A Noble Man

by Anne Ashley

  They had by this time reached the park. Sophia drew her filly to a halt and gazed about her with scant enthusiasm. It was still more than two weeks before the Season officially began, and yet already the streets and parks were crowded with the rich and famous.

  "Look about you, Ben! Isn't it wonderful the way society parades about in its finery for the edification of the populace?" Her sudden shout of laughter was certainly not lacking contempt. "The Marquis of Sywell is a foul, disgusting member of the human race, but he is in no way unique. Many of those you see here are just as bad. I must remember in future to ride earlier in the day when the air is less contaminated."

  So Nicholas had not been exaggerating, after all, Benedict mused, as he proceeded to follow again at a discreet distance. Lady Sophia Cleeve truly harboured a deal of contempt for her own class. His task, it seemed, was going to prove to be far more formidable than he had at first supposed!

  That evening the Earl, still determined to attend the occasional party, escorted his wife and daughter to the ball being held by the Marquis and Marchioness of Strattan. If the formidable matron harboured any ill-will at being passed over by a certain famous modiste a few days before, she certainly betrayed no sign of it as she graciously welcomed the young lady who had received preferential treatment, a circumstance which the Countess herself was not slow to remark upon once her husband had drifted away into the room set out for cards.

  "But isn't it considered vulgar for women of our class to give vent to their feelings in public, Mama? I know some do, while others..." Sophia's eyes drifted towards a young woman whose husband had been quite openly indulging in an amorous affair with a notorious Cyprian since his arrival in town "...manage to hide their emotions quite remarkably well."

  Her ladyship followed the direction of her daughter's gaze. She too had heard rumours of Lord Rochford's torrid affair, and felt a great deal of sympathy for his pretty young wife, whose behaviour in public was faultless. "Not all marriages turn out so badly, Sophia."

  "No, Mama. I know they do not. But I suspect a great many ladies here tonight have at some time or other been forced to suffer in silence over their husbands' peccadilloes. I rather fear that, my nature being what it is, I should not be so tolerant."

  The Countess thought it wisest to change the subject and, catching sight of her friend and neighbour, Lady Elizabeth Perceval, sitting with her daughter, guided Sophia towards them.

  "I'm so pleased you accepted this invitation tonight," Robina said, when her mother's attention was being held by the Countess. "It seems ages since I last saw you. What have you been doing with yourself?"

  "Oh, nothing particularly exciting," Sophia responded, sublimely ignoring the fact that she had not spent a single evening at home since the night of her own ball.

  "I do not believe that for a moment," Robina countered, suddenly feeling much more relaxed, just as she always did whenever Sophia was about. "Everywhere Mama and I go we hear your name mentioned. Why, only the other day we heard some silly rumour about you wishing to marry one of your papa's footmen."

  Robina's amusement faded the instant she detected a certain glint in a pair of green eyes, a look she had seen too many times in the past not to know precisely what it signified. "Oh, Sophia! Surely you didn't start that silly rumour about yourself as well? Your father will be furious if he ever finds out."

  "Yes, I expect he probably would be," Sophia agreed. There could be no denying that the Earl had always been very indulgent where she was concerned, far more so than with any one of her brothers, and yet she knew that even with her his patience was not limitless.

  "Unfortunately, Robina, unlike you, I do not always behave as I ought. I'm very well aware that back home in the Abbey villages it is a commonly held belief that I've been thoroughly spoilt and indulged. Which is no less than the truth, of course," she agreed, with the honesty that was so much a part of her charm. "I hate being thwarted. It's a failing, I know, and one I really must try to overcome. My only excuse is that I didn't precisely say that I intended marrying a footman, merely that in general I prefer the company of servants to that of more privileged members of society."

  She paused for a moment while she considered the painted figures on her fan. "Which, strangely enough, has turned out to be true. I went riding this afternoon in the company of my groom, and can honestly say that I felt perfectly contented for the first time since arriving in town."

  Robina didn't find this in the least surprising. "Oh, well," she shrugged, "That's only to be expected. I know you look upon Clem as more of a friend than a servant."

  "It wasn't Clem who accompanied me," Sophia informed her, staring sightlessly across the ballroom, her mind's eye conjuring up a clear image of a tall and powerfully built man, with his long mane of thick golden-brown hair and penetrating blue eyes. "Clem, sadly, has left us to take charge of the stables at an estate somewhere in the south of England, I believe."

  Robina was shocked to learn this and hardly knew what to say. The inhabitants of the four Abbey villages had grown accustomed over the years to seeing the Earl of Yardley's daughter riding over the Northamptonshire countryside in the company of her trusty groom. For years Clem had been Sophia's loyal companion. It would seem most strange no longer seeing them riding about together.

  "I know you must have been terribly upset at losing him," she said at length, genuine sympathy edging her voice.

  "Very," Sophia agreed, smiling wryly. "Spoilt I may be, Robin, but not so selfish as to try to prevent someone I like from bettering himself. It will be some years yet before our head groom is ready to retire, and Clem is more than capable of running a stable. I must confess, though, I was very favourably impressed with Clem's replacement," she went on to divulge, after her attention had just for one moment been captured by two gentlemen sitting together on the opposite side of the room. She shook her head. "It was so strange. At the time I wasn't aware of it, but when I arrived back at the house, and thought about the conversation we'd had during our ride, I realised that it hadn't seemed as if I'd been conversing with a servant at all."

  Again Robina wasn't unduly surprised. "You always did chatter away quite happily to Clem," she reminded her.

  "Very true. Somehow, though, this seemed different. I found myself agreeing with almost everything he said, especially remarks he made about our own class." She laughed at the absurdity of being instructed by a groom on the correct way to behave. "Silly, really. Perhaps it was just that I felt totally relaxed in his company."

  Robina did not think it at all silly. "I know what you mean. There are those, even servants, with whom you instantly experience a rapport." She gave vent to a heartfelt sigh. "I know Mama and Papa wish me to make a good match. Oh, but I would much rather marry someone with whom I felt comfortable, who didn't expect me to behave correctly all the time, and would accept me as I am!"

  Sophia's gaze automatically strayed towards the lady sitting on her friend's right. She didn't doubt for a moment that Robina's upbringing at the vicarage in Abbot Quincey had been happy for the most part. It could not, however, have been easy living up to Lady Elizabeth Perceval's exacting standards of behaviour.

  Lady Elizabeth was well respected in all four of the Abbey villages. She had proved the perfect companion and helpmate to Abbot Quincey's hard-working and kindly vicar. Her own efforts on behalf of the poor and needy were as tireless as her husband's, and she had never been too proud to enter the humblest of abodes in order to offer some comfort to the sick and dying. Yet there remained an imperious air about her that never failed to remind one and all of her noble birth and that they were in the presence of the daughter of a duke.

  Sophia could only assume that Lady Elizabeth's upbringing had been a strict one, for the vicar's wife had certainly instilled rigid standards of behaviour in her daughters, most especially in Robina, who, being the eldest, had been expected to set an example to her three younger sisters. No easy task to be forced to conform to such high ideals, Sophia mu
sed, her gaze once more travelling about the large and now well-filled ballroom, and she could not help wondering just how much of her sweet-natured friend's character had been suppressed over the years, and what surprising traits might surface if ever dear Robina was removed for any length of time from her strict mama's sphere.

  "Tell me, Robin, do you happen to know who that dark-haired gentleman is sitting across the room with Lord Byron? I do not believe I've ever seen him before."

  Robina, having a remarkable memory for names and faces, was able to enlighten her at once. "Sir Lucius Crawley. He has only recently arrived in town. Although," she added in an undertone, "I think there must be something quite unsavoury about him, for Mama said, after I had stood up with him just once at a party the other night, that on no account was I to do so again."

  "How very interesting!" The telltale glint which preceded some outrageous utterance or action on Sophia's part appeared in her eyes. "I expect he's a rake."

  Robina's spontaneous chortle earned her a look of mild reproof from her punctilious mama, but help was at hand in the form of her equally meticulous cousin, Hugo Perceval, who came across to request her as his partner in the next set of country dances.

  As she followed their progress on to the floor, Sophia noticed the strikingly attractive Sir Lucius Crawley rise to his feet and begin to saunter across the room in her direction. If his intention had been to claim her for his partner he was destined to be disappointed, for Lord Nicholas Risely, appearing from nowhere, was suddenly standing before her, politely requesting that she partner him in the next dance.

  As the young lord continued to rein supreme amongst that group of "safe' admirers, Sophia did not hesitate. She always found him amusing, his witty remarks coming as a welcome relief after the studied politeness she was usually forced to endure from most other gentlemen. He was a fount of wisdom too, always able to regale her with the latest on-dits, and what he did not know about the famous and infamous who moved in the highest circles really wasn't worth knowing. Consequently she did not hesitate to tax him about the strikingly handsome man who had succeeded in capturing her interest.

  "Has Crawley arrived in town?" Betraying faint surprise, Nicholas glanced about him and quickly caught sight of the Baronet, whose reputation was, to say the least, slightly unsavoury. "Ah, yes! So he has. Doesn't usually arrive before the beginning of the Season. Can only assume that he must be contemplating matrimony again."

  "Again?" Sophia echoed, intrigued.

  Nicholas was longing to discover how his brother went on, for he had not seen or heard from Benedict since he had adopted the guise of a groom. Realising, however, that a sudden change in the topic of conversation would appear most odd, and not quite knowing how to broach the subject of stable-hands anyway, he thought it wisest to satisfy the roguish Lady Sophia's curiosity with regard to Sir Lucius.

  "Yes, he married some 'golden dolly' a few years ago in order to save the ancestral home. Mortgaged up to the hilt, so I was led to believe. Still," he shrugged, "not surprising he got himself in high water. A bit of a loose screw is Sir Lucius, m'dear. Not a man to deprive himself of his pleasures, as you might say."

  Sophia had discovered over the years that one learned a great deal more if one refrained from prying too hard. She had also discovered that gentlemen were far less inhibited in their choice of language if not continually asked what they meant. So, committing Lord Nicholas's more colourful vocabulary to memory, she merely said, "And I presume his first wife died."

  "Giving birth to a stillborn child within a year of their marriage, if my memory serves me correctly. Lucky escape, if you ask me," he remarked, with a tactless disregard for the poor young woman's tragic demise. "Common knowledge that he only married her for the money. Made that plain enough by resorting to his old ways within weeks of the marriage taking place."

  Disappointed, but not unduly surprised, Sophia's interest swiftly began to wane. If what Lord Nicholas had told her was true, then it appeared that Sir Lucius, a profligate with no thought for anyone but himself, epitomised what she most despised in her class.

  Ordinarily she wouldn't have given the Baronet another thought, but as the last strains of music died away, and the couples began to leave the floor, she discovered Sir Lucius, evidently not a man to be thwarted in his objectives a second time, standing before her. Lord Nicholas had little choice but to make the introductions before he moved away, leaving Sophia to stare up into a pair of striking blue eyes, deeply set in a thin, but not unattractive, masculine countenance.

  She could not help comparing the faintly mocking eyes that stared unblinkingly down at her with another pair of the same striking hue which had regarded her keenly from time to time earlier that day. She recalled quite clearly that there had been a directness in Ben Rudgely's gaze, but at least his blue orbs had left her fully clad, whereas now she felt as if she had just been divested of her chemise, and her charms were being ruthlessly scrutinised for any slight flaw.

  She smiled to herself as, after a brief exchange of pleasantries, they took up their positions in the set. Undoubtedly a great many women "would be attracted by Sir Lucius's darkly brooding good looks and provocative gaze, but Sophia could detect a distinct lack of warmth in the smiling, thin-lipped mouth, and a hint of something faintly sinister in his whole demeanour which made her very certain that any woman would be a fool to place her well-being into the hands of this man.

  In this, at least, she and her father were in perfect accord. Although he had visited the capital rarely during the past few years, the Earl had kept abreast of society's comings and goings, and had learned something of Sir Lucius's tainted reputation. Consequently he was not best pleased, after paying his brief visit to the card-room, to discover his beloved daughter in the disreputable Baronet's company.

  Quickly locating the whereabouts of his wife, he did not hesitate to draw her a little to one side and give voice to his displeasure by demanding to know what she was about in allowing their daughter to stand up with a man of Sir Lucius Crawley's stamp.

  "My dear, I was hardly in a position to do much about it," she responded in her calm way, while suspecting that he had been keeping a watchful eye on proceedings from the first. "He approached Sophia before she had left the floor with Lord Nicholas Risely."

  Momentarily diverted, he said, "Risely?" He had thought that there had been something vaguely familiar in the tall, blond-haired young man who had danced with Sophia first. "What, one of old Sharnbrook's brood, is he?"

  "Yes, the younger son. Sophia is quite fond of him."

  "Is she indeed?" Hope stirred, but was quickly dashed by his Countess's assurance that friendship was all that Sophia felt for the late duke's younger son.

  "He's an endearing young scamp. I'm very fond of him myself," she went on to confess, "but he wouldn't suit Sophia at all. He's far too young. So I would be most obliged if you did not try to promote a union between them."

  "I wouldn't dream of interfering, my love," he assured her, but she was not wholly convinced, and betrayed the fact by raising a decidedly sceptical brow.

  "Then why, pray, did you suddenly take it into your head to accompany us this evening, if it was not to keep an eye on our daughter? If you consider me an inadequate chaperon, Thomas, then I would suggest that you employ a suitable duenna," she suggested bluntly, but without rancour. None the less his lordship took note of the mild reproof.

  "Now, now, dear," he said soothingly. "You know full well that there is no one I would trust more with the care of our daughter than you. It's just...it's just..."

  "It's just that you are concerned for our only daughter's well-being," she finished for him, smiling in spite of the fact that she considered he worried unnecessarily. "I love Sophia no less than you do, Thomas, but unlike you I have far more faith in our daughter's judgement. Sooner or later I believe that she will meet a gentleman whom she would be happy to marry, and, moreover, a gentleman whom we shall find perfectly acceptable. But until such
time, if you take my advice, you will let well alone, and permit our far from obtuse daughter to enjoy her first Season."

  Chapter Five

  Resolved to take her exercise long before the park became congested with fops and dandies, and sporting-mad gentlemen bent on displaying their skills on horseback or in their racing carriages, Sophia rose early the following morning and was pleased to discover, as her maid threw back the drapes, that the day looked set to remain fair.'

  She was convinced that the mounting excitement bubbling up inside, as she broke her fast and then hurriedly scrambled into her habit, stemmed purely and simply from the pleasure she would attain from having the park virtually to herself. So she was at a loss to understand why her spirits should suddenly plummet when, a short while later, her new groom's only response to her bright smile and cheerful good morning was the merest nod of his head.

  Being singularly lacking in conceit, Sophia would never have supposed for a moment that the mere sight of her could reduce a self-possessed gentleman into little more than a languishing dolt who seemed to spend half his time these days staring into space, longing for that moment when he could call her his own, and his nights dreaming that she was lying in his arms, a willing recipient of his lovemaking, only to wake and find himself frustratingly alone.

  She would never have supposed, either, that the man bending before her, hands cupped in readiness to toss her into the saddle, was doing his utmost to keep an iron control over his emotions and frustrations. She only knew that she was feeling unaccountably hurt by her new groom's seeming indifference to her presence, and stared down at the bent head, wondering how her perfect companion of yesterday could turn overnight into some surly dullard who could not bring himself even to pass the time of day.

  After a few moments, when she made not the least attempt to place her slender foot in his hands, Ben raised his head, a question in his eyes.

  "Have you changed your mind, my lady? Do you not wish to go riding this morning?"