A Noble Man

by Anne Ashley

  "In what way has he changed?" Sophia asked, more out of politeness than any real interest.

  "Just about in every possible way," he surprised her by divulging. "Before he left England he was considered a leader of fashion." He chuckled. "To look at him now. you'd never believe that! He doesn't seem to care a jot about his well-being either. Do you know that on his very first day back in town he went about exploring the slums?"

  This succeeded in capturing Sophia's attention. "What on earth prompted him to do that?"

  He shrugged. "Curiosity, I imagine. I remember he was utterly appalled by what he saw. Said that our slaves live in far better conditions than those poor wretched in the East End."

  "Ah, yes," Sophia responded softly, and with more than just a hint of disapproval in her voice. "I was forgetting you owned a plantation."

  "Wouldn't if Benedict had his way," his lordship disclosed, and noticed at once the change in her expression. "My brother believes that no man has the right to own a fellow human being. He would free his slaves tomorrow, but fears the consequences of such an action. They're sitting on a powder keg out there. If he freed his slaves, it would undoubtedly lead to great unrest on the other plantations, and Benedict doesn't want that. He's a staunch supporter of the Abolitionists, and believes it's only a matter of time before there is an end to such an inhuman practice as owning slaves."

  Sophia found herself sharing Nicholas's noble brother's hopes, while at the same time remembering something her groom had said to her only the other day. "You are too quick to condemn your own class, my lady. There are good and bad in every walk of life. You only have to open your eyes and ears to discover that for yourself." And as usual he was right.

  "I should very much like to meet your brother, Lord Nicholas. I believe we might discover we have much in common."

  A moment's silence, then: "I think it could be arranged without too much difficulty."

  Suspecting that his lordship, for reasons best known to himself, was disposed to remaining at her side, Sophia took the opportunity to thank him for coming so gallantly to her defence by attempting to stem the foolish gossip presently circulating about her. "I must say it comes to something when one cannot even hold a conversation with one's groom in public without some idiotic person starting silly rumours!"

  "Think nothing of it, m'dear. Spoke out as much for my own amusement as anything else. Can't remember precisely what I said now, or to whom, but I do recall silencing a few viperous tongues."

  "So I've been reliably informed, and I'm grateful," she responded, before changing the subject again by openly admitting how astonished she had been earlier to see him walk into the room.

  He appeared nonplussed for a moment. "Now why should you have been surprised, I ask myself? Did you suppose I consider myself too high in the instep to be seen at such a small party as this one?"

  Sophia turned her head on one side, as though considering this. "Now, how am I to answer that, I wonder...with candour or studied politeness?"

  His shout of appreciative laughter resulted in more than one glance being slanted in their direction. "So that's it!" he exclaimed somewhat enigmatically. "Now I understand, and wholeheartedly approve. You'll suit very nicely, I do not doubt." Then, suddenly seeming to collect himself, he changed the subject by enquiring whether she was still enjoying her first season in town.

  "To be perfectly truthful, Lord Risely, it has lost much of its appeal of late," she admitted, catching sight of her father emerging from the card-room. "In fact there are times when I feel like suggesting an early return to Northamptonshire," she disclosed, and did not notice the very troubled look which for one unguarded moment suddenly took possession of his lordship's handsome features.

  Chapter Ten

  Raising her head to glance out of the parlour window, the Countess just happened to catch sight of her daughter returning to the house. No violent slamming of the front door immediately followed her entry. Which was a great pity in the circumstances, she decided. Although in general no advocate of childish displays of temper, she couldn't help" feeling that her daughter might benefit from venting any frustrations she might possibly be experiencing at the moment out on something or, better still, on someone—ideally the person solely responsible for the very unpleasant atmosphere pervading the house these days!

  Returning her attention to her sewing, she began absently to ply the needle while her mind commenced to dwell, as it so often did of late, on her husband's uncharacteristic behaviour. Fanciful though it might be, she was none the less beginning to feel increasingly that she was married to a complete stranger. Gone was the kind and tolerant man whom she had known for a score of years and more, and in his place was an ill-tempered bore who appeared to delight in making himself as disagreeable as possible for much of the time.

  Unable to suppress a wry smile, the Countess recalled clearly the delight she had experienced a few days before when the Earl had unexpectedly announced his intention of attending Lady Carlisle's informal party. Foolishly, as things had turned out, she had supposed that at long last he was beginning to recover from whatever it was that had caused him such distress, and that he was now, once again, ready to enjoy the numerous pleasures London had to offer. Thankfully she had not foolishly deluded herself for very long. Even before they had left the party that night, she had come to the conclusion that her husband's only reason for putting an end to the period of self-imposed isolation was simply that he had every intention of ensuring that his daughter returned to Northamptonshire at the end of the season betrothed. And unless she was very much mistaken, she suspected that their daughter was very well aware of this too!

  Poor Sophia! Her ladyship experienced a surge of sympathy. The dear child must surely feel that her life was not her own any more, with her father demanding to know where she was going every hour of the day, and with whom. The evenings were worse, of course, when he made not the slightest attempt to hide the fact that he was watching her every move. He was never slow to take her roundly to task if she stood up more than once with any gentleman whom he considered unworthy of attention. And woe betide the poor child if she refused to stand up with a gentleman whom he considered was worthy!

  Her ladyship could only silently applaud her daughter's forbearance, for not once had Sophia attempted to remonstrate with her father for his unreasonable, not to say eccentric, behaviour of late. Which was a most strange circumstance in itself, she decided, after giving the matter a moment's consideration. Sophia's temperament could never have been described as placid. Even as a child she could be roused to anger with little difficulty, and had never been afraid to speak her mind. Yet not once, the Countess reminded herself, had her daughter displayed the least sign of losing her composure, handling herself with praiseworthy self-control whenever in her father's presence.

  She shook her head, wondering why it had taken her until now to appreciate these subtle yet definite changes in her daughter's character which had undoubtedly taken place since their arrival in town. She didn't suppose for a moment that it was she herself who had succeeded in influencing Sophia's behaviour. Yet, someone, somewhere, was most definitely having a highly beneficial effect on the girl, changing her from an occasionally unruly and thoughtless child into a poised and gracious young woman, the Countess decided, wondering who on earth it could possibly be.

  The parlour door opened .and the object of her ladyship's silent approval entered the room. Sophia had changed her habit for a simple muslin day dress and looked, if not precisely glowing with happiness, contented enough, as she seated herself at the other end of the sofa.

  "Did you enjoy your ride?" she enquired, and was surprised to see a look of comical dismay bent in her direction.

  "To be perfectly truthful, Mama, no, I did not. I cannot in all honesty say that I've ever found Trapp's company particularly stimulating. And it seems to me that the older he's getting the more taciturn he becomes. Or maybe," she added, generously giving the loyal retainer the benef
it of the doubt "he isn't changing at all, and it's just that I've grown accustomed to a more stimulating companion of late."

  "By that, I assume you're referring to Clem's replacement." Focusing her attention on her embroidery, the Countess didn't notice a faintly wary look flit over her daughter's delicate features. "I haven't once heard you complain about him, so I assume he meets with your approval?"

  "I have no fault to find with him whatsoever."

  "That is a relief to hear. I must say I had my doubts that you would ever find anyone whom you could grow to like half so well as Clem."

  "Oh, yes, Mama, I certainly...like him. I like Ben very well."

  Her ladyship noted the slight hesitation, but chose not to remark upon it and merely said, "I cannot recall that I've ever spoken to him, apart from acknowledging his presence on the rare occasion he has been called upon to tool the town carriage, that is. Do you think he's content working for the family, or do you suspect that he might seek employment elsewhere once the Season is over? After all, residing in the country is not to every person's taste. He might prefer to remain in town."

  Receiving no response to this, her ladyship raised her eyes and was not slow to note the sudden disappearance of her daughter's normally healthy bloom. "Why, my dear! Are you feeling quite the thing? You look as if you've just received the most severe shock."

  The laughing denial that anything was wrong sounded false even to Sophia's own ears. The fact of the matter was she felt as if she had just received a punishing blow to the pit of her stomach, and for the first time in her life experienced blind panic. If the mere suggestion that Ben might take it into his head to move on to pastures new was sufficient to make her feel physically sick, how would she feel if the suggestion became a reality?

  Conscious of her mother's intense scrutiny, she turned her head to stare out of the window, lest her expression betray something that, as yet, she was not prepared to admit even to herself.

  "Great heavens!" she exclaimed, relieved to be granted a legitimate reason for changing the subject abruptly. "Lord Nicholas Risely has just entered the square...And, yes, I do believe he is heading this way! Now why, I wonder, are we being honoured with a visit from him?"

  This was precisely what was passing through the Countess's mind, though she was careful not to betray the fact, when the butler showed the charmingly irresponsible young lord into the sunny front parlour a minute or so later. Although he had never failed to request Sophia to stand up with him if they happened to be attending the same function during an evening, her ladyship had never looked upon him as a serious contender for her daughter's hand, and she doubted very much that he wished to be considered a suitable parti by paying this unexpected visit now.

  "What a very pleasant surprise, Lord Nicholas," she greeted him, before bidding him to be seated. "I do not believe I have seen you since our paths crossed the other evening at Lady Carlisle's party."

  "No, ma'am, you haven't. I've been out of town for the past few days, visiting a good friend of mine, Toby Alderman. He's—er—rusticating at the moment, as you might say."

  "His pockets are to let, you mean," Sophia put in, clearly betraying the fact that, although she was increasingly growing more dignified, she still was not above passing some ribald comment when the mood should take her. "I met him once when we first arrived in town. If my memory serves me correctly, he was forced to depart the capital very soon afterwards because of mounting debts."

  "There you have it in a nutshell, my lady! He's been playing deep of late, and Lord Alderman has flatly refused to honour his grandson's debts unless Toby proves that he is willing to mend his ways. Consequently, he's been blackmailed into remaining in the country, taking care of the estate, while the rest of the family are on a protracted visit to Scotland. I dare say, though, he'll take a bolt to town from time to time, just to relieve the tedium of country life, don't you know."

  "Before you betray any more of your friend's secrets, I think I should point out that young Mr Alderman's grandfather happens to be a close friend of my husband's," the Countess warned, striving not to smile at the young lord's artless disclosures. "As I'm sure you're aware, neither my daughter nor I am prone to gossiping, but we're only human, and do from time to time let fall snippets we have learned."

  "Oh, don't concern yourself, ma'am," Nicholas responded with a dismissive wave of one shapely hand. "Society has far more interesting things to gossip about at the moment. What with the continuing saga of Lady 'C' and her poet friend, and all the speculation surrounding The Wicked Marquis, no one is likely to take much interest in Toby's comings and goings."

  "Yes, I've been hearing one or two things about this book," Sophia admitted, recalling something rather amusing that her friend Robina had disclosed the previous evening. "It's commonly believed that certain characters have been drawn from real life." It took a monumental effort, but she managed to refrain from divulging to her mother that "dear' Hugo Perceval was believed to hold a prominent place between the book's covers, and that the author's vitriolic pen had been less than kind to him. "I do not know how true it is, but I have also been told that the villain of the piece is based on none other than our oh, so charming neighbour."

  Her ladyship betrayed more than a faint interest on hearing this. "Sywell...? Really...? Well, one cannot deny that he would admirably meet the requirements of the title."

  "He's certainly supposed to be the odds-on favourite," Nicholas informed them. "I cannot recall ever having met the chap myself. Something of a mad recluse, so I've been led to believe. Still," he shrugged, "I've always maintained that living in the country is grossly overrated, and that spending too much time watching the grass grow is bound to have an adverse effect on one in time. Why, you only have to look at m'sister to appreciate the truth of that. Gone peculiar in the attic since she turned her back on town life, and no mistake!

  "Which reminds me of the reason for my visit today," he continued, after his listeners had with some success managed to suppress their chuckles. "My sister's home is less than ten miles from Toby Alderman's place, so I decided I'd best pay a call, otherwise I'd never hear the end of it if she ever discovered I'd been so close and hadn't taken the trouble to pay her a visit. While I was there she reminded me that it's our aunt Tabatha's birthday on Friday and that I had foolishly promised to represent the family by attending, as Constance herself will be unable to do so this year owing to the fact that she'll be paying a visit to Bath.

  "Well, the truth of the matter is I'd clean forgotten about the wretched party, and that I'd foolishly offered to bring some friends along to stay the night and help celebrate the event. I've been racking my brains since returning to town trying to think of suitable people to ask." He looked distinctly hopeful as he gazed across at Sophia. "And I was wondering whether you would make up one of the small party I'm taking from town?"

  Although slightly surprised by Lord Risely's unexpected invitation, the Countess was not in the least offended that she had not been included. Ordinarily, of course, she would never have considered permitting her daughter to leave the capital in the middle of the Season, and remain overnight in the house of a woman who was to all intents and purposes a virtual stranger, but given the strained atmosphere in the house of late, she was not prepared to dismiss the idea out of hand. After all, a little time away from the Earl's all-seeing eye could do Sophia nothing but good, she decided, smiling warmly at their visitor.

  "As you can imagine, the invitation has come as something of a surprise to us both, Lord Risely," she announced while Sophia was silently rehearsing her polite refusal. "As I'm sure you can appreciate, too, we shall need a little time to consider the matter. However, I think I should point out at the outset that I would never permit Sophia-to travel to your aunt's home without a chaperon."

  "Certainly not," his lordship agreed. "I'm assured that my aunt intends to put her carriage at my disposal, and will ensure that all the young female guests are adequately chaperoned at all time
s."

  Lady Yardley could find no fault with these arrangements and, in turn, assured him that she would send a message to his lodgings informing him of her decision before the end of the day. Sophia was frankly astonished that her mother would even consider permitting her to go, and was not slow to voice her feelings once his lordship had taken his leave.

  "But, Mama, you cannot have forgotten that it's the Meechams' ball on Friday. It is held to be one of the events of the Season, and not to be missed."

  "No, I hadn't forgotten, dear," she responded, turning to her embroidery once more. "And if you are set on going, then of course you must refuse the invitation."

  Rising to her feet, Sophia moved over to the window in time to see their unexpected visitor walking out of the square. "Strange," she said, frowning slightly, "that the invitation didn't include you, Mama."

  "No, I do not think so, dear," she countered. "Lady Tabatha Risely has always had a reputation for being slightly eccentric. She lives fairly comfortably, but if my memory serves me correctly her house is not large, so she's possibly restricted in the number of people she can invite to stay at any one time."

  "Are you acquainted with her, Mama?"

  "Slightly, yes, but I haven't seen her for a number of years. She has turned seventy now, and rarely comes to town."

  A dreadful possibility having taken possession of her mind, Sophia was only vaguely aware of her mother's response. "You don't suppose Lord Nicholas has developed a tendre for me, do you, Mama?" she asked, sharing her fears, "and a desire to introduce me to his family is what really lies behind this unexpected invitation?"

  "Would you be offended if I said most certainly not?" Her ladyship cast her daughter a reassuring smile. "Rest easy, child. He likes you well enough, but he's certainly not in love with you."