A Gentleman’s Promise: A Regency Romance (Gentlemen Book 1)

by Penny Hampson

  She frowned. Did he think her a slowtop?

  ‘Why, everything, of course. What do you think I didn’t understand?’

  Richard grunted non-committally and moved towards one of the bookshelves. He plucked a volume, glanced at the cover, then replaced it on the shelf, carefully aligning it with its neighbours.

  Emma got the strong impression that he didn’t want to answer. She stood up and moved towards him. ‘I’ve spent nearly all night awake puzzling and turning things over in my mind. Tell me if you think I’ve missed something.’

  There was a nerve twitching in his cheek as he faced her.

  ‘Well, I suppose I’d better, though I have to say, I don’t know what bearing it has on our current situation,’ he muttered.

  ‘I’m not going to have hysterics or faint, if that’s what is troubling you.’ Emma guessed by his guilty expression that he wished to avoid explanations.

  ‘No, I know you won’t.’ Richard cleared his throat. ‘It seems that what Wheatley was involved in…’ Richard ran a finger round his neckcloth and shook his head. ‘Good Lord, you shouldn’t know about these things.’ His mouth clammed shut.

  ‘Nonsense. I’m a grown woman.’ Emma pulled herself up to her full height and glared at his chin. ‘I saw and heard some terrible things on the way back from Greece, so don’t think I’ll be shocked by anything you can tell me.’

  Richard winced and his face turned grim. It was a few seconds before he spoke.

  ‘Have you heard of men who prefer the company of other men… in the biblical sense, I mean?’ Beads of sweat appeared on Richard’s brow.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she answered matter of factly.

  Richard’s eyes widened.

  Ignoring his reaction, Emma carried on. ‘It’s mentioned all the time in the classical texts. My father, for all his other faults, did not censor what I read. I understood from Mr Downing’s words that Wheatley is of that persuasion. It’s a capital offence, is it not? Well, for ordinary folk, not peers of the realm like Wheatley.’ Emma frowned up at him. Was that what had bothered him? Had he truly thought she had no knowledge of such things?

  Looking considerably more at ease, Richard answered, ‘Yes, you have it correct. I’ve come to the conclusion that Downing only wanted to cause trouble for Wheatley. He heard of my inquiries and thought he’d make some money.’ Richard sucked his cheeks in. ‘I’ll have to think carefully about how we engineer a meeting with His Grace.’ Emma looked up as he suddenly tapped his head. ‘I know, I’ll send a note off to Heslop inviting him to pay a call tomorrow.’ Smiling now, he asked, ‘You plan on visiting your grandmother this morning?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’ Emma took his proffered arm and they walked through to the breakfast room.

  ‘If you have no plans for the afternoon, I thought you might enjoy an excursion to Montagu House to see the Townley Marbles and the Rosetta Stone.’

  She beamed back at him. ‘I’d love to. Thank you.’ How thoughtful of him to recall her interest in ancient artefacts.

  Richard looked pleased with himself. ‘Why, we might even find time to stop at Gunter’s,’ he added. ‘I’ve noticed you have a fondness for sweet things, Emma.’ His eyes were twinkling.

  Emma caught her breath. Goodness, he was teasing her.

  ‘You’ve noticed far too much, my dear sir.’

  ‘You’d be surprised just how much I notice,’ he replied with a wink.

  Later that morning, Emma paid the promised call on her grandmother and tentatively broke the news about her newly discovered grandson.

  ‘I knew it!’ her grandmother cried. ‘I suspected at the time, of course. I heard rumours of Frederick’s misdeeds, but your grandfather, God bless him, wanted to spare me the heartache.’ The old lady shook her head, making the Mechlin lace on her elaborate cottage cap quiver. ‘If only he’d told me, I could have done something, forced Freddie to marry or at least made sure the young woman and the child had a comfortable life.’

  The dowager retrieved a handkerchief from her reticule and blew her nose forcefully. Emma hadn’t the heart to tell her that, in her opinion, the young woman had probably been better off not married to Uncle Frederick, if the stories about his character were all true. After some sniffing and dabbing at eyes, the dowager composed herself, tucked her handkerchief away, and smoothed down the silk of her skirts. She turned her piercing blue eyes on her granddaughter.

  ‘So, you know who this young man is? What does he look like? Will he meet me?’ Her face held the determined look that was becoming familiar to Emma. ‘Well, I must meet him whatever.’

  Emma ventured to advise a little caution. ‘Do you think that wise, Grandmamma? What will your friends say? It might be thought a little scandalous.’

  ‘Stuff and nonsense. I don’t care what others think. He’s my grandson, and I will acknowledge him as such.’ The dowager sighed. ‘Goodness knows, I’ve lost too many of my family to wilfully ignore those I have left.’

  A dangerous smile hovered on the dowager’s lips. Emma wondered what outrageous scheme her grandmother had in mind. It wasn’t long before she found out.

  ‘In fact,’ announced the dowager in decisive tones, ‘once I’ve made his acquaintance, I’ll take great pleasure in introducing him to society as my grandson. That will give some of these high sticklers something to think about.’ She tapped Emma’s arm with her fan. ‘From what you’ve said, Richard’s opinion is that he is a personable young man?’

  ‘Yes, Grandmamma,’ answered Emma. ‘Richard is inviting him to call tomorrow, when I shall meet him for the first time. I think I should disclose my true identity and acknowledge the fact that we are cousins.’

  The dowager nodded her agreement, so Emma added, ‘We have told no-one else apart from the immediate family and one of Richard’s closest and most trusted friends. Only if all goes well will I tell him that you wish to meet him.’

  Her grandmother frowned. ‘Of course, I’d nearly forgotten about this other awful business.’ She waved her hand dismissively. ‘He can’t possibly have anything to do with it.’

  On what she based this assessment, Emma had no idea. Her grandmother hadn’t even met Heslop yet but was obviously prepared to think the best of him. She hoped Grandmamma was correct.

  ‘Yes, do as you propose, Emma dear, and let me know how things go.’ The dowager wagged her heavily beringed finger. ‘As soon as may be, mind. I shall be all at sixes and sevens until I hear from you.’

  Emma decided to broach the subject that had been troubling her.

  ‘Grandmamma, was Mama and Papa’s marriage a happy one, do you think?’

  ‘Why, my dear! Whatever has prompted you to ask?’ Her grandmother gave her a shrewd look. ‘Were matters strained between them on your travels, my dear? Is that why you ask?’

  Emma shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t enjoy discussing these things, but she needed to know.

  ‘Somewhat, Grandmamma. Papa took no account of Mama’s wishes, especially when she advised him to return home. Things settled after we reached Gytheion safely, but when we were about to return…’ Emma brushed away a tear.

  ‘Oh, my poor darling. There, there.’ The dowager’s arms wrapped around her. ‘Theirs was indeed a love match, I can assure you, Emma. And most unusually, it remained one. In fact, I tried to talk your mama out of accompanying Charles on his ventures abroad, but she would have none of it. Said they couldn’t bear to be apart.’

  Emma looked up at her grandmother, startled by this revelation.

  ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘Well, you were only seventeen when you left. How could you understand? It sounds as if the troubles you encountered caused problems. I know Charles could be obsessive about his work, and I suppose being without the support of friends and family…’ Seeing Emma’s look of denial, her grandmother added hastily, ‘I mean older fe
males, Emma darling. I’m sure you were Marie’s greatest support, my dear.’ The dowager sent Emma a questioning look. ‘Were matters very bad?’

  ‘The last night we spent together, Mama bade me never to marry. Said no husband valued his wife and, if I wanted to be happy, to live independently.’

  ‘Oh dear. And I suppose that because it was the last time you spoke, you took it very seriously, did you not?’ The dowager shook her head. ‘I’m sure it was only said in the heat of the moment. I can’t believe that your mother truly wanted you to live the life of a spinster and never know the happiness that marriage to the right man can bring.’

  Gently taking hold of Emma’s head so they were both facing each other, her grandmother looked her in the eye. ‘Now listen, Emma. I loved your grandfather, God bless him, and there is not a day when I do not miss his company. But we had our disagreements.’

  Emma remembered the novels and smiled.

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Some days I was so angry with him I could barely acknowledge him. But we sorted our differences out. If that dreadful accident had not occurred, I think your mama would have retracted her warning. But she did not get the chance. Don’t, I beg you, let this blight your life. By all means, choose a husband wisely. And be sure I will want to know all about any prospective suitors before I grant my permission.’ The dowager’s eyes twinkled as she kissed her granddaughter on the forehead before releasing her. ‘I think I require a calming cup of tea. Will you join me, my dear?’

  Emma smiled. ‘I’d love to, Grandmamma.’

  Richard stared at the note on his study desk. It was from Phil, who’d left a rather cryptic message. In a scrawling hand, Phil stated that he had urgent business and it might be some time before he returned. Richard smiled grimly, guessing that the urgent business in question had something to do with the War Office. But at least he had the satisfaction of knowing that Phil had made it out of Ruth Newbody’s establishment in one piece. There’d been times the previous evening when Richard had feared for their lives. There was something very dangerous about Ruth Newbody.

  Richard looked at the pile of account books on his desk and sighed. At least they’d been left in reasonably good order before Phil had abandoned them. He picked up the topmost of the volumes. Perhaps immersing himself in numbers might take his mind off Emma for a while.

  Emma arrived back from her grandmother’s in time for luncheon, brimming with news of what the dowager intended to do once she’d met Francis Heslop. Richard chuckled at the thought of how the poor chap would be taken in hand and marched round all the social events of the ton, whether he wanted to or not.

  After lunch, despite the work on his desk, Richard kept his word and escorted Emma to Montagu House. He’d been quite looking forward to spending more time with her, especially now she wasn’t dressed as a boy and he wasn’t in fear for their lives. He was also quite keen to resume the conversation that had so abruptly been curtailed the other night.

  Now he’d made his mind up about marriage, the thought of spending the rest of his life with this unusual and spirited woman filled him with excitement. Why had he ever thought he could settle for a docile wife? The adventure of their trip to meet with Downing had made him feel alive. It was something he hadn’t felt in quite a while, weighed down as he’d been with all the responsibilities of a family and a business since his father’s untimely death. All he had to do, he told himself, was convince Emma that marriage to him would not mean she’d be under his thumb or that he’d expect her to change. Remembering how determined she’d looked when she’d said she didn’t want a life of domesticity and boredom, he wondered what he’d need to do to change her mind.

  To his surprise, he was enjoying Montagu House much more than he’d expected. For someone who’d only ever been interested in engineering, Richard was finding Emma’s enthusiasm infectious.

  ‘Oh look, that’s very like something Papa found last year,’ she said, marching over to a glass case containing a marble bust. The elderly gentleman who’d been peering at the same object, his eyes screwed up in concentration, turned to glare disapprovingly.

  ‘What would you know about these, young lady?’ He pushed the spectacles balanced on the edge of his nose up to his eyes and scowled at her.

  Richard hurried forward.

  ‘I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, sir,’ Richard said with considerable hauteur.

  ‘My apologies, young man. I was just taken aback by this young lady’s words. These items are very rare, and I’m surprised anyone but a scholar would understand their importance.’ The gentleman peered myopically through his spectacles at Richard and held out his hand. ‘I’m sorry, I’m forgetting myself. I’m Dr Shaw, keeper of the Natural History Department here at the museum.’

  Richard shook the gentleman’s hand. ‘Pleased to make your acquaintance, Dr Shaw. I’m Richard Lacey, Viscount Easterby. May I present Dr Shaw, my dear? Dr Shaw, this is my cousin, Miss Emma Smith.’

  Dr Shaw bowed stiffly, and Emma made a nervous curtsey in return. Richard guessed that she’d realised her careless words had very nearly exposed her true identity. He wondered what she would do to allay suspicion.

  Dr Shaw leaned towards her, a mixture of curiosity and excitement in his eyes. ‘Now, Miss Smith, did I hear you say your father discovered a similar bust only last year?’

  A vacant smile appeared on Emma’s face, and she looked guilelessly at Dr Shaw.

  ‘Oh, silly me. I’m always getting muddled, aren’t I, my lord?’ She giggled in a way that Richard had never heard before.

  Richard bit his cheek. Somehow his intelligent and eloquent companion had turned into a silly miss in the blink of an eye. Emma continued to simper and explain at some length that her father had bought a similar bust that he’d discovered in a shop last year and it was in the hall of their house, together with lots of other busts. She proceeded to describe not only the busts but also the particular rooms in which they were located in meticulous detail. Dr Shaw’s eyes took on a glazed look. Richard squeezed her arm in warning. There was no need to do it too brown.

  Emma smoothly brought her recitation to a close and bestowed a brilliant smile on the now-bemused Dr Shaw.

  ‘Well, it was nice to make your acquaintances, Miss Smith, Lord Easterby.’ With another bow and smiling uncertainly, Dr Shaw wiped his brow with a large white handkerchief and retreated surprisingly quickly for such an elderly gent. Richard sympathised with the old chap – Emma had the same effect on him.

  Richard looked down at Emma, who was gazing up at him, a finger to her lips.

  ‘Well, that was a close call,’ she said, rather unnecessarily. ‘How did I do?’

  Richard, barely able to contain his laughter, shook his head. ‘You were quite magnificent. You almost had me convinced you were a feather-brained miss. But before you get totally carried away and decide to take to the stage in earnest, let’s go and treat ourselves at Gunter’s.’

  Chapter 18

  As the mantel clock chimed four the following afternoon, the sound of wheels on the cobbles drew Richard to the window of his study. Outside, a smart curricle drawn by matching bays pulled up at the front door. A familiar figure in a many-caped coat sprang down from the vehicle, and the groom took over the reins. Minutes later, Grimes knocked on the study door to announce that Francis Heslop had arrived.

  ‘Thank you, Grimes. Please show Mr Heslop into the drawing room and tell him I’ll join him shortly. Advise his groom that he may take his vehicle round to the mews if he is to wait for his master.’

  Richard swiftly gathered his paperwork into a neat pile and placed it carefully in the top drawer of his desk, then locked it and put the key in his waistcoat pocket. Before leaving, he glanced at the mantelpiece and tutted. Somebody, probably the new maid, had disturbed the alignment of his ormolu clock. He’d have to have a word with Grimes to explain to her that he p
referred things just so. Twitching the clock back into place, he cast a last glance round the room. His desk was clear, the bookshelves were tidy, and not a speck of dust could be seen. Just as he liked it. His nerves were stretched, and when they were, he needed order around him. His stomach coiled with tension. Was he doing the right thing by introducing Heslop to Emma?

  Richard headed for the library first before joining Heslop. Emma was chatting with Julia. They’d been sketching when Richard had seen them earlier. Emma put her pencil down.

  ‘Has he arrived?’

  ‘Yes, just now,’ said Richard. ‘Come, we’ll go in together.’ Setting her sketchbook aside, Emma rose to take his arm.

  ‘Don’t tell him anything if you have any misgivings about his character,’ warned Julia.

  ‘We’ll be careful,’ answered Richard. Though, now the man was in his house, he knew it was far too late to be having misgivings.

  Emma stared at the pale young man who stood up as she entered the room on Richard’s arm. It was almost like meeting a younger version of her father.

  There was no doubting that Heslop belonged to the Smythe family. An attractive gentleman, he possessed the same regular features, blond hair, and piercing blue eyes as all her close male relatives. She’d always considered herself the unlucky one to inherit her mother’s unfashionable darker colouring.

  Richard made the introductions.

  ‘Cousin Emma, may I introduce Francis Heslop, the gentleman I told you about? Mr Heslop, this is my cousin, Miss Emma Smith.’

  Emma smiled and held out her hand. Heslop smiled shyly back at her and bowed gracefully, taking her hand and holding it for a brief moment.

  ‘How nice to make your acquaintance, Mr Heslop,’ she said. ‘My cousin has only had good things to say about you, as does Major Crawford.’