  “I don’t have whims,” Henrietta objected, without strict regard for the truth.

  However, as they wandered around the library, she began to wonder if her feelings for Captain Cromarty were indeed nothing more than a whim. He was different enough to catch her eye, dashing enough to fascinate. But what did she really know of his character? Apart from his disregard of the law. And that he bore a long grudge against his grandfather. And that he was a womanizer.

  The beautiful and somehow decadent Lady Carew swam into her mind, corrupting her view. The innocent joy of those hours spent with Cromarty on his ship began to make her uncomfortable. She had behaved like a hussy, a trollop, like all his other women, and she was only lucky he had not taken full advantage of her. Exactly what this entailed, she wasn’t quite sure, but she had been so beguiled and enchanted, she would have surrendered to anything. To see her own and his behavior in this light appalled her, and she no longer knew if she yearned or feared to meet him again.

  She grabbed a novel at random, and just as they were leaving the library, she and her mother ran into none other than Lady Carew. It was as if she had conjured the woman from her own guilt.

  Henrietta and her mother both bowed, as did Lady Carew, although after a moment, she offered a languid hand. “How nice to see you in Brighton. The company has been quite excruciatingly dull until now. I’ll send you cards for my soiree. I’ve discovered the most heavenly tenor whom you must hear.” And she drifted on to greet the next acquaintance.

  Henrietta and her mother exchanged glances of complete understanding. Lady Carew would forget.

  *

  In fact, she didn’t. The invitation to Lady Carew’ soiree arrived the following morning, together with a brief, scrawled note apologizing for the lack of notice. The event was tomorrow, the evening after the Prince Regent’s party.

  “We have no real need to go,” Henrietta said. “I imagine we have another invitation for that evening which we have already accepted.”

  “Actually, we don’t,” Lady Overton said without much regret. “We shall have to go. Oh, don’t worry, the world and his wife will be there. She may live on the edge of scandal but she has never quite crossed over.”

  *

  Although her father had warned her about the Prince Regent’s palace, known as the Marine Pavilion, the sheer opulence still took her by surprise. As did the excessive warmth, for there were fires lit even in the height of summer.

  The prince had once been young, handsome, and charming. Now, Henrietta found him middle-aged, fat, and rather lecherous.

  Lord Rudd stood beside him as they were presented. “Close friends of mine, sir,” he told the prince. “Though, of course, you will know Lord and Lady Overton already.”

  “Indeed, indeed. Charmed to renew your acquaintance once again. Still glad to be home on English soil, eh, Overton?”

  “Indeed, your highness. Allow me to present my daughter, Miss Henrietta Maybury.”

  “Enchanted, my dear,” said the prince, retaining her hand too long and bowing so close that she could smell his breath. “Utterly enchanted.” He patted her hand between both of his in a not quite avuncular manner. “We shall talk more later. Welcome to my little haven!”

  To each his own, Henrietta allowed, but to her, the prince’s haven was nothing less than oppressive.

  “What do you think, Miss Maybury?” Lord Rudd asked only a few minutes later, presenting her with a glass of lemonade.

  “Honestly? I hate it. It’s too opulent and I can hardly breathe.”

  “Yes, it’s pretty unpleasant,” he agreed. “Prinny never had any taste.”

  Henrietta blinked. “Do you tell him that?”

  “Good God, no. Being his friend is valuable to me. It shall be our secret.” He stayed conversing for several minutes on other topics before excusing himself with a bow to her and to Lady Overton.

  Henrietta was almost sorry to see him go, not because she enjoyed his company but because at least he was a familiar face. None of her particular friends were present, and the people she was introduced to all seemed too loud and too cynical without any of the wit that would have made them more congenial to her.

  However, she did notice one familiar face—Lady Carew, who drifted through the opulent rooms in her daring, dampened gown, attracting and instantly rejecting the men who flocked about her like feathers from a split pillow.

  “Are you admiring Lady Carew?” asked a voice so close behind her that she jumped. It was the Prince Regent himself. “She carries her grief so bravely.”

  “Grief?” Henrietta repeated. “Oh dear, has her husband died?”

  The prince waved one dismissive hand. “He’s about to. But I expect you share my love of beauty in all forms. Come, let me show you my favorite collection. I know you will love it.”

  She found her hand in his arm as he coaxed her away from her mother, who appeared to be deep in conversation with one of the prince’s gentlemen. Although she felt a twinge of unease, one couldn’t really disobey the Prince Regent. Besides which, he was quite elderly, so it wasn’t like slipping away clandestinely with a young man.

  Was it? She knew a moment of silly panic as she realized he was actually taking her into another room, and glanced about her in the hope of company. Oddly enough, it was Lord Rudd’s eye she caught. He smiled and bowed with a hint of irony, but made no move to follow.

  The Regent swept her through a doorway, and though he didn’t purposefully close the door, it swung back, cutting her off. “Here are some of my beauties,” he said jovially. “Look at this.”

  The wall of heat and some strange scent was overwhelming, making it difficult for Henrietta to concentrate on the fine works of art the prince showed her with great pride. She would have thought the whole interlude innocent if uncomfortable, had it not been for the way the prince stared fixedly at her as she examined each statuette and miniature and vase. He had got to the level of holding her hand over a porcelain figure to appreciate its texture when the door pushed open.

  She had never been more pleased to see Lord Rudd, although she wished he had made his entry five minutes earlier.

  “Ah, there you are, Miss Maybury,” Rudd said in apparent surprise, as though he had not watched her walk in there. “Your mother is looking for you and about to raise a panic. Forgive me, your Highness, if I deprive you of your companion. I know your other guests are feeling the lack of your presence.”

  “Oh,
very well, very well,” the Regent said testily. “You must come another time and view the rest of my collection.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She could bring herself to say no more, merely curtseyed, and walked past Rudd into the main hall which almost felt cool in comparison to the stifling room she’d just left. “And thank you, my lord,” she added low-voiced. “I had no idea how to extricate myself without blatant flight, and I felt much too dizzy to try.”

  “Sit here,” Rudd commanded, indicating the nearest chair. As she sat, he took the fan from her nerveless fingers and wafted it over her, causing a very welcome, cooling breeze. “A lady shall sit with you while I find you a cooling drink and your mother.” His lips curved. “You see, Miss Maybury, I am always able to rescue you.”

  Despite the heat, she shivered. The whole incident had been Rudd’s lesson, perhaps even a punishment for her waltzing with another man at Steynings. He had let her go alone with the prince and given her time to panic before stepping in. A demonstration of his power as well as his greater social skill and knowledge.

  For all she knew, he had even made the suggestion to the Prince Regent and caused the distraction of her mother. But perhaps that was ridiculous. She glanced up as a lady sat beside her and had to hide her dismay that it was Lady Carew.

  “Rudd to the rescue,” she drawled. “Prinny is a terrible old lecher, but I imagine he would not actually touch a nobly born maiden. It’s the damage to your reputation we must prevent, my feather. Again.”

  Henrietta regarded her curiously. “Why do you keep my secret?” she asked bluntly.

  “I have no reason not to, and I am famously indolent. Besides, I would do anything for Sydney, as he very well knows.”

  Henrietta couldn’t help asking. “I expect you have known the captain a long time.”

  “A year or so,” Lady Carew replied without obvious interest.

  “Before your…friendship ended.” She couldn’t resist that either, and it won her a look of amused respect.

  “My dear child, you will learn a lover’s quarrel does not end a relationship but sweetens the reconciliation. You shall meet him again tomorrow evening. And here is Rudd with the welcome parent and lemonade. You are fortunate. Until tomorrow, Miss Maybury.” She inclined her head to Lady Overton and drifted away, leaving only her exotic scent behind. And a surge of stupid jealousy that clawed at Henrietta’s stomach.