The Seduction of an English Lady

by Cathy Maxwell

  “Then it is the same. I hadn’t planned on that turn of events, so he has no one to blame but himself.” She ticked off on her fingers the abuses. “He contradicted his wife, refused to hear what she had to say, and walked out on her in front of a guest. Three things a sensible man shouldn’t do.”

  “I shall remember that in the future,” Colin murmured.

  “I pray you do,” she answered, pleased.

  “So what happened next?” he asked.

  “Lady Loftus followed him out of the room. I don’t know where they went. I could hear angry words being exchanged.” She leaned closer. “I heard threats about going to London mentioned numerous times.”

  “It’s the reason he wanted me to marry you,” Colin agreed. “If you left the Valley, his wife would drag him back to town, and he couldn’t abide the thought.”

  “The next thing I know, she returns and announces that she has convinced her husband to reconsider both you and Mr. Shellsworth for the seat. It was the best I could do, Colin. Lord Loftus is being very stubborn. He claims there are many who already know he is putting Mr. Shellsworth in the Commons seat and there are those who think he is a bit brain-addled—his words, not mine—for not picking his man and staying with him.”

  “So what is he going to do?”

  Now came the part that made her a bit nervous. She hoped he liked this next bit of news. She had her doubts. “Lady Loftus wondered how we could present the two of you in a way her husband could save face.”

  “And—?”

  “And I suggested an oratory contest.”

  “A what?” Colin came to his feet. “What are Shellsworth and I to do? Stake a side in Loftus’s dining room and bore him through dinner?”

  “No, actually, I talked to the owner of the White Lion, and he said the contest could be held there.” The White Lion was a public house located at the crossroads in the center of Clitheroe.

  Colin slowly sat down. “Rosalyn, you have been busy.”

  “I fear so.” Misgivings assailed her. “Colin, you aren’t frightfully angry, are you? Once I made the suggestion, Lady Loftus said it was perfect, and after she told his lordship, he came out of hiding and agreed. In fact, he was enthused about the idea. He said there have been those encouraging him to be more republican.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Colin leaned back in the chair and shook his head. “Go on. What else?”

  How did he know? It was hard to look at him as she said this next bit. “Mr. Botherton, the owner of the White Lion, was overjoyed at the idea of having an oratory contest on his premises. The day should be nice tomorrow—”

  “Tomorrow?” He seemed numb to her surprises by now.

  She nodded. “Lady Loftus and I got caught up in the excitement of the thing, and his lordship did not want to string this all out.”

  Colin gave a heavy sigh. “Tomorrow,” he agreed.

  “In the afternoon, at half past two, or at least that is what the handbills say.”

  “Handbills?” he asked, incredulous. “You and Lady Loftus have been giving out handbills?”

  “No, um, Mr. Botherton had his children draw them up. He’s excited about the business. You know, he purchased the Lion last year, and people have taken their time warming up to him. He’s a Manchester man.”

  “Well, if he is a Manchester man, then he would be keen on political speeches.”

  “He is,” Rosalyn agreed, somewhat amazed that Colin would know this.

  “So, tomorrow at half past two, I am to speak before a crowd of people—”

  “Hopefully, and Lord Loftus, too, of course.”

  “Of course,” he agreed patently, as if it was silly of him to forget his patron. “Anyway, Shellsworth and I will give speeches and Loftus will be our judge?”

  “Yes, but Lady Loftus will be there too, and, Colin, she likes you very much. Everyone likes you better than Mr. Shellsworth. Even, I suspect, Lord Loftus.”

  “So the words of the oration don’t matter. What is important is how many people like us?”

  “Well, yes,” Rosalyn agreed, puzzled by his lack of enthusiasm. “I mean, isn’t that the way of everything?”

  He stared at her a moment and then, to her relief, smiled. “As a matter of fact, yes.”

  “But—?” she prompted. “Don’t you want the seat?”

  Colin drew a breath and released it slowly, his gaze on some point beyond Rosalyn. “I did. I do.” He shook his head. “It all changes so fast. I thought of myself one way, discovered a frightening shallowness, and now, I’m being tempted again.”

  “I don’t think you are shallow,” she asserted. “Mr. Shellsworth is shallow. You are certainly more deserving of the seat.”

  “What I don’t know if I deserve is your trust in me,” he said slowly.

  Rosalyn froze, afraid to move, not understanding what he was saying. Did he mean that he didn’t want her to be involved in his life? Did she do something wrong and he was angry with her? She didn’t have the courage to ask.

  Instead, she said faintly, “Everyone will be at the White Lion on the morrow. I admit I may have become a bit too excited. I know how to do these things and now, Colin, this contest is all anyone in the Valley can talk about. It escalated before I realized I’d not truly discussed the matter with you.”

  Rosalyn had been so elated to have Lord Loftus reconsider his decision, and, with Lady Loftus’s encouragement, she’d taken much on herself. Perhaps too much?

  “Colin, I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I wanted you to be happy.”

  He reached for her hand. “Rosalyn, being denied the seat was a bitter pill, but yesterday, I was more upset about the words my brother threw at me.”

  “So you didn’t mind losing the seat?”

  Colin looked down at her hand. “Or is it you are disappointed that I’ll not have the seat?”

  His question caught her by surprise. She hadn’t been thinking about herself…or so she had thought….

  “Good God, it’s Shellsworth,” Colin said.

  Rosalyn looked up and saw her husband staring out the window. Sure enough, the lawyer was galloping up their drive. He yanked his horse to a stop and leaped off it. John had seen him coming and was there to take the reins, which Mr. Shellsworth threw at him.

  “You stay here,” Colin ordered as he rose to go to the door. Rosalyn immediately came to her feet and followed him.

  Mr. Shellsworth was just getting ready to pound on the door when Colin opened it. The expression on the lawyer’s face at seeing Colin was almost comical.

  “Have you come to pay a call?” Colin asked.

  “I’ve come to wish you to the devil,” Mr. Shellsworth ground out, his hat low on his head, as if he’d jerked it on.

  “Well, if that is all,” Colin said pleasantly, “then good day.” He would have shut the door in the man’s face except Mr. Shellsworth pushed his way in with astounding strength.

  “How did you do it?” he asked. “That Commons seat was mine—twice! And each time, you are behind my losing it.”

  “You haven’t lost it,” Colin answered. “My understanding is that Loftus will make his decision after our speeches. You are a lawyer. Do you have such little faith in your own talent?”

  If he’d threatened the man, his words could not have had more impact. Mr. Shellsworth’s eyes almost popped out of his head. His chipmunk cheeks turned red. “I will bury you with my speech!” he promised. “What does an upstart like you know about governing? If you were really worth your salt, you would have been knighted, but then, they don’t give titles to cobbler’s sons, do they?”

  Colin laughed. “Is this an insult? We all know what my father did. I was raised in this Valley, Shellsworth. Here, the name Mandland means something.”

  The implied insult was not lost on Mr. Shellsworth. He had to know he was not well liked. Why else would he be so upset about having to give a speech?

  “We’ll see, won’t we?” the lawyer said tightly. “Your true color
s will be found out then, Mandland. I’ve been asking questions. I’ve heard about some of your stances during the war, how you wanted to eat with your men the night before a battle and not in the officers’ mess. There are those of good name and family who do not trust you. I know you were almost cashiered for countermanding the order of your superior!” he finished triumphantly, “cashiered” referring to an officer being dishonorably discharged.

  “I rescinded an order from a fellow officer that would have led to the needless slaughter of a company of men,” Colin returned evenly. “The duke himself stepped in on my behalf. I don’t think you or Rawlins will go far on that piece of nonsense.”

  “Rawlins?” Mr. Shellsworth said, pretending to not know the name.

  “Brice Rawlins, Varny’s youngest son, and a lazier, stupider name never walked the earth,” Colin answered. “You can tell him exactly what I said. And, if he ever attempts to smear my name again, he’ll meet my steel.”

  Mr. Shellsworth backed out the door. His gaze darted to Colin’s side as if looking to see if he was armed. Out on the step, he turned and walked toward his horse. Waiting until he was safely in the saddle, he addressed Colin, his face contorted in disgust. “You’ll not win,” he vowed. “Loftus has more sense than to choose you.”

  He slapped the animal, urging it to go as quickly as he’d arrived.

  Rosalyn stepped out on the step by Colin’s side. She was deeply disturbed by the venom in the man’s nature.

  “Don’t worry, he’s gone,” Colin said, putting his arm around her waist.

  However, a quarter of the way down the drive, Mr. Shellsworth jerked his horse to a stop. He looked over at the woods bordering the drive. Rosalyn followed the direction of his gaze and saw the fox, watching.

  Colin saw the animal, too.

  However, neither of them anticipated Mr. Shellsworth’s next action. He reached inside his coat and then straightened his arm in the direction of the fox. Too late she realized he held a gun in his hand. A shot rang out.

  Mr. Shellsworth swung his horse around to face them, the triumph in his eyes frightening. He put heels to horse and rode off.

  Colin was already running to where the fox had been. Rosalyn picked up her skirts and went after him. John followed. Of course, Colin reached the animal first. The fox was not where they thought he would be.

  Rosalyn dared to hope he had escaped unharmed, until she saw the blood on the ground.

  Her husband went down on one knee and climbed into the underbrush. Rosalyn caught sight of the animal. The fox watched him with wary eyes, and there was no mistaking the blood staining his red coat.

  “Easy,” Colin whispered.

  The fox seemed to understand. He laid his head down on the damp ground and let Colin gently probe the wound. “I don’t think he is badly hurt,” he said. “That pistol of Shellsworth’s is more a toy than a gun.”

  Rosalyn knelt beside him. “What are we going to do with him, though? Look at the way it bleeds.”

  Colin removed his jacket. “We’ll take him in the house and put him by Cook’s hearth in the kitchen. He’ll get better.”

  “You’ll take him into the house?” repeated John, who had come up behind them. “A wild creature like a fox?”

  “Yes,” Colin answered decisively. “We’ll take him in and nurse him to health.” He gathered the fox in his arms and stood. To his credit, the animal understood Colin meant no harm. He trusted Colin enough to let himself be carried.

  Cook was not overly pleased about having a fox in her kitchen. To her way of thinking, foxes were little better than vermin, but she was not about to gainsay Colin.

  Rosalyn found a basket and put some rags in it for a bed. John brought to the kitchen a salve he used on the cart horse’s cuts. Together, they made the fox feel welcome.

  “Mr. Shellsworth had no business firing a gun this close to the house,” Cook said. She looked right in Colin’s eyes and added, “I hope you talk the breeches off the man tomorrow. We’ll all be there to cheer you on.”

  “Thank you, Cook,” Colin answered. “I plan on destroying him.”

  He turned on his heel and walked out of the kitchen, leaving a fearful Rosalyn behind. She was afraid of what might happen on the morrow…and knew whatever it was would be all her fault.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Colin had seen destruction in his life. He’d witnessed whole villages being razed in India, watched men beside him blown to pieces in Portugal, seen the senselessness of war. But nothing had ever made him as angry as Shellsworth shooting the fox.

  And he didn’t know why, except, perhaps, coming on the heels of his brother’s words, it crystallized just how insane his world had become. Nothing was as it should have been.

  It never would be. He seemed destined to never amount to anything, but he was too ambitious to give up. And he didn’t want to be bested by a bastard like Shellsworth.

  Colin looked down at the blank paper on the desk in front of him. Matt’s charges against him echoed in his ears, except he had his own questions.

  Was it senseless ambition to know he was a better man and wanted his due? Why must he accept his class status? Matt had, whether he realized it or not. He’d turned his back on ambition and felt Colin should too, and every fiber in Colin’s being rebelled at the idea.

  He’d beat Shellsworth at his own game. He knew what Loftus wanted to hear, and he’d give it to him.

  Colin picked up the pen and started writing. He was so involved that Rosalyn must have been standing at the door for some time before he registered her presence.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  She didn’t step in the room but lingered in the hall. “The fox is going to be all right.”

  “Good.” He frowned at the phrase he had just written and crossed it out.

  “Colin, I’m sorry.”

  He was impatient with the interruption, but he took a moment to focus his attention on her. That’s when he noticed how pale she was. “Sorry? Rosalyn, this isn’t your fault.”

  “I’m the one who talked Lord Loftus into the oratory contest.”

  Colin shook his head. “No, you gave me another opportunity to do Shellsworth in, and I shall.”

  “I thought you were angry with me earlier.”

  He set aside his pen and spoke the truth. “Rosalyn, I don’t know what I am anymore, but I’m not angry with you.”

  She nodded absently.

  “Why did he shoot a defenseless creature?”

  “Because he couldn’t shoot us. Frightening, isn’t it? It tells you how far some men will go unless someone stops them.”

  “Colin, I’m afraid. What if you win the contest? Then what will he do?”

  “Are you asking if he has the nerve to challenge me?” Colin laughed. “Did you see how fast he galloped away after he shot the fox? He was afraid I would challenge him. No, I’ll publicly beat him on the morrow, and it will be shame enough.”

  “Are you going to talk about the ideas you shared with me last night? The ones about all men having the right to a vote?”

  So. That was it. She feared he would speak his mind.

  All his past failures rolled back to him.

  Colin pushed back from the desk, uncertain. Of course, he shouldn’t have spoken his mind to Rosalyn last night. He thought of Belinda Lovejoyce, whom he had loved so much and who had betrayed his love.

  But Rosalyn had gone to Loftus for him. Rosalyn had wanted him to have another chance, even after she knew his deepest thoughts.

  The two of them watched each other, and he knew she was as wary as he.

  “What if I do discuss my deepest convictions?” he asked.

  Rosalyn’s gray-green gaze focused on the floor. “I don’t know much about politics, Colin. I just want to make everything right.”

  He stood and crossed over to her. “Rosalyn, would you leave with me right now? Would you walk out the door with me and leave Clitheroe, the Valley, everyone?”

  “Even Cov
ey?”

  This was a hard test. “Yes.”

  She leaned back. “You are angry.”

  “No, I’m not, I’m just—” He stopped. He’d been about to say he wasn’t sure of her love. But to do that would be to confess his own.

  For a moment, Colin struggled with himself. His brother was right. He was a coward. He wasn’t about to expose his heart again. It had taken too long to heal from that last time.

  “I think,” she said slowly, “it would be easier if you had challenged Mr. Shellsworth to a duel.”

  Her observation surprised a laugh out of him. “You’re right.” The tension between them eased.

  “You will come to bed?” she asked.

  “As soon as I’m done.”

  Rosalyn took a step back, and he found himself thinking of how beautiful she had become. “I’ll be waiting,” she whispered.

  He nodded, words unnecessary. She turned, lifted her hem, and climbed the stairs, but then she stopped. “Colin, it may be best if you keep your more radical ideas a secret.”

  There, she’d finally said it.

  “You believe it unwise to speak out?”

  The lines of her mouth flattened, and there was that delightful dimple that intrigued him so much. He liked seeing it better when she was smiling. “I think you must be careful if you want the Commons seat,” she replied. She released her breath, as if she feared she’d already said too much. “Good night.” She hurried to their room.

  Colin watched her and then returned to his work. Suddenly the rights of men paled in the face of caring for this young woman. He looked down at what he’d written, a hodgepodge of what he thought Loftus wanted to hear, married to some of his own beliefs.

  If he won the seat, Loftus would expect him to represent his interests. Colin would not receive it any other way. If he really spoke his mind, he could be ostracized by the gentry.

  And that might cost him this new and very fragile love.

  He sat at the desk and looked out the window into the night, caught in the devil’s own dilemma.

  Rosalyn wished she was more experienced in life. Then perhaps she would know how best to counsel him. The moment her warning had left her lips, she had felt guilty.