The Earl Next Door

by Amanda Grange

  ‘As Lord Ravensford has other company, I think perhaps we should postpone our visit, and come back at another time.’

  ‘Mais oui.’ Henri was quick to agree. ‘I will go after the stable lad and retrieve the ’orses, and I will give ’im a message to send in to the ’ouse, that we are unable to keep the appointment. We will give Luke this time alone with Nicole.’

  He disappeared, only to reappear a minute or two later with his own horse and Marianne’s mare, and together they walked the horses down through the gardens.

  ‘Miss Marianne . . . . ’ said Henri thoughtfully. ‘If we tell Miss Stock the truth, it will be all round the neighbourhood before you know it, and Luke, ’e may not wish it to be known. It is a private matter, at least for now, so if you ’ave no objections, I will say Milord Ravensford sends ’is regrets, but ’e ’as some urgent business to attend to and cannot entertain visitors to tea.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, Henri, whatever you think best.’

  Marianne was not able to think clearly, and could do no more than listen with half an ear to the things Henri said. She was prepared to let him say whatever he thought best. Indeed, she could not have stopped him even if she had wanted to, because she was too stunned with what she had just seen.

  They reached the edge of the gardens and Henri cupped his hands together so that Marianne could mount. She moved awkwardly, but luckily Henri put her stiffness down to the cold. Another minute and they were riding back through the orchards to meet Miss Stock.

  ‘Why, how unfortunate,’ she exclaimed sympathetically, as Henri told her that Lord Ravensford was unavoidably engaged. ‘But then, that is always the way with gentlemen. They have so many calls on their time. You are not too disappointed, I hope, my dear?’ asked Miss Stock, turning to Marianne.

  ‘No.’ Marianne managed a semblance of a smile.

  ‘Ah, well. It is a good thing your brother and future sister-in-law did not come after all.’

  The ride back to Seaton Hall gave Marianne a chance to recover some of her composure. Miss Stock was not a natural horsewoman and made very little conversation whilst on horseback, a fact which allowed Marianne to restore herself to some semblance of calm. And calm was necessary. It was one thing to fool Henri and Miss Stock into thinking there was nothing wrong, but it would be quite another thing to fool Kit. Her brother had known her all her life, and was always able to tell when something was amiss. She would have to be extra vigilant during the rest of the afternoon and evening, to make sure he did not guess that she was disturbed. She did not want him to blame Luke for what had happened. Luke had done nothing wrong. No, all he had done was – what? What had he done?

  Fallen in love with her? She had assumed so, but she had to acknowledge to herself that he had never said so.

  Wanted to marry her? Again, she had assumed so, but he had never asked for her hand. She had thought he was going to declare himself the previous evening but she could not now even be sure of that. His important question could have been, “Will you wish me happy on my marriage to Nicole?”

  It must be, she told herself in her miserable state, that she had misread his feelings entirely, imagining that he was in love with her because she herself was so deeply in love with him.

  In love with him.

  Oh, yes, she was in love with him. She had known it for some time.

  He moved her in a way no other man had ever moved her. He matched her own unconventional nature with an unconventional nature of his own. He was anything but a gentleman, but then, she suspected she was anything but a lady. Oh, she was a lady in all the ways that truly mattered, she knew, but not in the superficial ways. She could not be meek or self-effacing. She could not stand by and pretend to be helpless when she was not. She could not flutter her eyelashes or pretend to be a simpleton. And Luke understood that. More, he admired her for it.

  Or so she had thought.

  But yes, she still thought it. He did admire her for her unconventional ways, she was sure of it. It was just that admiration and love were two very different things.

  Why, then, if he had not loved her, had he kissed her? she wondered, as they crossed the boundary between Billingsdale and Travis land. And not once, but so often?

  But why shouldn’t he? she thought, as she reminded herself again that he was anything but a gentleman. If he was not a gentleman, then how could she expect him to be governed by a gentleman’s standards of behaviour? She couldn’t. He was like the first Earl, he had openly admitted it. He saw what he wanted and he took it. And what he had wanted was her. Perhaps he had even thought he loved her . . . until Nicole had returned.

  Dapple began to strain at the bit. The mare was nearing her stable and knew she was on the last leg of the ride. Marianne slackened the rein slightly, giving Dapple a little more freedom.

  The one thing she was thankful for, as she clattered into the stable yard, was that she had told no one of her feelings, not even Kit – although she suspected he had guessed – and she still had her pride to sustain her, at least for the next few hours. After that, she could give way to her feelings. But not now. Not yet. Now, she must not think of it. For the rest of the day, however impossible it seemed, she must put it out of her mind.

  And yet, how could she, when the image of him holding Nicole was playing itself endlessly before her? she wondered, as the stable lad helped her to dismount; alternating with the even more painful image of him looking at the Frenchwoman with an expression of pure love? Nicole, whom he must have known long before he had met Marianne; Nicole, whom he had thought he had lost to the guillotine.

  It would have been a romantic story if it had not been so devastatingly painful, Marianne thought.

  But she must not dwell on it. She must be able to offer Miss Stock a dish of tea when they went indoors as though nothing was wrong, and then listen to Kit and Adèle’s plans for their wedding with interest, so as not to spoil a happy occasion for two of the people she cared about most in the world.

  She felt her anguish imperceptibly lessen as she led the way into the Hall, soothed by her familiar surrounding. She had lost the terrible numbness that had gripped her, and felt equal to at least pretending to be calm. She invited Miss Stock into the drawing-room, and soon afterwards they were joined by the Reverend Mr Stock, Mr Travis, Kit and Adèle.

  ‘Marianne. You’re back early,’ said Kit, giving her a quizzical look.

  ‘Yes, was it not a shame?’ asked Miss Stock, fortunately saving Marianne from the necessity of speaking. ‘Lord Ravensford had to attend to some urgent business, and our tea party had to be put off.’

  ‘A good thing you didn’t go, then,’ said Mr Travis to his son. ‘You’d have had a wasted journey, and so would the good Reverend.’ He turned to Miss Stock. ‘Your brother has been giving us the benefit of his wisdom in arranging the order of service and in choosing the hymns,’ he told her.

  ‘Oh, good, Sebastien. I’m so glad you’ve been of use.’

  ‘And then it’ll be your turn, eh, miss?’ said her father teasingly, turning to Marianne. ‘With that new ball gown Madame LaTour’s making for you, you’ll soon find a husband, eh, Marianne?’

  Her father’s well-intentioned joviality could not have come at a worse time. She flushed, but fortunately her father took it for maidenly modesty and turned his attention back to the Reverend.

  ‘You’ll stay for dinner, Reverend?’ he asked. ‘And Miss Stock, of course,’ he said, making a courtly bow in Miss Stock’s direction.

  ‘Alas, no,’ said the Reverend Mr Stock with genuine regret. ‘I’m afraid I am seeing Mr and Mrs Thwaite at seven and I mustn’t disappoint them.’

  ‘Another time, then,’ said Mr Travis courteously.

  He went out into the hall with the Reverend and his sister, to see them on their way.

  As soon as he had left the room, Kit went over to Marianne. ‘Is anything wrong, Mari?’ he asked.

  She put a smile on her face. ‘No. Of course not. What could be wrong? Now, if yo
u’ll excuse me, I must change out of my riding habit. I would have done it sooner, but I did not like to abandon Miss Stock.’

  And with that she left the room.

  Kit, puzzled, looked after her.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Adèle, going over to him and taking his arm.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s just that, there seems to be something wrong with Marianne. I wonder if Luke was really out, or –’

  ‘You cannot solve a lover’s quarrel,’ she said gently. ‘If Marianne and Luke have indeed had a falling out, they must solve it on their own. You cannot do it for them, Kit, no matter how much you might wish it.’

  Kit sighed, covering her hand with his own. ‘You’re right, my love. We have had our fair share of problems, and our love is stronger because of them. Marianne and Luke must find their own way, too.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Marianne found it very difficult to concentrate over the next, dragging, days. The time should have been enjoyable, consisting as it did of making preparations for the ball, and not just any ball, but a ball that was being held to celebrate her brother’s betrothal. But she could not prevent her thoughts returning again and again to Luke. If only she could have disliked him it would have made it so much easier, giving her a vent for her turbulent emotions. But even now she could not dislike him, because he had never lied to her. He had never told her he loved her. He had never deceived her.

  Or if only she could have disliked Nicole. But how could she dislike a beautiful young woman who had never intentionally done her any harm, and who had not only endured the terrors of revolutionary France but had also narrowly escaped the guillotine?

  No; even in her pain she could not be so unreasonable.

  The one thing which made it easier for her was the fact that she did not have to see Luke and Nicole together. In fact, she did not even have to see Luke. Kit was too preoccupied with his own concerns to visit his friend, and as Luke himself did not come to call she was spared the painful necessity of congratulating him on his happiness whilst she was suffering inside. She had been half-expecting it to begin with, jumping every time she heard the sound of a carriage and steeling herself to face the coming ordeal with calm. But he never came.

  The reason for that, however, was soon explained. Miss Stock, visiting with the Reverend Mr Stock, revealed that Lord Ravensford had gone to London.

  ‘Although what he can be doing there I’m sure I don’t know,’ said Miss Stock, who enjoyed a harmless gossip. ‘Perhaps it is connected with the business that compelled him to cancel our tea party.’

  Marianne’s mind jumped to the most likely cause of his business, thinking that he must have gone to London in order to get a special licence so that he and Nicole could be married immediately.

  She was numb.

  ‘Perhaps you are mistaken,’ said Adèle to Miss Stock, noticing that Marianne had gone suddenly pale.

  ‘No, my dear, for I had it from my cook, who had it from Lord Ravensford’s Mrs Hill. He has gone to London on some urgent business, my cook says. But never you mind, my dear Adèle. Mrs Hill says he will be back in time for your engagement ball.’

  Excusing herself once the Stocks had left, saying she had a headache, Marianne sought her room, too distressed to be in company. It’s for the best, she told herself resolutely, in the privacy of her own room. When he has the special licence they will be married, and then I can accustom myself to it. Once it is a fait accompli I must.

  But her heart was dying inside her.

  Lord Ravensford returned. No marriage took place.

  Marianne did not know whether this made it easier or harder. In a way it made it easier because, although she kept telling herself that she would adjust to the situation once Luke was married, she knew it was not true. She knew she would never accustom herself to it. But in a way it made it harder, too. The constant state of tension she was in was making her miserable. Every time she heard Luke’s name mentioned she thought she was going to hear of his marriage and her heart started to pound, and every time the word “wedding” was mentioned – which, as her brother was shortly to be married, was at least a dozen times a day – she thought it was Luke’s wedding she was going to be called upon to talk about.

  But the days passed and no word of any wedding came.

  It was a puzzle. But perhaps he had decided not to marry at once, after all, she told herself. Perhaps he had decided he would rather wait until he could return to his own estate.

  The idea gave her some relief. If he and Nicole married on his own estate she would not need to see them together, and would not even need to offer them her congratulations. And once he was out of the neighbourhood then Marianne felt there was at least a chance that, in time, she would be able to – if not forget him – at least accept in some measure that he would never be a part of her life again.

  She would have to.

  In the meantime, she had to pretend, for her brother’s sake, and for the sake of Adèle, that she was happy and contented. She would not spoil their happiness for all the world. But it was extremely hard.

  ‘Ah! Mademoiselle! You look beautiful! Your husband-to-be is a lucky man, n’est-ce-pas?’ said Madame LaTour to Adèle, a week after the abortive tea party, as she put the final touches to Adèle and Marianne’s ball gowns.

  Adèle swished from side to side, happily regarding herself in the cheval glass.

  ‘What do you think?’ Adèle asked Marianne. ‘Will Kit like it?’

  ‘He’ll be enchanted,’ said Marianne with a smile.

  Adèle did indeed look lovely in her ballgown, the white silk skirt of which swished around her feet. The jonquil stripes on the bodice and sleeves suited her olive complexion.

  ‘And you, Mademoiselle, you like your gown too?’ asked Madame LaTour.

  ‘Yes. Yes, it’s lovely,’ said Marianne.

  Her gown, with its delicate blue stripes, brought out the full beauty of her eyes, and flattered her figure in the most delightful way. The tight waist accentuated her slender figure and the scoop neckline revealed the most delectable morsel of creamy skin. But its delights were quite lost on her today.

  ‘It suits you,’ said Madame LaTour with her head on one side. ‘But it is un peu too big. You are thinner than last time I saw you, I think.’

  She adjusted the bodice slightly before sitting back on her heels with an air of satisfaction. ‘Now, we need only a ribbon to trim it, like so . . . ‘ She held a ribbon up against the gown, ‘and then it will be complete.’

  ‘It’s so good of Godfather, to spend all this money on my clothes, and on the ball,’ said Adèle to Marianne, as they changed back into their day dresses. ‘I know, things, they have not been easy for him.’ She tried not to look at the peeling piece of wallpaper in the corner of the room as she spoke.

  ‘What better to spend it on than your betrothal?’ said Marianne. She looked out of the window. ‘I used to be passionately devoted to the estate, and when I thought that Papa had had to sell off a large parcel of land to pay Kit’s gambling debts I was angry. But when I discovered what the money had really been used for I was glad. And I am glad now that papa is to sell off another parcel of land so that he can restore the house to its former glory – or even better, for I’m sure he means you to take a hand.’

  Adèle blushed prettily at the idea of furnishing and decorating her future home, and at Marianne’s obvious belief that her natural taste would be an asset during the renovations.

  ‘And he means to hire a full complement of servants, too,’ went on Marianne, ‘so you will be comfortable in your married life.’

  ‘I am so grateful to him,’ said Adèle simply. ‘He is so good to me.’

  ‘And so he should be. You are going to be his daughter, you know!’

  Adèle gave a happy smile. ‘Oh, Marianne, it is like a dream come true.’ She hesitated. ‘I hope, one day, you can be as happy.’

  Marianne hesitated, then deciding it was better to avoid the painful subject
she said, ‘Come, let’s go downstairs. We still need to help Henri finalise the plans for the ball supper. And then there are the musicians to arrange.’

  Only one last effort, thought Marianne as she looked at herself in the cheval glass, and then the ball will be over and things will return to normal. I will not have to see Luke again.

  She pinched her cheeks to put a little colour in them. Her father had commented once or twice recently on how pale she was looking, and she did not want to give him any cause for concern, and then went downstairs.

  Kit and Adèle were already waiting in the hall, together with her father, and as she reached the bottom of the stairs her father had just time to say, ‘Marianne! You look lovely, my dear,’ before the guests began to arrive.