“By your actions you would ruin everything I have worked for! You know he’ll now move to marry the girl off. Unless…” She tapped her fan against her small white teeth. “You must force his hand. Take her now, Hadley. Ruin her. Then he’ll have no choice but to give her to you.”
“I’ve already told you such methods don’t suit me.” Yet, ironically, he had been very close to throwing her skirts up and taking her in a public garden like some overeager adolescent. Not that he’d ever confess to Barbara that he’d nearly lost his head. “Besides, Sir Richard would still do as he pleased with the girl, for what financially strapped gentleman would pass up a massive fortune over a breached maidenhead? He would merely take the money and then count out the months to be sure she didn’t carry another’s bastard, before planting his own staff.”
Barbara’s forehead puckered. “Then what can we do?”
He rose to pour himself a glass of sherry. “Rest assured all is not lost. Mary is not pleased about an arranged marriage and will be even less so when I have had more time alone with her.”
“But I thought you just said you would not seduce her to gain her fortune.”
“Not in the manner you suggest.” He downed his drink in a gulp. “I shall not take her by force. Neither shall I do this thing by half measures. I will possess her fortune in the same manner I possess her—willingly, obediently, completely.”
“How?”
“She’s half in love already. I’ll simply convince her to elope with me to the Continent—far from Sir Richard’s reach.”
“You would take her abroad?” Barbara laughed. “How do you propose to convince her to go off to foreign places when the girl came to London kicking and screaming?”
“By convincing her she cannot live without me, of course. Never doubt my powers of persuasion where the fair sex is concerned.” He gave a slow confident smile. “I will simply persuade her…in the most tangible way…that the benefits of a marriage to me would be well worth her sacrifice.”
…
With her hair pinned back in place and her gown changed, Mary rushed down to the drawing room to join her guardian for afternoon tea, only to learn that he had just departed.
“Sir Richard was quite vexed with you,” Lady Blanchard scolded.
“I’m sorry it took me longer than intended, my lady, but I had a grass stain from our outing and had to change my gown.” Mary averted her gaze at her half-truth. In reality, she feared her mussed appearance would certainly have betrayed her…and Lord Hadley, to her guardian.
“Well, I suppose you will be seeing him soon enough, for we are to attend Handel’s new opera together at the King’s Theatre the evening after next.”
“The opera?” Mary choked down the knot of dread that formed in her throat. Her only visit to the opera had been when Papa had arranged a box for Handel’s Giulio Cesare, as a special surprise for her sixteenth birthday. The experience now flooded her memory—the crush of bodies overpoweringly scented with perfumes, the abundantly bejeweled ladies in their elegant gowns, the gentlemen with their quizzing glasses and supercilious stares. Mary had been nearly as dumbstruck by the audience as by those on the stage. And the performance was sung in the incomprehensible Italian tongue. For the entire evening, Mary had felt like an outsider looking into another realm in which she had no place.
She now felt a combination of apprehension and resentment at the prospect of being forced upon it again. “Must I attend? I really don’t care for such entertainments.”
“Nonsense, my dear! It is time you go about in society. You must be seen and what better opportunity? The entire polite world will attend, including our own king and queen. You might even be able to see them from our box.”
“But I need more time. I’m not accustomed to London ways.”
“There is no avoiding it. Sir Richard even now seeks a gentleman for your hand.”
“So soon?” Mary asked in mounting disquietude.
“I know, my dear.” The countess gave Mary’s cheek a sympathetic pat with her folded fan. “But it matters not what you wish. It would be far better for you to accept the fact now that as a woman, you will rarely have any say in your life.” She gifted Mary a benign smile. “And as a wife you will have none at all.”
…
“I don’t see how you can avoid it, miss,” Jenny said. “Besides, how many commoners ever get the chance to see the king and queen like that? And not just riding by and waving from inside their carriage, but sitting right there in plain view in an opera box.”
“But I so detest the crowds, Jenny. And the thought of being under everyone’s scrutiny makes me positively ill. I will never comprehend the fashionable people. They resemble nothing more than a muster of peacocks—preening, strutting, and gawking at one another. They smile and croon but few of them ever have a kind or sincere word.”
“But what of his lordship?” Jenny said with a sly look.
“No,” Mary confessed. “He’s not like them. Lord Hadley is different somehow.”
“You just need to accustom yourself to this life, miss. After all, we’ve only been in London a few weeks. And look at all the sights there are—so much to see and do compared to Leicestershire. Surely you enjoyed this afternoon?”
“Yes, I did. It was a lovely day.” The remembrance of stolen kisses flooded Mary’s cheeks with heat.
“Are you alright, Miss Molly?” Jenny asked.
“Yes, I’m fine,” Mary answered a bit too hastily. “Why do you ask?”
“You look a bit flushed is all. And you was unusually quiet after our return today.”
Because he had kissed her witless.
Jenny eyed her curiously, and looked like she would say more, but a knock sounding on the door prevented any further probing. The maid rose to answer it and returned with another wax-sealed missive. “The footman awaits an answer, Miss.”
This time Mary knew exactly who the message was from, knowledge that made her fumble with the letter opener. She finally broke the seal and unfolded the foolscap.
My Dearest Miss Edwardes,
Words will never express the delight I experienced in your company this afternoon. Since you have expressed such a yearning for the bucolic, I thought you might enjoy a day trip by barge to Richmond to visit one of my own boyhood haunts. I await your pleasure as your most humble servant – H
Mary stared at the note a bit dazed and equally confused. He had been so quiet in the coach that she had thought him displeased with her, but surely he wasn’t if he wished to spend an entire day in her company.
Was it only friendship he offered, or did he mean to pay his address? If it was only friendship he had in mind, surely he would not have kissed her. The thought made her heart flutter. But then she checked herself. It was only a kiss. Still, she had been so profoundly affected that he was becoming an obsession.
Perhaps she had succumbed so easily that he thought to take advantage. Although little acquainted with the ways of fashionable gentlemen, she had heard enough to be wary. Indeed, Lord Hadley himself had warned her that men were not to be trusted.
She wondered how she should respond to his invitation. Perhaps it was all moot, for the countess might not approve of such an excursion. “Jenny, pray ask the footman if he knows how long it takes to Richmond by barge.”
“Aye, miss.” Jenny bobbed and returned a moment later with a curious look. “He says it be nigh on four hours and two more to return by coach. He says his lordship would fain depart early to be back by supper.”
With a proper chaperone, Mary could see no reason for the countess to object. She sat at her escritoire and chewed on the nub of the quill as she considered her reply.
My dear Lord Hadley, she scrawled in her very best hand. I am honored by your generous offer, and with her ladyship’s permission, would be delighted to accept your invitation. You have my sincerest regards. Miss Mary Elizabeth Edwardes
Satisfied, Mary sanded and waxed her missive closed. “Here,�
� she handed it to Jenny. “Pray have the footman give this to his lordship.” And with eagerness she dared not show, Mary sought out the countess to ask permission for the outing.
She found Lady Blanchard in her boudoir, in the midst of preparations for her evening out. Having never seen cosmetics before, Mary was dumfounded to realize the lovely unblemished alabaster of her ladyship’s visage and deep rosy colored lips were largely achieved by artifice.
She watched in fascination as the French maid, Nanette, mixed a small amount of liquid with a white powder, which she applied with a deft touch to her mistress’ face. She then added a bit of rouge from another pot to the white to achieve the effect of a flawless maidenly blush, topping all was a light touch of powder applied with a hare’s foot to set the mask.
Nanette opened a delicate enameled box, offering it to her mistress. Curious, Mary peered inside. “Les mouches.” The maid answered Mary’s unspoken question. “Lequel, Madame le comtesse?”
«Le cœur,» the countess replied. «Je desire la galante.»
«Oui, Madame,” the maid answered and then applied a tiny silk heart to the countess’ left cheek. Lady Blanchard turned her face from side to side in the looking glass and then took up her fan to admire herself from both angles before nodding her satisfaction, and finally turning her attention to Mary. She regarded her in the looking glass. “You say Lord Hadley has proposed another outing?”
“Yes,” Mary replied. “A trip by barge to Richmond, a place where he spent much time in his boyhood.”
“How remarkably…quaint,” the countess remarked. She parted her lips for the maid to apply a rosy red tint. She then puckered in an affectation of a kiss.
“He wishes to depart early to avoid the heat of day and to be back by supper.” Mary bit her lip in expectation. “Do you intend to join us, my lady?”
“La, darling, you know I rarely rise before noon and I’ve never cared to spend an entire afternoon out of doors, let alone sojourn to the country. So I suppose that simple creature Jenny must again suffice as your chaperone.”
“Then I may go?”
“You may, but only on the provision that you return in time for supper. Sir Richard sent word he will join us. You already know he was displeased to have missed you earlier.”
“Yes. I’m sorry, my lady. I will be certain to arrive back with adequate time to prepare for supper.”
Lady Blanchard waved Nanette away and turned away from the mirror to regard Mary straight on. She cocked her head with an appraising look. “I see you have at last done something with your hair.”
“Indeed, my lady!” Mary spun around to better display the pile of curls atop her head. “It was Jenny’s experiment. Do you approve?”
“I suppose it is some improvement, but I fear I must place you in more capable hands for the opera.” Mary’s smile drooped. The countess looked upon her with a sigh. “You really must strive harder, Mary. It seems I have done my best for you to no avail.”
“I really have tried, my lady,” Mary insisted. “But I am not a dancer, I despise needlework, have no talent for painting, and the French tongue is little more than gibberish to my ears. I was just not born to this kind of life.”
“I know, my dear,” she stroked Mary’s cheek sympathetically. “I just don’t understand what Sir Richard expects, for one simply cannot make a silk purse from a sow’s ear.”
Chapter Eleven
Mary and Lord Hadley set out by coach early in the morning to Westminster, where a private barge awaited to convey them to Richmond. They were accompanied by Jenny, as chaperone, and James, Lord Hadley’s valet, who carried several baskets of provisions for the voyage.
Mary wore another simple chintz gown with a broad brimmed bonnet adorned with ribbon and flowers, while Lord Hadley, still donning the gentlemanly accoutrements of cravat and frock coat, had chosen a mode of dress devoid of the noble trappings. She wondered if he had done so to set her more at ease. With his black hair swept back, unpowdered, and queued, and a manner and dress more relaxed than the day before, he could have been the typical country gentleman she was accustomed to…had he not also been so devastatingly handsome.
“We shall travel in the same manner the Royal Courts have used for centuries between London and Hampton Court Palace, albeit in a less splendiferous style,” Lord Hadley chuckled. He explained that his coachman would drive ahead to meet them later in the afternoon at Bushy Park. “No doubt he’ll stop for a few pints along the way, but he’ll still have ample time to rest the horses before they are needed again.”
“But if it’s a faster trip by land, why do we travel by water?” Mary asked.
“My dear Miss Edwardes,” he snared her gaze with a teasing smile. “Are you always more eager to arrive at your destination than to enjoy the journey?”
Mary regarded him thoughtfully. “I suppose I have undertaken too few pleasure trips to be able to answer that. Generally speaking, my journeys have always had an intended purpose.”
“Then I shall share our purpose with you. We have boarded this barge, on what promises to be a fine day, with the sole objective of enjoying a leisurely passage along some of the most scenic vistas in England, all while enjoying one another’s company, sipping wine, and sampling whatever delicacies Lady Blanchard’s cook has provided in those baskets…although I believe what I crave most might not be inside.”
“No? Mary asked. “What is it you desire, my lord? Perhaps it can be procured along the way?”
His dark eyes glittered above a meaningful smile. “Curiously, since only yesterday afternoon, I seem to have developed an almost insatiable craving…for strawberry tarts.”
His words fired Mary’s cheeks as well as her imagination, distracting her thoughts for the entire upriver voyage. His kisses had roused powerful yearnings—and God help her she wanted more.
The journey was, indeed, a leisurely one, the boat propelled against the current by the exertions of a half-dozen burly and broad-backed oarsmen. Hadley and Mary spent much time in companionable silences, broken only by Mary’s occasional questions about points of interest as they passed the ancient Lambeth Palace, the London residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and countless other palatial estates abutting the banks of the Thames. Lord Hadley singled out each, expounding on the histories of the stately homes and the various scandals associated with each of the noble families.
He had not misrepresented the scenery. As they travelled farther upriver, the traffic became lighter and the waterway gradually narrower, its banks more pastoral with open fields between the picturesque villages they passed with occasional islands springing up and dividing the waters.
It was near noon when they moored somewhere between Richmond and Hampton Court. When they disembarked, Lord Hadley gestured to the vast vista of rolling hills and forest surrounding them. “The entire property once belonged to Cardinal Woolsey until Henry confiscated it to use as his private hunting ground. The park still breeds multitudinous deer and rabbits.”
Mary gazed in awe at the long avenue of chestnut trees. “It’s lovely here and these trees are magnificent!”
“They are very ancient and line the entire road to Hampton Court Palace.” Hadley turned to his manservant, James. “We will explore the grounds for two or three hours and then picnic by the cascade. You will set up for us and then proceed to Bushy House, where we will meet you and the coach later.”
“Bushy House? Is it a private home?” Mary asked.
“Yes, belonging to the Montagu family. They are distant cousins on my mother’s side.”
“Then this is also their park?” she asked.
“Yes, as it happens. I came here often to hunt in my youth, although I haven’t been back in more than a decade.”
Mary remarked that this was the first time he had ever volunteered anything about his past. Although Lord Hadley made occasional inquiries about Mary’s home and childhood, he never answered her questions in any but the vaguest possible manner.
“I would like to know more about your mother. What was she like?” Mary asked.
A scowl briefly clouded his face. “I don’t much remember. She passed away when I was seven. I went off to school after that, and thenceforth was only home on holidays.”
“I was only five when my dear Mama passed away,” she said. “But I still recall her smile…her scent. She favored lavender. That’s why I wear it too. Surely you still have some memory of your mother if you were all of seven.”
Hadley looked almost angry at the question, but then seemed to relent. He focused inward and spoke as if revisiting a place he would have rather avoided. “I have not thought of her in many years. But I recall that she was young and very beautiful. She was also prone to fits of melancholy. That is all I recall of the first Lady Blanchard.”
“How sad,” Mary remarked. “What of your father?”
His expression hardened. A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I prefer not to speak of him.”
“You did not have a happy childhood?” she asked.
“I was content enough…for one of my station.”
Mary wondered why he was so cagey about his past, but this only increased her desire to tear down the barriers, to know the real man behind the noble facade. “What else besides hunting did you enjoy as a boy?” Mary asked, hoping to lift the blackness that had suddenly descended.
“I suppose the same things that amuse most young fellows,” he replied off-handedly.
“Like what?” she persisted.
“I was much occupied with my studies, but whilst in the country on holidays, I rode, I fished, and I suppose I chased my fair share of dairymaids.”
“Chased?” she laughed. “One might question how sincere their efforts were to elude you.” She was pleased when he grinned back at her.
“Are you asking if I tumbled them, Miss Edwards?”
Mary looked hastily away. He seemed to delight in flustering her and only allowed a brief retreat from the field before calling her back. After walking a few more paces, he gestured to the surrounding vista. “I had thought to alleviate your homesickness and sate your yen for the pastoral. Does it meet with your approval?”
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