Despite her efforts to minimize his opportunities, she found herself sharing his carriage on their return journey to Mount Street. Miriam Alford sat beside her and Max, suavely elegant and exuding a subtle aura of powerful sensuality, had taken the seat opposite her. Lady Benborough and her three sisters were following in the Twyford coach. As Caroline had suspected, their chaperon fell into a sound sleep before the carriage had cleared the Richardson House drive.
Gazing calmly at the moonlit fields, she calculated they had at least a forty-minute drive ahead of them. She waited patiently for the move she was sure would come and tried to marshal her resolve to deflectit. As the minutes ticked by, the damning knowledge slowly seeped into her consciousness that, if her guardian was to suddenly become afflicted with propriety and the journey was accomplished without incident, far from being relieved, she would feel let down, cheated of an eagerly anticipated treat. She frowned, recognizing her already racing pulse and the tense knot in her stomach that restricted her breathing for the symptoms they were. On the thought, she raised her eyes to the dark face before her.
He was watching the countryside slip by, the silvery light etching the planes of his face. As if feeling her gaze, he turned and his eyes met hers. For a moment, he read her thoughts and Caroline was visited by the dreadful certainty that he knew the truth she was struggling to hide. Then, a slow, infinitely wicked smile spread across his face. Caroline stopped breathing. He leaned forward. She expected him to take her hand and draw her to sit beside him. Instead, his strong hands slipped about her waist and, to her utter astonishment, he lifted her across and deposited her in a swirl of silks on his lap.
“Max!” she gasped.
“Sssh. You don’t want to wake Mrs. Afford. She’d have palpitations.”
Horrified, Caroline tried to get her feet to the ground, wriggling against the firm clasp about her waist. Almost immediately, Max’s voice sounded in her ear, in a tone quite different from any she had previously heard. “Sweetheart, unless you cease wriggling your delightful derriere in such an enticing fashion, this lesson is likely to go rather further than I had intended.”
Caroline froze. She held her breath, not daring to so much as twitch. Then Max’s voice, the raw tones of an instant before no longer in evidence, washed over her in warm approval. “Much better.”
She turned to face him, carefully keeping her hips still. She placed her hands on his chest in an effort,futile, she knew, to fend him off. “Max, this is madness. You must stop doing this!”
“Why? Don’t you like it?” His hands were moving gently on her back, his touch scorching through the thin silk of her gown.
Caroline ignored the sardonic lift of his black brows and the clear evidence in his eyes that he was laughing at her. She found it much harder to ignore the sensations his hands were drawing forth. Forcing her face into strongly disapproving Unes, she answered his first question, deeming it prudent to conveniently forget the second. “I’m your ward, remember? You know I am. You told me so yourself.”
“A fact you should strive to bear in mind, my dear.”
Caroline wondered what he meant by that. But Max’s mind, and hands, had shifted their focus of attention. As his hands closed over her breasts, Caroline nearly leapt to her feet. “Max!“
But, “Sssh,” was all her guardian said as his lips settled on hers.
CHAPTER NINE
The Twyford coach was also the scene of considerable activity, though of a different sort. Augusta, in sympathy with Mrs. Alford, quickly settled into a comfortable doze which the whisperings of the other occupants of the carriage did nothing to disturb. Lizzie, Sarah and Arabella, incensed by Amanda’s misfortune, spent some minutes giving vent to their feelings.
“It’s not as if Sir Ralph’s such a good catch, even,” Sarah commented.
“Certainly not,” agreed Lizzie with uncharacteristic sharpness. “It’s really too bad! Why, Mr. Minchbury is almost at the point of offering for her and he has a much bigger estate, besides being much more attractive. And Amanda likes him, what’s more.”
“Ah,” said Arabella, wagging her head sagely, “but he’s not been making up to Mrs. Crowbridge, has he? That woman must be all about in her head, to think of giving little Amanda to Keighly.”
“Well,” said Sarah decisively, “what are we going to do about it?”
Silence reigned for more than a mile as the sisters considered the possibilities. Arabella eventually spoke into the darkness. “I doubt we’d get far discussing matters with the Crowbridges.”
“Very true,” nodded Sarah. “And working on Amanda’s equally pointless. She’s too timid.”
“Which leaves Sir Ralph,” concluded Lizzie. After a pause, she went on: “I know we’re not precisely to his taste, but do you think you could do it, Bella?”
Arabella’s eyes narrowed as she considered Sir Ralph. Thanks to Hugo, she now had a fairly extensive understanding of the basic attraction between men and women. Sir Ralph was, after all, still a man. She shrugged. “Well, it’s worth a try. I really can’t see what else we can do.”
For the remainder of the journey, the sisters’ heads were together, hatching a plan.
———
Arabella started her campaign to steal Sir Ralph from Amanda the next evening, much to the delight of Amanda. When she was informed in a whispered aside of the Twinnings’ plan for her relief, Amanda’s eyes had grown round. Swearing to abide most faithfully by any instructions they might give her, she had managed to survive her obligatory two waltzes with Sir Ralph in high spirits, which Sarah later informed her was not at all helpful. Chastised, she begged pardon and remained by Sarah’s side as Arabella took to the floor with her intended.
As Sir Ralph had no real affection for Amanda, it took very little of Arabella’s practised flattery to make him increasingly turn his eyes her way. But, to the Twinnings’ consternation, their plan almost immediately developed a hitch.
Their guardian was not at all pleased to see Sir Ralph squiring Arabella. A message from him, delayed by both Caroline and Lady Benborough, to the effect that Arabella should watch her step, pulled Arabella up short. A hasty conference, convened in the withdrawing-room, agreed there was no possibility of gaining His Grace’s approval for their plan. Likewise, none of the three sisters had breathed a word of their scheme to Caroline, knowing that, despite her affection for them, there were limits to her forbearance.
“But we can’t just give up!” declared Lizzie in trenchant tones.
Arabella was nibbling the end of one finger. “No. We won’t give up. But we’ll have to reorganize. You two,” she said, looking at Sarah and Lizzie, quite ignoring Amanda and Alice who were also present, “are going to have to cover for me. That way, I won’t be obviously spending so much time with Sir Ralph, but he’ll still be thinking about me. You must tell Sir Ralph that our guardian disapproves but that, as I’m head over heels in love with him, I’m willing to go against the Duke’s wishes and continue to see him.” She frowned, pondering her scenario. “We’ll have to be careful not to paint our dear guardian in too strict colours. The story is that we’re sure he’ll eventually come around, when he sees how attached I am to Sir Ralph. Max knows I’m a flighty, flirtatious creature and so doubts of the strength of my affections. That should be believable enough.”
“All right,” Sarah nodded. “We’ll do the groundwork and you administer the coup de grace.”
And so the plan progressed.
For Arabella, the distraction of Sir Ralph came at an opportune time in her juggling of Sir Humphrey and Mr. Stone. It formed no part of her plans for either of these gentlemen to become too particular. And while her sober and earnest consideration of their suits had, she knew, stunned and puzzled Lord Denbigh, who watched with a still sceptical eye, her flirtation with Sir Ralph had brought a strange glint to his hazel orbs.
———
In truth, Hugo had been expecting Arabella to flirt outrageously with her court in an att
empt to make him jealous and force a declaration. He had been fully prepared to sit idly by, watching her antics from the sidelines with his usual sleepily amused air, waiting for the right moment to further her seduction. But her apparent intention to settle for a loveless marriage had thrown him. It was not a reaction he had expected. Knowing what he did of Arabella, he could not stop himself from thinking what a waste it would be. True, as the wife of a much older man, she was likely to be even more receptive to his own suggestions of a discreet if illicit relationship. But the idea of her well-endowed charms being bratishly enjoyed by either of her ageing suitors set his teeth on edge. Her sudden pursuit of Sir Ralph Keighly, in what he was perceptive enough to know was not her normal style, seriously troubled him, suggesting as it did some deeper intent. He wondered whether she knew what she was about. The fact that she continued to encourage Keighly despite Twyford’s clear disapproval further increased his unease.
Arabella, sensing his perturbation, continued to tread the difficult path she had charted, one eye on him, the other on her guardian, encouraging Sir Ralph with one hand while using the other to hold back Sir Humphrey and Mr. Stone. As she confessed to her sisters one morning, it was exhausting work.
Little by little, she gained ground with Sir Ralph, their association camouflaged by her sisters’ ploys. On the way back to the knot of their Mends, having satisfactorily twirled around Lady Summerhill’s ballroom, Arabella and Sir Ralph were approached by a little lady, all in brown.
Sir Ralph stiffened.
The unknown lady blushed. “How do you do?” she said, taking in both Arabella and Sir Ralph in her glance. “I’m Harriet Jenkins,” she explained helpfully to Arabella, then, turning to Sir Ralph, said, “Hello, Ralph,” in quite the most wistful tone Arabella had ever heard.
Under Arabella’s interested gaze, Sir Ralph became tongue-tied. He perforce bowed over the small hand held out to him and managed to say, “Mr. Jenkins’s estates border mine.”
Arabella’s eyes switched to Harriet Jenkins. “My father,” she supplied.
Sir Ralph suddenly discovered someone he had to exchange a few words with and precipitately left them. Arabella looked down into Miss Jenkins’s large eyes, brown, of course, and wondered. “Haveyou lately come to town, Miss Jenkins?”
Harriet Jenkins drew her eyes from Sir Ralph’s departing figure and dispassionately viewed the beauty before her. What she saw in the frank hazel eyes prompted her to reply, “Yes. I was…bored at home. So my father suggested I come to London for a few weeks. I’m staying with my aunt, Lady Cottesloe.”
Arabella was only partly satisfied with this explanation. Candid to a fault, she put the question in hermind. “Pardon me, Miss Jenkins, but are you and Sir Ralph…?”
Miss Jenkins’s wistfulness returned. “No. Oh, you’re right in thinking I want him. But Ralph has other ideas. I’ve known him from the cradle, you see. And I suppose familiarity breeds contempt.” Suddenly realizing to whom she was speaking, she blushed and continued, “Not that I could hope to hold a candle to the London beauties, of course.”
Her suspicions confirmed, Arabella merely laughed and slipped an arm through Miss Jenkins’s. “Oh, I shouldn’t let that bother you, my dear.” As she said the words, it occurred to her that, if anything, Sir Ralph was uncomfortable and awkward when faced with beautiful women, as evidenced by his behaviour with either herself or Amanda. It was perfectly possible that some of his apparent conceit would drop away when he felt less threatened; for instance, in the presence of Miss Jenkins.
Miss Jenkins had stiffened at Arabella’s touch and her words. Then, realizing the kindly intent behind them, she relaxed. “Well, there’s no sense in deceiving myself. I suppose I shouldn’t say so, but Ralph and I were in a fair way to being settled before he took this latest notion of looking about before he made up his mind irrevocably. I sometimes think it was simply fear of tying the knot that did it.”
“Very likely,” Arabella laughingly agreed as she steered Miss Jenkins in the direction of her sisters.
“My papa was furious and said I should give him up. But I convinced him to let me come to London, to see how things stood. Now, I suppose, I may as well go home.”
“Oh, on no account should you go home yet awhile, Miss Jenkins!” said Arabella, a decided twinkle in her eye. “May I call you Harriet? Harriet, I’d like you to meet my sisters.”
———
The advent of Harriet Jenkins caused a certain amount of reworking of the Twinnings’ plan for Sir Ralph. After due consideration, she was taken into their confidence and willingly joined the small circle of conspirators. In truth, her appearance relieved Arabella’s mind of a nagging worry over how she was to let Sir Ralph down after Amanda accepted Mr. Minchbury, who, under the specific guidance of Lizzie, was close to popping the question. Now, all she had to do was to play the hardened flirt and turn Sir Ralph’s bruised ego into Harriet’s tender care. All in all, things were shaping up nicely.
However, to their dismay, the Twinnings found that Mrs. Crowbridge was not yet vanquished. The news of her latest ploy was communicated to them two days later, at Beckenham, where they had gone to watch a balloon ascent. The intrepid aviators had yet to arrive at the field, so the three Twinnings had descended from their carriage and, together with the Misses Crowbridge and Miss Jenkins, were strolling elegantly about the field, enjoying the afternoon sunshine and a not inconsiderable amount of male attention. It transpired that Mrs. Crowbridge had invited Sir Ralph to pay a morning call and then, on the slightest of pretexts, had left him alone with Amanda for quite twenty minutes. Such brazen tactics left them speechless. Sir Ralph, to do him justice, had not taken undue advantage.
“He probably didn’t have time to work out the odds against getting Arabella versus the benefits of Amanda,” said Sarah with a grin. “Poor man! I can almost pity him, what with Mrs. Crowbridge after him as well.”
All the girls grinned but their thoughts quickly returned to their primary preoccupation. “Yes, but,” said Lizzie, voicing a fear already in both Sarah’s and Arabella’s minds, “if Mrs. Crowbridge keeps behaving like this, she might force Sir Ralph to offer for Amanda by tricking him into compromising her.”
“I’m afraid that’s only too possible,” agreed Harriet. “Ralph’s very gullible.” She shook her head in such a deploring way that Arabella and Sarah were hard put to it to smother their giggles.
“Yes, but it won’t do,” said Amanda, suddenly. “I know my mother. She’ll keep on and on until she succeeds. You’ve got to think of some way of…of removing Sir Ralph quickly.”
“For his sake as well as your own,” agreed Harriet. “The only question is, how?”
Silence descended while this conundrum revolved in their minds. Further conversation on the topic was necessarily suspended when they were joined by a number of gentlemen disinclined to let the opportunity of paying court to such a gaggle of very lovely young ladies pass by. As His Grace of Twyford’s curricle was conspicuously placed among the carriages drawn up to the edge of the field, the behaviour of said gentlemen remained every bit as deferential as within the confines of Almack’s, despite the sylvan setting.
Mr. Mallard was the first to reach Lizzie’s side, closely followed by Mr. Swanston and Lord Brookfell.
Three other fashionable exquisites joined the band around Lizzie, Amanda, Alice and Harriet, and within minutes an unexceptionable though thoroughly merry party had formed. Hearing one young gentleman allude to the delicate and complementary tints of the dresses of the four younger girls as “pretty as a posy,” Sarah could not resist a grimace, purely for Arabella’s benefit. Arabella bit hard on her lip to stifle her answering giggle. Both fell back a step or two from the younger crowd, only to fall victim to their own admirers.
Sir Humphrey Bullard, a large man of distinctly florid countenance, attempted to capture Arabella’s undivided attention but was frustrated by the simultaneous arrival of Mr. Stone, sleekly saturnine, on her other side
. Both offered their arms, leaving Arabella, with a sunshade to juggle, in a quandary. She laughed and shook her head at them both. “Indeed, gentlemen, you put me to the blush. What can a lady do under such circumstances?”
“Why, make your choice, m’dear,” drawled Mr. Stone, a strangely determined glint in his eye.
Arabella’s eyes widened at this hint that Mr. Stone, at least, was not entirely happy with being played on a string. She was rescued by Mr. Humphrey, irritatingly aware that he did not cut such a fine figure as Mr. Stone. “I see the balloonists have arrived. Perhaps you’d care to stroll to the enclosure and watch the inflation, Miss Arabella?”
“We’ll need to get closer if we’re to see anything at all,” said Sarah, coming up on the arm of Lord Tulloch.
By the time they reached the area cordoned off in the centre of the large field, a crowd had gathered. The balloon was already filling slowly. As they watched, it lifted from the ground and slowly rose to hover above the cradle slung beneath, anchored to the ground by thick ropes.
“It looks like such a flimsy contraption,” said Arabella, eyeing the gaily striped silk balloon. “I wonder that anyone could trust themselves to it.”
“They don’t always come off unscathed, I’m sorry to say,” answered Mr. Stone, his schoolmasterish tones evincing strong disapproval of such reckless behaviour.
“Humph!” said Sir Humphrey Bullard.
Arabella’s eyes met Sarah’s in mute supplication. Sarah grinned.
It was not until the balloon had taken off, successfully, to Arabella’s relief, and the crowd had started to disperse that the Twinnings once more had leisure to contemplate the problem of Sir Ralph Keighly. Predictably, it was Sarah and Arabella who conceived the plot. In a few whispered sentences, they developed its outline sufficiently to see that it would require great attention to detail to make it work. As they would have no further chance that day to talk with the others in private, they made plans to meet the next morning at Twyford House. Caroline had mentioned her intention of visiting her old nurse, who had left the Twinnings’ employ after her mother had died and hence was unknown to the younger Twinnings. Thus, ensconced in the back parlour of Twyford House, they would be able to give free rein to their thoughts. Clearly, the removal of Sir Ralph was becoming a matter of urgency.
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