Claiming the Chaperon's Heart

by Anne Herries

  ‘You flatter,’ Jane said and laughed, but the look in his eyes was having a disturbing effect on her. She felt young and excited again, like a girl at her first ball. ‘But it is most pleasant...and the evening would not have been the same if you had not come.’ She felt her cheeks flush as he smiled down at her and for a moment it was as if they were the only two people in the world. For a moment then Jane thought that if he had held her and kissed her she might have given herself to him...and then another couple came out onto the balcony and the lady called out to them, breaking the spell.

  ‘Is it not warm this evening, Lord Frant? I swear I thought I should melt if I did not catch the air...’

  Paul moved back, turned and inclined his head towards her. ‘You are very right, Lady Catherine. It is the reason Lady March and I came out. Yet after a while it seems cool...do you not think so, Lady March?’

  ‘You are very right.’ Jane took her cue. Besides, it would be safer in the ballroom, for her emotions had almost betrayed her. ‘Take care you do not stay too long, Lady Catherine. We should go in, Lord Frant.’

  ‘Oh, but I wanted to hear what happened to you,’ Lady Catherine said, placing a hand on Paul’s arm to delay him. ‘Everyone is whispering different tales—is it true that someone tried to kill you and that they might have succeeded had Viscount Hargreaves not ridden up with your groom?’

  ‘Exaggeration,’ Paul said and smiled at her eagerness. ‘It was merely a little tumble from my horse. Excuse us, please, Lady March grows cool...’

  Giving Jane his arm, he swept her back into the ballroom. Jane was aware of the pretty young lady staring after them. The daughter of an earl, she was betrothed to a marquis, but there were whispers that her father was desperate to get her married to curb her wildness. Some gentlemen spoke of her being no better than she ought, but as yet the remarks had not come to the lady’s ears or those of her father or betrothed.

  ‘I believe Lady Catherine came out in order to corner you, my lord,’ Jane said with a teasing look. ‘She enjoys excitement I understand...’

  ‘That young woman is the bane of her father’s life,’ Paul replied with an amused smile. ‘I knew her father years ago and his wife was a flighty one—unfaithful to him for years, though he believes that his first two sons are his own.’

  ‘You think Lady Catherine takes after her mother?’

  ‘I would not besmirch a young woman’s reputation, though others are less circumspect,’ Paul said. ‘I have heard tales but, gossip being what it is, I am inclined to discount most of it.’

  ‘I think she likes you,’ Jane teased but he shook his head.

  ‘No, I think her more interested in Adam. He has escorted her to some function or other on more than one occasion, for their families were friends...but I do not think the earl would countenance a union between them...’

  ‘You think Viscount Hargreaves might wish for it?’

  ‘As I believe I mentioned once before, he needs to marry money—but Lady Catherine’s father wants more for her.’

  ‘She is engaged to the Marquis of Barnchester.’

  ‘A man old enough to be her father,’ Paul said and frowned in disapproval.

  ‘Yes, that is a sad thing,’ Jane agreed. ‘I do not agree with such marriages, for they can bring little joy to either partner, I think.’

  ‘Barnchester needs an heir,’ Paul murmured. ‘After that, I dare say she will do much as she pleases...’

  ‘Yes, perhaps,’ Jane said but could not help feeling sorry for the lovely young woman who was so full of life. How must she feel about being married off to a man so many years older? Jane would never have agreed to such an arrangement. ‘Does she have money of her own—or is she in need of a fortune?’

  ‘Oh, her family is rich enough, but her father believes in keeping the coffers filled. The earl is full of juice, they say, but he wants a title and fortune for his daughter so if he has his way the match will go ahead.’

  Jane nodded, and then turned her head to look up at him. ‘My next partner comes to claim me, but I shall see you for the dance before supper.’

  ‘How ridiculous these customs are,’ Paul said. ‘If I could dance I should want to keep you to myself and dance the whole night long...’ He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, and there was something in his eyes then that set her heart racing once more. ‘Yet I am not too selfish to keep you from the pleasure of dancing, Jane. Go to Brandt and enjoy yourself. He waltzes well, as do all Wellington’s aides...’

  Jane moved from his side reluctantly, though she greeted her partner with a smile and went willingly with him to the dance floor. She enjoyed dancing and soon discovered that the man was an excellent dancer. Their dance was soon over, and though she looked for Paul she did not see him to speak to again as she went from one dance to the next with a succession of partners. When she caught the occasional glance it was to see him engaged in conversation with the Prince Regent and some political gentlemen.

  However, Paul did not forget their second dance and came to claim her. The touch of his hand on her arm set her pulses racing and she wished that they might dance the beautiful waltz that was about to begin for she would have liked to be in his arms, swaying to the music.

  Once again they went out to the balcony to take some air, before moving into the supper room. For some moments they strolled in the peace of the cool evening air, but others had the same idea and they were never alone. Jane looked at Paul and saw the slight frustration in his eyes, as if he too wanted some time alone with her, but then he asked if she was ready to go into supper and the moment passed. Here they were joined by various gentlemen, friends of Paul’s, Melia, Sarah and Jane’s brother.

  ‘Have you enjoyed your first ball in town?’ Jane asked of Sarah and was greeted with a bright smile.

  ‘Oh, yes, it is lovely to dance—and your brother dances so well, Jane. He has danced with me twice and introduced me to his friends; I have sat out no more than three dances—and on two occasions I spoke with Lord Frant. He is such a pleasant gentleman, Jane. I know he likes you very much, for he spoke of you in the warmest terms.’

  Jane refrained from asking what Paul had said about her, but she saw that his eyes were upon her and her heart began to race. Until this evening she had not truly understood how much she had come to like the quiet gentleman—and how much she enjoyed his company.

  All too soon the last dance was over and people began to drift away as the sound of the music ended. Paul remained until the last and came to her as she and her friends were preparing to leave.

  ‘I hope you will call when I return from Ireland, to see how my house improves,’ he said and held her hand for a moment longer than necessary. ‘Bring Melia and your cousin—and your brother, if he cares to visit.’

  ‘I cannot vouch for Will, because he always seems to have so many engagements,’ Jane replied and looked up at him. ‘Sarah and Melia will be delighted to accompany me, I know. Your ward must take an interest, for perhaps one day—when you have taken a wife—she may reside within the walls of your home.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps she may,’ he said and there was a hint of laughter in his eyes. ‘I shall hope to see you—the day after tomorrow, perhaps?’

  ‘Yes, in the morning,’ Jane said. ‘We shall look forward to it.’

  ‘Goodnight, sweet Jane,’ he said and his eyes spoke more.

  ‘Goodnight, Frant,’ she said and smiled up at him.

  They went out to the carriage together. Will handed his sister, Sarah and Melia inside and then climbed in after. Jane caught a glimpse of Paul’s face as he turned away. She thought he looked tired and sad and her heart caught. She wished that she did not have to leave him... For a short time on the balcony that evening she had almost believed that she was ready to love again.

  Alone in the darkness, Jane wrestled with her tho
ughts. How could she even think of caring for another man when she had loved Harry so much? She knew very little of Paul Frant and, from the way Lady Catherine had looked at him, Jane knew that he was a man who drew women to him—how could she be certain that he wasn’t simply flirting with her?

  In truth, she knew nothing of him. His past was a closed book to her and he might be an adventurer or a rogue for all she knew—she had sensed that he was not telling her the truth when he’d spoken of his injury, so what was he hiding?

  * * *

  Paul’s arm was aching as he entered the house, handing his cane, hat, gloves and cloak to his manservant with a sigh of weariness. That country doctor had known what he was talking about when he’d told him to rest for a few days. He felt weary after standing for hours, talking, smiling, catching up with old friends—and all the time his eyes followed Jane, his mind could not quite shut out the ugly suspicions.

  Whoever had shot at him from behind a tree had meant to wound, for he had fired a second time before taking flight as Adam and the groom came riding up and Adam had instantly taken a pot-shot into the darkness.

  He must have an enemy, but he had no idea of who it might be—or what he had done to bring on such hatred. Why would anyone wish to kill him?

  He’d been puzzling over it since the incident the previous evening, just as dusk was falling. Had the villain aimed only a little straighter, Paul might have been badly wounded or even dead.

  His first thought was that his half-brother wasn’t old enough to conceive such a plot—nor would the boy or his mother know that he would be on the road from Newmarket to London that evening. Very few could know that, because he had not decided until the last moment...unless he was being followed by someone who was waiting for such an opportunity.

  Yet who could hate him that much? Adam had suggested it might be his stepmother. Perhaps she believed that if he were dead her son would become Lord Frant. Yet the boy was already heir to everything of worth left in their father’s possession at his death. Paul was the one who might have borne a grudge but did not. So why would the dowager Lady Frant want him dead?

  It made no sense. Indeed, if anything, she’d seemed apologetic when Paul had paid her a fleeting visit out of courtesy. She’d made it plain that she made no claim on him and he’d told her that he bore her and the boy no malice. Whatever his father had done, he had done, and that ended with his death.

  Having lived so many years abroad, Paul could not think that any of the friends he’d made in the Army—or since his return—would want to harm him.

  Was it something to do with India? Paul thought he might have made enemies there. He’d risen fast and gained a fortune, much of it by hard work but some because of what he’d done to help the young Prince escape his captors. Could it be something to do with that—perhaps one of the soldiers Adam had commanded had resented that Paul should receive so much more in reward than he or anyone else? Perhaps there was some truth in that point of view, though they had merely done their job, while he had risked his life with no thought of reward.

  Paul had broken down the door of that burning hut and rescued the Prince at some cost to his person—but the soldiers had fought the tribesmen and some had been wounded. They should have received a reward for it and Paul was not certain how much of the two thousand gold coins paid to their captain had gone to the soldiers...

  He frowned as his manservant eased him out of the tight coat he’d worn to the duchess’s ball. The bandage beneath showed a few spots of blood and the wound stung. Paul had lied when he said he was injured in the fall; he had taken the ball in his arm and the force had knocked him from the horse. Had the ball pierced his chest...but he would not dwell on such thoughts.

  The assassin, for such he must have been, had not taken enough care with his aim and so Paul lived. Yet next time he might not be as lucky. He knew he must do something to protect himself—and he must employ an agent to discover the reason for the attack.

  He felt the frustration of not being able to devote his mind to the woman who dominated his thoughts. Jane had looked so lovely and for a moment on the balcony he’d felt she’d invited his kiss—and then that woman, Lady Catherine, had intruded and the mood had been shattered. The spoiled beauty was a nuisance and had tried to pique his interest on more than one occasion but, like others of her ilk, she had failed—something that would displease her if she guessed it. Yet perhaps she’d done him an unwitting favour.

  If Paul’s life were truly at risk, it meant he could not ask Jane to be his wife. She had suffered a terrible loss once; Paul would not wish her to suffer another. He would continue to be friendly, but a proposal of marriage was not to be thought of until he had discovered his enemy and could take the precautions necessary.

  He was about to retire when someone knocked at his door.

  ‘It’s Adam. May I speak to you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Come in,’ Paul said and picked up the glass of whisky his valet had poured for him.

  ‘I could not retire without enquiring how you were,’ Adam said, standing in the doorway, his golden locks dishevelled and in his shirtsleeves. ‘It was foolish to risk the wound opening again by dancing...’

  ‘I did not try to dance, but I saw Jane—and met some good friends. I do not think you know Major Harding? He served with me many years ago...before we met in India.’

  ‘I am glad you met friends,’ Adam said and hesitated, then, ‘but have a care, Paul. Someone meant to kill you last evening. You have an enemy, my friend—and it might be anyone...’

  ‘Yes, I’ve realised that,’ Paul said. He was about to confide his plans but thought better of it. ‘I cannot imagine who...but I am sure that ball was meant to wound or kill me.’

  ‘Had we not come along when we did...’ Adam shuddered. ‘We delayed to help a lady whose coachman had lost his way, and if we had been but a moment longer...I am certain he meant to finish you off as you lay there, but at the sight of us he made off into the trees.’

  ‘Yes, that was fortunate,’ Paul said and frowned. ‘What have I done that someone should wish to kill me, Adam?’

  ‘Men have many reasons to kill,’ Adam muttered and something in his eyes at that moment made Paul wonder if he still harboured resentment against him because of Annamarie. ‘Jealousy, anger...even resentment over a slighting word has been known to move a man to murder.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose, but I do not think my half-brother or his mother hate me that much... If he were older, but...’

  ‘An assassin works for a few coins in the hand,’ Adam said. ‘Do not look for reasons; accept that you are hated and watch your back, my friend.’

  ‘Yes, I shall.’ Paul grimaced and eased his shoulder. ‘Was your evening a good one?’

  Adam laughed ruefully. ‘I think my luck resides in the turf rather than the tables. I lost five hundred guineas this evening, but I still have the funds we need for our venture. The day after tomorrow we leave for Ireland and I shall not gamble again before then so stand in no danger of losing what I have.’

  ‘You have not yet received the money from your lawyer, I think?’

  ‘No, but that will buy land and perhaps a house,’ Adam said. ‘I shall have that, whatever happens at the tables, Paul—for I shall not risk my land or the share in the future we plan together.’

  ‘I am glad of that,’ Paul replied with a lazy smile. ‘I should not like to lose my partner. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m for my bed.’

  Adam laughed softly and went out, leaving Paul to his thoughts, which were neither clear nor pleasant as he crawled into bed and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Ten

  Jane knew better than to visit her mama too early the next morning, but in the afternoon she drove to her house to take tea with her and found that several other ladies and gentlemen had formed the same intention. It was
impossible to have a private word with Mama, but both Melia and Sarah found friends there and Melia seemed happier than she had the previous evening, when Captain Smythe and his sister Anne asked her to go walking with them in the park the following day.

  Sarah also seemed lost in her thoughts as they drove home, though she answered when Jane spoke to her and discussed their plans for the evening, which were to dine quietly at home before joining a few friends for a trip to the theatre in the evening.

  Jane enjoyed her evening, and when in the interval Major Harding entered their box she greeted him with a smile. His invitation to go riding the next day was accepted with pleasure and he spent the whole of the interval at her side.

  Will had accompanied them that evening and he sat between Melia and Sarah, entertaining them both and providing ices and drinks in the various intervals for their pleasure. Melia was more talkative than she had been for a few days and Jane heard her agree to go riding with Will the next afternoon.

  Jane watched her brother’s face as he turned from Melia to Sarah and asked her if she would like to ride with them. Sarah hesitated, and then said she would very much like it if a horse could be found for her. Will promised that he would see her mounted properly and Sarah smiled, and then the lights dimmed for the last act. Just before the lights lowered, Jane noticed that someone was watching them from below in the pits through a small pair of opera glasses.

  For a moment she wondered who the gentleman was and why he stared so intently, but then he seemed to become aware that she had noticed and inclined his head, turning his attention to the stage. Jane was soon drawn into the performance and forgot him, though later that evening, before she retired, she mentioned it to her brother.

  ‘Did you notice that gentleman in the pits?’ she asked. ‘He seemed to be very interested in us...I suppose you did not notice him?’

  ‘No, I cannot say I did,’ Will said and smiled. ‘You are a lovely young woman still, Jane. I am sure a great many gentlemen stare at you, dearest—and it might have been Sarah or Melia who was attracting his attention.’