An Unlikely Suitor

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘Thank you, Mr Hammond,’ she said a little tremulously. ‘I should be delighted to dance with you.’

  The music had already struck up. Barney offered her his arm and led her into the nearest set.

  ‘Thank you for your kindness, Miss Brabant,’ he murmured, as they took their place in the dance. ‘It was most generous in you—’

  Lavender had recovered herself and could not bear to hear him sound so humble. ‘I am neither generous nor kind, Mr Hammond,’ she said crisply, ‘except in general terms, of course. I wished to dance with you!’

  For a moment Barney looked startled by such a frank admission, then he rallied.

  ‘Well, in that case—’

  ‘And pray do not thank me again,’ Lavender finished, thinking that she may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb, ‘for I did nothing but consult my own inclination! There! We may be comfortable again!’

  Barney’s face was grave, shadowed. It seemed that he could not shake off Mr Salton’s insults so lightly. ‘Do you not judge as the rest of the world then, Miss Brabant, on rank and consequence and such matters?’

  ‘So much nonsense!’ Lavender said, knowing she sounded just like her late papa, the Admiral. ‘A fine thing it would be for me to apply society’s rules when I am one of those it most disapproves of, for valuing books above looks!’

  Barney’s expression lightened as he laughed. ‘And where do accomplishment and intellect rate in the eyes of the world, Miss Brabant?’

  ‘Why, almost nowhere, I believe! Accomplishment in a female is quite a good thing as long as it is restricted to drawing prettily and playing well, but it cannot compensate for good looks!’

  ‘You are an outspoken critic,’ Barney said slowly.

  ‘Of society’s rules? Well, they are so foolish and fickle they deserve my derision!’ Lavender smiled at him. There was still a small frown between his eyes but it melted as his gaze met hers and something warmer took its place. Lavender suddenly felt unaccountably hot. She fell silent, pretending that she was concentrating on the steps of the dance.

  Dancing with Barney was more disturbing than she had anticipated; the touch of his hand stirred memories of their encounter in the wood, and once again, his proximity had a wholly disconcerting effect on her. Lavender was used to being in control of her emotions and she found this weakness deeply unsettling.

  ‘Perhaps we should conform to convention and speak of more commonplace matters, Mr Hammond?’ she said, a little at random. ‘Are you enjoying the ball?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. The Covinghams are very pleasant people,’ Barney said promptly. ‘Your friend, Miss Covingham, is a delightful girl, is she not?’

  Lavender felt the same sinking feeling that she remembered from the parties and balls of her London Season. Just as soon as she had thought she had found a pleasant gentleman with whom to converse in a sensible fashion, it seemed that he only wished to discuss her prettier companions. That it was Barney Hammond talking to her this time only seemed to make matters worse.

  ‘Oh, Frances is the kindest creature imaginable,’ she said, trying to keep her tone light, ‘and a true friend to me since we first arrived here!’

  ‘She tells me that she is much in awe of you,’ Barney said, with a smile. ‘She said that she wishes she were even half as accomplished, though given your recent remarks, you may not rate that a compliment!’

  Lavender smiled. ‘Well, I know Frances would never deal in Spanish coin, so I am grateful that she at least values my attainments! But then with Caro as her governess, it is no surprise that she sees the value of useful accomplishments!’

  The final flourish of the music swept them into their respective bow and curtsey, and it was then time to go into supper. Caroline waved at them across the room.

  ‘Do you wish to take supper with us?’ she asked, slipping her hand through Lavender’s arm. ‘The most diverting thing—I have just been talking to the odious Mr Salton! He was chatting pleasantly until I said that I had worked for the Covingham family, upon which he started, bowed slightly and said that he had mistaken me for a friend of the family! He then walked off—’

  ‘And I almost ran him through!’ Lewis finished, somewhat grimly. ‘Insufferable young puppy!’

  ‘Anne tells me that he has just inherited his uncle’s estate and is all puffed up with his own consequence!’ Caroline said. ‘Never mind. Let us talk on more agreeable topics!’

  They chatted pleasantly about Northampton, its entertainments and amusements, until supper was ended and Barney excused himself to dance with another of Anne Covingham’s protégées.

  ‘Mr Hammond is very popular tonight,’ Caroline observed idly, ‘and most confident in this setting. He is a most unusual young man. Do you not think so, Lavender?’

  ‘Oh, he is very pleasant,’ Lavender agreed brightly, hoping she did not sound as though she were trying too hard to sound careless.

  ‘Damned with faint praise!’ Caroline said, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

  It was towards the end of the ball that Lavender had the misfortune of bumping into the graceless Mr Salton again. She had gone upstairs to fetch a wrap for Caroline and had paused in the Long Gallery to admire some of the Covingham portraits on the way back. There was a very fine likeness of Lady Anne as a young girl, a flattering portrait of Lord Freddie, and beside it a small picture of a gentleman in a gilt frame. Lavender had almost passed it by, for it was in a dark corner, but something caught her eye. She stepped a little closer.

  The gentleman in the picture was young and dark, with an inscrutable expression that seemed strangely familiar. Lavender was just puzzling over where she had seen him before when she heard a footstep beside her and someone’s arm insinuated itself about her waist. Lavender turned sharply to confront Mr Salton’s flushed face and recoiled from the stench of wine on his breath.

  ‘Miss Brabant! Loitering with intent, ma’am?’

  Lavender tried to step back, but he held her firmly.

  ‘I have no notion what you mean, sir!’ she said, with distaste. ‘Kindly leave me alone!’

  Mr Salton leered meaningfully. ‘No need to play coy, ma’am! I know that you were waiting for me!’

  He leant forward clumsily and Lavender realised belatedly and with horror that he was about to try and kiss her. She turned her head sharply and felt him press his wet lips to her neck rather than her mouth. She shuddered.

  ‘Mr Salton! You forget yourself! Unhand me at once!’ She wanted to sound authoritative but was aware that instead she sounded breathless with outrage and surprise. She struggled, kicking his shins as hard as she could in her ball slippers, and slapping his grasping hands aside with her fan. The treatment was probably not painful but it was effective. Mr Salton’s already flushed face turned a deeper red and he yelped with fury, grabbing Lavender’s wrist.

  ‘You little vixen! You’ll pay for that—’

  ‘Can I be of service, Miss Brabant? Mrs Brabant sent me to find you—she was somewhat concerned that you had been gone for some time…’

  Lavender closed her eyes for an agonised moment. The measured tones could only be those of Barney Hammond, who seemed to be making a habit of rescuing her these days. Her face burned with a mixture of embarrassment and fury to have been found in such an undignified situation. Nor was Mr Salton helping the case, for he was evidently so inebriated that he could barely grasp what was happening and was still holding on to her wrist. She saw Barney’s dark eyes narrow murderously as he took in Mr Salton’s drunken state and the fact that he was still gripping her arm. As she tried to free herself, Barney said silkily, ‘Unhand the lady, Salton. You are making a nuisance of yourself.’

  Mr Salton’s hand dropped away from Lavender as he turned unsteadily to face his new adversary. ‘Don’t presume to tell me what to do, Hammond,’ he sneered. ‘What can the jumped up son of a draper possibly know about polite society—’

  Barney’s face was expressionless. ‘My antecedents have nothing to do w
ith your bad manners, Salton. Stand aside.’

  Mr Salton stepped back and took a wild swing at Barney. The blow failed to connect since he was so drunk he could barely see straight. Lavender drew a sharp breath. For a moment, Barney looked so dangerous that she was certain he was about to hit Salton and she was sure that his aim would be considerably more direct. Then Barney paused, put one hand on Salton’s shoulder and simply pushed the younger man. The drink did the rest. Salton staggered, cannoned off the edge of the window embrasure, and slumped quietly on the floor. Lavender pressed both hands to her mouth.

  ‘Oh no! How dreadful!’

  ‘But infinitely better than it might have been.’ Barney’s face was still expressionless.

  He took a couple of steps towards her. ‘I hope that you are not hurt, Miss Brabant?’

  All Lavender’s mortification came flooding back. ‘Not in the least, sir. Thank you for your prompt intervention. I am sorry that it was necessary.’

  ‘So am I,’ Barney said a little grimly. ‘If you will loiter in poorly lit corridors, Miss Brabant—’

  Lavender, suffering from shock and embarrassment, reacted strongly to the injustice of this. It had not occurred to her that any of the blame might attach to her. ‘I merely paused to take a look at the portraits, sir! I cannot see that that gives Mr Salton the right to think that he may force his attentions on me!’

  ‘Not the right, but the opportunity,’ Barney said, with an expressive lift of his dark brows. ‘You seem to be forever wandering into trouble, do you not, Miss Brabant? Walking in the forest at night, getting caught in traps during the day, facilitating the attentions of a drunken womaniser—’

  Lavender flushed with fury. She took an impulsive step forward. ‘How dare you, sir! Your observations on my conduct are discourteous—’

  She found that her anger had propelled her far closer to him than she had intended, and that an acute physical awareness of him suddenly overcame her. The words dried in her throat and she stared up into the dark eyes that were suddenly so close to her own. She saw the moment when his own expression changed, focusing more intently on her, setting her heart racing. He took a step towards her, the final step. They were very close now. Lavender could not tear her gaze away from him.

  Barney’s hand was already on her arm when there was the sound of a step along the stone corridor and they broke apart, the moment shattered.

  Caroline’s voice said, ‘There you are! I had quite given up on my wrap—’ She broke off as her gaze fell on the recumbent form of Mr Salton. ‘Oh dear, I see—your handiwork, Mr Hammond?’

  Lavender heard Barney take a deep breath. ‘I can claim little credit, I fear, ma’am,’ he said. ‘The gentleman was so inebriated he could barely stand.’

  Caroline tutted. ‘Well, let us leave him here until Lord Freddie’s servants throw him out! Mr Hammond, would you be so good as to escort us back to the ballroom?’

  ‘Gladly, ma’am.’ Barney stepped back with scrupulous courtesy to allow Lavender to precede him. She was very aware that he was avoiding looking directly at her. His expression was quite blank.

  ‘I think I shall retire,’ she said quickly. ‘I have no taste for further dancing. Good night, Mr Hammond. Good night, Caro.’

  She sped away before Caroline could demur, hurried along the corridor to her room, and threw herself on the bed, lying back and staring at the canopy. Her heart was still beating quickly, the residual excitement still fizzing in her blood.

  Another second, and she knew Barney Hammond would have kissed her. She had wanted him to, ached for him to take her in his arms. She was still trembling at the thought, could still feel the touch of his hand and see the concentrated look in those dark eyes…Lavender rolled over, pressing her hot face into the pillow. The same heat had infused her blood when she had seen Barney at the pool in the forest. He was as prodigiously attractive as Frances Covingham had said, and she could not deny it.

  She lay there breathing in the sweet scent of lavender from the sheets and listening to the faint sound of music from the ballroom below. What was happening to her? It was one thing to admire a personable man, or to be drawn to the conversation of a man of sense and integrity. It was quite another to feel such passion, both physical and intellectual. She had never experienced the like of it before and it was utterly perplexing. Lavender lay still, conjuring up the memory of Barney’s touch, his voice. She shivered. She knew she was in danger of losing her heart and it was a frightening thought. For all her brave words against snobbery, she knew that such an unequal match could never be.

  ‘Oh Lavender, I swear I have lost my heart and it can never be!’ Frances Covingham was shredding a tiny white handkerchief between her fingers and was obliged to borrow Lavender’s considerably larger one to wipe away her tears. ‘Mama has warned me—gently, but warned me nonetheless—that he is too old and quite ineligible! I feel so desolate I think I shall cast myself into the lake!’

  Frances accompanied the words with a look over her shoulder at the Riding Park lake, which glittered placidly in the midday sun. It was the afternoon following the ball and the two girls were sitting on a bench that was prettily positioned under some weeping willow. A family of ducks fluttered and splashed in the shallows. It was a tranquil scene, but Frances was far from calm. She had positively dragged Lavender away from the rest of the party in order to unburden her heart to her and Lavender felt ill equipped for the role of confidant.

  Lavender had not slept particularly well, for her dreams had been snatched and full of images of Barney Hammond. Unlike Frances, who managed to look desolate but pretty, Lavender knew that she simply looked wan. And now, to hear Frances speaking of her tender feelings for Barney almost broke her heart.

  ‘I have never met such an interesting and personable man,’ Frances lamented, another tear rolling down her cheek. ‘Last night—it must have been after you had retired, dearest Lavender—we sat and talked for hours! I felt so warm and so comfortable and so happy—’

  She gave a miserable sniff.

  ‘Perhaps your mama might relent,’ Lavender said, feeling like a traitor, though whether to herself or to her friend she was not quite sure. ‘Although, Frances, I must allow that Lady Anne is in the right of it. Your grandfather was a Duke and you are very eligible, whereas he—’

  ‘I do not see that he is at all ineligible!’ Frances disputed hotly. ‘He has air and address and besides, his family is as good as mine!’

  Lavender frowned, wondering if she had missed something. Frances seemed so distressed that she did not wish to add to her misery, but she could not agree.

  ‘And now this morning Mama tells me that I must not see him again,’ Frances finished, ‘for she says that I am too young to form a lasting attachment and he has a reputation as a flirt—’

  Lavender looked at her in astonishment. Whatever the charges that could be levelled at Barney Hammond, this was not one of them. ‘A flirt! Surely not! I have never observed Mr Hammond behave in such a way!’

  Frances’s green eyes opened very wide. ‘Mr Hammond! Well, of course Mr Hammond is not a flirt! But I have heard that Mr Oliver has a reputation for it, although with me,’ she blushed, ‘he was the perfect soul of propriety even when I wished him not to be!’

  Lavender frowned again. Her head was beginning to ache a little. The sun seemed very bright.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Frances, but is it Mr Oliver for whom you have formed this attachment rather than Mr Hammond? I thought—’ She broke off, deciding that there was no point in confusing the issue further. Frances was already looking at her with eyes wide with incredulity.

  ‘Of course it is Mr Oliver! Who else? Really, Lavender, have you not been listening to a word I was saying?’

  ‘No doubt it was very vexatious of me,’ Lavender agreed meekly, ‘but I was confused. After all, you had danced several times with Mr Hammond—’

  ‘Yes, and Mr Potts and that odious Mr Salton! What is that to the purpose, pray? I sat an
d talked to Mr Oliver—James…’ She blushed again, ‘for hours, and he was so charming and kind to me! But Mama says that he is a hardened flirt and that she will not have another of her daughters making a foolish match and so…’ she gave a little sob ‘…I am not to see him again!’

  She held the soaking handkerchief forlornly in her hand, and Lavender rummaged in her reticule and produced a second one. ‘There! How fortunate that I should have two! But pray do not cry any more, Frances, for it makes your nose quite pink! What if Mr Oliver were to call to pay his compliments and you are sitting out here with eyes and nose as red as a white rabbit?’

  Lavender felt quite heartless as she spoke, but this was undoubtedly the best way to calm Frances, who was much struck by the idea of looking ugly. She wiped her eyes for a final time and took a deep breath.

  ‘I suppose you are right. A melancholy air—without the tears—might be the very thing!’

  ‘Precisely!’ Lavender spoke bracingly. ‘I am truly sorry that you needs must suffer for your sister’s indiscretions, Frances, but perhaps Lady Anne will relent if she sees you behave in a sensible way! And if Mr Oliver is also steadfast in his affections—well, who knows…?’

  Frances grasped her hand. ‘Lavender, will you carry a letter to Mr Oliver for me? You could give it to Mr Hammond, for they are friends, after all, and Mr Hammond could pass a note on…’

  Lavender’s heart sank. Evidently Frances’s idea of sensible behaviour and her own were poles apart.

  ‘I do not think that a very good idea, Frances! Only think what would happen if your mama discovered you in a clandestine correspondence—’

  ‘Oh please!’ Frances’s big green eyes pleaded with her. ‘A letter can do no harm! Why, Mama should commend my industry, for she knows I hate writing letters!’

  Lavender wriggled uncomfortably. She hated having to play a discouraging role, but she knew it was a bad idea to encourage Frances’s hopes.