The Devil You Know

by Sophia Holloway

  ‘My father, you know, was a good judge, and I think I have inherited his eye, though I say it myself. I prefer driving to hunting, of course, and only last week when I was in Town I got a real bargain off Chertsey. Pair of chestnuts, lovely movers, and I beat him down to four hundred for the pair.’

  ‘Really? Four hundred?’ There was an inflexion of surprise in Ledbury’s voice.

  ‘Indeed.’ Bidford smiled proudly, reading admiration in the response. ‘He said it was a wrench to part with them but… Dibs were not in tune… You know…’

  ‘It must certainly be a wrench. He has not had them more than six months, as I recall. They were Appleby’s breakdowns… in every sense.’ Ledbury only just managed to contain himself. Chertsey was no judge of horses and had bought the showy pair only to find the ‘sweet goers’ were matched in colour and height but not in action, that one showed signs of throwing out a splint and the other had suspect wind. Once he had found out his mistake, Chertsey had been offering them to any greenhorn who came his way.

  ‘I wonder how much Lord Chertsey paid then?’ murmured Miss Elford, unable to keep silent. Her brother seemed not to have heard her, but Lord Ledbury surreptitiously held up three fingers. She resorted to her napkin to hide her smile, but mentally chastised herself. It was so very easy, falling into the trap of joining forces with him against Bidford, but it was a pact with the devil. She may have no alternative but to marry the man, but she really had to keep her distance. It was a relief when she could leave the gentlemen to their port.

  When they joined her in the drawing room, Lord Ledbury looked both bored and dissatisfied, and her brother flustered. The atmosphere was not one in which she wished to linger and so she rang for the tea tray as soon as was seemly, and retired shortly thereafter.

  ‘Yes, yes, my dear sister, do by all means go to bed. After all, tomorrow is an important day. Do not lose your sleep in anticipation.’ Bidford sounded as if she was awaiting a treat.

  Kitty wondered if he had imbibed too freely, or was he mocking her? She withdrew, fuming and though she felt far too awake it was not because of eager excitement. She railed against the impossible situation in which he had placed her, and when eventually she slept, she dreamed she was in the rose garden, watching her brother and Ledbury walking along a path, and from beneath the tails of Lord Ledbury’s coat snaked a devil’s tail.

  2

  Kitty woke early after her disturbed rest, and lay in the predawn darkness contemplating her fate. She was no fool. If Ledbury did indeed propose as intended, he was looking for a wife to provide an heir and to sit quietly on his estates and ignore, in a ladylike fashion, his blatant infidelities. It was not an uncommon state of affairs, but not one she could view with equanimity. From what little she had gathered from veiled comments among her aunt’s friends, even quite ‘good’ husbands were liable to let their eyes, and other parts, stray at times, but Ledbury was not discreet, and his inamoratas were not from the demi-monde. She would have to be polite to women whom she knew had been far closer to her husband than she would ever be, and act as if ignorant. If one had no feelings for that husband it might be possible, but for everything in the Earl of Ledbury that repelled, there was that magical something. If she succumbed, let her guard down, her life would become a misery, because she would want him to be hers, and hers alone. There was no logic to it of course. She did not know of anything in his favour except he, unlike Bidford, was an excellent horseman and judge of horseflesh, and he was physically very attractive. Those two things did not count for much when set against cynical and serial philandering, for she doubted very much if he actually tumbled into love, as opposed to bed, with his mistresses. There was also the matter of his short temper. She sighed. She was no fool, but she could become one.

  It was a very subdued young woman who came down to breakfast, which she ate alone, the gentlemen not having emerged from their bedchambers. She then went to the small saloon, where she rang for the housekeeper and discussed the completion of the inventory that was being prepared before the new Lady Bidford took charge. Shortly afterwards Bidford himself peered round the door.

  ‘Ah, there you are.’ He sounded as if they had been playing hide and seek.

  ‘I was not hiding, and for heaven’s sake, either come in or go, do not linger in the doorway like a nervous housemaid.’ She did not mean to snap, but in her present state even the sight of him annoyed her too much for civility.

  ‘I simply wanted to find out where you were. This room is a good as any I suppose.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For Ledbury to propose in, of course. Best get it over with, eh?’

  ‘Like having a tooth drawn?’

  ‘No. I mean, once all the formality is out the way we can relax.’ He looked far from relaxed.

  ‘You mean that you can, James, because you think Ledbury dare not back out once the notice is in the Gazette.’

  Bidford shrugged.

  ‘You should relax too. After all, marriage is the aim of every woman. Marry Ledbury and you are no longer a failure, and at your age he is the last chance you will get.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She regarded him with loathing.

  ‘Anyway, Ledbury is just finishing his breakfast. Stay here and I will bring him along directly.’

  Doing anything else would have been silly, and so Kitty waited, and waited. ‘Directly’ turned out to be some three quarters of an hour later, by which time she was as wound up as a watch spring. This time Bidford opened the door wide and stepped within with an exclamation of false surprise.

  ‘There you are, my dear.’ He paused, but she did not reply. ‘Here is Ledbury with something very particular to say to you,’ he declared, cheerily.

  Neither Lord Ledbury nor Miss Elford looked at all cheery. Bidford looked from one to the other and gave the sort of false cough that Kitty associated with clerks.

  ‘I believe there may be some slight awkwardness invo…’

  ‘Awkwardness, Brother? How so? Lord Ledbury has come to make me an offer and I am constrained to accept it. There is no awkwardness. Neither of us makes any pretence of the slightest tendre for the other.’ Her voice had a brittle brightness to it.

  ‘No awkwardness, Bidford, I agree, but I would infinitely prefer to make my offer in private.’ Lord Ledbury sounded bored rather than affronted, which Bidford counted as a positive thing.

  ‘Yes, do go away James, and cast one last look over the Bill of Sale… Sorry, Marriage Settlement.’

  Since both parties clearly wanted him gone, Lord Bidford withdrew with as much dignity as he could muster, which was not much. Lord Ledbury and Miss Elford were left looking at one another, neither over impressed by the other. His lordship wondered if it was worth it, even for the money. Kitty found his expression easy to read.

  ‘If you really do not think you can face the fence, my lord, I shall not reveal your refusal. I am under no illusion that you even recall my face.’

  ‘Recall…?’ He blinked, caught off his guard. ‘Should I?’

  ‘Oh no. You need not think you ever deigned to dance with me, let alone flirt. I was simply one of the anonymous mass of debutantes. You never gave any woman a second glance if she did not already wear a wedding ring, as I heard.’

  ‘If my past offends you, ma’am…’

  ‘It does not. It would only do so if you pretended an affection you do not feel. I am simply desirous to know why now and why me, though Bidford’s “generous” settlement must supply the latter reason. Forgive my curiosity.’ Her voice was cold, clinical. This was after all, a business transaction, even if she was the ‘goods’.

  ‘Very well. I came fully prepared to make a proposal in the accepted manner, “begging the honour” etc. etc., but if you want pound dealing so be it. Until recently, I had a cousin who would have stepped into my shoes if anything happened to me. He died, and the lawyers are still scrabbling about trying to find out if there is a more distant connection in line, or whether the title woul
d become extinct. I have no great feeling for my ancestors, but the title is old, and the least I can do is strive to provide “an heir of my body, legally begotten” as the lawyers phrase it. Oh, and before you ask, I have no knowledge of any illegally begotten, strange as you may find it. As to why you, you have correctly surmised that the amount Bidford is prepared to put up as your dowry makes you an ideal bride. I am expensive, or rather my stable is expensive, and my creditors short on willingness to extend my credit further. Marrying you solves any monetary embarrassment for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘Thank you. That is honest at least, my lord.’

  ‘Oh, I am many bad things, Miss Elford, but not dishonest. May I ask the same honesty of you. Why, if my morals offend you, as it is clear they do, whatever you say, are you prepared to receive my proposal? What is the “constraint” you mentioned?’

  ‘My dear brother has given me the choice of marrying you or being cast out, effectively without a penny. My mama left me a very small portion, and my papa, whether through lack of interest, or to keep me tied to Bidford, stipulated that my welfare lay within the remit of my brother. I am de facto his pensioner, and he has no further need of me.’

  ‘I see. In such circumstances you would make a pact with the devil himself.’

  ‘Just so, though in this case I believe the indefinite rather than the definite article.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ He frowned.

  ‘With “a” devil, not “the” devil.’ She gave the smallest of wry smiles.

  ‘Ah, I see.’

  ‘Yes.’ She paused for a moment. ‘I do not consider myself a romantic, my lord. I do not think that rakes reform, so I am unlikely to be shocked by your behaviour, however disappointing.’ No she would not be shocked, and yet…

  ‘I think that a very wise attitude, ma’am. I certainly would not promise what I could not deliver. Your pragmatism is… refreshing. I take it that we have an understanding, and that you agree to becoming my wife.’

  ‘I do, my lord, and we thereby make at least one person extremely happy, namely my brother, who has no doubt already penned the notice for the Gazette.’

  Lord Ledbury smiled, then, quite spontaneously, took her hand, bent, and kissed it. Both actions surprised her, but it was the former that shook her. The smile had been an almost boyish grin, lopsided and lacking in any cynicism, and it gave her serious doubts that she was doing the right thing. Marrying for mutual convenience was not ideal but very practical; falling the least bit in love with a man who possessed no heart would be a disaster, and so desperately easy.

  *

  Since Lord Bidford did not see any reason why his sister need waste any more money, which of course was his money, on bride clothes, and a private ceremony was both cheaper and convenient, he was more than happy to drive into Northampton with Lord Ledbury to obtain a licence from the Archdeacon. He thought Ledbury’s asking to handle the ribbons on the return journey indicated that the horse-mad peer liked his pair of bays, and he sat wondering what he might ask for them. In fact his lordship simply thought it far safer if he drove himself, since he had no wish to end up in a ditch, though he then discovered the pair between the shafts had very hard mouths. This might be the result of Bidford’s driving skills, or lack of them. Bidford might have thought selling the earl a horse would have been easier than ‘selling’ his sister, but in truth, nothing in the world would have made Lord Ledbury purchase anything from the viscount’s stable.

  Upon their return, Bidford sought out his half-sister, waving the piece of paper as if he had won it after some dangerous quest.

  ‘I have it.’

  ‘Do you expect me to applaud?’ Kitty set aside stitching new ribands on a chip straw hat, and raised an eyebrow. ‘I hardly think the archdeacon, or whoever you saw, was likely to challenge you to combat over it.’

  ‘No… well… but…’ Bidford hesitated, and thought, yet again, how glad he would be to be rid of an older sister who always made him feel six years old. There might be little more than eighteen months between them, their sire having remarried swiftly after being left with a baby in the nursery, and Bidford’s mama presenting him with his much desired heir barely ten months after their marriage, but she always acted older, and treated him with contempt. If she tried that with Ledbury she would soon learn the error of her ways. ‘Just make sure you dress up decently for dinner. That gown last night made you look even more of a dowd than normal. We don’t want any second thoughts from Ledbury, now he has put it to the touch, and what possessed you to mention Lady Minsterley at luncheon, when everyone knows she and…’

  ‘Oh, is she another of his conquests? I confess I did not know, brother. Perhaps you ought to provide me with a list of those I should avoid. It is no doubt extensive but…’

  Bidford flushed, and removed himself with poor grace, mumbling about ‘indelicate females’. Kitty sighed. She had told Lord Ledbury that she did not care about his sordid past, and he had seen it for the lie it was. No doubt he thought she had dreamed of some virtuous suitor, but in fact, had she ever considered the matter, she would not have expected to marry a man totally inexperienced in the bedchamber. She was not that naïve, but she knew herself to be very ignorant. Added to the fact that she would be marrying a man who was likely to have been intimate with a number of ladies she would meet at social functions, those ladies would have been ‘experienced’. That would cast her ignorance in a very poor light, and there was nobody to whom she might turn. It was a very awkward aspect. Kitty’s mama had died within a month of her birth, and her father’s swift remarriage had not provided her with a stepmother who took her to her bosom. Lady Bidford had only eyes for her own son, and had left the unwanted reminder of a previous marriage to the care of governesses, none of whom, of course, had any knowledge of ‘wifely duties’. The only effect of Lady Bidford’s demise had been to place Kitty in the role of mistress of the house, and in this she had proved entirely competent. That would be small comfort to either party on the dreaded wedding night.

  *

  Dinner, despite Kitty taking her brother’s instruction to heart, and wearing a gown that was barely two Seasons old, was an even more stilted affair than the previous evening. This was primarily because Lord Bidford declared even as the first dishes were set before them, that he had written a note to the rector and hoped that one o’clock in the afternoon two days hence would be a convenient time for the celebration of the nuptials.

  ‘I was thinking that would give you time to whisk your new bride off to Rutland and still arrive before dinner, Ledbury.’

  Lord Ledbury made a valiant effort not to splutter as a mouthful of soup went down the wrong way. Kitty, seated on the other side of the table, cast him a look of near sympathy.

  ‘I am sorry my lord. My brother was always one to cram his fences, if they seemed low enough.’ She cast Bidford a look of dislike. ‘You really do want me out of the way quickly, do you not. Well, a pretty pickle the household will be in by the time you wed your Annabel, so perhaps she wants it that way so that she appears in the light of a saviour from mayhem.’

  This was far too accurate for the viscount’s comfort. He did not reply, but focused upon a dish of collops instead.

  ‘Have you concocted a reason why this wedding is taking place in such haste and so quietly, by the by?’ Kitty was still seething, but her question was put casually. ‘You cannot say that Lord Ledbury requires the money so very quickly. It would be unseemly.’

  If she had hoped to throw Bidford off balance with this, she was disappointed. He looked at her, smugly.

  ‘I am not so bacon-brained as you imagine, sister dear. I combined the notices for the Gazette and declared that the betrothal was of long standing, if private.’

  ‘That hare won’t run, Bidford,’ muttered Lord Ledbury. ‘Since you regaled half of Boodles with how keen you were to get your sister off your hands less than ten days past. Memories are not so short.’

  Kitty coloured, and grippe
d the stem of her glass more tightly, as if it were Bidford’s throat.

  ‘Oh, it is only for form’s sake, I assure you. The whole thing will be forgotten before the Season starts.’ The viscount waved a dismissive hand.

  ‘And of course everyone will be talking about the recent grand wedding of Viscount Bidford to the Lady Annabel Wythall.’ Kitty’s smile was more a sneer. ‘You know, I am sure my brother regrets that I was not a horse. Had that been the case he could simply have got rid of me by having me shot.’

  That Bidford brushed his half-sibling up the wrong way did not surprise the earl. Until the viscount had proposed what he had termed ‘a mutually advantageous proposition’, Ledbury had known little about him. The viscount was not of his set, and considerably his junior. The more Ledbury had discovered about him these last few days, the less he liked. It was not surprising that Miss Elford was sharp tongued having to live with him. In fact, what was more worrying was that she had not fallen upon his own neck with relief at his offer, even without knowing him, just to escape. There was also the thought that in a few days she would be mistress of Melling Hall. His lordship was perfectly content with his bachelor existence upon his estates. He invited whom he chose, when he chose, as informally as he chose. He could not imagine the lady seated opposite him being ‘informal’. He had a strong suspicion that she would be the managing sort, and that would change things quite drastically. His less-than-happy thoughts were interrupted by Miss Elford repeating a question.

  ‘My lord, I take it that I may arrange for my own groom, and my horses, to come to Melling Hall. Other than my maid, there will be no other servants from this house.’

  ‘Er… yes, of course.’ He had a mental image of a slug-paced hack and perhaps a pony to trot between the shafts of a gig. They would be brown. She seemed somehow very ‘brown’, and mundane, and he knew a sudden though despicable urge to run. She had offered him that chance and he had not taken it, from pride, and from being caught unawares. She had asked him whether he felt he could not ‘face the fence’, and just now she had talked of Bidford ‘cramming’. He stared at her as a thought dawned upon him. ‘Do you hunt, Miss Elford?’