Lord Reginald (Sons of the Marquess Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  Lady Cotter scolded her about it, of course, but a scold for losing a necklace at Marford House was not nearly so dreadful as a scold for selling it to raise money for a man who had no claim on her beyond friendship. She disliked the position he had put her in, and she disliked, too, that Lord Humphrey must know exactly what she had been doing that morning and could probably guess the reason why. But there was nothing to be done about it. Captain Daker was her beloved and her future husband, so she must do whatever he needed her to do.

  Robinia had no expectation of pleasure in the evening. With no balls or assemblies that evening, they were to go to one of Lady Cullingworth’s card parties. These were generally dull in the extreme, for the card games permitted were only the respectable ones, with an interlude for music and supper, followed by more of the same. The guests, moreover, were restricted to eligible single gentlemen and marriageable young ladies with their chaperons, so the intent of the evening was clear from the outset. Since Robinia’s heart was already given, she felt little interest in the occasion. However, Lady Cotter was a bosom friend of Lady Cullingworth, so to the card party they were to go.

  The lack of gambling or dancing or decent claret meant that most of the participants were female, but some gentlemen attended if they had a particular interest in one of the young ladies. Several of Robinia’s beaux were present, but not, she noted with interest, Lord Sandwood. Was he staying at home in fear for his chest? Perhaps his mama’s opinion had been unfavourable and the viscount would withdraw his suit? She could only hope it was so.

  Lord Milford was in attendance, however, and inveigled a place at her table. Robinia tried to ignore his squint, for the poor man could hardly help his appearance. He was a capital card player, fortunately, so she was soon on her mettle trying to defeat him. Thus it was that she scarcely noticed the commotion when some late arrivals put in an appearance. But she squeaked in surprise and almost dropped her cards when they were announced.

  “The Lord Humphrey Marford, the Lord Augustus Marford, the Lord Montague Marford, Captain Daker,” the butler intoned.

  18: A Card Party

  Heads swivelled, quizzing glasses were raised, fans were held up to hide the whispers of surprise. Three of the Marford brothers — and Captain Daker? Robinia had not even realised that they knew each other. Involuntarily she glanced at Lady Cotter, then wished she had not, for that lady’s face had taken on a deep purple hue. The colour of rage, as Robinia had discovered when she had once refused to accompany her godmother on an outing. She had never again attempted it. Lady Cotter glared at Captain Daker, then turned to glare at Robinia. As if she had had anything to do with it! She dropped her eyes hastily, and turned back to her cards.

  Lady Cullingworth was a gentle-hearted soul who could sniff out a romance at a distance of half a mile, and liked nothing better than to facilitate a love match amongst her guests. Accordingly, when the card games reached a suitable point, she began to break up the tables and rearrange the players to facilitate the pairings she imagined would please her young visitors. So it was that Robinia found herself seated opposite Captain Daker.

  “Miss Chamberlain! Such a pleasure to bask once more in the beauteous light of London’s shining star,” he said, his eyes glowing.

  She blushed and could find no words.

  “I need not ask if you are well, for I can see it for myself,” he went on. “London agrees with you, Miss Chamberlain. You outshone every other lady in York, but the brilliance of London society adds even greater lustre to your beauty.”

  That made her blush even more.

  “Are you acquainted with Lord Montague Marford?” Lady Cullingworth’s gentle tones cut through Robinia’s embarrassment. “May he be permitted to join your table?”

  “Oh, but of course,” Robinia said.

  “Miss Chamberlain and I are old friends,” Lord Montague said. His voice was so quiet it was almost a whisper. “We had the pleasure of her company at Drummoor earlier this year.”

  “Ah, excellent,” Lady Cullingworth said vaguely before drifting off to supervise the participants at another table.

  Lord Montague reminded Robinia a little of Reggie, albeit a younger, better looking version. Unlike Lord Humphrey’s flamboyant style, Lord Montague wore plain black, with a white waistcoast and cream breeches, all restrained elegance. He settled himself beside Robinia, and began to shuffle the cards.

  Robinia’s curiosity was too great to be ignored. “I did not know that you and Captain Daker were acquainted, my lord,” she said as he dealt the cards.

  “Oh, that is Humphrey,” Lord Montague said, in his quiet voice. “Humphrey knows everyone. Takes money off most of them.”

  “Really?” Captain Daker said, looking smug. “I took money off him.”

  “Did you, by Jove?” Lord Montague said. “I am in deep trouble, then. If you can out-play Humphrey, you can certainly out-play me. How fortunate that we play only for fish here.”

  Robinia wished she had been present to see Daker out-play Lord Humphrey, who was known to be an outstanding player at all card games and other games of chance. She had seldom had the opportunity to watch Daker play, but he had never struck her as an unusually talented player. Competent, perhaps, but she regarded herself as an indifferent player, yet she had always beaten him handily. Tonight was no different, and he several times made mistakes that cost them dearly.

  “I am out of luck tonight,” he said at the end of one game, as Lord Montague gathered up the cards and began to shuffle.

  “You might have had better luck had you not thrown away the five of trumps so early,” Robinia said with a smile to soften the implied reproof.

  “I do not need you to tell me how to play!” he snapped. She raised a surprised eyebrow. “I beg your pardon, Miss Chamberlain. I am so little accustomed to losing.”

  “Still time to make a recover, Daker,” Lord Montague said. “Maybe this hand will serve you better.”

  Captain Daker kept to her side during supper, and was all that was affable and charming, his earlier ill-humour quite banished. Anyone might become a little tetchy if the cards run against them, she told herself, as she basked in the warmth of his attentiveness. How delightful to have the whole evening together in this relaxed way, and not be rushing about from one grand ball to the next. Balls were a great delight, naturally, and Daker was an elegant dancer, but it was the greatest pleasure to be able to sit and talk to him, and not all Lady Cotter’s glowering expressions could spoil her enjoyment in the evening.

  After supper, there was a half hour of music, and those not performing were at liberty to dispose themselves about the room as they wished. Daker led her to a quiet corner, still in full view of the room, but secluded enough for some private conversation. Lady Cotter ostentatiously settled herself where she could watch their every move.

  “Did you get it?” he asked eagerly as soon as they were seated. “What I asked you for?”

  “I did,” Robinia said. “I had to sell a necklace, but I obtained the money for you. I could not get to the circulating library—”

  “Oh, never mind that! Do you have it here?”

  She raised her gloved hands, which held nothing but a fan. “I have no reticule with me, and I did not expect to see you tonight.”

  “Oh. Of course.” His face fell. “I shall have to call on you tomorrow, then, if the dragon will let me over the threshold.”

  “The dragon?” Robinia said, shocked. “Do you talk about my godmother in those terms?”

  “Oh, well…” He gave an embarrassed laugh. “Just my little joke, you know. Can you get more? I could do with another two or three hundred. London is devilish expensive, and I got into a bit of trouble before I quite realised.”

  “No, I can not! It was difficult enough to do once!” But she wondered why he needed so much. Gaming, she supposed, but it seemed foolish to play when one had no money to hand.

  “But you are such a clever little thing, and I am sure you want to oblige me.
”

  She blushed at the compliment, but her horror of returning to the jeweller was too strong, and naturally it would not do to apply to Lord Humphrey, who was neither friend nor relation. “Please, do not ask me for any more money,” she hissed. “I cannot!”

  “It is your own,” he said with a shrug. “And it will be mine soon enough, so I do not see… well, never mind. Perhaps we should just get married right away. What do you say, Robinia? That would settle everything very nicely. Shall I get a special licence?”

  “Of course not! What a ridiculous idea!” Tears sprang to her eyes, but she blinked them away. It was only that he loved her so well, she told herself, else he would not suggest such things. Why, special licences were only for those in a tearing hurry to wed, and surely they had no need of such haste. She wanted her marriage to be conducted properly, with the full complement of wedding clothes and the banns read and half the village outside the church to wish her well, not rushed through in a day or two, as if they had something to hide.

  “Ridiculous — why so?”

  “There is no need for that. Once you have my father’s permission—”

  “Much more fun to be married first, don’t you think?” he said, tipping his head to one side, his eyes brimming with teasing entreaty. Oh, his eyes! How she loved them. She could drown in their ever-changing depths. How sad it made her to refuse him anything he asked for.

  “Perhaps… but I cannot,” she whispered. “I am so sorry.”

  “Of course you can! We love each other, so why not?”

  “No, really, I cannot. I am not yet of age. We need my father’s permission.”

  He went very still. “Not of age?”

  How could he not have known her age? But perhaps he had never asked. She said sorrowfully, “I am twenty. I shall not be of age until April next year. We cannot marry before then unless my father permits it, that is the law.”

  “Dammit, Robinia! And you never thought to tell me?”

  “I thought you knew. Why does it matter? We agreed that I would have my season in London, then when I go home you would apply to my father. Once he knows you—”

  “Pah!” His face reddened. “And what am I supposed to do now, eh? I’ve run up all these debts to do you credit, and now I have no way to pay them off. It’s too bad of you, Robinia!”

  “I do not know why you say that, as if it were my fault,” she said hotly.

  At once his anger dissipated. “I beg your pardon, my sweet. You cannot help the law, can you? I am just disappointed that our happiness must be delayed a little longer.” He laughed. “I have the very answer! We shall just have to elope, and that is all there is to it. The law in Scotland is less constraining. Yes, let us be off to Gretna, my sweet.”

  “Oh no! No, never! I could not do it. It would be quite wrong, you must see that. Think how disappointed in me my parents would be.”

  He laughed and leaned close to whisper in her ear. “Just teasing, dear Robinia. I shall come to Lincolnshire and win over your papa, as we planned. How charming it will be to see you in your home, where you grew up, with all your family about you. I can barely wait until the season is over, for I so long to call you my own true love, and protect you from the world. You are such a delicate little flower, my love, and I shall shield you from every tempest.”

  She blushed then, and he continued to talk in this nonsensical vein until they were recalled to the card games, although this time they were on separate tables and remained so for the rest of the evening. It did not matter. She had seen him, and spoken to him, and all was well, for tomorrow she would see him again. She spent the journey home in a daze of happiness, and as soon as she had dismissed her maid, gave herself over to delicious dreams of the glorious future awaiting her. Little bubbles of concern wafted through her mind — how was she to give her beloved his money? And why was he in need of it anyway? Why the talk of special licences and elopements? As if she could ever agree to such a thing! But she set them firmly to one side, and imagined herself in the perfect bliss of being Mrs Daker.

  But the morning brought disaster — another early visit from Lady Carrbridge, with Lord Humphrey in tow, an expression of resignation on his face.

  “He is here to apologise,” Lady Carrbridge said to Lady Cotter, in her most severe tones. “I am very cross with him for bringing Captain Daker with him last night.”

  “I am certainly sorry to have displeased you ladies,” Lord Humphrey said, “but pray excuse me from making any apology for taking a friend with me to an occasion to which I had been invited. Captain Daker has few acquaintance in town, and I consider it a kindness to show him around a little, and introduce him to company where he might be welcome.”

  “You know our reasons, Humphrey,” Lady Carrbridge said.

  “And you know my opinion of them,” he retorted.

  Robinia’s head was spinning. Captain Daker was the cause of a quarrel between Lady Carrbridge and her brother in law? It seemed impossible, yet so it was. And what reasons could they have for wishing him not to attend genteel little card parties? To keep him away from her, she supposed — what other reason could there be?

  “Robinia, dear,” Lady Carrbridge said. “You must be wondering greatly at all this, but the truth of the matter is that your papa has asked Lady Cotter to discourage Captain Daker’s attentions as far as it is possible to do so.”

  “Why would Papa do such a thing?” Robinia cried. “He does not know Captain Daker!”

  “No, but he has made enquiries,” Lady Cotter said. “That is what fathers do for their precious daughters, to protect them from fortune hunters and other unscrupulous sorts.”

  “He is not a fortune hunter! He knew nothing of my fortune when we first met!”

  “Now that is where you are quite wrong,” Lady Cotter said. “Your father applied to the family you stayed with in York last year, and they made enquiries and it seems that your good fortune was widely known. The person at Captain Daker’s lodgings admitted that she told him of it herself, and he set about gaining admittance to your company. It was quite deliberate, child. He cares only for your dowry.”

  “I do not believe it!” she cried, and to her shame, hot tears cascaded down her cheeks. “It is not true! It cannot be true!”

  She jumped up and strode across to the window, keeping her back to them, as she struggled to compose herself. Lady Cotter talked on in aggrieved tones, while Lady Carrbridge’s gentler voice was almost inaudible.

  Lord Humphrey appeared beside Robinia, proffering a handkerchief. “He would have to be an idiot if he cares only for your dowry,” he murmured. “And he is not an idiot, I think.”

  He smiled, and she could not help smiling back. “Thank you for bringing him last night,” she said shyly, rather overawed by this colourful giant of a man.

  “My pleasure, although I do not think I shall manage a repeat performance for a while. But I shall keep an eye on him, you may be sure.”

  “Thank you,” she said again. So comforting, these Marford brothers! Reggie, and now Humphrey, and Lord Montague, too. She always felt safe and protected with them, knowing that they would make everything easy for her and the captain, if only her godmother would stop interfering.

  She wiped her eyes and composed her features, then turned back to the ladies.

  “There now, child,” Lady Cotter said. “You will thank us for this one day. But we have decided that you would benefit from a greater variety of scenery and company. I have kept you hanging about my skirts for too long. It is time for you to venture abroad a little more without me. Lady Harriet has very kindly agreed to take you to Hyde Park in her phaeton this afternoon, and I think we may permit you to drive out with a gentleman from time to time also. There! Is that not an agreeable surprise? There is nothing like sitting up in a curricle with a handsome gentleman handling the reins, I always say.” And she sighed gustily.

  “May I be the first to offer my services as Miss Chamberlain’s escort?” Lord Humphrey said. �
��And perhaps, if I am very well-behaved, and convey her at a suitably decorous pace, I may be forgiven for my previous misdemeanours, Lady Cotter?”

  He smiled winningly, and Lady Cotter blushed and simpered like a girl. The visit ended soon afterwards with everyone in high good humour, except for Robinia. She thought her spirits had never been lower.

  To her surprise, Lady Cotter proved to be right in one respect. Being driven through the streets and around Hyde Park at the fashionable hour was delightful, even though there was no gentleman and the carriage was not a curricle. But Lady Harriet Marford was every bit as stylish as her brothers and her high perch phaeton with its matched greys was, in Robinia’s eyes, quite perfect. They were also very well known, so every few yards they pulled up, to exchange greetings with Lord this or Lady that, and even a duchess, once. Sometimes Robinia was recognised and greeted with affable familiarity, and sometimes she was introduced to new acquaintance, who smiled at her benevolently. It was wonderful.

  One elderly gentleman eyed her thoroughly through his quizzing glass, then said, “Chamberlain, eh? Reginald’s young lady?”

  “Indeed not!” Lady Harriet said sharply. “You know Reggie has gone back to the country.”

  “Ah, yes, broken heart. I remember. Money’s on Sandwood now, I believe.”

  Lady Harriet drove on rather rapidly. “Take no notice. These stories swirl around and people only half listen, so everything gets muddled up in their minds.”

  “How is Lord Reginald?” Robinia said timidly.

  “He is well,” she said, and then there was a long silence.

  Robinia held her breath, waiting, although she hardly knew for what. Was he truly broken hearted? She longed to know, but at the same time she was not sure she wanted to hear the answer. Would it be worse to hear that he was broken hearted, or that he was going on with his life as if nothing had happened? As if they had never met? And deep inside she acknowledged that the broken heart, dreadful as it must be, would reassure her that he had loved her, and loved her still. That would be a comfort, she thought, although she could hardly account for her reasoning even to herself.