Connie (The Daughters of Allamont Hall Book 3)

by Mary Kingswood

  “Without awkwardness,” she said faintly.

  “Without any expectations on your part. If you believed me already betrothed, then you would be entirely yourself and I could judge your character without any falsity on your part.”

  “Judge my character,” she repeated in disbelief. “Falsity…”

  “Exactly so!” He smirked in a self-satisfied way. “Is it not a clever scheme? It was all my own idea, you know — well, mostly, for Reggie may have had a hand in it, just a little. He played his part very well, do you not agree? Until the end, at least — he did get a trifle out of line there, and I had to take him down a few pegs, you know. But the bruises will heal soon enough.”

  “Bruises…”

  “What, did you think he walked into a door?” He chuckled. “No, he walked into my fists.”

  “I thought he had been set upon by footpads,” she said indignantly.

  He laughed uproariously, as if she had made some great joke. “I shall tease him about that, you may be sure. Footpads! Ha! Poor Reggie. No such thing. Your sympathy is quite misplaced.”

  “I do not agree,” she said hotly. “He has been severely injured, and at his own brother’s hands! It is quite monstrous, sir!”

  “Oh, monstrous, is it?” he said, sitting a little more upright. “Well, it is not surprising if you have grown to like Reggie, since you have been thrown together rather, and you may continue to do so, you know, after we are married.”

  “It would serve you right after all your scheming if I had fallen in love with him, and he with me!”

  “But you have not,” he said smugly. “You love me, for why else would you try to seduce me with poetry, and wild flowers, eh?”

  She flushed uncomfortably. “How would you know anything about that?”

  “Ah, because Miss Dulcie told me. Trying to be helpful and throw us together, I dare say, but she put me quite on my guard, so I knew exactly what you were about. It was most entertaining to watch your efforts to attract me. It was largely because of your little tricks that I felt obliged to protect myself, you know. But it did not make me think worse of you, so you need have no fear that I shall reproach you on that score when we are married.”

  “When we—!” She was so angry that she could barely catch her breath.

  “So that is all settled. I shall put the notice in the Gazette next week.”

  “No, you shall not!” she hissed.

  “What? Why ever not? Oh, you want me to ask your mama first, is that it?”

  “No, that is not it! Never in my life have I met such an arrogant, high-handed…obnoxious man as you are, my lord! Notice in the Gazette, indeed! Such presumption!”

  “There is no need to take that tone with me, madam! What is the matter with you? Here I am offering to marry you, and all you can do is hurl abuse at my head like a washer-woman. You had better be careful, or I shall decide not to marry you after all. It will hardly enhance my comfort to have you shout at me over the breakfast table.”

  “Enhance your—!” She paused, too stupefied to order her thoughts for a moment. “You are dreadful, quite dreadful! It is of no possible interest to me what you may decide to do. Please go away.”

  “Go away? In my own house? Now you are being foolish.”

  “Then I shall go.”

  He stood up, his face suffused with anger. “Now, this has gone far enough! I have no notion what bee is buzzing in your bonnet, but it will not do. You will calm down, like a good girl, or I shall be forced to withdraw my offer.”

  “You have not made me an offer, my lord. You have told me that I must marry you, but you have said nothing of love or respect or honour or… or any of the proper things, and you have not once asked me what I want.”

  “Good God, Connie, of course I love you and all the rest of it. That is what this is about, after all. And I already know you want to marry me so—”

  “I do not. Why should I want to marry anyone as horrid as you?”

  “Because I am a Marquess, you goose.”

  “You could be the King himself, and I would not marry you!”

  “Really, Connie—”

  She stamped her foot in frustration. “Do not dare to call me that. You have no right. Oh — you are impossible! I am leaving at once.”

  Her anger carried her out of the room, onto the landing and down the stairs. In the entrance hall, she stopped, uncertain. A footman turned in surprise, and then bowed.

  The Marquess galloped down the stairs after her. “And just where are you planning to go, without a coat or hat, in the rain?”

  She had not yet thought that far, but the answer rose into her mind without effort. “I shall go to my sisters,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster, although she shook from head to toe. “Milford, pray tell Annie to fetch my brown pelisse and bonnet, and to bring her own cloak and bonnet.”

  “Yes, madam.” The footman bowed deeply, face impassive, and disappeared down the service stairs.

  “Connie… Miss Allamont, this is not necessary. You are making a great piece of work about nothing.”

  “I shall send for my boxes later. Pray thank your aunt for all her kindness.”

  “Pfft. This is ridiculous.”

  And with that he stamped back up the stairs, leaving her standing alone in the hall, shaking, fighting back tears and waiting for Annie to appear.

  ~~~~~

  “Dev? What was all the shouting about?” Reggie’s battered face peeked out from the library door.

  “What is it to you?” the Marquess snapped. As if it was not bad enough to have Connie getting uppity with him, now he supposed that Reggie would be exultant over his failure.

  “Is Connie all right? My God, Dev, you look like you need a drink.”

  The Marquess gave a bark of laughter. “That would be just the thing.”

  “Come in then,” Reggie said, opening the library door a little wider. “What is it to be — Madeira? Or is this a job for brandy?”

  “Definitely brandy. The Devil take all women, brother, for I swear I cannot understand them at all. What sort of woman would turn down a Marquess, eh?”

  Reggie paused, decanter in mid-air, and looked at him in astonishment. “She turned you down? Good God! But why?”

  “That is the worst of it, I have not the least idea. I thought she liked me well enough, but she got all hoity-toity, and shouted at me, if you please, and I have no idea what has got into her.”

  Reggie poured two generous portions of brandy, then, after a moment’s thought, poured some more. “Here, get that inside you. It will help.”

  The Marquess took a large gulp, and then, almost at once, another. Settling in a worn leather wing chair, one long leg over the arm, he said, “You have two minutes to gloat. I will allow you that.”

  “By God, Dev, what sort of a brother do you take me for? Whatever has gone wrong, I am sorry for it, for your sake. I know how much you love her.”

  “I do, it is very true. She is the sweetest little thing, and she warms my heart whenever I am with her. I had almost despaired after that last business, but Connie has quite restored my faith in womankind. I had so much looked forward to— And I thought she wanted me, too. Well, there is no use repining. She will not have me, and there is an end to it.”

  “But what did she say?”

  “She said no. The rest of it hardly signifies.”

  Reggie was silent for a minute, sipping his brandy and frowning. “Hate to disagree with you, brother, but I think it does signify. Because I thought she wanted you, too. The way she looked at you, sometimes, and the charming way she became a little conscious when she talked to you. She was never like that with me, and when she fell against me last night— yes, yes, I know, but hear me out — she fell against me, I say, and I pulled her close by instinct, you know, as anyone would, and she was quite angry with me. She thought I was making love to her, I expect.”

  “Well, that is exactly what it looked like to me, too,” the Marque
ss said testily. “But we will not go over old ground.”

  “Good, for I should not like to repeat that argument,” Reggie said, ruefully stroking his bruised face. “Point is, it seems to me that you had Connie in your hand and you scared her away, somehow. Perhaps if you think over what you said and what she said, you might work out what you did wrong.”

  “It hardly matters now,” the Marquess said gloomily. “I can scarcely run round after her like a lovelorn goatherd. The Marquess of Carrbridge has a position to maintain. I have to consider my dignity.”

  Reggie was silent for a long moment, twirling the brandy in its glass. At length he nodded. “Well, if that is how you feel, you will not mind if I try to win her, will you?”

  ~~~~~

  Connie had not thought to bring an umbrella. As a result, her pelisse was soaked and in all likelihood her bonnet was ruined. Annie had forgotten her gloves, too, but she had not cared to wait any longer. Now she felt quite improperly attired, as if everyone must be staring at her. She could not see them, fortunately, for tears blurred her vision.

  Twice she made a wrong turning, but Annie called her back and steered her in the right direction. Brook Street was so close, and yet how easy it would be to lose herself in the multitude of identical streets in London. But at last she arrived and ran up the steps to ring the bell. As soon as the maid opened the door, Connie ran past her into the hall.

  “Is Mrs Ambleside at home? Or Mrs Burford?”

  “No, madam. Only Mr Ambleside.”

  “Oh, pray take me to him at once.”

  She could not wait a moment, following the maid up the stairs, with Annie trailing behind. She was shown into a small library, and there he was, jumping to his feet in alarm at her bedraggled appearance and tears.

  “Good God, Miss Allamont, whatever has happened? Come, sit here. Peggy, some brandy at once.” He knelt at her feet, chafing her hands. “You are so cold.”

  “So sorry…” was all she could manage through her sobs. “So very sorry to burst in like this.”

  “Nonsense. Here, drink a little of this. Careful! Let me hold the glass for you. There! That will do you good. Peggy, send the boy for the physician—”

  “No, no! Just… just want to see Amy and Belle.”

  “Of course you do! Peggy, send the boy at once to Mrs Cavendish’s house — do you know the direction? Good. Mrs Ambleside and Mr and Mrs Burford must return home at once, for Miss Allamont is taken ill.”

  “Oh, do not alarm them so! I am quite well, only—”

  “Of course,” he said. “Say only that Miss Allamont is arrived unexpectedly and wishes to talk to them at once. There, Miss Allamont, they will be here directly. Have a little more brandy.”

  “Thank you. You are so kind.”

  She sipped the brandy, with his steadying hand on the glass. He asked her no questions, but held her hand and talked constantly in a soothing monotone, and gradually his calm good sense brought some abatement in her sobs. Indeed, his behaviour was in such marked contrast to that of the Marquess, that she was moved to say, “You may call me Connie. We are good enough friends, surely.”

  “I should be very honoured… Connie. And if you wish, you may call me Will, for no one uses my full name, you know.”

  “Wilberforce,” she said, smiling through her tears.

  “Indeed. I cannot imagine what my parents were thinking, and Mama always used the name in its dreadful entirety.”

  In this comfortable way, a quarter of an hour passed, and then the door burst open and Amy and Belle rushed in, with Burford behind them. That started the tears all over again, and it was some time before she could speak a word.

  “Dearest, can you tell us what happened?” Belle said. She had taken over Ambleside’s spot at Connie’s feet holding one hand, while Amy sat beside her on the sofa holding the other.

  “Marquess…” she managed. “Proposed… but… so obnoxious. Could not marry such a man.” And gradually, as Amy and Belle gasped and murmured “Oh no!” and “How dreadful!”, she told the story.

  “Well, that was indeed very bad of him,” Belle said at length. “To presume in that way… no, that is not at all right. And although you had some thought of marrying him at one time, there is at least this consolation, sister, that your affections are not engaged. You are not in love with him, after all.”

  “But I am!” she wailed. “I do love him, I do! He is of all things the right man for me, but not when he is so… so high-handed and arrogant. I wish he were not,” she added in a small voice. “For I should very much like to marry him, but I do not think he loves me at all.”

  17: Morning Callers

  Connie was not ill, but her sisters treated her as though she were an invalid all the same. She was given a tiny room to herself, and tenderly undressed and helped to bed. Trays were brought at intervals, offering weak tea and cake, or beef broth, or bread and cheese, whatever might tempt her appetite. Amy and Belle stayed with her all evening, taking their own supper on trays, too, and chatting easily about all that they had seen and done in London, so that she had no need to talk. And then, as it finally grew dark, she was given a hot posset and left to sleep.

  “But the boy will sit outside your door all night, dear,” Amy said. “If you need anything, anything at all, you have only to call and he will fetch one or other of us.”

  “Try to sleep a little,” Belle said, kissing her forehead. “Goodnight, sister.”

  At first she thought she would never be able to sleep for the disordered thoughts running around in her head like mice in an attic. Every time she closed her eyes, visions of the Marquess rose up before her — his handsome face, the elegance of his dress, the graceful way his hands moved as he talked. She felt she could look at him for ever. Her heart performed a little dance every time she saw him, and when he smiled at her, that lazy, intimate smile that made her feel she was the only woman in the world he cared for, then she loved him with every bone in her body, a love more intense, more consuming than anything she had ever felt before. She had tried to put him out of her thoughts when she had believed him betrothed to Jess, but now that she knew the truth, she could admit to the full depth of her attachment to him.

  Yet he was lost to her. His words, his manner, the presumptuous way her had treated her! She could not remember everything he had said, but a few phrases floated into her mind… about judging her character, and making sure she would do, as if she were a horse. He was insufferable! And how badly he had treated Jess, to let everyone think they were on the point of betrothal, when all the time his intentions were quite otherwise.

  But her anger drove away the regret that she might otherwise have felt. She could not possibly marry a man who spoke so to her, no matter how much she loved him. She had freed herself from her betrothal from Mr Ambleside because of his managing attitude, and the Marquess was a hundred times worse! Perhaps in time she would be overcome with grief for what she had lost, but for now, all she could feel was gratitude that she was free of him, and that she was safe with her sisters.

  Exhaustion overtook her quite soon, and to her surprise she slept deeply and woke refreshed. The awkwardness of her position now struck her forcibly. She had come to London as the soon-to-be-betrothed of Lord Reginald, living in Marford House, and now she had left without a word to him, or to Viscountess Moorfield, or Lady Harriet. She did not regret her action, for staying another moment under the same roof as the Marquess would have been insupportable, but she felt the rudeness of it. And now what was to become of her?

  As soon as Amy and Belle woke and came through to see how she did, she burst out, “What should I do now? I must go home, but I do not know how.”

  “You will stay here with us, of course,” Amy said. “We have another month in town, so you need not rush away. You can hide here at the house, or, if you wish, we will take you with us when we go about, for there is no danger of meeting the Marquess, you know. We move in very different circles. Of course, if you wish to go st
raight home—”

  “Oh no! I should like of all things to stay here with you, with my own family. The Marfords have been very kind to me, but they are quite different from everything I am used to, and I do not like all the racketing around that they do, to be seen here, and be seen there. I should like London much better if there were fewer grand balls and more quiet card parties.”

  “Well, perhaps it is all for the best, then,” said Belle. “It does not sound as if you would have been very comfortable as the Marchioness of Carrbridge.”

  “I suppose I would have got used to it, in time,” Connie said doubtfully. “But it will be pleasant not to be junketing about every evening.”

  “You must stay in bed this morning…” Amy began.

  “No, no,” Connie said. “I should like to be up and about, and trying to do normal things. I am not ill, Amy dear, and now that I have had my little cry, I am quite calm, for I am absolutely sure of the rightness of my decision. Besides, I had better write to Lady Moorfield, and Lady Harriet, and Mama. And what about Lord Reginald? I ought to give him some explanation, but we were not truly betrothed, so I do not feel I can. Besides, he deceived me just as much as Lord Carrbridge. So much pretence…”

  “But you were pretending, too,” Belle said gently. “Although I believe your motives were more honourable than theirs.”

  “Of course Connie’s motives were honourable,” Amy said, shocked. “She wanted only to see if the Marquess might turn to her when he realised how unsuitable Jess Drummond was.”

  “And to have a season in London,” Connie said wistfully. “That was selfish of me, but it seemed so providential at the time. And by then I had quite given up on the idea of making the Marquess in love with me, so there was no entrapment, or anything in the least underhand about it. Whereas they…” She could not go on, her trembling voice betraying the emotions not far below the surface, despite her declaration of calmness.

  “There, there, dearest,” Amy said. “What they did was most reprehensible. To deceive you in that way! It is of all things the most dishonourable.”