“Thank you, ma’am. I need not ask how you do, for you look delightfully.”
“Handsomely said, my dear.”
Emily interrupted these civilities to say accusingly, “Oh, Elizabeth, never say you walked home alone! And do not think to pull the wolf over my eyes, for I saw Jennings return some time ago!”
“No, Aunt Emily. You need not rake me over the coals. Mr. Carlyle was kind enough to escort me home, and you’ll be pleased to hear that he agrees with you completely, though I am surprised that he of all people should be such a champion of propriety!” In sudden realization, Elizabeth glanced at Lady Langley guiltily. “Forgive me, ma’am. I should not have said that.”
Lady Langley laughed gaily. “Oh, you need not apologize, my dear. I know my brother only too well! And I must tell you that when it comes to the question of a lady’s reputation, the most hardened rake can become an absolute prig.”
Elizabeth refrained from commenting upon such hypocrisy, and after chatting for a few minutes. Lady Langley took her leave, plans having been made before her departure, for them to meet the following morning in the Pump Room.
* * * *
Upon entering the Pump Room the next day, Elizabeth and Emily found Lady Langley and Melanie already there, and wasted no time in taking them over to join Mrs. Gilbert. That lady was the proud mother of a young daughter, and the two girls, being nearly the same age, were soon chattering together in a lively manner that boded well for a blossoming friendship.
The women watched them for several minutes, the older three indulgently, and Elizabeth with amusement. But when the women began to converse, and the discourse turned to child-rearing, Elizabeth found her attention wandering. Excusing herself to go to Meyler and Sons Library, which conveniently adjoined the Pump Room, she hurried away, promising to return before they should be ready to leave.
In a very short time, she was contentedly browsing through the stacks of books, stopping now and then to read a few lines in the more promising of them. She was stretching for one on an upper shelf when a strong, masculine hand reached round her and lifted it down. Knowing instinctively who it would be before she turned her head, she glanced quickly up into Charles Carlyle’s face. He was watching her with his peculiarly intent gaze, a lazy smile upon his lips, and she thought ruefully that at least she was becoming sufficiently inured to the sight of him to allow her some control over her response.
Perusing the title before handing the book to her, he said in a voice that was at once polite and oddly intimate, “Ah! A romance. So you are not entirely uninterested in that subject.”
She lifted her chin a trifle defiantly. “On the contrary, sir,” she replied coolly, “I find romances highly entertaining. I have, in fact, a great love of reading.”
His expression remained perfectly sober, but a smile of pure amusement lit his eyes as he said, “Well, then, I think you will particularly like this one. I did.”
She shot a surprised look at him. “Do you mean to say that you have read it?”
“Certainly I have. Does that surprise you?”
“Well, only because I had not thought that gentlemen read novels.”
“I would venture to say that a great many gentlemen do, though they may stick at admitting it.”
He waited until they had left the library, and were walking towards the Pump Room before saying, “Indeed, I am extremely fond of books—novels included. Many of them are old friends.”
“Yes, that is exactly what I feel, and oh! how often they have rescued me from tedium.” She had spoken with candid eagerness, but seeing his smile broaden, she added hurriedly, “Oh, dear, now you will be thinking that I find my life here a dead bore.”
“No. I won’t quiz you about it. We’ve already established the fact that life here is gay to dissipation.” Then, becoming more serious, he continued, “Tell me, instead, of your life before coming to Bath—unless it would be too painful for you.”
He knew something of her recent past from his sister, and his eyes, as well as the tone of his voice, held so much of kindness and understanding that she found herself talking of Wyndham as she had never been able to since its loss. She spoke of the grounds, the woods around it, the house itself; she told him how she missed her horses, and riding out each day;
but most of all, how she missed the companionship of her father. Charles drew her out with interested questions, and when she was done, he in turn told her of his estate, Brentwood, in such vivid detail that she felt she knew it well.
They had arrived at the Pump Room long since, promenading as they talked, and now found seats near the others of their party. She saw by his expression that his mood had altered, and his eyes held a teasing light as he murmured, “Do you know, I have often found the observation of other people to be vastly entertaining and instructive. For instance, do you perceive that lady over there?”
Looking across the room, Elizabeth saw a female of such astounding appearance that she was startled into an involuntary giggle. Though short in height, in all other respects the lady was of truly astonishing proportions. She had a jolly face bounded by three magnificent chins, and a bonnet that was every bit as startling as the rest of her person, being adorned with four ostrich plumes, a profusion of fruit and two large rosettes. The rest of her attire was of an antiquated style, and no less awe-inspiring, for everything was of the brightest colours imaginable.
“Yes,” said Charles gravely. “I see you have managed to pick her out of the crowd. I daresay you will be surprised to learn that the lady is a newcomer to our shores, a resident of a little-known foreign country where she is a member of the nobility. ...” He went on to weave a history so absurd that Elizabeth was shortly reduced to helpless laughter. She soon joined him in the game, and so an agreeable quarter hour was spent in choosing improbable heroes and heroines for their tales.
This growing intimacy was observed with amiable complacence by their respective relatives, and with wonder by Mrs. Gilbert, until the girls returned from walking round the room. They were bubbling over with excitement and plans for their own amusement.
“Oh, Mama!” cried Melanie. “Only think! Mr. Graham and Mr. Kirby, who are friends of Lucinda’s, wish to form a party to ride up to Lansdown, and they have been so kind as to invite me to join them. Only say that I may, please?”
“Well, but my dear,” replied her mother, “I cannot like the scheme if there are only you young people going. And you cannot expect me to spend even so short a time in the saddle. I do not remember when I was last on a horse!”
Mrs. Gilbert concurred with these sentiments, and both girls’ faces fell in disappointment, but were quickly wreathed in smiles again as Charles said, “There could be no objection if Miss Ashton and I rode out with them.”
The girls were thrilled at this suggestion, and Charles looked to Elizabeth for approval. She would not have denied him for the world, for to be riding again would be, of all things, most agreeable to her. But she had no sooner given her smiling assent than she exclaimed in dismay, “Oh, but I have no horse! You see, I sold mine when we removed to Bath. It seemed so nonsensical to keep one here when I knew there would be little opportunity to use it.”
“Nor does Melanie have one,” he replied. “Don’t concern yourself. I’ll engage to procure mounts for you.”
A delighted Melanie assured Charles that he was the best of uncles, and plans were soon made for the expedition to take place on Monday.
Walking home a short time later, Elizabeth found that she was anticipating the coming event with an inordinate amount of eagerness. Of course, she was simply looking forward to the pleasure of riding once more, she told herself. It had nothing to do with the way Charles had held her hand for a moment longer than necessary, or with the way he had looked into her eyes as they said goodbye.
CHAPTER FIVE
Later that night while preparing for bed, Elizabeth thought, not for the first time, how well she liked Charles Carlyle. He was certainly the mo
st unusual man she had ever met. But try as she might, she could not fathom the reason for his behaviour towards her. The sudden thought that he might be trying to fix his interest with her made her gasp with alarm. If that were so, she must put a stop to it immediately!
In the next moment, however, she was able to dismiss the idea. After all, he was a confirmed bachelor as well as an unregenerate rake, and she was quite sure that he meant only to get up a flirtation with her, since he must find Bath a flat-out bore. At the same time, she felt that a harmless flirtation would do much to relieve her own growing sense of dissatisfaction and boredom. That he must soon enough depart for more intriguing climes she could not doubt, though why the thought of that inevitable event should have such a lowering effect on her spirits was a mystery. She did not stop to consider why he should have stayed even this long. Whatever the reason, his presence had brightened her rather dull existence, and she could not remember when she had felt so alive.
In the event, she did not see Charles for two days, until the Monday morning when they rode out with Melanie and her friends. The hacks he brought for them were first-rate animals, her own a lovely grey mare with excellent points, and Melanie’s equally as fine. When he had helped her to mount, and they had all started off, Elizabeth and Charles fell a little behind the others.
She said, smiling up at him, “These are not hired hacks. They’re prime ‘uns, as Papa would have said. Wherever did you find them?”
“I have them on loan from a friend who lives not far from here.”
“Oh, is that where you have been? I thought...”
No sooner had the words passed her lips than she wished to retrieve them, for his eyes crinkled with laughter as he said, “How very flattering. I believe you missed me.”
“Certainly not!” she denied. “I would not have realized that you were gone had your sister not mentioned the fact.”
“Ah! That’s tipped me a settler! But where did you think I had been?”
“Well, Lady Claibourne was with us at the time, and I believe she said something about one of your cheres amies.”
“You put me to the blush, ma’am. What do you know about cheres amies?”
In truth, she knew very little about this subject, her father not having considered it a necessary part of her masculine education, and she knew very well that she was the one blushing, but felt goaded into replying, “You may think me a green girl, but I promise you I am not just come from the schoolroom! I know quite well that a chere amie is a man’s—is a woman of a certain class who—oh! I should not be saying these things! But how unhandsome of you to provoke me so!”
She frowned at him, but at the sight of his comically remorseful expression, she was unable to suppress a choke of laughter.
He grinned back at her, saying, “You are adorable!”
“No! I should not—”
“No, no!” he interrupted. “I beg you’ll not turn missish on me. I detest insipid females and bland conversation. I wish you will leave your tongue unguarded when you are with me, for I find our talks vastly refreshing.”
Her brow wrinkled in thought, and after a moment she answered, “Well, do you know, it is so very comfortable to have a friend with whom one may share one’s thoughts and laughter without always having to worry about propriety. Papa was just such a friend to me, but in general I think such friends must be quite rare.”
There was an oddly arrested expression in his eyes as he responded, “Yes. Quite rare, indeed!”
They rode on for a few minutes without speaking, but at last she glanced sideways at him, and a flush crept into her cheeks again as she asked, “Are you really a shocking rake?”
“Alas, I fear I am,” he said with mock sorrow. “A ramshackle fellow, sunk below reproach.”
“But what have you done to earn such a reputation?”
He looked rather startled. “You mean to take me at my word, don’t you?”
She was still blushing faintly, but having screwed up her courage, she had no intention of backing down. “Yes, I do,” she told him. “Well, you gave me leave to speak freely. But do you mean to answer my question?”
“I think not!”
Her eyes flew to his face, and found his expression a little grim. She said quickly, “Oh! I don’t mean that I wish to hear all about your... your orgies, or your cheres amies. But have you been very bad?”
He gave one of his shouts of laughter. “Minx! There have been no orgies, I promise you. Other than that, I shall tell you only that I don’t make a habit of seducing ladies of quality, or of ravishing innocent maidens.” Under his breath, too low for her to hear, he added, “At least, not intentionally.”
Charles’s thoughts went back to the one deeply regretted episode in his life when he had, indeed, seduced and ravished an innocent maiden.
He had had no intention, six years ago, of attending his sister’s house party. He was far too familiar with her matchmaking propensities to allow himself to be trapped, for a sennight, with whatever simpering chit she proposed to throw in his way this time. To have done so he must have been a complete gudgeon. But then he had learned that Lady Sabina was a member of the party, and he had posted down from Town on the last night.
Lady Sabina was a promising little beauty with whom he had been carrying on his latest flirtation. Having broken off with the last in a long series of lovers, she had made it plain that she would not object to their own affair becoming more intimate.
He had arrived late, just as everyone was preparing to go to their beds, but he had managed to steal a few moments alone with Sabina. They had made an assignation, agreeing to meet in the summer house as soon as her husband should fall asleep. He had waited for nearly an hour before she finally came— at least, he had thought it was she.
When he realized his mistake, the unpardonable offense he’d committed—though what the devil an innocent girl was doing there in the middle of the night, he still didn’t know!—well, he had meant to make things right with her in some way. But the silly chit had run off before he could learn who she was. He had strongly suspected her to be one of his sister’s housemaids, and when, on the following morning, he saw that none of his fellow guests could possibly have been his unknown fille de joie, he decided he had been right. However, after a couple of awkward and rather embarrassing interviews with the only two maids who might have been she, he was as much in the dark as before. He had never been able to discover the identity of his mysterious little love. Lord! She had been something special, though!
While he had been preoccupied with these thoughts, Elizabeth had been considering what he had said and now, her brow furrowed, she asked, “Are you not accepted into the first circles? Is that why you’ve never wed?”
It was a moment before he could bring his thoughts back into the present, then he grinned and said, “Oh, it’s not so bad as that. I assure you, I’m quite respectable enough, or at least have enough wealth, to be accepted into the first circles of Society. However, since I find the social code governing males and females tiresome in the extreme, and haven’t the smallest desire to become a tenant for life, I try to avoid all the fashionable squeezes as much as possible.”
She didn’t understand why his lack of interest in marriage should discompose her, but so it did, and her smile was rather brittle as she said, “Well, that is fortunate, to be sure! Since I am not in want of a husband, and you are not hanging out for a wife, there is nothing to throw a rub in the way of a comfortable friendship between us.”
“Indeed!” was all he replied, but a slight frown creased his brow.
They spoke only the merest commonplaces after that, until they arrived at their destination. The monument raised in honour of Sir Basil Grenville, and the nearby remains of a Saxon fortification were viewed with somewhat more enthusiasm by the younger members of the party than by Elizabeth and Charles. There was nothing more to be seen, and it was not long before they started on the return journey.
Elizabeth and Char
les once again rode behind the others, and he was soon amusing her, and making her laugh with a story that was told of Lady Holland. They went on to discuss the Prince Regent’s latest starts and their literary favourites, then lapsed into a companionable silence until Charles suddenly asked, “How is your estimable suitor?”
She glanced at him. “Lord Braxton?”
He studied her face, a slight smile upon his lips, but an odd, unreadable expression in his eyes. “Have you other suitors? I must warn you, my sweet, that we rakes are noted for our jealous and possessive natures.”
Disconcerted, she ignored his last statement. “No, of course I have no other suitors. Only Lord Braxton.”
“Have you not yet sent him to rout?”
“Would that I could! I am sure that I ought to like him, for he has so many admirable virtues, but I own that I cannot. Poor man!”
“Don’t waste your sympathy on him,” he advised her. “The man is a crushing bore and was born to be abused.”
“What an infamous thing to say!”
“Not at all. I’m convinced Lord Braxton and I have a mutual regard for each other. I’m sure he would like nothing better than to throw me in the close, if he were able to.”
“I collect that is a boxing term, and I’m woefully ignorant on that subject, I’m sorry to say.”
“No, no! Never apologize to a gentleman for being ignorant!”
“Never apologize for being ignorant?” she asked, astonished. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Never to a gentleman, I said. There is no surer way for a female to fix a man’s interest than by showing ignorance, and the more imbecilic the better in most cases. How else can a man puff off his better-informed mind and superior intelligence?”
“Oh! You are being absurd again!” She laughed. “And if you mean to instruct me in the art of boxing, I pray you will not! I haven’t the least desire to learn it.”
“My dear girl, with such an attitude you shall make me think you don’t wish to attach me. I take leave to tell you that in all my dealings with you, you have shown a sad want of witlessness, and I suspect that has been your trouble all along.”
The Thoroughly Compromised Bride Page 4