by Anne Herries
Jack had been home from the war for more than a year now, spending his time much as every other wealthy young man of fashion, visiting his clubs, placing bets at Tattersall’s or Newmarket and taking pride in his stables. His pistols came from Manton’s; he wore coats made by Scott or Weston, and his boots shone like silk. Jack’s cravats were always neat and freshly starched, but he wore them in a simple fashion rather than in the complicated folds and frills of the dandy set. He was happiest when exercising his horses or fencing with friends, or popping a hit over the guard of Gentleman George, a pugilist whose salon he visited now and then to keep in shape. In short, he was what society was pleased to call a Corinthian and idolised by most of the young bloods. To call him a rake was unfair, though if all the fluttering one direct glance from those compelling eyes aroused in a myriad of female breasts was taken into account, his reputation was deserved to a point. Without meaning to, his careless dalliance had sent more than one lady into a swoon, leaving a trail of wounded hearts when his casual flirting came to naught.
His grandfather had, though, exaggerated the number of mistresses Jack had kept over the past few years. During his service in the army, he had found some of the beautiful Spanish girls much to his taste. Like his friends, he had taken his pleasure where he could, knowing that each day might be his last, but the camp followers had been girls of a lower class and none of them had ever touched Jack’s heart.
There had been three ladies with whom he had shared intimate relations since then, one of them a married lady whose husband was thirty years her senior and more interested in his port than his wife, the other two opera dancers. Jack’s current light o’ love was very beautiful, but also very greedy, and he suspected unfaithful. He believed she had other lovers despite their arrangement, and it was in his mind that he would tell Lucy it was over before he went down to the country.
Jack supposed that he ought to think seriously of marriage. He was seven and twenty and he’d been his own master for ten years, for though his fortune had been in trust for four years the allowance was so generous that he had never been in danger of finding himself in debt. Since coming into his capital, he’d made several improvements to his estate and to the investment of his funds. His fortune was sufficient to support a family with no alteration to his way of life, other than on a personal level. Indeed, some jealous folk had been known to complain that he had far more money than was good for him.
The trouble was that he enjoyed his life and saw no reason to change it. As a single man he need consider no one else’s feelings very much. The obligatory visit to his mama and his grandfather in the country every few weeks or so cost him little and he was free to take off to stay with a friend, visit Newmarket or Bath, or attend a mill at the drop of a hat. Some would say that marriage need change very little in his life, but Jack could recall seeing his mama in tears when she was left alone in the country with a small son and her husband was off enjoying himself in town. He imagined that his dislike of the idea of marriage had grown in him over the years, triggered by an incident when he was seventeen, and as yet he had not met a lady who was beautiful or generous enough to overcome that dislike.
His father had indeed been a selfish man. Jack wondered if he had inherited the trait, for he was rather inclined to go off without informing his family that he would be out of town and unreachable for a few days. He knew that Mama sometimes worried about him, though the marquis said she was a fusspot, and perhaps she was. It would have been much better had Jack not been an only child, but for some reason there had been no more babies in that unfortunate marriage.
Sighing, Jack put his troubled thoughts to rest. He was engaged with friends for the evening and it would not do to be caught up by a problem he was not sure he could solve.
Marriage to a woman he could not like or admire would be worse than a living death. Perhaps it was not strictly necessary to fall in love, but as yet he had not met a young lady that made him want to see her every day, let alone protect her and cherish her for the rest of his life.
* * *
‘Have you seen the latest heiress?’ Lieutenant Peter Phipps asked of Jack when they met at the club, where they were engaged to dine with three of their friends. ‘Cynthia Langton has everything—beauty, wit and money.’
‘Really? A veritable goddess,’ Jack quizzed, one brow arched in mockery. ‘Going to have a tilt at her, Phipps old fellow? Run aground again?’
Phipps shook his head, a wry smile on his mouth. ‘Not yet, Jack. I had a run of luck last month and I’m just managing to hold my head above water. Not that she would look at me even if I had hopes in that direction. She may be beautiful and rich, but she’s like an iceberg—so proud and cold. I imagine she’s after a marquis or an earl at least...’
‘A bit above your touch, then, and mine,’ Jack quipped. ‘Never mind, there’s always the Dumpling. If you really fall into the suds, she would have you like a shot.’
‘Cruel, and unworthy of you,’ Phipps said. ‘I rather like Miss Amanda, she’s got a warm heart, even if she is a little on the dumpy side.’
‘Well, then, your problem is solved,’ Jack murmured wickedly. ‘You have only to crook your little finger and she will fall into your arms—if they are strong enough to catch her.’
‘Really Jack, that’s a bit strong,’ his friend said and frowned. ‘She cannot help being short and she likes sweet things...which I do myself, but I never seem to put on weight.’
‘You are a regular lanky boy. You should wed her because you’re all bones while she is an armful of delicious flesh... Oh, I’m merely jesting,’ Jack replied as he saw that Phipps was annoyed. ‘I think Amanda Hamilton is a pleasant young woman and will no doubt make a loving wife. Just the sort of young lady my grandfather thinks would suit me if his hints this afternoon are anything to go by.’
‘So that’s why you’re in a bad mood this evening.’ Phipps smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘I know how you feel, old chap. Pater had a go at me last time I went down to the estate—told me that he had bailed me out for the final time and it was up to me to find an heiress.’
‘Duty calls us both, it seems, but do not let it spoil our evening. Here come the others.’
Jack turned to greet the three young men with a smile and a handshake. They had all five of them served on Wellington’s staff and, though two of them had recently become engaged, they were all still single and could enjoy a night at the club drinking and playing cards.
‘How are you, Jack?’ Malcolm Seers asked, shaking his hand with a firm grip. ‘This is my last evening in town before I go down to the country. Please congratulate me, I have just become engaged to Miss Willow.’
‘Jane Willow?’ Jack asked and grinned, only half-mocking, because Miss Willow was one of the few young ladies in society that he actually liked. ‘So she accepted you at last? I thought it would not be long...’
‘She couldn’t make up her mind, but in the end I wore her down.’ Malcolm looked pleased with himself. ‘I’m the happiest man alive.’
‘Then I do congratulate you. I shall miss you when you disappear into the mists of matrimony, but I’m pleased for you.’
‘Oh, Jane wants to spend as much time as possible in town and you’re a favourite with her, Jack. We shall expect you to visit often when we are in the country.’
Jack murmured something appropriate, but knew it would not be the same once his friend married. Malcolm was a serious man and had been a dedicated soldier—and he would be as dedicated to his wife and family. They would still be friends, but things would be different...
Jack had a hunted feeling, as if he were being driven in a direction he did not wish to go. His grandfather had pushed him towards marriage and his friends were succumbing one by one to its lure—how long could Jack resist?
* * *
It was barely three in the morning when the frien
ds parted at the club, three of them going to their homes and leaving only Jack and Phipps to consider where to go next.
‘The night is young,’ Jack murmured. ‘We should find a gambling hell and indulge ourselves for an hour or so.’
‘Not for me, old fellow,’ Phipps declined. ‘I’ve sworn off gambling for the next month at least, otherwise I shall be in hot water with my father. I’ll come home with you for a drink if you like, otherwise I think I’ll call a cab and go home.’
‘I think I’ll pay Lucy a visit,’ Jack decided and laughed. ‘I’ll see you at Markham’s affair tomorrow?’
‘Yes, certainly,’ his friend agreed. ‘You will be certain to meet Miss Langton there.’
‘Oh, I’ll leave her for you, my friend,’ Jack said and gave him a friendly punch in the arm.
They parted on the best of terms, Jack sauntering through the streets as if he had not a care in the world, while Phipps summoned a cab to take him home. A smile touched Jack’s sensuous mouth, for if he were not mistaken Phipps was a little the worse for wear, while he had drunk only enough to feel mildly pleased with the world. A visit to his mistress would round the evening off nicely and stop him falling into the melancholy that more serious thoughts of marriage looked likely to bring about.
* * *
He had been walking for perhaps five minutes when he heard the screams. Someone—a girl, he thought—was screaming for help. Jack’s chivalrous instincts were instantly aroused and he looked for the source of the sound, which seemed to come from the park across the street. Even as he hesitated, he saw a small figure run from that direction followed by two very drunken gentlemen, who lurched unsteadily in the youth’s wake.
‘Hounds, hounds to me,’ one of them called and made a loud noise that was supposed to sound like a hunting cry. ‘We’ll catch the little vixen yet!’
The second gentleman lurched after his comrade even as the diminutive figure bolted across the road. Jack moved like lightning, grabbing the figure and noting it was a young gentleman with delicate, rather female features, before pushing him behind him against the wall and turning to confront the pursuing gentlemen.
‘That’s the spirit, old fellow,’ the first cried gleefully. ‘Hand the vixen over and we’ll finish our business with her.’
‘And what might that be?’ Jack asked in a pleasant but cool voice. ‘I believe you are a little the worse for wear, sir. Pray let me recommend you to the comfort of your bed.’
‘Damn you, sir! What business is it of yours what I choose to do? Pray stand aside and let us at the—’
‘I asked you to take yourselves off nicely.’ Jack’s voice carried a hint of steel. ‘Now I’m telling you. Get off where you belong before I teach you some manners.’
‘Think you’ll have the bitch for yourself, do you?’ the man snarled. ‘I’ll show you!’ He threw a wild swing at Jack and found himself on the receiving end of a heavy punch. It floored him and he lay moaning on the ground. ‘She’s a whore and a thief,’ he muttered.
‘Come on, Patterson.’ His friend, in slightly steadier condition, bent down to help him rise. ‘You don’t know she’s a thief, even if we did see her climb out of that window.’
Patterson muttered something vile, but accepted his friend’s help. He glared at Jack, holding his friend’s arm as they reeled away.
‘Good riddance to her,’ he muttered and then laughed and pointed a finger. ‘Look at her go. She’s got away from us all.’
Glancing over his shoulder, Jack saw the diminutive figure disappearing round the corner. He was conscious of regret for he would have liked to discover whether the young person was a youth or the girl in disguise that the drunken gentlemen seemed to imagine. He had not even had a chance to discover if she—or he—was harmed, but at least he had prevented further harm.
He stood his ground, watching as the two men lurched off down the street in the opposite direction to the one the fugitive was heading. Only when he was certain that the young escapee must be out of sight did he resume his journey. He was vaguely aware that the knuckles of his right hand were bruised, but he dismissed that as a worthwhile consequence of his interference in what might have been a very unfortunate outcome for the young person.
Jack found that his mood had changed. He was amused by what he’d seen of the fugitive’s behaviour, catching the merest glimpse of an elfin face in the streetlights. If the inebriated men were to be believed, the young person was a thief and a whore—but the clothes the fugitive had been wearing were good quality, the property of a young gentleman of perhaps thirteen or so. That did not bring the words thief or whore to Jack’s mind, but something more innocent like a very young gentleman escaping from his home for a lark. Unless it had been a girl in borrowed clothing, which was an intriguing idea.
Jack arrived outside the small but exclusive house he had purchased for his mistress’s use. The windows were in darkness, as he might have supposed, had he given a thought to the hour. He considered climbing over the gate and going round to the back of the house; he could throw stones at the window and get Lucy to come down and let him in without waking the servants.
Suddenly, he realised that the desire to see his mistress had left him. He laughed ruefully and turned away just as a light came on in the hall upstairs. Hesitating, Jack was still wondering whether to call on Lucy just for a drink and a chat when the door opened and a gentleman came out.
He recognised the man as Lord Harding—a man he particularly disliked as a hardened gambler, and, if Jack were right, a particularly nasty cheat. He was the kind of man who fastened on young men just out on the town, introducing them to sleazy gambling hells and all kinds of dissolute activities.
There could be only one reason why he would be leaving Lucy’s house at this hour of night and the realisation turned Jack’s stomach. Any desire he’d had to see his mistress was banished. He would finish the affair tomorrow by sending a farewell gift and a letter that would leave her in no doubt of his disgust at her behaviour. He had no desire to follow Harding in her bed!
Had it been almost any other gentleman, Jack would have taken the discovery with a laugh, for he’d guessed she was not the sort to be faithful for long—but Harding was a man he really disliked.
Jack walked the length of the street before hailing a cab to take him home. He had a bad taste in his mouth and was angry that he’d allowed himself to be duped so long. Well, he would make sure that when he next took a lover she was at least honest enough to entertain only one protector at a time. Why was it that so many women thought it necessary to lie to get their own way? If there was one thing Jack could not stand, it was a liar or a cheat.
Having arrived in the pleasant square where he lived, he was just paying the cab driver his fare when he looked across the pleasant gardens to his left and saw a diminutive figure clamber over a wrought-iron railing and disappear down the steps leading to the servants’ quarters.
Jack hesitated, because although he was friendly with Lord Bathurst, the owner of the house, he knew that it had recently been let to a family, with whom he was not yet acquainted. He did not feel able to knock on the door at this hour in the morning and tell them they might have an intruder—especially as he could not be sure the youth he’d seen earlier and the figure climbing the gate were one and the same.
Indeed, he was not sure of anything. However, he could not allow a neighbour to be robbed—if the girl was a thief, if she was even a girl...
Cursing, Jack sprinted across the square himself and tried the gate, which was locked, as he might have known. He climbed the railing easily, feeling guilty though his intention was quite innocent. Peering down the narrow stone steps, he was just in time to see the flicker of a candle as a door opened and his quarry disappeared inside.
It shut before he could reach it, but not before he’d seen a taller young man come and look abo
ut, as if to make sure that no one was there.
Jack stood uncertainly. The taller youth was also wearing the clothes of a gentleman. Whoever he was, Jack did not think that he was in collusion with his quarry to rob an unsuspecting family. No, his first impression was probably correct and the diminutive youth was just kicking up a lark, aided and abetted, it seemed, by an older brother.
Laughing softly to himself, Jack climbed back over the railing and stood on the pavement, glancing about before re-crossing the square and knocking on his own front door. His man answered almost immediately and Jack nodded as he was admitted.
‘A good evening, sir?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Jack said. ‘Go to bed now, Cummings. I’ll see to myself this evening.’
‘I’ll just lock up, my lord,’ his valet answered with quiet dignity. ‘Mr Jenkins has only just retired. I took it upon myself to sit up this evening—and I should be failing in my duty if I didn’t attend you, sir.’
‘I do not imagine the world will end if I remove my own boots for once, Cummings.’
Jack sauntered past him and up the stairs, lost in thoughts that were mildly intriguing. Just who was the young imp who had got himself into trouble that evening?
Well, he had been remiss in making the acquaintance of his new neighbours, so he would give himself the pleasure of remedying that later in the day.
Chapter Two
‘Charlie!’ Mr Matthew Stevens cried and grabbed his sister’s shoulders, giving her a little shake. ‘Thank goodness you’re back. You’ve been so long and I was terrified that you’d been caught!’
‘Oh, do stop fussing, Matt.’ Charlotte dimpled mischievously up at her brother. ‘I told you I could do it. It was a simple climb up the wisteria into his bedchamber. He’d left the window open, as we knew he always does, and the stupid thing was lying on his dressing chest. I grabbed it and climbed down again, in no more than a few minutes. He will never guess it was I—no one could possibly know. I shall just have to make sure never to wear the necklace in town, because if he saw it he might recognise it.’
