She was not wrong. The man who strode in moments later, his tall frame clad in impeccably tailored dark blue trousers and coat and white shirt and neckcloth at the throat, bore little resemblance to the laughing man she had met at Carlton House only four days ago. Today he was an aloof, icy stranger who gave her no more than a cursory glance before focusing all his attention on the stately woman who was watching him closely.
‘This is an unusual occurrence, Countess, for an Ainsley to step over the Bingham threshold,’ Lance remarked coolly. ‘Not that I don’t welcome it, you understand. In my opinion it is high time that whatever grievances there have been between our families in the past were left there. However, you could have spared yourselves the embarrassment of this visit. I had every intention of calling on you later.’
‘Then I have saved you the trouble,’ the countess replied stiffly, her purple turbaned head erect and her gloved hands folded upon the jewelled head of her cane. Having lived with her dislike of the Binghams for many years, she was too carefully schooled in good manners to show it.
‘Nevertheless it is good of you to take the time to call at this unfortunate time. Can I offer you refreshment?’
‘No, thank you. I have not come here to make polite conversation,’ she stated ominously, looking at Lord Bingham intently.
He crossed to the fireplace, draped his arm across the mantel and turned, regarding his visitors with a cool and speculative gaze. His gaze lingered on Belle, who was watching him with a cool reticence. He could not help but admire the way she looked. Her overall appearance was flawless and he was quickly coming to the conclusion that she would set the standard by which all other women would have to be judged, at least in his mind.
Her garments were in the height of fashion, and her slender form complemented them perfectly. The high-standing collar and the waist of her short, cropped jacket gave something of a military flare to the dark blue creation of soft wool. A dove-grey silk stock flecked with darker threads was wound about her slender throat and the skirt was in a contrasting paler blue to the jacket. Her glorious hair had been smoothed back from her face and caught up at the crown in a heavy coil, upon which sat a dark blue hat, which matched her jacket. Several feathery curls had escaped the confines of the style, lending a charming softness to her creamy skin, and the appeal in her large, silkily lashed green eyes was so strong that he had to mentally shake himself free of their spell.
‘No, I thought not,’ he replied in reply to the countess’s remark.
‘I recognise that I must lend all my support to my granddaughter at this time,’ the countess went on. ‘She has told me of everything that has transpired since the two of you met at Carlton House and how you forcibly removed some valuables from her person and terrified my servants. I don’t like primitive behaviour, Lord Bingham—especially when it threatens a member of my family.’
‘I saw something that belonged to me and I took it back.’ He flicked his brows upwards mockingly. ‘Primitive behaviour,’ he stated quietly. ‘However, it proved to be a pointless exercise since your granddaughter took them back.’ His eyes swung to Belle. ‘Is that not so, miss?’
Belle stiffened her shoulders and met his gaze direct. ‘Yes. I saw the opportunity and I took it.’
‘I expected better of you, Lord Bingham,’ the countess remarked. ‘Your actions were those of a feckless youth—not a distinguished military officer.’
‘I agree absolutely. And for what it’s worth I regret what I did. I should have approached you over the matter.’
‘Yes, you should. However, it’s too late for that, which is most unfortunate. I am not here to question what prompted a man of your standing and experience to behave like a halfwit. It is done now and we have to try to make the best of it.’
Lance ignored her reference of him being a halfwit. To argue the point would be stupid and serve no purpose. ‘Why are you here, Countess?’
‘Because by your actions you have compromised my granddaughter.’
‘I disagree. Your granddaughter compromised herself the moment she entered my house,’ he said, not in the least perturbed. ‘So,’ he said, going to sit in a large winged chair, propping his right ankle on his left knee and steepling his fingers in front of him, ‘am I to believe that your conscience smote you and you have come here to do the right thing and apologise for breaking into my home?’
‘My conscience has nothing to do with it,’ Belle snapped, clamping her lips together when her grandmother shot her a stern look of displeasure.
‘Then do you mind telling me why you are here?’ he demanded, his dagger gaze pinning Belle to her chair.
‘My granddaughter in her naïvety came to your house to retrieve something you took from her by force—at the point of a gun, I understand—something valuable she believed was mine. In return you ruined her.’
Abandoning his nonchalant manner and sitting forwards, Lance sounded ready to explode. ‘I did what?’ he ground out ominously.
‘You attempted to seduce a young lady of good breeding in your bedchamber.’
‘I did not invite her into my bedchamber. She came of her own volition,’ Lance reminded her forcefully, preferring to ignore what she said about seduction since it was true.
‘When you found her you should have seen to it that she left your house discreetly and not under the watchful eyes of society and your servants. I have a moral code, Lord Bingham, and you publicly breached that code by exposing her to scandal.’
‘If anyone can make a scandal out of a woman leaving my house—although I feel that I must point out that at the time your granddaughter far more resembled a youth than a respectable young lady—then they need their minds examining.’
‘Not when that young lady is my granddaughter.’ The countess gave Belle a withering look. ‘Lord Bingham’s remark leads me to assume you were wearing those appalling breeches you brought with you from America. This is worse than I thought. You have given society enough bait to feed off until the next Season. I recall telling you to dispose of those wretched clothes when you arrived.’
The severe rebuke caused Belle to lower her eyes and mumble, ‘I’m sorry, Grandmother. I forgot.’
‘What she was wearing is insignificant,’ Lance remarked.
‘Insignificant! A respectable young lady wearing breeches may seem insignificant to a practised seducer like yourself, Lord Bingham, but Isabelle is nineteen years old with high hopes of making a good marriage and you have ruined her.’
‘You know, Countess, I find it amazing,’ Lance drawled with some amusement, ‘that nearly everyone who knows me is half-afraid of me, except a handful of my friends, you, madam, and your granddaughter. I can only surmise that courage—or recklessness, call it what you will—is passed through the bloodline to her. So,’ he finished with a mocking grin, ‘I will give you leave to take me to task in my own home if it will make you feel better. What is it you want from me?’
The countess looked at him, her piercing eyes alive with anticipation. ‘You may not like what I have to suggest—indeed, I don’t like it myself, yet I can think of no other way at present to stop the gossip that will surely ruin Isabelle.’
‘Say what’s on your mind, Countess. I am listening.’
‘There are many kinds of persecution that are not readily apparent, such as the whispered conjectures, the gossip and subtle innuendoes that can destroy a reputation and inflict a lifetime of damage. I can think of only one possible arrangement that can hold sway over that to be adequate enough to protect her. I am suggesting that you marry my granddaughter.’
Lance was taken aback; his face became livid with anger. ‘What? Marry your granddaughter! Have you gone mad?’
‘I can assure you that I am not,’ the countess stated firmly.
Lance struggled to calm his temper. The suggestion that he marry Belle Ainsley was almost too much to bear. When he next spoke his face was a taut mask of controlled fury. ‘Forgive me, Countess. Since your suggestion is not w
hat I expected,’ he uttered drily, ‘I must take a moment and consider the possible repercussions that may occur because of it.’
Pushed beyond the bounds of reason by her grandmother’s words and shamed to the depths of her being, Belle sprang from her chair. ‘No,’ she cried, managing to drag her voice through the strangling mortification in her chest. This was worse, much worse than she had dreamed it could be. Her glance skidded from her grandmother to Lord Bingham. ‘Please believe me, I knew nothing of this. The idea of our marrying is ludicrous. I don’t want to marry you.’
Lance’s eyes jerked to Belle’s and his face became a cynical mask. ‘You’re absolutely right,’ he mocked sarcastically, remembering another time and another face—Delphine’s face, a face that still wrenched his damaged heart. Also that of a child he couldn’t bear to look at because it reminded him of the woman its arrival into this world had taken from him, reminding him of the guilt that continued to torture him and would not let him be—the guilt of abandoning Delphine in her hour of need. ‘It is ludicrous and I don’t want to marry you either. And yet all this time I’ve been harbouring the delusion that all girls yearn to snare wealthy and titled husbands.’
‘I am not like other girls,’ Belle bit back.
‘I sensed that from the moment I met you,’ Lance remarked in a bland drawl.
Belle heard the insult in his smoothly worded agreement, and she almost choked on her chagrin. ‘Then that’s it. We won’t wed.’
‘Sit down, Isabelle,’ her grandmother ordered with icy calm, turning her determined gaze on Lord Bingham once more when her granddaughter, humiliated to the very core of her being by his unkind words, had obeyed. ‘And I would appreciate you addressing my granddaughter with more respect, Lord Bingham.’
Lance allowed a meagre smile to convey his apology. ‘After many years as a soldier, Countess, I’m afraid I shall have to relearn the art of gallantry.’
‘I dare say there was not much call for it in your encampments. It is with considerable distaste that I feel I must ask this of you. I am doing it for Isabelle’s sake. If it were not for the slur you have placed on her virtue, I would put the matter from me and have done with it. Since no decent man will want to marry her now, you will have to do the honourable thing and marry her yourself. I think it’s the least you can do. Her birth is as exceptional as yours. She is your equal, so you can have no objections to her suitability.’
A muscle twitched in Lance’s cheek as his angry glare took in the two people staring at him. Why did he have this feeling that he was caught in a trap? ‘No objections?’ he bit back, his face turning positively glacial. ‘I have plenty.’
‘Yes,’ the countess scathingly replied. ‘I thought you might.’
‘And so has your granddaughter if the look she is giving me is an indication of how she feels.’
‘Isabelle will fulfil her part of the bargain.’
‘Even though she might thoroughly loathe me?’
‘She will do the honourable thing. She may be as averse to marriage as you are just now, but I believe that will change when she realises the seriousness of the situation—and she does not loathe you.’
‘No?’ Lance questioned, glancing at the beauty who looked fit to burst with fury. ‘We have just listened to her vehement protests. If I discerned anything in her manner, then I’m willing to wager that you would never get her to the altar.’
‘You are too free with your wagers, Lord Bingham,’ Belle broke in scornfully, ‘and I do not care for them. I shall no doubt suffer from the wager you made with your friend Sir Rowland Gibbon for a long time to come.’
‘In case your granddaughter didn’t give you the full facts, Countess, I shall enlighten you. The reason why I decided to retrieve the diamonds was due to a wager laid down by my good friend,’ Lance explained. ‘He did not believe I would succeed. I am happy to say that I won the wager, before your granddaughter took it into her mind to enter my house to steal them back. What will you do if I refuse to marry her?’
‘Then I shall have to consider having you charged with armed robbery and even go so far as to include attempted seduction.’
‘That is ridiculous,’ Lance responded with cold sarcasm. ‘To openly accuse me would only broadcast throughout London the very scandal you find so damaging to your granddaughter. I will not marry her and that is that.’
‘For that I thank you,’ Belle retorted with angry sarcasm, ignoring her grandmother’s sharp eyes that were telling her to be quiet. ‘I think I would rather be ruined in the eyes of the ton before consenting to be your wife.’
The eyes he turned on her were hard and a jeering grin showed startling white teeth against the swarthy skin. ‘I am glad we are of accord, Belle. If I ever decide to take a wife it will be in my own way, with the woman of my choosing, and not when a woman is holding an axe over my head, which is precisely where all my manly instincts rebel.’
‘An axe,’ she repeated innocently.
His mood was mocking, cruel and angry. ‘You know perfectly well what I mean. I don’t like being forced. It goes against the grain—my grain.’
‘So you intend to go merrily upon your way and not right the wrong you did,’ the countess said coldly. ‘You should have known what the consequences would be of dallying with an innocent, respectable young woman in your bedroom—that it could affect your life in a most permanent fashion.’
Lance looked at her long and hard, refusing to be moved. He was a man who had made his own choices for most of his life, and as much as he yearned to appease his manly appetites with Belle Ainsley, how could he, like some lapdog, blandly accept this elderly woman’s will without yielding his mind?
‘As far as I am concerned, Countess, I have done no wrong. Had I done so, I might have even married your granddaughter if she had acted as if she desired marriage to me. It is an unfortunate occurrence, I grant you.
‘I do not feel committed to marry her, and to come here and threaten me was most unwise. Do exactly as you have threatened and have me publicly charged and brought up before the Court for armed robbery if it will make you feel better. But do not forget that in order to punish me you will destroy your granddaughter and your own good name. Is that what you want?’
‘What I want is fair play, Lord Bingham.’
‘In that we are in accord. I am certain that when your society has chewed over the incident, in time, when another scandal hits the scene, it will blow over and be forgotten as they get on with slating someone else.’
His arrogant calm and the recollections of her own ill use at his grandfather’s hands brought the countess to her feet, shaking with wrath. ‘How dare you refuse to give the respectability of your name to Isabelle—to take advantage of her and then to simply cast her off the way your grandfather …’ She halted, breathing heavily as she struggled to bring her anger and her emotions under control. When she next spoke her voice had lost its strength under the strain and at the possibility of opening old wounds.
‘Forgive me. This has nothing to do with the past. It is about Isabelle and saving her from ruin. You kissed her—and, yes, I know you found her in your bedchamber, but that did not give you the right to lay your hands on her.’
Suddenly Belle, who had remained a silent observer during her grandmother’s outburst, went to her and took her arm with concern. ‘Please do not upset yourself, Grandmother. I am sure all this can be sorted out in a calm and reasonable manner.’ Drawing herself up straight and squaring her shoulders, looking more like Miss Isabelle Ainsley than she ever had, she fixed Lord Bingham with a level stare.
‘I can understand your reticence to marry me, Lord Bingham, and you know I have no more desire to marry you than you have to marry me. We will take our leave of you now, but before we do so I feel that I must say that your behaviour from the very beginning has not been what I would expect from a man of your standing.’
‘You are absolutely right and I apologise for any distress I may have caused to you and the se
rvants who were with you that night on the road. For what it’s worth, I had no intention of harming any of you.’
‘Faced with a masked highwayman with a pistol pointed at us, we weren’t to know that. As far as I am concerned the matter is closed.’
‘Not quite,’ her grandmother said. Taking a velvet box from her reticule, she placed it carefully on a table to the side of Lord Bingham. Slightly puzzled, he looked from the box to her. ‘The diamonds, Lord Bingham. The time has come to return them. It will be a relief to be rid of them after all these years. They have been a permanent reminder of a time that is painful for me to remember.’
‘You didn’t have to hold on to them, Countess.’
‘Pride, Lord Bingham. It was pride that made me hold on to them—which you should know all about. I will ask you for the last time. Will you reconsider your decision and marry my granddaughter?’
In the same tone of voice in which he would have shoved away a hand offering a box of sweetmeats to him, he said, ‘No, Countess, certainly not.’
The countess understood that his decision was irrevocable. She had lost. ‘Then if you will excuse us, I will not waste any more of my time. Come, Isabelle.’
The countess swept out of the room, followed by her granddaughter. A deadly calm had settled over Belle, banishing everything but her shame and humiliation. There was nothing she could do. Her grandmother’s arguments had slid off him like a smooth, frozen block of ice. Her grandmother could not compel a man to marry her granddaughter when he neither loved nor desired her and when his self-interest could be served as well by some other solution. Pride alone might perhaps constrain him.
She looked squarely at Lord Bingham as he held the door open for her to pass through, and as she met his gaze her small chin lifted and her spine stiffened. Lance saw her put up a valiant fight for control—a fight she won—and she looked as regally erect as a proud young queen as she followed after her grandmother, a dark blue hat on her head instead of a crown.
A Wayward Woman Page 12