Lord Rakehell

by Virginia Henley

  “Will you stay for dinner, James?” Harry invited.

  “No, no, I just dropped in for a word with Thomas.”

  “In that case, come into the library for a drink,” his brother-in-law invited.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then. Oh, before I go, don’t forget about Jane’s masked ball on the twenty-ninth. You always manage to avoid your family’s entertainments.”

  “Mea culpa. My social life is so demanding I have to juggle my invitations.”

  “And you conveniently manage to drop all the ‘balls,’” Harry quipped.

  In the library Thomas poured a measure of whiskey for each of them. The pair talked shop for a few minutes, discussing what was going on in the House and in the Lords; then casually Thomas mentioned that he’d seen Henry Fane at Newmarket.

  “He attended the session today. He told me he had bumped into you. Asked me if you were engaged yet. I assured him you were a confirmed bachelor.”

  “He was squiring a young beauty. Perhaps he’s worried that I’ll lure her away.”

  Thomas raised his eyebrows. “And would you?”

  “Damned right, given half the chance. I thought you might know who she is.”

  “Sorry, James. I haven’t heard a thing.”

  • • •

  House of Commons

  November 18, 1861

  Lady Anne sat in the visitors’ gallery of the House all alone. It was far too cold and drafty to attract many ladies in November, and when the other two Brass Monkeys had declined her invitation to visit Parliament, she decided to go alone.

  Anne had thoroughly enjoyed her encounter with Lord Hamilton a week ago and longed to see him again. The contact at Newmarket made her vow it would not be another three and a half years before she laid eyes on him again. And the most obvious place to see him was in the House. It would also add a fillip of intrigue that she could observe him at her leisure, while James would get nary a glimpse of her. It was an exciting game. While she knew his identity, he was totally in the dark about who she was.

  Anne soon realized that the discussion on the floor concerned the American Civil War. Apparently, a large number of British vessels were being prevented from leaving Charleston Harbor because of a blockade by the Union forces.

  Anne recognized Lord John Russell when he stood to speak. “The British consul for the Southern States demanded permission for the vessels to pass out on the grounds that when they entered Charleston Harbor, the blockade had not yet been established.” Lord John raised his head, and rustled the communiqué in his hand. “He was refused!”

  Prime Minister Palmerston glared at the members and challenged, “You may stand for this, but damned if I will!”

  A member of the opposition jumped to his feet. “Our consul must be given precise instructions so we do not commit Britain to hostilities with the Northern States.”

  Lord John Russell replied, “No sane man can condone slavery, but British maritime commerce is being ruled by the cabinet of Washington.”

  Anne’s heart began to hammer as she watched Lord James Hamilton get to his feet to add his voice to that of Russell, who was after all his uncle. “We cannot acquiesce in the capture and confiscation of British ships and their cargoes.”

  The members who agreed banged their shoes on their desks, and those who disagreed booed their dissent.

  Prime Minister Palmerston raised his voice so he could be heard above the cacophony. “I propose we issue a direct order to the cabinet in Washington, demanding in the name of Her Majesty the Queen, and in no uncertain terms, that our ships be released immediately from Charleston Harbor. All in favor say ‘aye.’”

  Once again the members engaged in a contest to see which side could shout the louder. John Russell, who was still on his feet, said with satisfaction, “The ayes have it, Mr. Prime Minister.”

  As James Hamilton took his seat, a movement at the railing in the visitors’ gallery caught his eye. He got a fleeting glimpse of red hair and gray fur, but the female stepped back immediately, as if she didn’t want to be seen. A slow smile curved his mouth. It was the young beauty he’d been making inquiries about for a week now, and getting absolutely nowhere. His glance traveled over the members present, assessing and quickly eliminating every one of them. There was only one reason why she had come to the gallery, and he was that reason. He slipped quietly from his seat in the chamber, determined that his elusive quarry would not elude his pursuit. He grabbed his coat from the cloakroom, then strode toward the stairs that led down from the visitors’ gallery. As she descended the marble steps, he gazed up at her with amusement dancing in his eyes.

  “Caught in the act! How devastating for you.”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, my lord.”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Your curiosity to observe me lured you like a lodestone.”

  “Not so,” she said in a cool voice. “I came to see another.”

  James grinned. “Westmorland sits in the Lords, not the Commons.”

  “I took a detour.”

  He held her gloved hand and raised it to his lips. “That tells me you are impulsive, a most exciting quality in a woman.”

  She looked into his laughing eyes and abandoned all pretense. “I did come to observe you and I did get caught in the act. And you are right, I am incurably impulsive.”

  “In that case, could I tempt you to dine with me? The hour is early, but warm food and a glass of wine on such a cold afternoon would allow us to explore our curiosity about each other.”

  She hesitated. Her head told her to decline his offer. Her heart told her to accept. “It would have to be somewhere close by. Somewhere respectable,” she cautioned.

  “My dearest lady, you may put complete trust in me.”

  “Oh dear. How devastating for me,” she teased.

  “The Westminster Palace Hotel is close by Parliament and has a most respectable dining room.”

  “Then I shall obey my impulse and accept.”

  Hamilton shrugged into his overcoat and they emerged onto Parliament Square, where the November wind swirled about them furiously. James offered Anne his arm and she took it gladly as they made their way to the hotel. The surge of his blood told him her close proximity excited him. Before they entered the dining room, he checked his coat, but knew instinctively that his companion would be loath to relinquish her fur. They were shown to a table by the maître d’hôtel, who provided menus and hastened off for the bottle of claret that Hamilton ordered.

  James moved behind her chair to help her remove her fur. “Gray fox shows off your glorious hair to perfection.”

  She was thrilled by his compliment. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “Call me James.” He draped her fur over the back of her chair and his admiring glance swept over her gown with its lace ruffles at throat and wrist. “Lavender velvet suits you even better.”

  “I’m glad you like it. I designed it myself.”

  “You have exquisite taste and an eye for color; I shall add that to the vast store of knowledge I’ve learned about you.”

  She smiled into his eyes. “You haven’t learned anything about me, have you?”

  “I know that you are lovely, and that I enjoy your company. If you would tell me your name, that’s all I need to know.”

  As she removed her gloves, she noticed their pearl buttons. I refuse to call myself Pearl. She glanced at the flowers on the table. “It’s Lily.” She picked up the menu and began to read.

  “That’s a pretty name. If I were a betting man, I’d wager you also have a surname.”

  The bottle of claret arrived and James poured the wine himself.

  One of the items on the menu was roast leg of lamb. She glanced up and smiled disarmingly. “Lamb.”

  “There now, was that so difficul
t?” He raised his glass to salute her. “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mistress Lamb.”

  She took a sip of wine and set her glass down. “Thank you, Lord Hamilton.”

  “I thought we agreed you would call me James. Do you see anything you fancy?”

  Oh hell yes! With difficulty she lowered her eyes to the menu. “I think some leek soup would warm me nicely.”

  “Good idea. I’ll have some too. What else will you have?”

  “Dover sole,” she said decisively.

  He signaled the waiter, ordered the food, then leaned back in his chair to savor the view. “If you enjoy the theater, I’d love to take you tonight.”

  Her eyes sparkled. “I do enjoy the theater, but it’s not possible tonight. I have a previous engagement.” There would be hell to pay if I arrived home at such a late hour.

  “Ah.” He gave her a look of regret. “Another night, perhaps?”

  “Perhaps.”

  The soup arrived and he noticed that the array of silverware did not daunt her in any way. She deftly handled the soup spoon with more grace than a member of the royal family. It was obvious that she was used to dining elegantly, and he wondered where the devil Henry Fane had found such a delightful female who had the poise of a fine lady.

  Anne preferred to remain a mystery, so prompted him to talk about himself. “You are the member of Parliament for County Donegal, I believe.”

  “Yes. Politics is a family tradition. My father was the lord lieutenant of Donegal before his appointment to Prince Albert.”

  “And you are an attendant to his son the Prince of Wales. You obviously follow in your father’s footsteps.”

  “You know everything about me. My life is an open book. I have no secrets.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Your public life is an open book. I know nothing about your private life. I’m willing to wager that you are a keeper of secrets, James—both your own and the secrets of others.”

  “People put their trust in me because I have learned discretion.” He wanted her to know that he would be discreet about their meeting today, and any future encounters she would allow. He could not blame her for being cautious. If the Earl of Westmorland provided her with a house, servants, and a generous clothing allowance, it would take a good deal of persuasion on his part to have her risk losing it all for a fleeting liaison.

  By the time the trifle arrived, she had eluded every invitation he suggested. “Perhaps the theater is too public a place to be seen together. I would be delighted if you would allow me to entertain you privately.”

  “At Hampden House?”

  James threw back his head and laughed. “You have a sly wit. I no longer reside at the family home. I have a Georgian town house on the corner of White Horse Street.”

  “How very convenient for you.”

  “Yes, it is within walking distance of Buckingham Palace, if that’s what you mean.”

  “That isn’t what I mean, as well you know.” She finished her trifle and set her linen napkin beside her plate. “I enjoyed dining with you, James Hamilton. I’m sorry to refuse your invitation to the theater this evening. If I find it possible to attend some time in the future, I will send a note to White Horse Street.”

  He threw her a rueful glance. “You expect me to be satisfied with that?”

  “Not for a moment, my lord.”

  She smiled and he believed that her eyes held a promise.

  “I really must go.” She pulled on her gloves.

  He simply couldn’t tolerate her leaving without a plan to see her again. Suddenly an idea came to him, and he leaned forward. “Could I tempt you with a masked ball?”

  Her green eyes sparkled. “Perhaps.”

  “My sister Jane is holding her annual masquerade ball on November twenty-ninth. In a costume and mask you could be completely incognito.”

  “You are speaking of the Countess of Dalkeith?”

  “Yes. My sister Jane is married to the Earl of Dalkeith and the ball will be at Montagu House. Are you tempted?” James knew he should not invite this beautiful young courtesan to his sister’s ball, but he simply didn’t give a damn about what was appropriate at the moment.

  “I am tempted beyond belief,” she admitted. Only this morning she had received her invitation to the Dalkeith ball and had planned to attend with James’s sister Frances.

  “Then it’s settled.” He moved around the table to hold her fur while she slipped her arms into the sleeves. “I’ll pick you up in my carriage.”

  She shook her head. “I prefer to meet you there.”

  He breathed in her fragrance and longed to bury his face in the fiery glory of her hair. He had never kept a mistress, preferring instead casual liaisons, but for the first time he realized that with the right female, a long-term exclusive relationship would be extremely rewarding. He watched her walk to the lobby as he settled the bill, but when he left the dining room to retrieve his overcoat, she was nowhere in sight. He hurried out onto the street, but as he feared, the young beauty had made good her escape.

  Chapter Six

  “A nne, I came to see if you got your invitation to the Dalkeiths’ masked ball? I asked my sister Jane to send you one.” Frances Hamilton handed her coat to the maid.

  “Yes, thank you, it came in the post days ago. Come upstairs, I was just going through some picture books trying to get ideas for a costume.”

  “Riley, our coachman, is picking me up in half an hour to take me to the costume shop. Why don’t you come with me?”

  “My mother’s dressmaker is coming this afternoon, so I think I’ll take advantage of her expertise.”

  “I have no idea who I want to be. Costume balls are such fun for females. I can’t understand why men look panic-stricken at the mere mention of them.”

  “Really, Frances? I think there is nothing more dangerous and seductive than a male wearing a mask.”

  “John Claud absolutely refuses to attend. ‘A costume turns a man into a buffoon. A figure of fun for the ladies to laugh at behind their fans,’ he insists.”

  “Not all men think that way. I warrant your father will gallantly escort Lady Lu.”

  “Oh yes, Father’s game for a bit of fun. And I insisted Jane send an invitation to Blandford Churchill. How divine it would be if he wore his Horse Guard uniform.”

  “I would like to be someone exotic. I was thinking of Cleopatra.”

  “Oh, Anne, you always have such brilliant ideas! I’m the one with dark hair—I would love to be the Egyptian princess.”

  “You would make a most alluring Cleopatra, Frances. You need a turquoise robe and a gold mask, and see if the costumier has some snake jewelry.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind my stealing your idea, Anne?”

  “Of course I don’t mind. I’ll come up with something else. I will most likely design my own costume. I would ask a favor of you, though. I want to be absolutely incognito at the ball, so even if you recognize me, I want you to pretend you don’t know me.”

  “Oh, you are planning an intrigue! How exciting. I promise to completely ignore you, if you give me your sacred word to come round the next day and tell me all about it.”

  • • •

  When Madam Olga arrived, she brought Anne’s new winter gown for a fitting. “The skirt is finished and hemmed. You must decide on the bodice. I know we spoke of a low décolletage, my lady, but perhaps a square neck would be more suitable for a debutante.”

  “I’m so glad I chose white velvet. It is quite elegant.” Anne gave the dressmaker a speculative look. “I’m invited to the Countess of Dalkeith’s costume ball, and I would like nothing better than to dress as a Russian princess. This dress would be perfect if you could make it with long sleeves and a high collar that came up to my chin.” Anne took a piece of paper and sketched the design she wa
nted.

  When Madam Olga nodded, Anne began to get excited. “I shall sew crystal beads on the bodice. I’ll need a white mask encrusted with crystal beads. Oh, and I just had a marvelous idea to complete the outfit . . . a white fur hat like the Cossacks wear!”

  “That would be rather unusual, Lady Anne,” she said faintly.

  “Yes, wouldn’t it?” Her voice was dreamy as she pictured herself at the ball in the spectacular outfit.

  • • •

  James Hamilton had attended his fair share of London’s masked balls over the years, so they had lost their appeal for him long ago. When he started to feel excited about the masquerade at Montagu House, he realized the reason was Lily Lamb. He knew his costume would represent his intentions—not a raptor exactly, but definitely a hunter of some sort.

  On the night of the ball, James wore a kilt of Hamilton hunting green tartan. He attached a lace stock to his linen shirt, and donned a black doublet and mask. He selected a silver dagger ornamented with a stag’s head. A short hunting cloak completed the outfit.

  James arrived early. That way, if the young beauty had any trouble gaining entrance to the elite affair at renowned Montagu House, he would be there to smooth her way.

  His sister Jane was far too preoccupied playing hostess to recognize him, and when his parents arrived an hour later, they played along and at least pretended not to know his identity. James cooled his heels as he waited and watched for the beautiful girl who had captured his imagination. He had no desire to go into the ballroom and dance until his chosen partner arrived.

  To pass the time he sampled all the delicacies laid out in the supper room and helped himself to a glass of champagne. Then he stationed himself in the opulent entrance hall, amusing himself by guessing the identities of the masked guests as they arrived.

  When the front door stopped opening, it occurred to James that his fair Lily might not come. His excitement melted away and was replaced by acute disappointment, yet he could not dispel all hope. Eventually, he joined his brother-in-law William and Dalkeith’s father, the Duke of Buccleuch, in the cardroom that Jane had thoughtfully set up, since most men preferred gambling to dancing.