‘Russ had no choice but to carry you to his carriage, Molly, and Agnes tells me it was he who tended your injury.’ He paused and frowned at her. ‘But tell me truthfully now, did he at any time offer you insult?’
Her eyes fell. ‘If anything it was I who insulted him,’ she confessed. She raised her head, rallying. ‘But what of Mr Flemington and Sir Joseph? What of their outrageous comments just now?’
He shook his head at her. ‘Remember what Plato says. An empty vessel makes the loudest sound. You may warn your ladies to be vigilant, but I think you will find that it was an idle boast.’
His attention was claimed by Mr Thomas, who wanted to discuss a point of theology with him. Molly waved him away with a smile, knowing he had done all he could to allay her fears. She wanted more time to think things over, so she avoided Agnes and everyone from Newlands and chose instead to sit with some of the matrons and discuss the rather tedious but much safer subject of their ailments.
* * *
Thankfully the announcement soon came that they should all make their way to the great hall for a little dancing and entertainment.
The squire came up to Molly. ‘My dear Mrs Morgan, you are not to attempt the stairs without a gentleman to support you, especially in this crowd. Allow me.’
‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘That is very kind.’
‘Ah, but here is Mr Russington and in good time, sir! You will provide a much more agreeable escort for my young friend, I am sure! I pray you will give your arm to this lady.’
‘I should be delighted.’
The beau held out his arm, all smooth urbanity, but it was all Molly could do not to whip her own hands behind her back out of the way.
‘Of course, you would!’ declared the squire cheerfully, unaware of Molly’s reticence. ‘Why, ’tis another opportunity for you to play Sir Galahad, what?’
The squire laughed heartily at his own joke as he walked away. Cautiously, Molly slipped her hand into the crook of the proffered arm and her escort led her towards the top of the stairs.
‘Are you actually touching my sleeve?’ he asked her. ‘You may safely lean on me, you know. Perhaps you did not understand our host’s reference to Sir Galahad.’
‘Of course, I understood it.’ She gave a little tut of indignation. ‘Anyone would think you had rescued me from a dragon.’
‘No, no,’ he murmured. ‘That would make me Saint George and I am no saint.’
‘I can readily believe that,’ she retorted.
‘Although tonight, for you, I am on my best behaviour, basking in my new-found fame as a rescuer of helpless damsels.’
Molly gasped. ‘Helpless—’
She glared at him. His glance was full of wicked amusement, but his mockery was not aimed at Molly. Rather it invited her to share the joke. Her anger suddenly felt ridiculous and a laugh bubbled up inside her.
‘You are quite outrageous,’ she told him, trying to sound severe.
‘No, no. I am the epitome of chivalry. You heard the squire say so.’
‘Nonsense.’ She maintained a dignified silence as they began to descend the stairs, but it only lasted as far as the half landing. ‘I have always understood Sir Galahad to be extremely pious. Something you are not!’
‘You do not know that. I have been a soul of propriety since coming to Compton Parva.’
‘Why did you come?’ she asked him. ‘We are a small town, full of bankers and tradespeople. Hardly the society you are accustomed to.’
‘Kilburn invited me.’ They had reached the hall by this time and he looked up as the scrape of fiddles sounded above all the chatter. ‘Ah, so it will not only be the pianoforte accompanying the dancing this evening. Not quite such an impromptu hop, then.’
‘We have some talented musicians in Compton Parva,’ said Molly. ‘I expect the squire requested that they bring their instruments as soon as Sir Gerald had accepted his invitation.’
Russ would have guided her towards the part of the hall that had been cleared for dancing, but Molly held back.
‘It is not yet a week since I turned my ankle and I would rather sit out, sir.’
‘Then I shall join you.’
‘There is no need,’ she said quickly.
‘But I insist. There are plenty of gentlemen this evening, so I shall not be missed.’
Having heard several ladies gushing over his handsome figure and good looks, Molly did not agree, but she would not pander to his vanity by saying so. She took a seat at one side of the room, not too near to the roaring fire, and tried to look indifferent as he sat down beside her. For a while they were silent, watching the guests milling around, some moving towards the seats at that end of the hall, others taking their places in the sets that were forming nearer the musicians. The squire’s wife was looking very pleased to be partnered by Sir Gerald at the head of the first set, while further down the line, Edwin was standing up with Agnes.
‘You know,’ remarked Russ, following her glance, ‘I believe we may be thrown into each other’s company a great deal in the coming weeks. It would be as well if we were not always at daggers drawn.’
‘Of course not. I can be perfectly polite when it is required of me.’
‘Can you?’ His quizzical glance made her look away quickly.
‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘if you can assure me that you and your friends are here purely for the sport?’ When he did not respond, she mustered her strength to continue as coolly as she could. ‘It...it would be a gross outrage if you were to...to try to visit Prospect House.’
‘Why the devil should I do that?’
‘You might think that they are unprotected and...and I know what many people think of women who are obliged to take refuge there. It was one of your own party who called it a Magdalene hospital.’
‘I cannot answer for the others, but I have no interest in chasing such unfortunate women, madam.’
‘No, you do not have to pursue women at all, do you, Mr Russington? My sister tells me they fall over themselves for your attention.’
He said softly, ‘But not you, Mrs Morgan.’
‘Not in the least.’
She kept her head up and managed to hold his gaze. Until he smiled and those little demons danced in his eyes, sending alarm bells clamouring in her head.
‘Good. Then to return to my original suggestion, I think we should we call a truce.’
Molly’s thoughts were fixed on the sensuous curve of his lips and she was obliged to drag them back, rapidly.
‘A...a truce?’
‘You have left me in no doubt of your opinion of me, but I think it would be more comfortable for our mutual acquaintances—and your brother—if we could act in a civilised manner when we meet. What do you say?’
‘I shall be perfectly civil to you. As long as you do not provoke me.’
‘Ah. I thought there would be a caveat.’
‘The matter is in your hands, sir,’ she told him, feeling more confident of her ground now.
‘Then there should be no difficulty.’ He eased his long frame from the chair. ‘Gerald says we should attend the morning service at All Souls tomorrow morning, ma’am, so no doubt we shall meet there. And we may even manage to be civil to one another.’
He gave Molly the neatest of bows and sauntered away, leaving her to stare after him. Civil? Was it civil to set her nerve ends quivering with indignation at his insupportable arrogance, his conceit?
But it is not merely his cool air of superiority that upsets you, is it? It is the fact that you find him undeniably attractive!
‘He is a rake, a libertine. He has had mistresses by the score. He is everything you hold in abhorrence,’ she rebuked herself sternly, using her fan not only to cool her cheeks but to hide the fact that she was talking to herself. ‘He is also part of a group that threatens my friends a
t Prospect House. If nothing else should make you hate the man, Molly Morgan, it is that!’
Chapter Five
The idea that someone might attempt to gain access to Prospect House during the night remained with Molly, but by the time she reached home that night, it was far too late to send a note. She would speak to Fleur and Nancy at church the next morning.
* * *
The day dawned bright and sunny, so she remained near the lychgate, greeting her neighbours while she watched the road, waiting to see the ladies and girls from Prospect House walking to morning service.
The carriages from Newlands were amongst the first to arrive: Sir Gerald and Beau Russington in the chaise with Miss Kilburn, Lord Claydon and his family in a smart barouche and Mr Sykes driving up in his curricle with his wife sitting beside him. Molly’s first thought was relief that Sir Joseph and Mr Flemington were absent, because after the conversation she had heard last night she did not think she could be polite to them. It was difficult enough to pin a smile in place to greet the beau. She managed it, but wished he would move on, instead of standing aside while she greeted the other members of the party, and as they strolled away he stepped closer.
‘There,’ he murmured, ‘that was not so very bad, was it?’
His low voice and the smile in his eyes sent a delicious shiver through Molly and made her toes curl, but not for the world would she let him see how much he affected her.
She replied frostily, ‘I have no difficultly in being civil.’
His brows went up. ‘What a corker. Admit it, your first thought, when you saw me approaching, was to scurry away and hide.’
It was so near the truth that Molly blushed, but she laughed, too, and shook her head at him.
‘That may be the case, but it is very uncivil of you to say so.’
‘Odd, is it not, that we should be able to be so frank with each other? As if we were old friends.’
She looked up at him then. ‘My dear sir, how on earth could you and I ever be friends?’
He smiled at her, a strange, arrested look on his face.
‘The rake and the reformer? There have been more unlikely alliances, you know.’
He was smiling down at her and Molly’s breath caught in her throat. The world tilted, as if every belief she held was suddenly in doubt.
‘There can be no question of it in this case,’ she managed at last.
She saw Nancy entering the churchyard and with no little relief she gave the beau a dismissive nod and turned to greet her.
‘Thank heavens,’ she said, holding out her hands. ‘I have been waiting for you to arrive.’
‘We would have been earlier, but for a little scare that Marjorie’s baby was coming,’ said Nancy. ‘The signs passed off, but Daisy has stayed with her and Moses, too, ready to fetch the midwife if necessary.’ She smiled and put her hand on Billy’s shoulder. ‘So we have this young man for our escort today.’
Molly smiled at Billy and took the time to exchange a word with the little maids, but it was only when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Russ saunter away that she could at last bring her chaotic thoughts into some sort of order. She linked arms with Nancy as they walked towards the church door and quickly explained what she had overheard last night.
‘Edwin says it is nothing more than bluster, but you must take care,’ she ended, just as they reached the door.
‘We have been taking care ever since they came to Newlands, my dear. Moses checks the locks and the shutters around the house every night.’ Nancy signalled to the others to go inside. ‘But I fear we may have a more pressing problem than night-time prowlers.’
Molly followed her glance and saw that Fleur was coming slowly up the path with Sir Gerald beside her. They were talking earnestly, Sir Gerald in no wise disheartened by Fleur’s veil. Neither did he show any signs of self-consciousness when he saw Nancy and Molly waiting at the door. His greeting could not have been more cordial.
‘Good morning to you, Sir Gerald,’ Molly responded with equal cheerfulness, but shamefully less sincerity. ‘The rest of your party are already inside.’
‘Yes? Oh—yes. That is, they have gone on ahead of me.’ Another smile, a touch of his hat and he went in, leaving Fleur with her friends. Her veil might hide her blushes, but it could not disguise the defensive note in her voice as she explained they had met by chance at the gate.
‘He was waiting for you.’
‘Oh, no, Nancy, surely not—’
‘How else could it be, when the Newlands carriages have been here for a good half hour? ’Tis a pity Moses did not come with us today—he would have put a stop to it.’
‘Perhaps Sir Gerald had something to discuss with his coachman,’ said Molly, taking pity on Fleur. She linked arms with them both, saying cheerfully, ‘Come along, we had best take our places inside. Edwin will be wanting to begin!’
* * *
It was a bright morning and after the service the congregation gathered outside the church, exchanging greetings and catching up on gossip. Molly saw Sir Gerald edging away from his friends, but Nancy was already taking Fleur’s arm and hurrying her and the rest of the girls down the path very much like a mother hen protecting her brood from a fox. She wished she could go, too, instead of having to wait for her brother, who was standing a little apart, deep in conversation with two of his churchwardens. Thus she could not escape Miss Kilburn’s invitation for her and Edwin to join a little dinner party they were arranging the following week.
Molly demurred, saying that she must confer with Edwin, although she was well aware that the only reason he would decline would be if there was a previous engagement that could not be rearranged. The Newlands party moved off towards the waiting carriages, the gentlemen tipping their hats to Molly as they passed. She acknowledged Russ’s polite nod with a faint, distant smile and turned away immediately to greet Sir William, who was coming up with his wife on his arm.
‘A good turnout, ma’am,’ he observed. ‘I am relieved. I did not want your brother blaming our little gathering last night for depleting his congregation.’ He glanced towards the line of carriages. ‘However, I note only two single gentlemen from Newlands came along today.’
Molly pursed her lips. ‘No doubt the others consider the restoration of their bodies more important than their souls.’
‘La, Mrs Morgan, that is too naughty of you!’ Lady Currick laughed and tapped her arm. ‘But it is to be expected from these young bucks, with their London habits. They carouse the night away and then sleep until noon! We must hope your brother can reform them.’
‘We must indeed,’ said Molly, forcing a smile. ‘But one cannot expect a leopard to change its spots, you know.’
* * *
‘Whoa, Flash.’
Russ brought the big grey hunter to a stand on the edge of a high ridge. He had no idea how long he had been riding, but a glance at the sun told him it was close to noon, so he must have been out for several hours. He had gone out early to try to shake off the unaccustomed restlessness that had come over him the past few days.
Perhaps he should go back to town. There were more entertainments there than at Newlands, but he knew that was not the answer. He had been growing bored with London life even before Gerald had invited him to come north. A shaft of self-mockery pierced him. He was regarded as a Corinthian, a top-of-the-trees sportsman and second only to Brummell as an arbiter of fashion. He had been indulged since birth, had more money than he could spend, the pick of society’s beautiful women and yet, at eight-and-twenty, he felt that life had nothing new to offer.
He knew he should feel grateful. Most second sons had to find an occupation, usually the army or the church, but he had been blessed with a rich godmother, who had left him her entire fortune. He was equally blessed in the fact that along with the investments and estates, he had inherited reliable staff and
an astute man of business, who between them looked after his interests, leaving him nothing to do but enjoy himself. But lately he had found all his usual amusements had begun to pall. He had no desire for self-destruction. Gambling to excess held little attraction, nor did he wish to drink himself into oblivion.
He gazed out over the countryside spread out before him. He had ridden down into the valley where Compton Parva nestled and up on to the moors on the far side, so now he could look back towards Newlands with its extensive grounds and woodlands, but even the prospect of more hunting did not excite him.
‘Admit it,’ he said aloud. ‘You are bored. Bored with life.’
He allowed his eyes to travel down from Newlands to the valley below. The houses of Compton Parva straggled along each side of the winding valley road, burgeoning around the town square and the vicarage. He could see tiny figures moving in the square and traffic on the road. Everyone was going about their business, seemingly happy and content. So why could he not be happy?
Perhaps he should marry. His brother, Henry, had made a prudent match just after their mother had died, and now lived in quiet contentment on his country estates with his large family. Perhaps a wife would help to fill the aching void that Russ had become aware of. But he had never met any woman who could hold his interest for more than a few months. And most of—if not all—the women who came into his sphere were more interested in his fortune than in him. His father had made the mistake of falling in love with such a woman and he was not about to do the same.
He had learned much from those early days, when his father had brought home his beautiful new wife, who doted on him only as long as he lavished a fortune upon her. That was why, apart from one or two close friends such as Gerald Kilburn, Russ kept everyone else at a distance. Always polite, always charming, he was equally at home riding to hounds or in the salons of society hostesses. He was accepted everywhere, acclaimed as an excellent fellow and a perfect guest, but he never forgot that he owed his popularity to his wealth. He was happy to oblige any pretty woman who threw herself in his way in a fast and furious flirtation, but when his interest cooled he would leave them without a second thought.
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