A Lady for the Brazen Earl: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “And this is Heath Montgomery, the Earl of Reddington,” Lady Hanbury went on.

  “It is nice to meet you,” Imogen said levelly as she bowed her head just a little.

  “So, you do charitable works, do you?” he asked in the same tone he might have used had they been caught in the commission of some crime or other.

  “Yes, we do,” Imogen replied before Adeline had a chance to speak at all.

  “And what sort of charitable works to you do, Lady Pennington?” he said and seemed to be looking down at her from a great height; a great height that had nothing to do with his immense physical stature.

  “We help the poor, Sir. And we have plans to reach beyond Hertfordshire and do what we can to help the poor of London.”

  “That is rather a lot of poor, is it not?”

  “Indeed, it is. But does that mean that one ought not to try?” Imogen felt very defensive.

  “Not at all, my dear,” he said in the most patronizing manner. “Indeed, I think one ought to try, most particularly if one does not have anything better to do.”

  “Oh, there you are, Heath.” Suddenly, the ashen-haired lady that the Earl had arrived with appeared at his side.

  For a moment, Imogen felt herself to be glaring at the woman, seeing her as an obstacle to everything she wanted to say to the Earl in response to his interfering insult.

  “I was just having a few moments with these good ladies, Mother,” he said to her, a little shortly. “This is Lady Adeline Redmond and Lady Imogen Pennington.”

  “Good evening, how very nice to meet you,” Lady Reddington said with a look which suggested it was anything other than nice to meet them.

  “And this is my mother, the Countess of Reddington.”

  “How nice to meet you,” Imogen and Adeline chorused as one, neither displaying a great deal of enthusiasm for the introduction.

  “Oh, and this is Miss Jemima Ravenswood,” he said, sounding a little surprised to see the beautiful golden-haired young lady arrive at his side also.

  “Miss Ravenswood, Lady Pennington and Lady Redmond here do charitable works,” he said as if it was somehow amusing.

  “Oh dear,” the young woman said with what Imogen could only imagine was practiced hostility

  as she ignored Adeline altogether and concentrated entirely on Imogen, whom she looked up and down from head to toe without a moment’s embarrassment.

  “Oh dear,” she repeated, before turning to walk away.

  Chapter 6

  “At least we shall not encounter the dreadful Earl of Reddington at the fireworks display, surely?” Imogen said with a groan as their carriage rumbled over Westminster Bridge in the direction of the Vauxhall Gardens.

  “Well, it would not surprise me at all if he were there, Imogen, but there shall be so many people that we are hardly likely to stumble across him if that is any consolation to you at all.” Adeline chuckled.

  “The only consolation I could find in this world would be an assurance that I would never set eyes on that dreadful creature again. And as for Miss Jemima Ravenswood, may she have joy of the pompous man.”

  “Did you really think him so pompous?” Adeline said, leaning forward in the carriage seat to look out across the wide expanse of the River Thames as they crossed the bridge.

  “Yes, I thought him dreadfully pompous,” Imogen uttered with a shudder.

  “I thought him rather more argumentative than pompous,” Adeline spoke vaguely as she stared out at the myriad of lamp lights reflected in the inky black water of the river.

  “Goodness me, please assure me that you found no sympathy with the awful man,” Imogen said, comically outraged.

  “In truth, I do not think he gave a good account of himself and likely never does. But he is not so very uncommon in his manner, is he? After all, the vast majority of people of our class think nothing of charity or, if they do think anything of it and do nothing about it, would rather scoff at another’s attempts than admit that they have been woefully remiss themselves.”

  “Well, he certainly scoffed at our attempts,” Imogen said firmly.

  “But he did not really hear about our attempts, did he? I mean, the small party was with us but a few minutes and certainly not long enough to hear us expound upon our scheme.”

  “No, they all seem to be led by the nose by the dreadful Miss Ravenswood. I would have thought things would have been the other way around if the young lady has her eye on his purse,” Imogen said quietly and laughed, remembering their previous conversation.

  “Perhaps it is not she who has an eye on his purse, but rather the other way around. Perhaps there is space in the Reddington coffers for Lord Ravenswood’s little fortune.”

  “Lord Ravenswood?”

  “I believe that would be the father of Miss Jemima Ravenswood. Jeremy Ravenswood is extraordinarily wealthy.” Adeline gave the sort of conspiratorial grin that she often gave Imogen when she was parting with a confidence she could not quite remember the origin of.

  Something about the look always made Imogen want to pull her friend to her and hold her close, her round face and shrewd dark eyes filled with mirth and mischief as they were.

  “And that explains it,” Imogen said thoughtfully.

  “Explains what?”

  “Explains the look on the Countess of Reddington’s face. Did you not see her when dear Miss Ravenswood provided us with the second of her oh dears and turned to walk away?”

  “No,” Adeline said, turning her attention away from the Thames now that they had all but traversed the Westminster Bridge.

  “The Earl’s mother followed along behind Miss Ravenswood when she turned to leave, but she did not look at all amused by it. I rather got the impression that she thought the girl a little above herself for expecting the Earl and the Countess to follow hot on her heels. But if there is money involved and the Countess is intent upon some matrimony between Miss Ravenswood and her son, then it explains why she followed instead of simply holding her ground, not to mention her rather regal countenance.”

  “Oh, dear me,” Adeline said and began to laugh. “You do have a way of telling a tale that really brings it to life. And, yes, I do believe I did perceive a little of Lady Reddington’s annoyance now that you come to mention it. I think you might be right.”

  “That being the case, perhaps you and I would do better to spend our time flattering Lord Ravenswood rather than the Earl since it seems as if the former is the one with all the money.”

  “Oh dear, you are wicked.” Adeline was chuckling again. “But I daresay the Earl is as wealthy as anybody. It is just that some people never stop looking to acquire, do they?”

  “Yes, I do believe that to be true. Some people are more determined to acquire than others are to survive,” Imogen said thoughtfully. “If only the people who were so determined to gather up money they do not truly have a need for would give at least a moment’s consideration to those who barely have enough to keep going.”

  “If they did, my dear, there would be no workhouses. The idea of poverty would not exist in this land because everything would be shared out a little better. But that is the disease of our times, is it not? Greed.”

  “It most certainly is,” Imogen said sadly.

  “Well, tonight you must enjoy yourself, my dear. The fireworks should be a sight to behold and really will be too loud for us to be able to sweet talk anybody into parting with money.”

  “But there shall be intervals, shall there not?” Imogen said, keen to remain steadfast to her cause.

  “Indeed, there shall, but there are always musicians, amateur or otherwise, who strike up the moment there is a silence to fill.”

  “I can hardly remember it. I have only been to Vauxhall Gardens once, and that was when I was here in London for the Season four years ago. My father took me during the day, and I must admit it really was beautiful.”

  “It is wondrous at night, although it is true that the gardens are not what they once
were. Still, the fireworks are always magnificent, and I must insist that you relax this evening and enjoy them.”

  “I shall, Adeline, I promise.”

  In the end, Imogen had enjoyed the fireworks very much indeed. Vauxhall Gardens seemed magical at night, with lamps lit everywhere and shaded by glasses of so many different colours she felt she was in a dream. And in the trees hung the most beautiful bouquets of flowers in blood red and white. Still, with so many thousand people in attendance and a small admittance fee charged at the gate, it did not surprise her that the management could afford to spend out on such things.

  The fireworks had almost taken her breath away; there were so many, one after the other, and the whole thing was a wonderful cacophony of noise and bursting lights. The crowd all around her clearly enjoyed themselves as much as she did, and there were oohs and ahhs aplenty throughout the entire thing.

  “You keep this seat here, Imogen, and I shall make my way to one of the little stands and get us something to eat and drink,” Adeline said with a smile.

  “Are you quite sure, Adeline? Would you not like me to go?”

  “I am certain, Imogen. I have been in these gardens more times than I care to count, and so I have seen all there is to see here. You sit and enjoy and look around. Get the most out of it that you possibly can.” And with that, Adeline disappeared.

  Imogen did as advised and looked all around her. There seemed to be so much of everything there in the Vauxhall Gardens that she could hardly take it all in. In truth, she could hardly believe that the operation had scaled down so much in the last years and wondered quite how marvellous it must have looked and what wondrous events must have taken place when Adeline was her age.

  Still, Imogen thought the gardens wonderful, and the idea of being there at night felt strangely romantic and magical. She looked down a great pathway, both sides flanked with lamps and lanterns. There was so much light in the park that it was possible to see so much. She looked down towards the great music room, which looked like a wonderful temple from the outside. Imogen remembered it well from her first visit to Vauxhall Gardens, as well as she had remembered the many little Chinese pavilions and the wonderful array of trees, shrubs, and secluded little pathways.

  She remembered once that Adeline had told of the pathways referred to as the dark walks or the close walks. Adeline had said that they were unlighted pathways and that many an amorous adventure was reported to have taken place along those pathways in the dark of night.

  In truth, Imogen did not doubt it for a moment. There was something about Vauxhall Gardens which seemed to free everybody, the young men and women in particular, from the ordinary social constraints. As she looked here and there, she could see numerous conversations taking place between young men and young women, all of whom appeared to be entirely unchaperoned. They were not there alone, of course, but rather everybody had relaxed and their attention drawn elsewhere at the many other attractions in the park.

  “Did you enjoy the fireworks?” The sudden appearance of the Earl of Reddington made her gasp. “I am sorry; I did not mean to startle you,” he said, in a voice which suggested he was hardly sorry at all.

  “Yes, I did enjoy them. I thank you,” Imogen said, being as polite as she could but fully determined that she would not ask him if he was well. In fact, she would not enquire after him in any way.

  “I must admit, I am rather surprised to see you here, Lady Pennington,” he said, the beginnings of a smirk on his face.

  “Really?” she answered, hoping that her voice sounded as bored with him as she truly felt and wishing that he would turn and walk away.

  However, as bored as she was, she had no desire to meet with the cool-eyed Miss Ravenswood again. If she were honest with herself, the young woman’s obvious hostility had affected her more than she would care to admit.

  “Yes, I would have thought a woman such as yourself would be busy with fundraising and clothes collecting and that sort of thing.”

  “You mock me, Sir,” Imogen said and looked up at him with annoyance.

  “I do not mock you, Lady Pennington. I am merely teasing you,” he said and, quite without seeking permission at all, he sat down on the wooden bench beside her.

  Even seated, Imogen felt herself dwarfed by his immense stature. She thought him almost as tall sitting down as she was standing up, and she wished that he would relinquish his seat and leave her in peace.

  “Perhaps the two are so linked that is hard to tell between them. I must admit, I think that your tone suggests mocking far more than teasing. Still, perhaps that is all in the delivery.”

  “And now you are mocking me, My Lady.”

  “Well, I do like to be fair, Sir,” she said shortly and turned to look away from him, hoping against all hope that she would see Adeline bustling towards her carrying their food.

  “I think it is something very different from being fair that you like, My Lady. I think you like to argue. I think you would like to fight,” he said and smiled at her.

  “I find that extraordinarily insulting, Sir, especially given that you and I are barely acquainted.”

  “Oh, do not be so insulted, good woman. I did not mean it is an insult,” he said a little sharply. “So, perhaps you could tell me a little more of your charitable works? After all, you did not finish telling me your plans at Lord Seaton’s ball.”

  “I should have told you the plans, Sir, if I thought you the vaguest bit interested. But since you turned to walk away before I had begun, I rightly assumed that what I had to say would be of little interest to you. I hardly think it will be of interest to you now unless you have changed character entirely since we last met.”

  “And now you are being extraordinarily insulting,” he said but smiled nonetheless. “Especially given that you and I are barely acquainted,” he added, parroting her words precisely.

  As they sat side-by-side on the wooden bench, Lord Reddington held her gaze firmly. In the light of many lamps, she could see his blue his eyes and thought them very handsome indeed. In all honesty, she thought him one of the most handsome men of her acquaintance. If only he were not so arrogant and overbearing.

  “Well, now that we are both injured by this exchange, perhaps we would do well to end it,” she retorted.

  “No, not before you have told me of your plan,” he said, sounding just a little petulant.

  “Alright, I shall tell you. Not that I think you will have the vaguest interest in the poor of London or the poor of anywhere for that matter,” she said rather rudely. “But Lady Redmond and I are intent on gathering enough funds to provide better shelter for the poor. By better shelter, I mean an alternative to the dreadful regime of the workhouse.”

  “So, you would give to the poor without making them work for it?” he said, sounding confused.

  “Do you really think that the workhouse system is equal and fair? Do you think the people who are in such dreadful places work only for their bed and vittles? No, they do not. They work to make local businessmen richer and richer and that, Sir, is an abuse.”

  “And so, your system would help them by not making them work?”

  “It would help to keep them out of the workhouse for as long as it takes for them to secure real work. You see, once a person is in the workhouse, they are trapped. They are not able to look outside in the wider world to find employment which pays in real terms, not just a bed and meagre food in return for a longer and more backbreaking day than either you or I will ever know.”

  “I see,” he said and looked suddenly thoughtful.

  “Heath, there you are.” Suddenly, the Countess of Reddington was standing before them. “We have been looking for you everywhere.” She spoke directly to her son and entirely ignored the presence of Imogen.

  Imogen could not help thinking that money could not buy everything, manners most particularly.

  When she looked up, Imogen could see that Lady Reddington was lightly flanked by the dreadful Miss Ravenswood and
the young woman whom she now assumed to be the Earl’s younger sister.

  As she caught the young woman’s eye, she was rather amazed to find that she smiled at her. When she did, she was so very like the Earl that they could only be related. With her dark hair and blue eyes, the young woman was really very pretty and, furthermore, Imogen thought she had a kind face.

  When it seemed the two would never be introduced, Imogen looked back at the young woman and returned her smile.

  “I am afraid I wandered off a little during the fireworks, ladies,” the Earl said, rising to his feet. “But thankfully Lady Pennington was here and has managed to fill my time by telling me all about her charity work.”

  “Oh, how very nice,” the Countess said coldly as Jemima Ravenswood scowled at Imogen.