by Anne Herries
It was what every young lady on the catch for a husband learned to do, though some did it much better than others. Where some inexperienced young ladies might have seemed coy, Melia played the sweet innocent to perfection. Her aunt must have told her that gentlemen did not care for clever women or some such nonsense. Jane felt such behaviour to be deceitful, especially when the girl in question was perfectly capable of understanding and coping with most situations alone; to pretend misunderstanding or to act as if one were a weak and vulnerable female in need of a gentleman’s strong arm was not something Jane would have resorted to. She believed in calling a spade a spade and taking one’s life in one’s own hands whenever possible, but perhaps some gentlemen did prefer the childish woman that Melia portrayed so well at times.
Knowing how firmly Melia spoke out for her own opinions in the matter of dress or other domestic matters, Jane thought her husband would soon be relieved of any such misapprehension once she was mistress of his home. Melia liked her own way and she’d heard her argue with Will over a horse he’d considered too strong for her to drive when he’d given her lessons in a light phaeton that his sister knew he’d had made especially for her. Will knew her as the wilful and sometimes headstrong girl she was and loved her, but in trying to trap the viscount with a sweet modesty that was not her own Melia was, in Jane’s opinion, behaving badly.
She sighed as she unpinned her hair and her maid brushed it for her, the slightly waving length of it tumbling way past her shoulders. Jane had told Tilda not to sit up but she might as well have saved her breath, for her faithful servant had replied huffily, ‘The day I can’t sit up for you, my lady, you may give me my pension and send me off.’
‘I couldn’t possible manage without you,’ Jane told her affectionately. ‘You will have to go on for many years yet. I’m sorry, Tilda, but you must train a girl to care for me as you do before you think of retiring.’
Tilda had given her a dark look and muttered something that Jane could not hear and diplomatically ignored. The girl had come to her via her mother, a shy young thing of fifteen when she first worked for the family; employed in the nursery, she’d worked her way up to become Jane’s maid, had gone with her to Spain and France when Harry was fighting under Wellington, and been a tower of strength when his death had almost killed Jane. Indeed, she did not know whether she could have borne it without Tilda and some other friends who had supported her in her grief.
After Tilda had wished her pleasant dreams and left her, Jane felt too restless for sleep. She looked at the portrait of her husband that she had kept by her bed since it was first given her as one of many presents from an adoring lover, for Harry had remained the ardent lover to the end. Sighing, she replaced the jewelled trinket in its place and walked to the window to look out at the night sky. Jane’s heart had been broken when she lost the man she loved, and she would not wish such pain on her darling brother. If Melia’s heart had been captured and her head turned by the dashing soldier, she would feel responsible—though, of course, they could have met at any time during the round of parties and dances that were about to begin.
Jane sat on the edge of the bed then lay back against a pile of soft pillows, another sigh escaping her. Was it only Will’s disappointment that hung over her like a heavy cloud—or was there more?
She could not be certain. The evening had been pleasant, much of that deriving from the gentle smile and amusing conversation offered by Lord Frant. There was something about him that had made her very aware of him from their first meeting, but she could not put her feelings into words. He was direct, strong-willed and would make a bad enemy, of that she was sure—but to her he showed only courtesy, though she was certain he’d intended to quarrel with her that first morning.
What had made him change his mind? Jane puzzled over it, but could find no reason for the thunderstruck look on his face as he’d stared at her. A vainer woman might have hit upon the truth, but Jane had never thought herself either beautiful or desirable. She dressed in good clothes that suited her and were considered elegant by others, but, since she only glanced in the mirror when she dressed or changed her clothes, she was not aware that she was a striking woman with good strong features and fine eyes.
It would be vain indeed to imagine that a man like Paul Frant had fallen instantly in love with her and the thought never entered Jane’s mind. He was a man of the world, obviously wealthy and experienced in business matters. She could only think that he’d been surprised—he had mentioned that he’d thought she would be older, so that must be it.
Her own feelings had shocked her, because she’d liked him despite her determination not to. His letter had been abrupt and she’d been ready to think him a villain for turning Melia and her sister from their home, but indeed that had been the lawyers, who had since been put in their place and were now doing all they could to make amends. Paul Frant was a long way from being the most handsome man she’d met; indeed, his friend Adam Hargreaves put him in the shade and was a viscount to boot rather than a mere lord. As a girl, Jane had been expected to look higher and her husband’s title had not been considered one of importance. She’d married for love, with her mother’s approval and her half-brother’s grudging permission, and, until fate had taken everything away, she’d been very happy.
Jane did not feel it would be possible to love like that again. Surely any other attachment she might form would pale into insignificance against the love she’d known—and, that being the case, she’d more or less made up her mind not to marry again. It was better to be a widow and independent rather than find oneself trapped into a less than perfect marriage.
Yet Jane could not deny that it was comfortable having a man to care for one’s comfort, even if one was capable of arranging things for oneself. Will had never interfered in her arrangements, but she’d known he was there if she’d needed a male opinion on any matter of business. Living with her brother had suited her well, but she had her doubts about living in Bath with a female companion.
As yet there had been no reply to her letter to Cousin Sarah, which had surprised Jane a little. She’d thought the girl would be only too happy to accept the offer of becoming her companion. She’d made it clear that, though she would be accepted as family, she would be given an allowance that would make her independent and able to buy the small luxuries of life that made the difference between drudgery and content.
Perhaps the letter had been lost between Sarah’s home and hers. She would wait another week or so and then write again.
Chapter Five
Having made what amends he could to the Bellingham sisters, Paul was giving some thought to disposing of their father’s estate. He had paid a fleeting visit when he first came to England, expecting Melia to be living there under the guidance of Lady Moira. He had not stayed more than an hour to take some refreshment before pushing on, but he had naturally found his way to the library, and what he discovered there was pleasing. Bellingham had obviously been something of a collector and there were some books Paul would like to keep on the shelves. He’d decided he would have all the books transferred to his library in London for the time being, and gradually sort out those he ultimately wished to keep; the others could be sent elsewhere once he’d had the leisure to go through them and would in the meantime fill the large spaces in what had once been his great-grandfather’s excellent collection.
Paul sighed as he looked up from the letters he was writing to his man of business. It had occurred to him that there might be some pieces of furniture at the Bellingham estate that he would like for his London home. As yet, he had purchased very little and in truth was not much inclined to it, though he knew he must furnish his town house in style before he could entertain properly—yet the prospect of searching various cabinet makers was daunting for a man who had never bothered with such things. He could leave it to an agent, of course, or— The thought that he might consult La
dy March on the matter brought a smile to his lips. As his wife, she would have the freedom to purchase anything she chose, but he could not convince himself that he was making any impression on her inner calm. Perhaps if he were to beg for her help in choosing the furniture for his house it would bring them closer together—of course, she would quite likely refuse but nothing ventured, nothing gained...
He’d noted with some amusement the flirtation between Adam and the young girl who was by her father’s will his ward, but as he believed the viscount to be trustworthy he had no qualms. Adam would not step beyond the line, and had already confided that he was on the lookout for a wife. Paul would have no objection, should his permission be sought, though he was not sure she was the wife he would have chosen for his friend. Paul did not intend to be critical, but her artless sighs, smiles and pouts seemed artificial to him and he wondered that Adam should be taken in by them—or perhaps he was making too much of the thing and the pair were merely enjoying a flirtation.
Had Paul thought much about his friend’s state of mind, he would have imagined that Adam had been more than a little in love with the beautiful Annamarie, though he had never said as much. The proud girl had shown her own preference for Paul, and Paul had seen her snub several of Adam’s fellow officers. That would probably have been enough to prevent Adam from speaking, even if his heart were engaged, for his pride would not have taken kindly to such a snub.
Oh, well, there was no point in dwelling on something of which he had no real knowledge. Paul played with his pen for a few moments longer and then a smile touched his lips as he began to write. As yet he had not received a single invitation to an affair at which he could be sure of meeting the lady he wished to meet, but perhaps if he invited her to help him choose the new furnishings for his house, that would provide a reason for them to meet more often...
* * *
‘More letters for you, Jane,’ Will said and smiled as he handed them to her in her parlour that morning. ‘How many more affairs are we to be invited to, I wonder?’
‘Several, I imagine,’ his sister said, looking at him in amusement. ‘If I do not have at least four engagements each day I shall think myself abandoned. You must not grudge me my fun, Will. I come so seldom to London that my friends clamour to see me and have me attend their parties.’
‘And the house is inundated with young smarts,’ her brother said, a trifle put out. ‘I think you were right, Jane. Melia hardly has time to pass the time of day with me of late. If she is not driving in the park with one of her admirers, she is riding, or attending an al fresco breakfast or a waltzing party in the afternoons.’
‘You would not have her appear a country dowd?’ Jane lifted her fine eyes to his. ‘Naturally, she wishes to waltz well by the time she appears at Almack’s, and Lady Sopworth’s invitation to join her daughters at their waltzing lessons was a great favour that I was delighted for her to take up.’
‘I do not mean to complain,’ Will said with a wry smile for his sister. ‘Melia is lovely and it is no wonder that she is in demand. I knew it would happen but I hope she will not forget me.’
‘If she loves you this will be but a passing phase,’ his sister said. ‘If she does not—then I do not think you would wish to marry her?’
‘Perhaps not,’ Will admitted, a flash of pain in his eyes. ‘But I do think the world of her, Jane—and I hoped she felt the same.’
‘She is young, dearest, and must have a little time to flirt,’ Jane said softly, feeling his hurt and wishing that she might help him, but there was little she could do.
‘I do understand,’ Will answered with a determined lift of his head. ‘Take no notice of me. Have you arranged to see Mama today?’
‘Mama is always engaged,’ her loving daughter said. ‘She did make time to call on us and we have all dined with her—but I am informed she means to give a large ball next week and we are all summoned to attend.’
Will’s eyes lit with laughter. ‘I should not dare to plead another engagement, and I know you would not think of it. Besides, everyone will be there. It will be the biggest crush of the season if I know anything of Mama.’
‘Yes, I dare say it will...’ Jane had been opening her letters. Most were invitations to various affairs, but the one she had just glanced down at made her sit up straighter. ‘Cousin Sarah apologises for her tardiness in replying and asks if she may join me here on Thursday afternoon... Oh! That is the day after tomorrow. I must be at home to receive her, which means I cannot accompany Melia to Mrs Broom’s for tea and a little music...’ She turned beguiling eyes on her brother. ‘I know it is the kind of affair you most despise, Will—but perhaps you could escort her?’
Will seemed to hesitate, then nodded. ‘Of course, love. At least it will give me the chance to spend more than a few minutes in her company.’
‘Yes...’ Jane scanned the rest of her cousin’s letter and frowned. Sarah seemed to be in a fret over something, hinting that she had a problem that she wished to discuss with her. Discarding the letter, she opened the next in her pile. ‘I must make sure that one of the best guest rooms is prepared for Sarah...’ A little cry of surprise left her lips as she read her next letter. ‘How odd...’
‘Something wrong, Sis?’ Will asked.
‘No, not wrong—just surprising. Lord Frant has asked if I can help him choose some suitable furnishings for his house. He says that he has been living in two rooms and that cannot continue if he wishes to entertain, which he does—and he has no idea where to start.’
‘What can the fellow be thinking of?’ Will frowned. ‘You must say no, Jane. It is not your place to furnish the man’s home.’
‘No, but he does not expect that, merely some advice. He really has no idea how to start—and you know that kind of thing has always appealed to me. Mama says that if I ever lose my fortune I might make it again by advising others how to furnish their homes.’
Jane was very surprised that a man she hardly knew had suggested such a thing, but also flattered. She was aware that her good taste was often mentioned in polite circles and imagined he must have heard that she was famed for her style in all things. Mama was always extolling her virtues to others, particularly gentlemen.
‘I suppose he has heard some sort of garbled tale about your flair for such things.’ Will frowned. ‘I still think you ought not to agree. There’s something about him...and that friend of his. I cannot put my finger on it, but I don’t like Hargreaves and if Frant insists on keeping him in his pocket it shows...’
‘What does it show?’ Jane enquired, believing she understood her brother’s hostility. He was feeling a little jealous of the handsome gentleman for whom Melia had shown a particular liking. ‘I find Lord Frant a very pleasant companion—as for Viscount Hargreaves, I hardly know him.’
‘No more you know Frant,’ her brother said harshly. ‘I suppose he is well enough but I don’t like his friend and that I tell you...’ Will’s face was a little red as he added, ‘And it ain’t just because Melia likes him either. I wouldn’t trust that man further than I could throw him.’
Jane was a little surprised, for her brother was the most easy-going gentleman she knew. It was unusual for him to take such a dislike to anyone. Even allowing for Melia’s attraction to the man, Jane had not expected this reaction.
‘I wasn’t aware that you knew much of him?’
‘Well, I don’t,’ her brother said. ‘When we first met I thought him a pleasant enough fellow, but I saw him fleece a young fool at the club one evening. I’m almost sure that he cheated, but I couldn’t be certain. The youth in question was General Brent’s grandson. He came into his estate when his father died last year and if he carries on at the card table in the way he did that evening, he will soon run through his fortune.’
‘Oh, Will!’ Jane exclaimed for she knew the general and the young man’s mother quit
e well. ‘I am shocked. Indeed, I am. Are you sure he was cheating? It is bad enough to go on playing when a young man like that is losing constantly, but to cheat him...’
‘I saw him take a card from his sleeve. I almost intervened—but I could not prove anything. If he called me a liar and protested that it was only his kerchief, which he did take out to conceal the card...it would have ended in a duel. I did not wish to become embroiled in such an unbecoming brangle, Jane. He is Lord Frant’s guest, his trusted friend—and it would seem as if I were trying to discredit him for my own purposes...’
‘Yes, of course I do see,’ Jane said, frowning. ‘I am perfectly sure that Lord Frant is not aware of such behaviour. I do not believe he would count a cheat as his best friend...’
‘No?’ Will looked dubious but then he inclined his head. ‘I dare say you are right, Jane. I know you to be a good judge of character. Please, keep your eyes and ears open as regards this man’s character, as I shall. I promise you that it is not sour grapes. I trust I am man enough to accept Melia preferring another man, but I would not want to see her ruined or have her heart broken by a scoundrel.’
‘Be careful you do not use such words to her—or anyone but me,’ Jane warned. ‘I am glad you’ve been frank with me, Will. I shall try to steer her away from his company gently, but to forbid her or cast a slight on his character would make her rebellious.’
‘Yes, I know her temper and her heedless character,’ Jane’s brother said a little sadly. ‘I love her for her faults as much as her good points. If she were a paragon, perhaps I should not love her half as well.’
‘Oh, my dearest,’ Jane said, but would not let words of sympathy tumble out. Will would resent it if she showed pity. He was a man and could fight his own battles. ‘Well, we must do what we can to keep our dear friend from harm—but if I were sure of Hargreaves’s unkind nature I should speak to Lord Frant of it.’