Lord Reginald (Sons of the Marquess Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Good Lord, Reggie, are you asleep? I have never seen you play so ill!”

  “Gil? By all that is marvellous! You have finally washed up in town. Where have you been?”

  “Never left town, actually.”

  “Truly? But you have not been at Marford House, and all our old lodgings are shut up now.”

  “Oh yes — by order of Secretary Merton,” Gil said bitterly. “I have been staying with — a friend.”

  “A friend, eh? A lady-bird, no doubt.”

  “One has to amuse oneself somehow,” Gil said, with a smile, but Reggie thought he looked conscious, so he chose not to press the matter. It was never a good idea to enquire too closely into what Gil was up to. “Do you know Telford, Reggie? Good sort of fellow — obligingly loses to me whenever we play. My brother Reginald, Telford. The sensible one of the family.”

  Telford, whose uniform proclaimed him to be a major in the Hussars, bowed and said all that was proper, and Reggie replied in kind. It was no surprise to find Gil in the company of a Hussar, for at present all his acquaintance, the male ones that is to say, seemed to be of the military type. Reggie found such men rather uninteresting, for those who had seen service were apt to speak of the horrors they had observed, and those who had not talked in grandiose terms of the glory of battle. It was not easy to reconcile the two views, or to find anything to say to those who espoused either of them. But Telford was easy-going, and talked of his horses and his new wife rather than military matters, so Reggie decided he liked him.

  He had not supposed the regular army to cross paths with the militia very much, so he had not thought to enquire as to whether Major Telford knew Captain Daker, but Telford mentioned him without prompting. “Saw you talking to that Daker fellow, Marford,” he said to Reggie. “Friend of yours, is he?”

  “Not at all. I was just that moment making his acquaintance. He is a friend of Miss Chamberlain, with whom I was dancing. Do you know him well, Major?”

  Telford eyed him warily before answering cautiously, “Met him in Newcastle a couple of years back. He was in my regiment then. Promising career, but--” He brushed a speck of dust from one sleeve. “Well, all water under the bridge, eh?”

  “I should be glad to know more of him,” Reggie said. He tried to speak in level tones, but he found his voice wavering somewhat.

  The major grunted, then nodded. “He got himself into… hmm, a spot of bother, shall we say. With a lady. The lady’s mama was very thick with the general’s wife, so Daker was obliged to leave the regiment in haste. Daresay the militia will suit him better.”

  Reggie asked nothing more, but this information turned him cold. Perhaps Daker had made a single error of judgement, and was now determined to do better, he told himself. Perhaps Miss Chamberlain was sufficient inducement for him to leave his past behind. Reggie’s own brothers had been wild when they were younger, indeed Gil was still doing his best to follow in that particular family tradition, so he was not inclined to be too censorious. But even so, his heart quailed for poor Miss Chamberlain, in love with such a man, and believing him to be the embodiment of all the virtues.

  Reggie wandered back into the ballroom to see the lady herself, standing a little apart from everyone with Captain Daker, bestowing her most dazzling smiles on him in a manner which could not possibly be mistaken. Reggie sighed. Having no further interest in the evening, he collected his hat and cane, and walked home to Marford House, feeling very sorry for himself.

  ~~~~~

  Marford House was now the epicentre of an enterprise of military proportions, for preparations were under way for Lady Carrbridge’s grand ball, which was to be one of the highlights of the season. Connie herself was invigorated by the multitude of tasks to be supervised simultaneously, and further enlivened the house with a host of cousins and aunts, who flitted from room to room like summer butterflies, filling every space with music and work boxes and dancing practice and girlish giggles.

  Lord Carrbridge smiled fondly at his wife, for he adored her enthusiasm, but retreated whenever possible to the one safe place in the house, Uncle Cedric’s room. Uncle Cedric was long dead, in fact no one in the family still living could remember him, but the modest apartment he had inhabited in his later years remained an unreservedly male refuge. The larger room was taken up with a dilapidated billiard table, while the smaller room, perhaps a bedroom originally, was filled with comfortable old chairs displaced by the marchioness’s renovations. Here the Marford brothers gathered when the feminine onslaught grew to unbearable proportions, even going so far as to nail a notice to the door: ‘Pas d’entree aux femmes.’

  Reggie found Humphrey and Monty playing cards one morning, while Carrbridge wrestled with his correspondence, maintaining a steady grumbling all the while.

  “Merton wishes to go to Great Mellingham, to view these improvements for himself. What do you all think? I suppose I shall have to let him go. And Lady Hardy has proposed that we catalogue the library. She thinks there might be some treasures there. What do you say about it? Should I agree to it? Oh, and here Merton says that Ben Gartmore has been spending all his time with the gamekeepers and he wonders whether that might be a suitable career for him.”

  “He is still at Drummoor, then?” Reggie said.

  “So it would seem. He is still living with old John Coachman, and that has worked out very well, for he makes himself useful in a hundred little ways. He also gives a hand in the gardens, but gamekeeping might suit him rather well.”

  “Sounds sensible,” Humphrey said without looking up from his cards. “The mother has gone, I take it?”

  “Yes, thank God, although she writes every week.”

  “To her son?” Reggie said.

  “No, to me,” Carrbridge said in outraged tones. “She wants more money. Beef is so expensive, the rent is likely to rise, she has no coal for her fire, might she have a guinea or two for material for a new gown. It is the outside of enough. I made her a small allowance, and I do not see what she wants with more.”

  “No matter how much you give them, people like Amelia Gartmore will always ask for more,” Humphrey said. “A grasping sort of person, I thought her. No, throw away the three of hearts, Monty.”

  “How on earth do you know I have the three?”

  “He always knows what you have in your hand,” Reggie said. “This is why you should never play against Humphrey, not unless you wish to lose a great deal of money.”

  “He is supposed to be teaching me a few tricks,” Monty said.

  “No trick, except to watch the cards,” Humphrey said. “If you note what has already been played, you will know what is still in play. It is not difficult.”

  “Not for you, perhaps,” Reggie said without rancour. “For mere mortals, it is more of a challenge. You have the right sort of brain, Humph, that is the long and the short of it, and not many do.”

  “Very true,” Humphrey said, grinning. “Your friend Captain Daker does not, that much is certain. He would be better advised to stay away from high play, but I suspect he is dazzled by London society and does not yet know how to say no. He was down almost a monkey to me at one point last night, but I let him win some of it back.”

  “He is plump in the pocket, then, if he has so much of the ready to lay down,” Reggie said.

  “Not so flush as that, but I accepted his vowels,” Humphrey said. He gave Reggie a sideways look. “I am not the only one, either. Word is that he is running up debts all over town, but no one is turning him away because he is believed to have a certain expectation.”

  “You are not referring to an inheritance, I presume.”

  Humphrey shook his head. “The expectation is that he will snaffle Miss Chamberlain’s fortune, although the clever money is on you, Reggie.”

  “The clever money?” Reggie said, scandalised. “Do you mean to say that you are betting on your own brother’s marriage prospects? Really, Humphrey!”

  “Oh, not I! Too risky to bet on you when sh
e has already turned you down, and I could hardly bet against you, could I? But it is the talk of the clubs, I assure you.”

  This information put Reggie quite out of countenance. He had considered himself most discreet, never dancing with Miss Chamberlain more than once, being perfectly civil to Daker and otherwise behaving in a thoroughly gentlemanlike manner. Why, he had hardly ever seen her except when they met at evening engagements. He had not attempted to drive her out in his curricle, much as he had wanted to. Twice they had been part of a group attending the opera, and once Connie had arranged an outing in the Marford barouche, but that was the extent of his meetings with her.

  Yet despite all his efforts, Miss Chamberlain was the subject of speculation and gossip in the clubs and gaming hells, and that he could not abide. Yet what could he do about it? To comment on the matter in any way would only draw more attention to it, and any change in his behaviour towards the lady would attract further talk. He must go on as before, and continue to bestow no especial attention on her, beyond that required of him towards a protege of Connie’s.

  In one sense, the gossip was rather flattering, for it proved that society had not yet abandoned the hope of Miss Chamberlain choosing Reggie. He had long since persuaded himself that the cause was lost, yet he could not quite give it up. Now that he found himself the object of ‘the clever money’, he allowed himself a modest amount of optimism, and began to take advantage of those occasions where the brother of the Marquess of Carrbridge was certain to be invited, but a Captain Daker of the militia was not. At Almack’s, therefore, or Carlton House, or one of Lady Hartshill’s very exclusive card parties, Reggie was sure to be free of the smirking Captain Daker. He did not have Miss Chamberlain all to himself, for a fortune of forty three thousand pounds would render the plainest young lady beautiful, and she was far from plain, so she was always surrounded by admirers. But he had the satisfaction of knowing himself to be the principal suitor at such times.

  However, he found that he was not the only one fretting over Captain Daker.

  “What do you know of this captain of Robinia Chamberlain’s, Reggie?” Connie said one evening as they returned in the carriage from a rout. “I have had Lady Cotter asking me all manner of questions, and she has had Robinia’s father writing in great concern, for he has heard more than one rumour.”

  “I know very little of him,” Reggie said. “I should have thought Miss Chamberlain herself could answer any such enquiries, or application might be made to the gentleman. Is that not Lady Cotter’s role in the business?”

  “Indeed, but she has had no satisfactory answer from either of them, and the information she has gleaned from Newcastle and York is… hazy, shall we say. She suspects there is some dark past, but cannot confirm it. Reggie, I am sure you have asked around about him, and—”

  “I have not!” he said indignantly. “Great heavens, Connie, it would be presumptuous in the extreme for me to do any such thing, as if I had the slightest right to interfere in Miss Chamberlain’s friendships.”

  “But if there are rumours, you must have heard them.”

  He hesitated, for he had no wish to keep secrets from Lady Cotter. But then, a rumour was just hearsay, and might be true or might be wildly inaccurate. It would be wrong of him to pass on tales that may be no more than idle chatter. There was another reason to keep his own counsel, too, for Daker was his rival for the hand of Miss Chamberlain. How would it look if he were to pass on all kinds of possibly scurrilous tales? It would surely be seen as the work of a jealous and vindictive man, hoping to improve his own position by reducing his rival’s standing. So he said only, “There are always rumours, Connie dear. It is best to disregard them. Miss Chamberlain is very sensible, and perfectly capable of judging Captain Daker’s character.”

  Connie raised her eyebrows, saying only, “Possibly. But her father wishes the match to be discouraged and therefore he is not to be invited to Marford House.”

  “Is that wise?” Reggie said. “Better for them to meet publicly so that Lady Cotter may observe the situation.”

  “What are you trying to do, draw them together?” Connie said, laughing at him. “Show some spirit, Reggie! Fight for her, and push this impertinent captain aside. He is nothing but a fortune hunter!”

  “So am I, if it comes to that. Connie, do you not remember when Carrbridge and I were both wooing you? You turned him down and so he stood aside to allow me to try my luck with you. It was very wrong in us, to settle things between us like that. A lady should always be free to choose where her heart takes her. I have made my wishes very plain to Miss Chamberlain, and I shall continue to do so, but above all things I wish her to be happy. If she prefers Captain Daker to me, then she may marry him with my good will, I assure you. Even if it makes me very miserable,” he added quietly.

  But Connie shook her head at him. “There is such a thing as being too correct in your behaviour. If you want something badly enough, you must fight for it and not stand tamely aside. Well, I shall look out for your best interests even if you do not, and you may thank me for it when you are safely wed.”

  14: A Ball At Marford House

  Robinia was so happy she could hardly breathe. Finally all her dreams were coming true. He had said he would come to London, but she had never quite dared to believe it. He had no acquaintance here, no one to introduce him into society, yet here he was, as handsome and amiable and attentive as ever, with many a hint about the steadfastness of his regard for her and the future he planned for them.

  He had not yet made his offer in form, nor talked to her father, but she supposed he was merely being cautious. No doubt he wanted her to enjoy her season to the full, and it was indeed very pleasant to be the centre of attention under the patronage of Lady Carrbridge, and she had no wish to end it too soon. Her captain was enjoying the amusements of London, too, although it was disappointing to discover that he could not enter any of the prominent clubs and was not invited to the most prestigious events. He had contrived invitations to many places where personable young men were always welcome, but not all her forty three thousand pounds could procure him vouchers for Almacks.

  Still, she knew where the blame lay for that slight. Lord Reginald was always terribly civil to her and to Captain Daker too, at least in public, but she knew his influence was barring her beloved from taking his rightful place in society. And now one or two of her friends had hinted that certain unsavoury rumours were circulating — they knew no details, but they were quite sure that they were unsavoury — and who else could be spreading such lies?

  To one occasion she was sure he would be invited, however, and that was the ball at Marford House. It was not exactly her coming out ball, for she had already been presented two years earlier, but Lady Carrbridge had made it clear that she was to regard the occasion as a special honour. She was to stay at Marford House overnight, and had a new and wonderfully fashionable gown to wear. Lady Carrbridge had promised one of her own maids would dress her and arrange her hair.

  Best of all, Robinia had been asked to supply a list of particular friends she wished to invite. She could look forward to the evening, secure in the knowledge that her love would be there, and surely this was the occasion he would choose to make her the happiest creature alive? When Lady Carrbridge had shown her around the ballroom that morning as it was being prepared for the festivities, Robinia had taken care to locate two or three secluded corners where an ardent gentleman might be encouraged to propose to the lady of his heart. It was time, she felt sure. Yes, it was definitely time for him to declare himself.

  The evening did not start well. The maid had chattered incessantly about ‘your friend, Captain Daker’ and the new rumours circulating about monetary troubles, some gaming debts that he had neglected to pay. Clearly, it was an oversight, and he was a busy man, too busy to notice such trifles, but it put her out of sorts nevertheless. Then, as she descended the stairs, she found Lord Reginald loitering in the hall.

  “Miss Chamb
erlain,” he said, bowing. “How well you look tonight! Indeed I do not think I have ever seen you looking so well as you do now in all of our acquaintance.”

  He smiled knowingly at her, as if sharing a private joke, but she was too irked at the clumsy compliment to do more than make him the merest hint of a curtsy. Such an irritatingly pompous man, at times.

  His face drooped a little. “Everyone is gathering in the Chinese saloon. May I escort you there?”

  “If you wish,” she said ungraciously, and then could have bitten her tongue at the chagrin that crossed his face. She tried to smile, not very successfully, then dutifully took his arm. Patience! Soon Captain Daker would be there and all would be well.

  In the saloon, she watched the door anxiously as one guest after another arrived for dinner, but her captain was not amongst them. She consoled herself with the thought that numbers at table were necessarily limited. He would be there when the ball opened.

  Dinner was an interminable bore, and again Lord Reginald was at her side, although she hardly attended to a word he said. He was too polite to upbraid her for her discourtesy, but she no longer cared what he thought of her. If only he would go away! She wanted nothing but her captain and his whispered endearments and the touch of his hands as they danced. Even through her gloves she always felt his heat, and that made her hot, too. If only the dinner would be over!

  Her pulse quickened as the time drew near. Surely now he would come, and reassure her that all was well with him, that these foul rumours were quite untrue? Just as she rose from the table, Lord Reginald said quietly, “May I be so bold as to claim the first two dances with you, Miss Chamberlain? If you are not already engaged, that is.”

  “But I am so engaged!” she cried, rushing away before she could see the disappointment on his face. Oh, if only she were! And not merely engaged for the first two dances, but engaged to be married, for then she would be safe from Lord Reginald and all the other impoverished nobles sniffing around her, drawn by the alluring scent of money. Sir Malcolm had offered for her three times already, and Lord David had made such a cake of himself, falling on his knees and in a box at the theatre too, clearly visible to half of London. And every time they met now, he looked at her with such longing, wringing his hands and talking in a strange little voice, as if she were ill. At least Lord Reginald always behaved with the utmost propriety, and never put her to the blush.