by Mary Nichols
‘Perhaps we shall have an opportunity of private rehearsal,’ he said. ‘I am at your disposal at any time.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘And will you do me the honour of taking a carriage ride in the park with me tomorrow?’
‘I shall be delighted.’ Then, remembering her stepmother’s advice to hold back a little, added, ‘But not tomorrow. Wednesday would be more convenient.’
‘Then Wednesday it shall be. I shall call for you at two o’clock.’ He bowed and left, beaming with satisfaction.
‘He looks pleased with himself,’ James said, coming to stand beside her.
She laughed. ‘Yes, I have agreed to go for a ride in his carriage on Wednesday.’
‘Oh,’ His pause was only momentary, and he quickly brought himself under control, bent over her hand and smiled. ‘If you remember, Wincote and I are to go to Hampstead Heath next week. Have you spoken to the Duchess about joining us?’
‘Yes. She is in favour. I should have told everyone.’ She stepped forward and clapped her hands for silence and repaired the omission, which, she had to admit, was received with more enthusiasm than the prospect of learning a Shakespeare play, and then one by one, they began to leave.
‘Sir Percy, are you going in the direction of White’s?’ James asked. ‘I have something I particularly want to discuss with you.’
The older man nodded and they set off together, walking in companionable silence until Sir Percy broke it. ‘Well, what is it?’ he demanded. ‘I had been hoping to see the Duchess and be asked to dinner, but you must needs drag me away.’
‘I am sorry for that,’ James said, guessing that Sir Percy had been in love with the Duchess for years and would rather die than admit it. ‘But it is because of something Little Mama asked me to do that I need your help.’
‘Fire away.’
‘What do you know of Lord Wincote?’
‘Nothing, my boy. I heard that his family come from some outlandish place in the north of the country and live on mutton, no more than that.’
‘The Duke of Loscoe has said he remembers something about someone called Charles Wincote, who had to leave Town over some indiscretion years ago.’
‘That has no bearing on Lord Edmund Wincote, surely?’
‘Perhaps not, but for some reason, I do not trust him.’
‘Do not trust or do not like? Oh, I am an old fool, but not such a clunch as not to see what is under my nose. You love the little lady and he is making a play for her. Stands to reason you’d be jealous.’
James smiled wryly; Sir Percy might act the buffoon, but he missed nothing. ‘It is not only me. The Duchess is uneasy too, which is why she asked me to find out what I can. Trouble is, no one seems to know anything against him.’
‘Then perhaps there is nothing to discover.’
‘I overheard him telling Vinny that his grandfather had known the Countess of Jersey years ago.’
Percy suddenly clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘Lor, now I remember. It was decades ago. Charles Wincote was said to be one of her ladyship’s lovers, but when the Prince of Wales took her under his wing, so to speak, he gave Lord Wincote some inducement to leave the field clear. Of course, Prinny tired of her as he always does, which is why, I suppose, she sides with the Queen now.’
‘And Lord Wincote visits her. Do you suppose it can have any bearing on the King’s case against the Queen? If he has been brought to London to give evidence…’
‘What evidence? Oh, you mean if Brougham decides to bring in counter-claims against the King, as he has threatened to do. He wouldn’t, would he?’
‘I do not know and in truth I do not care,’ James said. ‘Except that if Lavinia becomes involved with him, it cannot fail to affect the Duke and Duchess.’
‘What do you suggest we do? Tell them?’
‘I don’t know. I may be following the wrong scent entirely. And becoming embroiled in the King’s business is dangerous at any time, but especially now. I would rather find some other way to discourage the man.’
‘You will never do it by acting the jealous suitor, my boy. Have quite the opposite effect, don’t you know?’
‘Then what do you suggest I do?’
‘Stand off a bit and let him cook his own goose.’ He tapped the side of his nose with his forefinger. ‘I have an idea. Leave it to me.’ They arrived at the door of White’s, a gentlemen’s club to which they both belonged. ‘And since you deprived me of a good dinner at Stanmore House, you may buy me one here.’
‘Gladly,’ James said. It was not going to be easy to stand back and watch Lavinia and that man together, but he would try, at least until Percy told him what he planned to do. He might even flirt a little with other young ladies, but not too much. Lavinia was too important to him.
Chapter Four
Edmund arrived promptly on Wednesday afternoon to take Lavinia out in his carriage. The day was almost unbearably hot and she wore the coolest dress in her wardrobe, a spotted poplin gathered into a high waist, with a scooped neck and short puffed sleeves. Her arms were covered by long cotton gloves and her head with a large brimmed cottager hat tied beneath her chin with blue ribbon. In her hand she carried a fan and a parasol whose edge was trimmed in ruched silk. The Duchess had declined to accompany them and she was chaperoned by Tom Bagshott, who rode beside the carriage.
‘It is hotter than ever,’ Lavinia said, snapping open her fan, though once the horses were moving, the slight current of air over the open carriage brought some relief. ‘I wish we did not have to stop in London, but Papa has to stay because of the business over the Queen and while he is here my stepmama is determined to stay with him.’
‘I am glad of that,’ he said. His shirt points and cravat were as immaculately starched as ever, when everyone else’s seemed to be wilting in the heat. ‘I know it is selfish, but I could not bear to be deprived of your company.’
‘My lord,’ she whispered, glancing swiftly at Tom, who was busy looking straight ahead and pretending not to hear.
‘It is no more than I would say in front of a drawing room full of people, my dear. By now everyone must know my sentiments towards you and that my hopes are that they might be reciprocated. I make no secret of them.’
She stared down at her hands, unwilling to turn and look into his eyes. ‘My lord, it is too soon to speak of such things.’
‘Your reticence is to be commended. I would not expect, nor even want, you to rush into answering me, but I would have you know my intentions.’
‘But we hardly know each other. I do not know anything about you, your likes and dislikes…’
‘I am sure they accord most exactly with your own.’
She laughed rather shakily. ‘But you do not know what those are.’
‘Then let us put it to the test, shall we? I know you like the countryside, which is certainly my preference too. It is one of the reasons I have not come to town before now.’
‘Why did you come this year? It was surely not just to see the coronation.’
‘No, I had business to attend to. I am glad that I did or I should never have met you.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ she said and found herself wondering what that business might be. ‘What else do we have in common?’
‘A love of horses, riding and driving. I collect the Earl’s was not the first carriage you have driven, is it?’
‘No, I drive a curricle around the estate at Risley, but it is not only horses I like. I love all God’s creatures, dogs, cats, birds, rabbits, foxes, badgers. I have a menagerie of them at Risley and I would never love anyone who could harm an animal.’
‘Then you do not hunt?’
‘No, my lord, I do not.’ She spoke very firmly. ‘I once told Mama that I would have it written into my marriage contract that my husband should not hunt. She thought I was joking.’
‘And were you?’
‘Only partly, considering I am unlikely to have any say in the making of the contract
, apart from giving my consent, of course. Papa would never force me.’
He made no reply to this but went on with his catalogue. ‘Painting and literature, those are two more interests we share. I have no talent for painting, but I appreciate it in others.’
‘And what do you most hate?’
He smiled. ‘Anyone and anything that makes you frown.’
‘Am I frowning now?’
‘No, you are not. You are your sunny self, the most beautiful and bewitching young lady I have ever met. Did anyone ever tell you your eyes are the windows to your inner self? They could never lie, even if your tongue were to attempt it, which I know it would not.’
‘Oh, dear, are you saying you can read my thoughts in my eyes?’
‘Not quite, but I think on closer acquaintance, I would very soon be able to. That is as it should be between husband and wife, don’t you think?’
‘My lord, you go too fast,’ she said breathlessly. She must learn to control her expression, to veil her eyes so that they did not speak so readily. ‘I beg you to stop looking at me like that and pay attention to your driving and the people about us, before we excite comment. Lady Graham and Constance are in a chaise coming towards us and we cannot ignore them. Nor Lady Willoughby in the following carriage. She is an inveterate gossip and I would not give her the means to feed it.’
‘Very well. We will be polite to all, even Corringham, but I shall return to the subject when we are in a less public place.’
Lavinia had not seen James and found herself shaking more than ever. She was truly thankful no one had heard what Lord Wincote said, except perhaps Tom, who would never repeat it. She and Edmund acknowledged the ladies with a small bow, a smile and a few words, and then they were abreast of James. She knew her face was flaming and her hands were shaking. In an attempt to cover this she gave him one of her brightest smiles and waved a hand to him in greeting. ‘Good afternoon, my lord,’ she called to him.
He pulled up and doffed his riding hat as the carriage bowled past him, but his smile faded as soon as it had passed. Wincote had looked so self-satisfied, as if he had scored a point over him. And as for Vinny, she had looked startled, her colour unusually high and her greeting almost too blithe to be genuine, which left him wondering what had caused it. He cursed the agreement he had made with Sir Percy to hang back, when all he wanted to do was ride up alongside her and demand to know what had happened. But doing that would only alienate her.
‘Who was that with Lady Lavinia?’ Donald Greenaway asked him. Major Greenaway was a few years older than James and a friend of the Duke’s. Since the war he had been on half-pay, but he supplemented his income by making himself useful in any number of ways, sometimes as a private investigator. James’s meeting with him that afternoon had not been accidental.
‘Lord Edmund Wincote,’ he answered. ‘He has an estate in Cumberland, I believe.’
‘Are they going to make a match of it?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ James said grimly.
Donald looked sideways at him, as they continued, walking their horses so that they could converse. ‘You do not like him?’
‘No, I do not. Don’t ask me why.’
‘I won’t,’ Donald said. ‘No need. I can see the little green god on your shoulder as plain as day.’
James laughed good-humouredly. ‘It is not only that, there are other reasons. I believe he is a fortune-hunter, though so far I have been unable to find evidence.’
‘In dun territory, is he?’
‘I can’t be sure. I know he owes his tailor, but who doesn’t? He bought that equipage not three days ago, but it is far too soon to be paying for it.’
‘Where does he lodge?’
‘Mount Street, I believe.’
‘A respectable address.’ Donald paused. ‘Do you want me to see what I can discover?’
‘Please do. But be careful—if Vinny ever hears of it, she will never speak to me again. And say nothing to the Duke. If I am wrong, he will give me the roasting of a lifetime and if I am right, I would rather deal with Wincote myself.’
‘And take pleasure in doing it, I shouldn’t wonder. Why don’t you just step in and stake your claim to the chit?’
‘I will, when the time is right. At the moment she looks on me as a brother.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ Donald grinned.
‘Mine, I have no doubt. Now, be a good fellow and do as I ask, will you?’
It was his fault. He had never been a coward where other young ladies were concerned; he was able to flirt with the best in the accepted way of Society, to pay pretty compliments and declare an undying love which both knew meant nothing at all. When it came to the real thing the words would not come. Lavinia’s rejection of everyone at her come-out had confirmed to him she was not yet ready for courtship and marriage, but now, two years on, Wincote was receiving the attention he had hoped would one day be his. Had he delayed too long?
He left the Major to set about his enquiries, rode slowly back to Corringham House in Duke Street. He and his sister, Augusta, had grown up in the house under the watchful eye of his ‘Little Mama’, and he loved it, but it was too big for a bachelor. It needed a woman’s touch and a young family, but even more so did Twelvetrees, his Essex estate. That cried out for children to fill its huge, empty rooms with running feet and laughter, as his stepmother never tired of telling him. He had promised her he would do something about it this year.
Damn Edmund Wincote, damn the King and the Queen, and damn everyone else who thwarted him!
Riding home in Lord Wincote’s phaeton after seeing James, Lavinia felt thoroughly confused. She had had suitors before and dispatched them with admirable promptness, but Lord Wincote was different. For a start, he was not so easily banished, but that could be because she did not want to banish him. She had a feeling that she was being drawn into something she did not understand and might very well regret. But how could she regret his lordship’s obvious sincerity? He had as good as said he loved her, had talked of husbands and wives as if she had already given him leave to speak.
But she hadn’t, had she? She had not, by look or word, conveyed her feelings towards him. Had he read something in her eyes, as he said he could? Had James? Surely it didn’t matter so much what James thought. So why, when she had encountered him in the park, had she felt a wave of guilt wash over her? Suddenly, she had wanted to jump down and run back to him to explain.
Explain what, for goodness’ sake? That she had not wanted to ride straight past him, but short of taking the ribbons from his lordship’s hands, she could not have brought the horses to a standstill? He knew that perfectly well. She sat stiffly beside Edmund as he drove her home, her mind in turmoil. They were outside the front door of Stanmore House before she realised it.
‘May I have the honour of driving you to Hampstead on Friday?’ Edmund asked, as he handed her down from the carriage. ‘We could have grooms follow on our mounts, so that you may ride when we arrive, if you wish.’
‘Thank you, I shall be de—’ she began, then stopped, remembering her stepmother’s words. ‘But if the Duchess decides to go, I shall naturally ride with her in the family carriage.’
His look of annoyance quickly turned to a rueful smile. ‘I am sorry I cannot be of service, my lady, but I understand.’ He bowed and climbed back into the phaeton. ‘I shall look forward to meeting you there.’
‘Yes, of course.’ The footman on duty had opened the front door and she turned and went inside, pulling off her gloves and hat, thinking of Friday’s outing.
Almost everyone she knew would be going; there would be quite a cavalcade of carriages as well as riders. Being away from the stifling heat of London and in the fresh air with the excitement of horse racing, games of cricket and the flying of kites would be a welcome change. There was even talk of racing curricles and phaetons. She would have some fun with James, teasing him into letting her drive one of the light carriages. With James, she could
relax.
She refused to analyse her feelings about him, as she climbed the stairs and changed into an afternoon gown before joining Frances in the drawing room. It was enough of a problem making up her mind how she felt about Lord Wincote.
‘Did you enjoy your ride?’ her stepmother asked. She had a sketch book on her knee and a piece of charcoal in her hand. Drawing was her favourite pastime and she had an unerring eye for a picture.
‘Yes, though it was extremely hot. I wish we could go back to Loscoe Court.’
‘That would disappoint Lord Wincote,’ Frances said, with a gentle smile.
‘So he told me.’ And before her stepmother could ask what else he had said, she added, ‘We saw Lady Graham and Lady Willoughby. They asked me to convey their good wishes and to say they hope to see you at Hampstead on Friday.’ She paused. ‘You will be coming?’
‘I certainly hope to, though I think the Duke will have to stay in London. I wish he would come with us and forget Westminster for a few hours, he looks so drawn.’
They were interrupted by the butler announcing that dinner was ready and, as there were only two of them, they took their meal in the breakfast room. It was nearer to the kitchens and saved the servants having to walk so far. They spent their evening in quiet companionship until the Duke arrived home and claimed his wife, when Lavinia, pleading tiredness, kissed them both goodnight and went to her own room.
The arrival of the children with Miss Hastings, who looked after the younger ones, caused a flurry of excitement the next morning. The children were hugged and kissed, questions asked about their health and good behaviour and news exchanged. Jack, the adopted son of the Duke’s brother, was seven years old and full of mischief, but he was a lovable child and was soon regaling everyone with what had been going on at Loscoe Court in their absence.
He had been riding his pony, as well as the cart bringing the hay to the barn, and Lavinia’s menagerie, which he prided himself on looking after whenever she was absent, was thriving. ‘There are seven baby rabbits,’ he said. ‘I liked them but Benton was not best pleased, though he would not tell me why. He took the babies away.’
