A Lady for Lord Randall

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘As you have done, Mary,’ Harriett added.

  Mary felt the earl’s eyes upon her again and felt sure he was about to ask what compromises she had made, but before he could speak Mr Graveney introduced a new topic, which Mary took up with alacrity.

  * * *

  ‘Well now, that was not such a bad evening after all, was it?’

  In the darkness of the carriage Randall could not see his sister’s face, but he could hear the laughter in her voice.

  ‘Some of those young men would benefit from a little army discipline,’ he replied. ‘That would put their idealism to flight.’

  ‘But we need such men,’ argued Graveney. ‘Once these young fellows have formulated their ideas and matured a little, they will be the next to govern our great nation.’

  ‘If we have a nation by then,’ said Harriett. ‘The reports all say that Bonaparte has returned stronger than ever.’

  ‘That may be,’ replied Randall. ‘But this time he must face Wellington himself.’

  ‘And do you seriously believe the duke will be able to beat him?’

  Randall thought of the seasoned troops not yet returned from America, the untried soldiers already waiting for their first taste of action, to say nothing of their leaders; the impulsive Prince of Orange, the bickering factions of the Allied forces. His response indicated none of his concerns.

  ‘Of course we shall beat him and this time it will be decisive.’

  ‘And you must soon go off to join your men.’ Harriett clutched his arm. ‘Promise me you will be careful, Randall.’

  ‘I am always careful.’

  ‘And you will take Grandfather’s sword with you?’

  ‘I never fight without it.’

  He felt her relax. The sword was something of a lucky charm. Randall’s father had shown no inclination to become a soldier and the old earl had left the sword to his grandson. Randall had worn it at every battle, coming unscathed through even the heaviest fighting. He was not superstitious, but he knew his family placed great store by the talisman. He had been fortunate so far, but he knew his luck could not last forever.

  Randall gave a little inward shrug. If this was to be the end, he hoped he would live long enough to see Bonaparte defeated. As for the succession, he had brothers enough to carry on the line. Thank goodness he had no wife to weep for him.

  A vision of Mary Endacott came into his mind, with her dusky curls and retroussé nose and those serious green eyes that could suddenly sparkle with merriment.

  As if reading his thoughts Harriett said, ‘I have invited the Bentincks to take tea with us on Wednesday. I doubt if Mr Bentinck will attend, but I hope Mary will come.’

  ‘Oh, Bentinck will be there,’ said Graveney cheerfully. ‘I told him I had acquired a copy of Hooke’s Micrographia and he is mad to see it. I have no doubt that you, too, would like to inspect it, my lord?’

  Randall agreed, but was uncomfortably aware that he was even more keen to see Mary Endacott again.

  ‘Oh, fie on you, Theo, with your dusty books,’ cried Hattie. ‘I have something that will be much more diverting for Randall. If the rain holds off we will ride out together in the morning, Brother. You will like that, will you not?’

  ‘My dear, Randall has been in the saddle most of the day,’ her spouse protested mildly.

  ‘But he is a soldier and used to it, aren’t you, Justin? Surely you will oblige me by accompanying me tomorrow?’

  ‘To be sure I will, Hattie. I should be delighted to see what changes have occurred here since my last visit.’

  ‘Good. And I am lending my spare hack to Mary, who loves to ride. What a pleasant party we shall be.’

  Even in the darkness there was no mistaking Hattie’s self-satisfaction. Randall sat back in the corner of the carriage and cursed silently. His sister seemed set on matchmaking.

  Chapter Two

  Mary should not have been surprised when she looked out of her bedroom window the following morning and saw Lord Randall riding towards the house with his sister. He was staying at Somervil, so of course Hattie would want him to ride out with her. His horse had clearly been chosen for its strength and stamina rather than its appearance: a huge grey, so dappled that it looked positively dirty. However, she had to admit Lord Randall looked very good in the saddle. Her heart gave a little skip, but she quickly stifled the pleasurable anticipation before it could take hold. He was an earl, a member of an outmoded institution that bestowed power on the undeserving, and despite his attempts to be polite last evening, Lord Randall had made it very apparent he did not approve of her. His presence today was unlikely to add to her comfort.

  Not that it mattered since she did not care a jot for the man. She was looking forward to riding out with Hattie and, if Lord Randall was with them, she would not let it spoil her enjoyment.

  * * *

  Harriett had promised to bring her spare horse for Mary, but the spirited little black mare that the groom was leading exceeded expectations and was clearly far superior to the elderly hack Harriett was riding. Mary expressed her concern as soon as she came out of the house to meet them.

  ‘No, no, I much prefer old Juno,’ said Hattie. ‘Besides, if you are only to ride out with me the once I would have you enjoy it.’

  ‘I shall,’ declared Mary, making herself comfortable in the saddle while the mare sidled and sidestepped playfully.

  She was conscious of the earl’s eyes upon her, but he did not look pleased. Perhaps he would have liked to ride out alone with Hattie. Mary was aware of a little spurt of irritation. If so, that was hardly her fault. She turned the mare and rode beside Hattie, resolutely keeping her gaze away from Lord Randall.

  Harriett led the way to open ground where they could give the horses their heads. As they galloped across the springy turf the earl kept a little distance behind, although Mary was sure he could have outstripped them had he wished to. Even when they slowed to a walk he showed no inclination to join them. By the time they turned for home Mary was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable and she decided to speak out. As they slowed to pass through a gap in the hedge she turned to address him.

  ‘I think you would rather have had your sister to yourself today, my lord.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ cried Harriett, overhearing. ‘Justin is always taciturn. He has no social graces, do you, Brother?’

  ‘One can enjoy riding without being obliged to chatter incessantly.’

  ‘Of course, but a little conversation would not go amiss,’ retorted Harriett. ‘For instance, perhaps you could compliment Mary on her gown last night. I thought it was particularly fetching.’

  ‘I never notice female attire.’

  His crushing reply had no effect upon his sister, who continued blithely. ‘You cannot have failed to notice how well she rides, so you could praise her for that.’

  ‘Pray, Harriett, do not put me to the blush,’ protested Mary, trying to laugh off her embarrassment.

  ‘My sister is right. I am not one for female company.’

  ‘A gross understatement,’ declared Hattie warmly. ‘If ever I have a new gown I have to prompt him to say what he thinks of it, and even then he is very likely to make some devastating comment, if he does not like it.’

  ‘You cannot blame him for telling the truth,’ Mary pointed out.

  ‘Of course I can,’ replied the earl’s fond sister. ‘He has been too long in the company of soldiers. There is not a romantic bone in his body. And he is shockingly bad at compliments.’

  ‘I think Harriett is trying to say it is best to have no expectations where I am concerned, Miss Endacott.’ Lord Randall replied gravely, but there was a smile lurking in his eyes and Mary chuckled.

  ‘Thank you for warning me.’

  ‘No,’ went on Harriett with an exa
ggerated sigh. ‘My brother is a confirmed bachelor.’ Her eyes crinkled up as she added mischievously, ‘But we live in hope.’

  * * *

  ‘Well, Mary, did you enjoy your ride today? It has certainly brought the colour to your cheeks.’

  Mary smiled at Mrs Bentinck’s remark when she entered the drawing room before dinner that evening and she replied quite truthfully that she had indeed enjoyed her outing.

  ‘And how did you find the earl?’ asked Mr Bentinck. ‘Was he as cold and unsociable as last evening?’

  ‘Every bit,’ she agreed cheerfully. ‘Apart from one brief exchange he barely said a dozen words to me the whole time.’

  They had not actually ridden together, he had made a point of keeping his distance for most of the ride, but she had been aware of his presence and had enjoyed knowing he was there. A little too much, if she was honest. The fact that they had hardly spoken to one another meant at least that there had been no chance for them to quarrel.

  Mary was surprised and not a little shaken by the thought. Why should she not want to fall out with the earl, if they held opposing views? Heavens, could she be developing a tendre for him? She was far too old for that, surely? It was immature schoolgirls who became infatuated with a gentleman without any knowledge of his character, his thoughts or opinions, not sensible ladies of four-and-twenty. As Mary settled down to her dinner she had the uncomfortable suspicion that she was neither as mature nor as sensible as she had thought.

  * * *

  Randall and his sister returned to Somervil in silence. Hattie might have been tired from her ride, or anxious about the gathering rain clouds, but Randall suspected she was cross with him because he had not played the sociable gentleman she wished him to be. This was confirmed when they returned to the house and met Theo crossing the hall. He greeted them cheerfully.

  ‘Ah, there you are, Harriett. Did you enjoy your ride, my love?’

  ‘I did,’ she replied. ‘But I am going to tell Robbins to dose his master with Tincture of Spleenwort. Justin is decidedly liverish today.’

  ‘I am decidedly not.’

  Harriett rounded on him.

  ‘You hardly said a word while we were out and you virtually ignored Mary. I was mortified.’

  Randall ushered his indignant sister into the morning room. Theo followed and shut the door upon the wooden-faced servant in the hall.

  ‘You deliberately set out to be odious!’ fumed Harriett.

  ‘No, I set out to enjoy the ride. It was never my intention to entertain anyone.’

  ‘Mary is not anyone, Justin, she is my friend!’

  ‘All the more reason not to raise false expectations, then.’

  ‘There is very little chance of that,’ snapped Harriet. ‘She must think you quite the rudest man she has ever met.’

  Randall frowned at her. ‘My life is in the army, Harriett. Women—ladies—play no part in it and never shall. You should know better than to play matchmaker with me.’

  ‘I was not,’ she protested, not very convincingly. ‘But I would have you be kind to Mary. It has not been easy, since her parents died, and although many would not approve, she is determined to earn her living in the best way she can.’ His brows rose and Hattie said impulsively, ‘Let me tell you about her?’

  ‘No. Harriett, I have neither the patience nor the inclination to be kind to your charitable causes.’ He paused and tried for a milder tone. ‘I have deliberately not spoken of Miss Endacott to you, nor have I made any enquiries about her, because I know that should I do so, your immediate reaction would be to start planning a wedding. And in this instance you must know better than I that Miss Endacott would not be a suitable match.’

  ‘She is no longer a part of our world, but her birth is perfectly respectable—’

  ‘Enough!’ Randall barked out the word and silence fell. He sighed, saying more gently, ‘Hattie, I am off to Brussels to meet the greatest threat to this nation that we have ever faced. I have no time for dalliance.’

  Theo touched his wife’s arm, saying in his gentle way, ‘Let him be, my love. Your brother is about to go to war, his mind will not be distracted by such frivolities.’

  Randall was grateful for Theo’s intervention, but his brother-in-law was not entirely correct. Randall was distracted by Mary Endacott. Uncomfortably so, which was why he had deliberately avoided her during their outing. There was no denying she rode well and looked extremely attractive on horseback. Her plain russet-coloured habit might be made of serviceable twill, but it did nothing to hide the curves of her body. He had been obliged to keep his eyes from her, and having spoken with her the previous evening he knew how easily she might draw him into conversation, so he had kept his distance for most of the ride.

  Harriett was regarding him in reproachful silence and his conscience stirred. He would be leaving in a few days and did not wish to fall out with her.

  He gave a wry smile. ‘I behaved badly, Hattie, I admit it. Forgive me.’

  She pursed her lips, not completely won over. Theo chuckled.

  ‘I have never heard Randall make such a handsome admission before, my dear. You would be wise to accept it, I think.’

  ‘Oh...oh, very well. But I hope you will be a little more courteous when the Bentincks come to drink tea with us.’

  Randall said nothing, reluctant to commit himself, and when Harriett suggested they should change out of their muddied clothes he was glad to make his escape.

  * * *

  A night’s reflection did nothing to restore Mary’s peace of mind and after breaking her fast in her room she went off for a long walk, hoping to regain her equilibrium before facing her hosts. Her favoured route took her past Somervil, where she was in the habit of calling upon Harriett, but knowing that the earl was in residence she set off in the opposite direction, preferring to take the rocky path through the woods rather than risk running into him.

  Her strong attraction to Lord Randall at their first meeting must have been due to the amount of wine she had consumed that night. She had not considered herself inebriated, but there was no doubt that Mr Bentinck’s cellars were well stocked and the quality of the wines superb, so in all likelihood she had imbibed more than usual during the course of the evening. It was easily done, she knew, especially if one was anxious or distracted and there was no doubt that she was anxious, about her business, her finances and the long journey ahead of her. As for distraction, the presence of Lord Randall in the Bentincks’ drawing room had certainly caught her attention.

  It was not that she had thought him the best-looking man in the room; tall, lithe men with handsome faces bronzed by the sun had never attracted her before. She preferred intelligent, cultured men. Scholars. Indeed, she had always considered hawk-like features such as Lord Randall’s to look a little predatory.

  Nor was it his title—she despised the power that rank and wealth conferred upon a man, the inbred certainty that he might behave exactly as he wished, however badly. Perhaps the attraction was those blue eyes that seemed to burn into her. Or his deep, mellifluous voice. Whenever he spoke she was aware of its resonance and when he was addressing her it was as if he was running a feather over her skin. Even over deeply intimate places. Just the thought of it sent a delicious shiver running through her.

  Perhaps she was becoming an old maid. She had observed how elderly ladies could turn positively skittish in the presence of a personable gentleman. They would simper and fawn over him in the most embarrassing way. Was that what was happening to her? She stopped, aghast at the thought. Good heavens, did she have so little self-respect that she was prepared to make a fool of herself over a handsome face? It must not be.

  She pulled her pelisse a little closer and set off again, striding out purposefully along the track beside the stream. She would not allow herself to become such a figure
of fun. She was an intelligent woman with more strength of character than that.

  Anxiously she thought back over her ride yesterday. Thankfully she had done nothing, said nothing to show herself infatuated. Indeed, she had barely spoken to Lord Randall and when they had parted he had not rushed to help her dismount, but remained on his horse and at a distance, as if eager to get away. In fact, looking back, he had done nothing at all to win her good opinion.

  ‘So the attraction is all on your part,’ she told herself. ‘And you would do well to nip it in the bud, since it can bring you nothing but trouble.’

  She was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely noticed the discomfort she felt in walking until it became positively painful. Something was rubbing against her left foot with every step. Coming upon a fallen tree trunk on the edge of the water, she sat down to investigate. The cause of the pain was soon discovered, a piece of grit had lodged itself in her boot. It had not only worn a hole in her stocking but had rubbed away the soft skin at the side of her foot, which was bleeding and throbbing painfully. How she had come so far without noticing it was a mystery. She looked around to make sure she was alone then removed her ruined stocking and dipped her bleeding foot into the stream. She gasped a little as the cold water rushed over her inflamed skin but after the initial shock she found the cool stream very soothing.

  While her foot was soaking she picked up her discarded footwear. The brown half-boots were almost new so she was relieved to find the soft kid bore only the slightest trace of blood on the inside. They were so comfortable she planned to wear them on the long journey home, so she was very thankful they were not ruined.

  Mary pushed aside the skirts of her walking dress and began to dry her foot on one of her petticoats. It was then that she heard the unmistakable sounds of hoofbeats. Someone was approaching.

  ‘Lord Randall!’

  ‘Miss Endacott. Can I be of assistance?’

  Mary’s heart sank. Why did he have to come upon her when she was sitting with her dress pulled up over her knees? Her instinct was to shake her skirts down to cover her ankles, but after taking so much care to keep the blood from her gown it would be foolish to pretend there was nothing wrong.